srsly, why am i the most prolific w/ fic whenever i should be writing term papers ಠ_ಠ
in these early mornings
daniel sedin/alex edler/henrik sedin
320w.
Alex is pulled from strange, fuzzy dreams of fire and water by the urgent beeping of the hotel alarm clock. He cracks an eye open and wrinkles his nose in confusion; the room is too dark for an eight o'clock March morning in Nashville, the heavy navy curtains only barely yielding the silver-grey fringe of twilight at its edges.
Next to him, Daniel makes a noise of frustration and the pillow shifts as he lifts his head up long enough to grumble, 'For the love of God, turn that damn thing off, Hank.'
On Alex's other side, the mattress dips as Henrik sits up, scrubbing at his face with one hand as he slaps at the blaring alarm clock with the other. Alex turns over slightly and squints at the glowing red digits. Six-thirty a.m. Christ. The bus doesn't even leave until ten.
He turns back over.
Daniel's buried half his face back into the pillow again, his features relaxed except for the last vestiges of annoyance sitting in a fading knot between his eyebrows. He's breathing soft and slow, probably already halfway back to sleep. Alex wiggles a bit closer, away from a draft that's slipping in from the displaced sheets near his thigh and closes his eyes, matching his breathing to his.
His awareness has shrunk to a world that is infinitely dark and warm by the time he feels the bed shift again, Henrik pressing back up against his side, apparently done checking his email on his phone. An arm lands back across his chest, elbow crooked and fingers curled in a loose fist near his collarbone.
He's falling back into those strange, fuzzy dreams again, with the sound of twin pairs of quiet breathing in his ears when he feels another hand join the first, fingers twining together as they rest over where his heart beats, slow and steady.
sigh sigh, i am going to bed now ಠ_ಠ
daniel sedin/alex edler/henrik sedin
320w.
Alex is pulled from strange, fuzzy dreams of fire and water by the urgent beeping of the hotel alarm clock. He cracks an eye open and wrinkles his nose in confusion; the room is too dark for an eight o'clock March morning in Nashville, the heavy navy curtains only barely yielding the silver-grey fringe of twilight at its edges.
Next to him, Daniel makes a noise of frustration and the pillow shifts as he lifts his head up long enough to grumble, 'For the love of God, turn that damn thing off, Hank.'
On Alex's other side, the mattress dips as Henrik sits up, scrubbing at his face with one hand as he slaps at the blaring alarm clock with the other. Alex turns over slightly and squints at the glowing red digits. Six-thirty a.m. Christ. The bus doesn't even leave until ten.
He turns back over.
Daniel's buried half his face back into the pillow again, his features relaxed except for the last vestiges of annoyance sitting in a fading knot between his eyebrows. He's breathing soft and slow, probably already halfway back to sleep. Alex wiggles a bit closer, away from a draft that's slipping in from the displaced sheets near his thigh and closes his eyes, matching his breathing to his.
His awareness has shrunk to a world that is infinitely dark and warm by the time he feels the bed shift again, Henrik pressing back up against his side, apparently done checking his email on his phone. An arm lands back across his chest, elbow crooked and fingers curled in a loose fist near his collarbone.
He's falling back into those strange, fuzzy dreams again, with the sound of twin pairs of quiet breathing in his ears when he feels another hand join the first, fingers twining together as they rest over where his heart beats, slow and steady.
sigh sigh, i am going to bed now ಠ_ಠ