Haberdashery
Title: Haberdashery
Author: Ru_salki99
Rating: PG
Pairing: Paul/Mellie
Disclaimer: Dollhouse belongs to Mutant Enemy
Author's notes: Written for penikitty for the whedonland Fic-Fest
Summary: Paul thinks about just why he likes Mellie so much.
Since the attack, Paul had stayed over every night at Mellie’s. She was a wreck, which of course was understandable, he just wished he could take some of the pain away for her, after all it was his fault - she’d been attacked because of her affiliation with him.
He knew that The Dollhouse would come after him, he’d been warned about it many a time, yet he still continued to play with fire, put his life on the line as he risked everything to try and find a lead, try and find out where they were, how they worked, how they got away with it all.
Except now it wasn’t just his own life he was risking but Mellie’s too.
He should probably move away, leave her be, save her from him. But he couldn’t. She was addictive.
He’d had a soft spot for her ever since she’d moved in. She was just so unbelievably cute. He’d first met her as he came home from a run to find her struggling to manoeuvre two huge suitcases through her door while clenching what appeared to be a large latte and muffin in one hand and trying to carry a box under her arm marked ‘haberdashery’. Being the gentleman that he was, he immediately stepped forward and took the box off of her, surprised at just how light it was.
He had of course been more curious to find out what ‘haberdashery’ meant more than anything else, surprised when she’d opened it up to show him boxes of buttons, spools of thread, crochet needles and various other craft supplies. Then he saw all her cook books piled high on the kitchen worktop, next to a variety of cooking and baking appliances, telling him that she obviously enjoyed doing things ‘properly’. He thought the only people to still use those types of things nowadays were old ladies in nursing homes.
But he was wrong, oh so wrong. Mellie loved to make things, whether it be a shawl, a sweater for his Christmas, lasagne, she always made it by hand and was better at it than anyone he’d ever met before. Better than his mother, and that was saying something.
She always seemed to be embarrassed by it, like it should be some dirty little secret or something that she should hide, but he tried to praise her as much as possible which is what had probably led to her crush. Not that he was complaining, he had been doing his own crushing, she was after all not only a very sweet girl, but sexy as hell too. Something that he knew she had no clue about, which only made her hotter.
Of course, recently, she hadn’t been her usual cheery self, or as keen to make sure that he was well looked after. He didn’t care though. She’d taken care of him more times than he could count so it was only fair that he did that for her now, cooking for her, wrapping her up in a throw he went out a bought specially for her - sure he hadn’t made it but it was the thought that counted right? - making sure that she got plenty of rest and tried to make her smile as much as was possible.
Standing at the window in her living room, he looked out at the neighbourhood. It was pretty quiet tonight, but then, it was Tuesday, nothing exciting ever happened on a Tuesday, at least, not that he was aware of.
He didn’t sleep much now, not this last week or so, worried too much that if he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to protect her, wouldn’t be able to stop whoever might come in and try to hurt her, just to get to him. And so he stood, like some sort of granite guardian, watching over her until daylight came.
“Paul?”
Looking up, he saw her in the reflection of the window. She was standing at the entrance to her bedroom wearing a pair of flannel shorts and a UCLA t-shirt, her hair tied back, pulled away from her face and making those gorgeous eyes of her look even bigger and more beautiful.
“Hey,” he said as he finally turned to look at her, “You should be in bed.”
“So should you,” she said as she folded her arms over her chest.
Paul sighed and moved over to her, “I can’t sleep right now,” he told her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead when he reached her.
“I can’t either,” she told him, settling her hands on his hips, “Not without you there.”
Realising that with those big doe eyes of hers, and that angelic face that there was no way he was going to win this argument, there was no point in even trying, “Okay,” he said, “Let’s go back to bed,” he added, turning off the light and letting her lead him back into the bedroom.
Climbing into the bed, he pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest and placing soft, loving kisses atop her head. He stroked her arm gently with the tips of his fingers, lulling her back into a deep sleep. He lay there and watched as her breathing became deeper and evened out, her face losing the pained expression that was there whenever she was awake, even when she smiled, until she finally looked at peace.
