Two Lost Girl drabbles, PG, Bo/Lauren
Title: Right Discovery at the Wrong Time
Prompt: 257 - before
Fandom: Lost Girl
Pairing: Bo/Lauren
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
A/N: 1.8 spoilers? Second person
Summary: Lauren has forgotten what freedom is.
You don't really think about things like freedom, it's not your way. This is your life and you have all of the things you could possibly want in a medical lab. You've free run of every medical journal and some that don't even exist yet, there are advances that are under your fingertips and sometimes the sheer exhileration of discovery blinds you to everything.
Until her.
The realization doesn't hit you like a ton of bricks, it's a subtle thing, a trickle until it's too late--
Kissing Bo is freedom, and even with the chain thrown away, it's not real.
Title: Slinking Down the Back Stairs
Prompt: 258 - After
Fandom: Lost Girl
Pairing: Bo/Lauren
Rating: PG13 (one swear word?)
Word count: 200
A/N: Set after That Scene in 1.8, second person.
Summary: Picking up the pieces.
The problem with dressing while your hands shake is that a hundred things go through your head. You should have said this. You should have told her the truth--
But explaining has never been your strong suit, not when it comes to things like emotions. You're so much better at logical reasoning.
You remember, once, trying to tell your mother about science, about biology, about why it was your life's work (I want this so bad, why can't you be happy for me--). She hadn't understood, then. And you know Bo won't understand now. She's under the pull of Dyson (you were so uncertain of her and now it's too late and you're not even sure if you've broken something or destroyed it irrevocably).
Crying would be pointless, blaming him would get you nowhere.
Tying your boots is easier when your fingers are steady, and you almost manage a decent knotted double-bow before one of the laces breaks in your hand.
"Fuck." You're not given to swearing, and you almost laugh. You think to yourself that it's all of a piece, and you ignore the tears as you turn to practicality: shoelace binds the ends of the broken chain.
Prompt: 257 - before
Fandom: Lost Girl
Pairing: Bo/Lauren
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
A/N: 1.8 spoilers? Second person
Summary: Lauren has forgotten what freedom is.
You don't really think about things like freedom, it's not your way. This is your life and you have all of the things you could possibly want in a medical lab. You've free run of every medical journal and some that don't even exist yet, there are advances that are under your fingertips and sometimes the sheer exhileration of discovery blinds you to everything.
Until her.
The realization doesn't hit you like a ton of bricks, it's a subtle thing, a trickle until it's too late--
Kissing Bo is freedom, and even with the chain thrown away, it's not real.
Title: Slinking Down the Back Stairs
Prompt: 258 - After
Fandom: Lost Girl
Pairing: Bo/Lauren
Rating: PG13 (one swear word?)
Word count: 200
A/N: Set after That Scene in 1.8, second person.
Summary: Picking up the pieces.
The problem with dressing while your hands shake is that a hundred things go through your head. You should have said this. You should have told her the truth--
But explaining has never been your strong suit, not when it comes to things like emotions. You're so much better at logical reasoning.
You remember, once, trying to tell your mother about science, about biology, about why it was your life's work (I want this so bad, why can't you be happy for me--). She hadn't understood, then. And you know Bo won't understand now. She's under the pull of Dyson (you were so uncertain of her and now it's too late and you're not even sure if you've broken something or destroyed it irrevocably).
Crying would be pointless, blaming him would get you nowhere.
Tying your boots is easier when your fingers are steady, and you almost manage a decent knotted double-bow before one of the laces breaks in your hand.
"Fuck." You're not given to swearing, and you almost laugh. You think to yourself that it's all of a piece, and you ignore the tears as you turn to practicality: shoelace binds the ends of the broken chain.