crown of love
Took a break from writing epic Brittany/Santana fic to bring you this interlude. These two broke my heart in the last episode.
Crown of Love.
Glee. Will/Terri. 362 words. Set before the events of 'Once Upon A Mattress'.
The worst part of it all is sleeping, is the bed, with the pillow trapped between them like everything they can’t talk about. Will’s pressed against the other side, talking about school, about Glee Club, and Terri makes a fleeting comment about maternity leave at Sheets-n-Things.
Will, he’s quiet for a minute, smile loose and easier than she’s used to, and when he rests his head on the pillow between them, it’s just to look at her, at her collar bone jutting out from beneath her shirt, at her breasts and her belly.
“We’ll need to start thinking about baby clothes,” he says. “About a crib,” added on almost as an afterthought.
It’s nearly subconscious, but Terri touches a hand to the underside of her belly, where the baby she’s not having should be, and traces her fingers up, around the curve of it. Wishes, not for the first (or the last) time that there were feet, a heartbeat, anything more than her own unsteady breaths wracking her narrow frame. Something real.
She startles when she feels Will’s fingers, pressed against her own, feeling her feeling the baby, and it’s enough that her eyelids flutter shut, that she moves her hand just enough to entangle their fingers. He tightens his grip, and Terri moves his hand away from the padding.
Will kisses her shoulder, and Terri thinks of highschool, of Will, of senior prom when he held her hand and later, in the backseat of his car, as he traced her hipbones with nervous fingers as they fucked. How the only secret then was how much he made her feel - feel good, like a better person, how much she loved him, even as he hummed the three words into the nape of her neck like they were nothing, easy.
“Goodnight, Terri,” he mumbles, pulling his fingers from hers, and curling into the other side of the bed.
“’Night, Will,” she says, and when she pushes a hand underneath her shirt, rubs fingers against the soft skin of her real belly. When she shuts her eyes, she can pretend they’re his, and that somewhere in there, there’s a baby that wants them as much as they want it.
Crown of Love.
Glee. Will/Terri. 362 words. Set before the events of 'Once Upon A Mattress'.
The worst part of it all is sleeping, is the bed, with the pillow trapped between them like everything they can’t talk about. Will’s pressed against the other side, talking about school, about Glee Club, and Terri makes a fleeting comment about maternity leave at Sheets-n-Things.
Will, he’s quiet for a minute, smile loose and easier than she’s used to, and when he rests his head on the pillow between them, it’s just to look at her, at her collar bone jutting out from beneath her shirt, at her breasts and her belly.
“We’ll need to start thinking about baby clothes,” he says. “About a crib,” added on almost as an afterthought.
It’s nearly subconscious, but Terri touches a hand to the underside of her belly, where the baby she’s not having should be, and traces her fingers up, around the curve of it. Wishes, not for the first (or the last) time that there were feet, a heartbeat, anything more than her own unsteady breaths wracking her narrow frame. Something real.
She startles when she feels Will’s fingers, pressed against her own, feeling her feeling the baby, and it’s enough that her eyelids flutter shut, that she moves her hand just enough to entangle their fingers. He tightens his grip, and Terri moves his hand away from the padding.
Will kisses her shoulder, and Terri thinks of highschool, of Will, of senior prom when he held her hand and later, in the backseat of his car, as he traced her hipbones with nervous fingers as they fucked. How the only secret then was how much he made her feel - feel good, like a better person, how much she loved him, even as he hummed the three words into the nape of her neck like they were nothing, easy.
“Goodnight, Terri,” he mumbles, pulling his fingers from hers, and curling into the other side of the bed.
“’Night, Will,” she says, and when she pushes a hand underneath her shirt, rubs fingers against the soft skin of her real belly. When she shuts her eyes, she can pretend they’re his, and that somewhere in there, there’s a baby that wants them as much as they want it.