Numb3rs drabbles: "Like No Other" (unspecified het couple, R)
As usual, this is me trying to turn the Rewind prompts on their heads a little bit!
Title: Like No Other
Pairing: Unspecified het couple
Rating: R
Summary: What she remembers is: The sharp, icy taste of the tequila and lime on her tongue.
Word Count: 4x100
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none. I did use italics instead of quotation marks for the dialogue, though, which I know some people hate. Sorry!
Notes: Unbetaed. Usually when I write a fic without names I still list a specific pairing in the header, but this one I decided to make a choose-your-own. I know who it is in my head, though. :-) Schmoopy! Title from "Knocked Up" by Kings of Leon.
Prompt: July 2010 Rewind at numb3rs100: Margaritas/Cinco de Mayo, Darts, Possibility/Probability, Smug
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
What she remembers is:
The sharp, icy taste of the tequila and lime on her tongue. The glow of their matching wedding rings in the dim light, lined up hand in hand. The way he pressed into her, bare and present, and the soft of his skin on hers. The deep sound of his groan, his need, in her ear. How she lost herself in it and took him and forgot about the mess leftover from the party downstairs that she'd have to clean up--
She thinks about it when she's kneeling on her bathroom floor a few weeks later.
*
Her body changes and grows, and she needs to go shopping all the time for new clothes that will fit. All her new shirts have darts sewn in to accommodate her expanding bust line, and her pants have elastic in the waists. He watches her dress and he grins, coming up behind and patting her belly, palming her breast. Beautiful, he whispers, tucking his face over her shoulder. They study her body together in the mirror. Hesitantly she reaches up and cups her breast, feeling the roundness of it. His smile goes wider. Everything about you is perfect, he says.
*
They say if you're carrying low, it's a boy, he muses.
That's an old wives' tale, she tells him. His eyes go sharp.
She'd wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, but he didn't, so he left the room when the doctor told her, and now expects her to keep a poker face when he can't stop speculating.
So it's a girl, he says.
I didn't say that! she laughs.
He watches her like she's a suspect he's interrogating, waiting for her to break.
You want me to tell you?
No! he protests. Of course not.
*
When the baby is a few months old, she brings him to the office to show off and introduce to everybody. She watches father and son, watches his smug grin when everybody coos over the baby, proud like look-what-I-made. She laughs at him and remembers the way he was at the birth, terrified, the way his face broke open with joy and relief when the baby was resting safely on her chest, not a hint of pride, just pure, humble, happiness.
When his eyes meet hers they soften, and she catches a glimpse of that same look.
Title: Like No Other
Pairing: Unspecified het couple
Rating: R
Summary: What she remembers is: The sharp, icy taste of the tequila and lime on her tongue.
Word Count: 4x100
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none. I did use italics instead of quotation marks for the dialogue, though, which I know some people hate. Sorry!
Notes: Unbetaed. Usually when I write a fic without names I still list a specific pairing in the header, but this one I decided to make a choose-your-own. I know who it is in my head, though. :-) Schmoopy! Title from "Knocked Up" by Kings of Leon.
Prompt: July 2010 Rewind at numb3rs100: Margaritas/Cinco de Mayo, Darts, Possibility/Probability, Smug
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
What she remembers is:
The sharp, icy taste of the tequila and lime on her tongue. The glow of their matching wedding rings in the dim light, lined up hand in hand. The way he pressed into her, bare and present, and the soft of his skin on hers. The deep sound of his groan, his need, in her ear. How she lost herself in it and took him and forgot about the mess leftover from the party downstairs that she'd have to clean up--
She thinks about it when she's kneeling on her bathroom floor a few weeks later.
*
Her body changes and grows, and she needs to go shopping all the time for new clothes that will fit. All her new shirts have darts sewn in to accommodate her expanding bust line, and her pants have elastic in the waists. He watches her dress and he grins, coming up behind and patting her belly, palming her breast. Beautiful, he whispers, tucking his face over her shoulder. They study her body together in the mirror. Hesitantly she reaches up and cups her breast, feeling the roundness of it. His smile goes wider. Everything about you is perfect, he says.
*
They say if you're carrying low, it's a boy, he muses.
That's an old wives' tale, she tells him. His eyes go sharp.
She'd wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, but he didn't, so he left the room when the doctor told her, and now expects her to keep a poker face when he can't stop speculating.
So it's a girl, he says.
I didn't say that! she laughs.
He watches her like she's a suspect he's interrogating, waiting for her to break.
You want me to tell you?
No! he protests. Of course not.
*
When the baby is a few months old, she brings him to the office to show off and introduce to everybody. She watches father and son, watches his smug grin when everybody coos over the baby, proud like look-what-I-made. She laughs at him and remembers the way he was at the birth, terrified, the way his face broke open with joy and relief when the baby was resting safely on her chest, not a hint of pride, just pure, humble, happiness.
When his eyes meet hers they soften, and she catches a glimpse of that same look.