Drabble Post
I haven't dropped off the face of the earth; I've just fallen into university and I can't seem to get out. Two Nick/Sara drabbles are about as much as I can manage at the moment. Both G-rated, word count is exactly 100 words each.
One Little Thing
Sara straightens her hair before work every evening. It’s easier to control that way, she said once, when Nick asked about it. Easier to pull back, easier to keep out of the way.
She showers when she gets home in the morning, though, washes off the night and the crimes, and her hair dries into tangled corkscrews and flyaways. Nick loves the fact that only he sees her that way. He doesn’t say anything, probably never will, but he watches while she reads, absently winding a ringlet around her finger, and he keeps just that one little thing for himself.
Fences
Nick’s senior class didn’t vote on most likely to marry a kindergarten teacher, but anyone who knew him in high school or in college would have seen it. Someone sunny and pretty and probably blonde. A Michelle or a Kimberly. White picket fence in the suburbs. Kids named Emily, Caitlin and Cody.
Sara nixed the idea of having kids, and Nick’s fine with that, even a bit relieved. He sees what can happen to kids every day. If every kid he saw at work reminded him of his own, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to do this job.
One Little Thing
Sara straightens her hair before work every evening. It’s easier to control that way, she said once, when Nick asked about it. Easier to pull back, easier to keep out of the way.
She showers when she gets home in the morning, though, washes off the night and the crimes, and her hair dries into tangled corkscrews and flyaways. Nick loves the fact that only he sees her that way. He doesn’t say anything, probably never will, but he watches while she reads, absently winding a ringlet around her finger, and he keeps just that one little thing for himself.
Fences
Nick’s senior class didn’t vote on most likely to marry a kindergarten teacher, but anyone who knew him in high school or in college would have seen it. Someone sunny and pretty and probably blonde. A Michelle or a Kimberly. White picket fence in the suburbs. Kids named Emily, Caitlin and Cody.
Sara nixed the idea of having kids, and Nick’s fine with that, even a bit relieved. He sees what can happen to kids every day. If every kid he saw at work reminded him of his own, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to do this job.