tiny fic: Last Kiss
Title: Last Kiss
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Warnings: Daybreak missing scene. Blanket of death.
Author's Note: For the ar_drabbles Make Us Smile challenge. x-posted there.
He sweeps her off her feet-off the ground, the blanket tucked around her, red like the dress she wishes she'd had time to save.
He swept her off her feet then, too.
He carries her intently; she's his final mission. Her heartbeat still speeds up when he looks into her eyes, his expression softening as his arms tighten around her body.
Her chest aches; different from the first time she fell in love with him, but the pain was always bittersweet.
He steps upon the wing and his breath is labored, but lacking the tinny rasp of her own as it tickles the chapped skin of her lips.
Gently, like she's about to fall apart-maybe she is, maybe his arm around her waist is the only thing holding her together-he eases her onto the seat. Arranging the blanket atop her legs, he lingers, eyes searching hers as she draws it into her fist.
Her fingers tingle; maybe it's the memory of his skin beneath them. She's too tired to reach up and touch his face. He strokes hers instead.
"It's okay," she says; the way her voice wavers is no longer unsettling.
He kisses her.
She smiles.
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200
Warnings: Daybreak missing scene. Blanket of death.
Author's Note: For the ar_drabbles Make Us Smile challenge. x-posted there.
He sweeps her off her feet-off the ground, the blanket tucked around her, red like the dress she wishes she'd had time to save.
He swept her off her feet then, too.
He carries her intently; she's his final mission. Her heartbeat still speeds up when he looks into her eyes, his expression softening as his arms tighten around her body.
Her chest aches; different from the first time she fell in love with him, but the pain was always bittersweet.
He steps upon the wing and his breath is labored, but lacking the tinny rasp of her own as it tickles the chapped skin of her lips.
Gently, like she's about to fall apart-maybe she is, maybe his arm around her waist is the only thing holding her together-he eases her onto the seat. Arranging the blanket atop her legs, he lingers, eyes searching hers as she draws it into her fist.
Her fingers tingle; maybe it's the memory of his skin beneath them. She's too tired to reach up and touch his face. He strokes hers instead.
"It's okay," she says; the way her voice wavers is no longer unsettling.
He kisses her.
She smiles.