(no subject)
Title: needle
Author: SugarHypeQueen
Genre: Romance
Rating: T for language, I suppose.
Summary: A meditation on love. And sewing, of course.
Warnings: None!
Disclaimer: I worked off a prompt from this community. They be rockin'.
“Speaking of love- hand me the needle, will you?”
I hand him the needle. He’s got my knickers in his hands, turned inside out, displaying a tear the size of my pinky finger. Unfortunately, the selkie fur woven into the material ensures that magical mending isn’t an option.
Fortunately, Al likes to sew.
“Thanks. Anyway… love. What the hell does she know about it? She’s seen him, what, five times? And now she’s wondering what their babies will look like. Bloody hell.”
“She’s always had an imagination,” I point out, scooting a little closer to the fireplace.
“Well that’s all well and good,” he drawls, deftly threading the needle. “But love isn’t something you imagine into existence. You can’t just conjure it up.”
“Love potions?”
“Oh, shut it. What I mean is, it’s real. Solid. It’ll knock you flat on your ass, it will. I mean… what happens if he finds someone else? Will she sulk for a couple of weeks and move on? Or will half of her curl up and die, while the other half takes half it can get?”
“A very bleak definition of it, you’ve got.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? If it doesn’t chew you up and spit you out, it isn’t love.”
“In that case,” I reply, leaning back to place a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, “Consider me thoroughly digested.”
Author: SugarHypeQueen
Genre: Romance
Rating: T for language, I suppose.
Summary: A meditation on love. And sewing, of course.
Warnings: None!
Disclaimer: I worked off a prompt from this community. They be rockin'.
“Speaking of love- hand me the needle, will you?”
I hand him the needle. He’s got my knickers in his hands, turned inside out, displaying a tear the size of my pinky finger. Unfortunately, the selkie fur woven into the material ensures that magical mending isn’t an option.
Fortunately, Al likes to sew.
“Thanks. Anyway… love. What the hell does she know about it? She’s seen him, what, five times? And now she’s wondering what their babies will look like. Bloody hell.”
“She’s always had an imagination,” I point out, scooting a little closer to the fireplace.
“Well that’s all well and good,” he drawls, deftly threading the needle. “But love isn’t something you imagine into existence. You can’t just conjure it up.”
“Love potions?”
“Oh, shut it. What I mean is, it’s real. Solid. It’ll knock you flat on your ass, it will. I mean… what happens if he finds someone else? Will she sulk for a couple of weeks and move on? Or will half of her curl up and die, while the other half takes half it can get?”
“A very bleak definition of it, you’ve got.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? If it doesn’t chew you up and spit you out, it isn’t love.”
“In that case,” I reply, leaning back to place a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, “Consider me thoroughly digested.”