N3/SPN drabble: "Everything Nice" (Jo/Amita, G.)
So awhile back, leda_speaks and I started talking about the prospect of a Jo/Amita fic, and while that whole story hasn’t been written yet, I asked her for a drabble prompt earlier so I could write something for this pairing. And then I wrote it instead of doing my homework. \o/ My apologies for the title. I spent like an hour trying to find a good one and finally gave up. *headdesk* Oh, also, melissima is getting a “chocolate” drabble soon, so watch for that. ;-)
Title: Everything Nice
Fandom: Supernatural/Numb3rs
Pairing: Jo/Amita
Rating: G
Summary: She thinks of her mother’s kitchen, sugar cookies baking on an early winter morning.
Word Count: 100
Notes/Warnings: Femmeslash. Written for leda_speaks, for the prompt "vanilla." Thanks to elysium1996 and particularly to melissima for the beta help. Crossposted at numb3rswom3n and spn_roadhouse.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. This is just for fun, not profit.
She thinks of her mother’s kitchen, sugar cookies baking on an early winter morning, sweet vanilla drifting on the air upstairs to her bedroom to wake her, and she can almost taste it as Amita moves closer. She settles in close on the couch and Jo curls her legs up, snakes an arm around Amita’s shoulders, and burrows her face into the curve of her neck, breathing in deeply the scent of vanilla on her skin. Amita shifts slightly, looking down at her.
"Comfy?" she asks. She sounds amused.
"Yes," Jo says, and presses her lips lightly against Amita’s skin.
Title: Everything Nice
Fandom: Supernatural/Numb3rs
Pairing: Jo/Amita
Rating: G
Summary: She thinks of her mother’s kitchen, sugar cookies baking on an early winter morning.
Word Count: 100
Notes/Warnings: Femmeslash. Written for leda_speaks, for the prompt "vanilla." Thanks to elysium1996 and particularly to melissima for the beta help. Crossposted at numb3rswom3n and spn_roadhouse.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. This is just for fun, not profit.
She thinks of her mother’s kitchen, sugar cookies baking on an early winter morning, sweet vanilla drifting on the air upstairs to her bedroom to wake her, and she can almost taste it as Amita moves closer. She settles in close on the couch and Jo curls her legs up, snakes an arm around Amita’s shoulders, and burrows her face into the curve of her neck, breathing in deeply the scent of vanilla on her skin. Amita shifts slightly, looking down at her.
"Comfy?" she asks. She sounds amused.
"Yes," Jo says, and presses her lips lightly against Amita’s skin.