FF: Comfortable Silence
FF: Comfortable Silence
Rating: PG
Category: Post-ep Tomorrow
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: I'm posting this before I can change my mind. Very short. Inspired by all the wonderful fics that have big romantic moments. While I'm a sucker for them, this poured out of me. Comments are sunshine and happiness
They’re sitting at the kitchen table. He’s got the sports page and she’s flipping through the A section.
They aren’t really talking. They’re in their own zones.
They’ve been at this for months. They have a routine. Its not that they’re avoiding talking, they just don’t have anything to say.
They like that the silence is comfortable. Its always been comfortable.
Months its been like this. Morning coffee. Night time foot rubs. Lunch time banter. Midnight stress.
She folds the paper in half.
He spreads the margarine light soy crap she made him buy onto his muffin. He hates it, but he eats it anyway.
She tells him her mother wants to come visit Memorial Day weekend. He says he’ll try not to work that day and take her to touristy things.
He worries about the amount of sex they can have with her in the next room.
Then they’re quiet again.
She drinks more orange juice, he gets another cup of coffee.
Then he says something unexpected. Something not routine. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t rehearse it in his head, he barely recalls saying it at all. He just says it.
“I think we should get married.”
He doesn’t really even look up at her, just continues to uncrinkle the business section of The Post.
She glances at him out of the corner of the eye to make sure he’s not a mirage or hasn’t had a stroke of some sort. He’s sitting calmly, stirring more cream into his coffee. He hasn’t broken a sweat, he isn’t stammering or back tracking his words, or the million other things she thought those words might make him do.
She glances back down at the editorial in front of her.
“Okay,” she replies, not shifting her gaze.
They buy a ring the next week. They’re married three months later.
Their friends get to make embarrassing speeches and say “I told you so” to a crowd of people. His mother finally gets a wedding photo for her bookshelf and the assurance of eventual grandchildren.
She gets the white dress, calla lilies and violins.
And he gets her.
And they get a life time of morning coffee and comfortable silence.
Rating: PG
Category: Post-ep Tomorrow
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: I'm posting this before I can change my mind. Very short. Inspired by all the wonderful fics that have big romantic moments. While I'm a sucker for them, this poured out of me. Comments are sunshine and happiness
They’re sitting at the kitchen table. He’s got the sports page and she’s flipping through the A section.
They aren’t really talking. They’re in their own zones.
They’ve been at this for months. They have a routine. Its not that they’re avoiding talking, they just don’t have anything to say.
They like that the silence is comfortable. Its always been comfortable.
Months its been like this. Morning coffee. Night time foot rubs. Lunch time banter. Midnight stress.
She folds the paper in half.
He spreads the margarine light soy crap she made him buy onto his muffin. He hates it, but he eats it anyway.
She tells him her mother wants to come visit Memorial Day weekend. He says he’ll try not to work that day and take her to touristy things.
He worries about the amount of sex they can have with her in the next room.
Then they’re quiet again.
She drinks more orange juice, he gets another cup of coffee.
Then he says something unexpected. Something not routine. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t rehearse it in his head, he barely recalls saying it at all. He just says it.
“I think we should get married.”
He doesn’t really even look up at her, just continues to uncrinkle the business section of The Post.
She glances at him out of the corner of the eye to make sure he’s not a mirage or hasn’t had a stroke of some sort. He’s sitting calmly, stirring more cream into his coffee. He hasn’t broken a sweat, he isn’t stammering or back tracking his words, or the million other things she thought those words might make him do.
She glances back down at the editorial in front of her.
“Okay,” she replies, not shifting her gaze.
They buy a ring the next week. They’re married three months later.
Their friends get to make embarrassing speeches and say “I told you so” to a crowd of people. His mother finally gets a wedding photo for her bookshelf and the assurance of eventual grandchildren.
She gets the white dress, calla lilies and violins.
And he gets her.
And they get a life time of morning coffee and comfortable silence.