hold me tight
Title: Hold Me Tight
Rating: Child
A/N: Short ficlet because Christine told me to write about squishy pillows, and Molly spoke to me.
"I was thinking about getting a friend for Toby," Molly says idly.
He looks down at the warm ball of fur in his lap, purring contentedly. "Another cat?"
"No, a fish. For him to watch. I think he gets bored sometimes." She runs her fingers over yet another rip in one of the sofa's cushions. "It might stop him shredding these."
"Fish aren't friends," he laughs. "But they are perfect cat food."
"Oh!" She thumps his shoulder with a gentle fist and exclaims, "Toby would never!"
"Yes he would. You'd come home one day to an empty tank and Toby sopping wet, looking pleased as punch."
"Then a hamster."
He laughs again at her optimistic expression. "Empty cage, pleased as punch."
"Noooo," she shakes her head. "How would he get into the cage?"
"Knock it over, headbutt the side, door pops open. Lunchtime."
"You're putting a lot of faith in my cat. He's not exactly the sharpest feline in the box."
He rubs Toby's head affectionately, setting off a fresh bout of purring. "Toby, don't listen to your Mum. You're the smartest cat I know. And the sweetest. Yes, you are. You are!"
"He's the only cat you know," Molly points out, repressing a laugh. "And even then it took you months before you even let him jump into your lap."
"Hey, I loved him from the start!"
"You did not!" she exclaims.
"Did too."
She punches his shoulder again, slightly harder, but still fairly pathetic. "I can't believe you're lying to me, Greg Lestrade. Why would you do that?"
"Because it makes you cranky," he grins. "And you're really pretty when you're cranky."
"Stop trying to sweet talk me."
"Why?"
"I don't like it."
"You do too. And it's working."
"Is not." She folds her arms and tries to glare at him but the frown keeps slipping from her face.
"Is."
"Not!"
He gently places Toby on the floor and is given reproachful cat eyes in return. "Sorry, mate. I've got someone else I need to pat."
"Oh!" she exclaims, with a laugh. "The nerve you-"
"Come here," he invites, but doesn't wait for an answer, pulling her closer until she leans against his side. "My lap is cold."
"You just chucked Toby away."
"To make room. He was just a substitute. Rather have you warm me up."
She presses her lips together to hide her smile. "I'll squash you."
"Come on," he pats his thigh. "I can take it."
"It?"
"You," he amends, his voice low. He walks his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder. "I can and will take you."
"You're so romantic." Her eyes are shining in the lamplight, and he feels his chest tighten with contentment when she finally gives him a huge grin.
"Ah, now I sense you're teasing me, Molly Hooper."
"Noooo." She shakes her head, her smile widening. "Never!"
"Come here," he requests again. His fingers slip into her hair and his other arm curls around her waist to drag her into his lap. "There. Better."
She closes her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder, and sighs against his neck. "You're very comfortable to sit on, you know."
"I know." He squeezes her tighter. "Molly?"
"Greg."
"I love you."
"I know. You tell me every night."
"Just want to make sure you don't forget." He kisses her forehead softly.
"Mmm. As long as you don't forget I love you too. Lips please."
He obliges, kissing her again and again as they snuggle down into the squashy, half cat-shredded sofa cushions.
Toby slinks off to warm himself in front of the fire.
Rating: Child
A/N: Short ficlet because Christine told me to write about squishy pillows, and Molly spoke to me.
"I was thinking about getting a friend for Toby," Molly says idly.
He looks down at the warm ball of fur in his lap, purring contentedly. "Another cat?"
"No, a fish. For him to watch. I think he gets bored sometimes." She runs her fingers over yet another rip in one of the sofa's cushions. "It might stop him shredding these."
"Fish aren't friends," he laughs. "But they are perfect cat food."
"Oh!" She thumps his shoulder with a gentle fist and exclaims, "Toby would never!"
"Yes he would. You'd come home one day to an empty tank and Toby sopping wet, looking pleased as punch."
"Then a hamster."
He laughs again at her optimistic expression. "Empty cage, pleased as punch."
"Noooo," she shakes her head. "How would he get into the cage?"
"Knock it over, headbutt the side, door pops open. Lunchtime."
"You're putting a lot of faith in my cat. He's not exactly the sharpest feline in the box."
He rubs Toby's head affectionately, setting off a fresh bout of purring. "Toby, don't listen to your Mum. You're the smartest cat I know. And the sweetest. Yes, you are. You are!"
"He's the only cat you know," Molly points out, repressing a laugh. "And even then it took you months before you even let him jump into your lap."
"Hey, I loved him from the start!"
"You did not!" she exclaims.
"Did too."
She punches his shoulder again, slightly harder, but still fairly pathetic. "I can't believe you're lying to me, Greg Lestrade. Why would you do that?"
"Because it makes you cranky," he grins. "And you're really pretty when you're cranky."
"Stop trying to sweet talk me."
"Why?"
"I don't like it."
"You do too. And it's working."
"Is not." She folds her arms and tries to glare at him but the frown keeps slipping from her face.
"Is."
"Not!"
He gently places Toby on the floor and is given reproachful cat eyes in return. "Sorry, mate. I've got someone else I need to pat."
"Oh!" she exclaims, with a laugh. "The nerve you-"
"Come here," he invites, but doesn't wait for an answer, pulling her closer until she leans against his side. "My lap is cold."
"You just chucked Toby away."
"To make room. He was just a substitute. Rather have you warm me up."
She presses her lips together to hide her smile. "I'll squash you."
"Come on," he pats his thigh. "I can take it."
"It?"
"You," he amends, his voice low. He walks his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder. "I can and will take you."
"You're so romantic." Her eyes are shining in the lamplight, and he feels his chest tighten with contentment when she finally gives him a huge grin.
"Ah, now I sense you're teasing me, Molly Hooper."
"Noooo." She shakes her head, her smile widening. "Never!"
"Come here," he requests again. His fingers slip into her hair and his other arm curls around her waist to drag her into his lap. "There. Better."
She closes her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder, and sighs against his neck. "You're very comfortable to sit on, you know."
"I know." He squeezes her tighter. "Molly?"
"Greg."
"I love you."
"I know. You tell me every night."
"Just want to make sure you don't forget." He kisses her forehead softly.
"Mmm. As long as you don't forget I love you too. Lips please."
He obliges, kissing her again and again as they snuggle down into the squashy, half cat-shredded sofa cushions.
Toby slinks off to warm himself in front of the fire.