Life fic: Too Bright
Oct. 25th, 2008 05:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
woodfaceTitle: Too Bright
Raiting: G
Set: 1x06, Post- Powerless (vague spoilers, nothing huge)
Note: Been a while since I wrote fic and this wasn't betaed. I'm honestly not sure if I got the voices right, but I just felt like writing and it's been a long time since I felt that urge.
He's sitting on the steps to her house when she gets back and she doesn't blink an eye. Even without having noticed his car standing right in her parking space, she somehow just knew he'd be there.
She grabs the brown paper bag from the passenger's seat and climbs out. Everything's too bright today. He's too bright. She doesn't look at him when she reaches over his head to unlock the door and then moves past him carefully. With some satisfaction she imagines how the door would hit him right in the face if she were to slam it behind her, but she doesn't and she moves to the kitchen without so much of a word.
The chairs are back in their place now and any signs of the struggle last night are gone. She scrubbed the kitchen flour three times over, but she swears she can still smell the vodka.
"They said you took a cab," Charlie breaks the silence and she can hear him moving around her living room. He's picking things up, putting them down and she keeps herself from turning and demanding what the hell he's doing.
"I did," she says instead and she starts emptying the bag, placing a bottle of milk, a carton of butter in the fridge. She knows what's left unsaid and promptly ignores it. Just like she ignores the silence that follows, determined not to be the one with the need to fill it.
The chair scrapes along the floor as he pulls it back and there's a soft creaking sound as he sits down. She knows exactly how he's watching her, knows the tilt of his head. It's maddening because she can see the wheels turning, can see how he figures something out, but she'll never know exactly what.
She turns sharply, preparing herself but he's not looking. He's got an apple in his hands and she has no idea where he got them from because she hasn't bought apples in ages. He seems absorbed in the piece of fruit and glances up after a moment. "You're still wearing your sunglasses," he comments and he holds up the apple, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm aware," she says dryly, shaking her head at the offer and she turns only to remember that the bag is empty now and there's nothing to keep her hands busy.
"You're inside." The comment is followed by a scrunching noise as he takes a bite.
"I noticed that too," she squares her shoulder and finally sits down. It's the same seat she'd been in last night, remembering the burn of the alcohol and it makes her sick just thinking about it.
He nods, takes another bite and chews noisily while he glances around the kitchen and she's not going to fill that silence. She doesn't need to and he's not expecting it because he's eating his apple and after a while she'll take off the sunglasses and he'll start talking about how a wide-screen television would look good in her living room.
Raiting: G
Set: 1x06, Post- Powerless (vague spoilers, nothing huge)
Note: Been a while since I wrote fic and this wasn't betaed. I'm honestly not sure if I got the voices right, but I just felt like writing and it's been a long time since I felt that urge.
He's sitting on the steps to her house when she gets back and she doesn't blink an eye. Even without having noticed his car standing right in her parking space, she somehow just knew he'd be there.
She grabs the brown paper bag from the passenger's seat and climbs out. Everything's too bright today. He's too bright. She doesn't look at him when she reaches over his head to unlock the door and then moves past him carefully. With some satisfaction she imagines how the door would hit him right in the face if she were to slam it behind her, but she doesn't and she moves to the kitchen without so much of a word.
The chairs are back in their place now and any signs of the struggle last night are gone. She scrubbed the kitchen flour three times over, but she swears she can still smell the vodka.
"They said you took a cab," Charlie breaks the silence and she can hear him moving around her living room. He's picking things up, putting them down and she keeps herself from turning and demanding what the hell he's doing.
"I did," she says instead and she starts emptying the bag, placing a bottle of milk, a carton of butter in the fridge. She knows what's left unsaid and promptly ignores it. Just like she ignores the silence that follows, determined not to be the one with the need to fill it.
The chair scrapes along the floor as he pulls it back and there's a soft creaking sound as he sits down. She knows exactly how he's watching her, knows the tilt of his head. It's maddening because she can see the wheels turning, can see how he figures something out, but she'll never know exactly what.
She turns sharply, preparing herself but he's not looking. He's got an apple in his hands and she has no idea where he got them from because she hasn't bought apples in ages. He seems absorbed in the piece of fruit and glances up after a moment. "You're still wearing your sunglasses," he comments and he holds up the apple, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm aware," she says dryly, shaking her head at the offer and she turns only to remember that the bag is empty now and there's nothing to keep her hands busy.
"You're inside." The comment is followed by a scrunching noise as he takes a bite.
"I noticed that too," she squares her shoulder and finally sits down. It's the same seat she'd been in last night, remembering the burn of the alcohol and it makes her sick just thinking about it.
He nods, takes another bite and chews noisily while he glances around the kitchen and she's not going to fill that silence. She doesn't need to and he's not expecting it because he's eating his apple and after a while she'll take off the sunglasses and he'll start talking about how a wide-screen television would look good in her living room.
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