Ficlet: Pluck of the Irish
Title: Pluck of the Irish
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy's sandbox, I'm just playing in it.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 630
Continuity: This is a tiny moment in my Bram!verse.
A/N: I have been so busy trying to get other projects finished that I felt like I haven't had any time for my two favorite characters. I thought about trying to do a 'Seven drabbles in seven days' type of thing, but I don't know if I can commit to it with work and all. We'll see. But for now, just enjoy this little snippet from their final semester of high school.
Pluck of the Irish
Brooke would be the first to admit that-occasionally-she wasn’t always the poster child for self-restraint. Most days she was good. She went through the halls at Kennedy and was the paragon of reserve: she would simply greet her girlfriend with a ‘Hey Sam,’ when they passed in the hallway, and exchange little more than a wink in their shared classes.
Other days she wanted to shout it from the rooftops that they were together. Those were the days when she’d try to hold Sam’s hand when the corridors were (mostly) empty. She always got a kick out of the brunette’s efforts to reign her in. It had become a game, of sorts.
Well, if on those days she was dangerous, on days like this she was downright deadly. On a day like today simply holding hands wasn’t going to be enough. She was going to need a little Sammy to make it through the end of a long school day.
And it wasn’t all her fault. Did Sam have to wear that stupid ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’ T-shirt? She’d hoped that thing wouldn’t see the light of day until St. Patrick’s Day. For one thing, Brooke hated the looks Sam got from the guys in the hallways. Many of them wanted to take Sam up on the idea-and several of them offered. For another thing, it certainly didn’t help with her self-control every time she saw the brunette walking toward her. And Sam just couldn’t help flashing that wicked little grin and crooking that naughty eyebrow, could she?
But the last straw came in English. They were reading Shakespeare, and Mr. Shay had them read in front of the class. Sam was called up during Act I, scene five of one of the bard’s most famous plays.
Brooke didn’t know Sam had ever read the play before, but she didn’t need to read from the book when she spoke aloud: Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight...for I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
With those last words she looked right at the blonde, and Brooke felt the power of the bard’s words for the first time.
Truth to tell she never gave a damn about Romeo and Juliet or any of Shakespeare’s other works-until now. When Sam’s eyes met hers, her heart melted, and she stamped her ticket to Verona.
Romeo and Juliet had become her new favorite of the bard’s plays. She felt a kinship to the legendary couple. She smiled: it probably didn’t hurt that they were keeping their romance a secret also.
Thank God that was the last class before lunch. She pulled Sam-not toward the cafeteria-but in the direction of the Novak.
Wordlessly she pressed the brunette into a stall and locked it. Unlike some of their other couplings, there was nothing frantic or urgent about it. It was sweet-well, as sweet as it can be in a toilet-with lots of kissing and bare bodies and skin pressed as close together as possible.
The bell rang all too soon. With one last blissful kiss they grabbed their clothes, scrambled out of the Novak and back to the real world.
Brooke walked to their next class feeling sated. She could tell she had a really dumb smile plastered on her face, but she didn’t care-and it was all she could do to keep from putting her head on Sam’s shoulder.
Lily stopped in the doorway to class when saw them approach. Lemme guess, she grinned, rolling her eyes. But then her expression changed.
Oh shit! her eyes widened comically. You guys! You--
But it was Mary Cherry who beat her to the punch. Brookie, the Texan pointed at her attire-at her new attire, wasn’t Sam wearing that shirt this morning...?
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy's sandbox, I'm just playing in it.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 630
Continuity: This is a tiny moment in my Bram!verse.
A/N: I have been so busy trying to get other projects finished that I felt like I haven't had any time for my two favorite characters. I thought about trying to do a 'Seven drabbles in seven days' type of thing, but I don't know if I can commit to it with work and all. We'll see. But for now, just enjoy this little snippet from their final semester of high school.
Pluck of the Irish
Brooke would be the first to admit that-occasionally-she wasn’t always the poster child for self-restraint. Most days she was good. She went through the halls at Kennedy and was the paragon of reserve: she would simply greet her girlfriend with a ‘Hey Sam,’ when they passed in the hallway, and exchange little more than a wink in their shared classes.
Other days she wanted to shout it from the rooftops that they were together. Those were the days when she’d try to hold Sam’s hand when the corridors were (mostly) empty. She always got a kick out of the brunette’s efforts to reign her in. It had become a game, of sorts.
Well, if on those days she was dangerous, on days like this she was downright deadly. On a day like today simply holding hands wasn’t going to be enough. She was going to need a little Sammy to make it through the end of a long school day.
And it wasn’t all her fault. Did Sam have to wear that stupid ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’ T-shirt? She’d hoped that thing wouldn’t see the light of day until St. Patrick’s Day. For one thing, Brooke hated the looks Sam got from the guys in the hallways. Many of them wanted to take Sam up on the idea-and several of them offered. For another thing, it certainly didn’t help with her self-control every time she saw the brunette walking toward her. And Sam just couldn’t help flashing that wicked little grin and crooking that naughty eyebrow, could she?
But the last straw came in English. They were reading Shakespeare, and Mr. Shay had them read in front of the class. Sam was called up during Act I, scene five of one of the bard’s most famous plays.
Brooke didn’t know Sam had ever read the play before, but she didn’t need to read from the book when she spoke aloud: Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight...for I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
With those last words she looked right at the blonde, and Brooke felt the power of the bard’s words for the first time.
Truth to tell she never gave a damn about Romeo and Juliet or any of Shakespeare’s other works-until now. When Sam’s eyes met hers, her heart melted, and she stamped her ticket to Verona.
Romeo and Juliet had become her new favorite of the bard’s plays. She felt a kinship to the legendary couple. She smiled: it probably didn’t hurt that they were keeping their romance a secret also.
Thank God that was the last class before lunch. She pulled Sam-not toward the cafeteria-but in the direction of the Novak.
Wordlessly she pressed the brunette into a stall and locked it. Unlike some of their other couplings, there was nothing frantic or urgent about it. It was sweet-well, as sweet as it can be in a toilet-with lots of kissing and bare bodies and skin pressed as close together as possible.
The bell rang all too soon. With one last blissful kiss they grabbed their clothes, scrambled out of the Novak and back to the real world.
Brooke walked to their next class feeling sated. She could tell she had a really dumb smile plastered on her face, but she didn’t care-and it was all she could do to keep from putting her head on Sam’s shoulder.
Lily stopped in the doorway to class when saw them approach. Lemme guess, she grinned, rolling her eyes. But then her expression changed.
Oh shit! her eyes widened comically. You guys! You--
But it was Mary Cherry who beat her to the punch. Brookie, the Texan pointed at her attire-at her new attire, wasn’t Sam wearing that shirt this morning...?