Happy that she wasn’t going to wake up, he settled back and stared up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes but knew it was in vein and as relieved as he was that she was getting the rest that she needed, he knew that there was no way he would get to sleep any time soon. Sighing slightly, he accepted his fate before looking back down at Mellie and deciding that since he had nothing else to do, he might as well watch her sleep. After all, it wasn’t like it was a bad way to spend the night.
THE END
Author: Ru_salki99
Rating: PG
Pairing: Paul/Mellie
Disclaimer: Dollhouse belongs to Mutant Enemy
Author's notes: Written for penikitty for the whedonland Fic-Fest
Summary: Paul thinks about just why he likes Mellie so much.
Since the attack, Paul had stayed over every night at Mellie’s. She was a wreck, which of course was understandable, he just wished he could take some of the pain away for her, after all it was his fault - she’d been attacked because of her affiliation with him.
He knew that The Dollhouse would come after him, he’d been warned about it many a time, yet he still continued to play with fire, put his life on the line as he risked everything to try and find a lead, try and find out where they were, how they worked, how they got away with it all.
Except now it wasn’t just his own life he was risking but Mellie’s too.
He should probably move away, leave her be, save her from him. But he couldn’t. She was addictive.
He’d had a soft spot for her ever since she’d moved in. She was just so unbelievably cute. He’d first met her as he came home from a run to find her struggling to manoeuvre two huge suitcases through her door while clenching what appeared to be a large latte and muffin in one hand and trying to carry a box under her arm marked ‘haberdashery’. Being the gentleman that he was, he immediately stepped forward and took the box off of her, surprised at just how light it was.
He had of course been more curious to find out what ‘haberdashery’ meant more than anything else, surprised when she’d opened it up to show him boxes of buttons, spools of thread, crochet needles and various other craft supplies. Then he saw all her cook books piled high on the kitchen worktop, next to a variety of cooking and baking appliances, telling him that she obviously enjoyed doing things ‘properly’. He thought the only people to still use those types of things nowadays were old ladies in nursing homes.
But he was wrong, oh so wrong. Mellie loved to make things, whether it be a shawl, a sweater for his Christmas, lasagne, she always made it by hand and was better at it than anyone he’d ever met before. Better than his mother, and that was saying something.
She always seemed to be embarrassed by it, like it should be some dirty little secret or something that she should hide, but he tried to praise her as much as possible which is what had probably led to her crush. Not that he was complaining, he had been doing his own crushing, she was after all not only a very sweet girl, but sexy as hell too. Something that he knew she had no clue about, which only made her hotter.
Of course, recently, she hadn’t been her usual cheery self, or as keen to make sure that he was well looked after. He didn’t care though. She’d taken care of him more times than he could count so it was only fair that he did that for her now, cooking for her, wrapping her up in a throw he went out a bought specially for her - sure he hadn’t made it but it was the thought that counted right? - making sure that she got plenty of rest and tried to make her smile as much as was possible.
Standing at the window in her living room, he looked out at the neighbourhood. It was pretty quiet tonight, but then, it was Tuesday, nothing exciting ever happened on a Tuesday, at least, not that he was aware of.
He didn’t sleep much now, not this last week or so, worried too much that if he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to protect her, wouldn’t be able to stop whoever might come in and try to hurt her, just to get to him. And so he stood, like some sort of granite guardian, watching over her until daylight came.
“Paul?”
Looking up, he saw her in the reflection of the window. She was standing at the entrance to her bedroom wearing a pair of flannel shorts and a UCLA t-shirt, her hair tied back, pulled away from her face and making those gorgeous eyes of her look even bigger and more beautiful.
“Hey,” he said as he finally turned to look at her, “You should be in bed.”
“So should you,” she said as she folded her arms over her chest.
Paul sighed and moved over to her, “I can’t sleep right now,” he told her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead when he reached her.
“I can’t either,” she told him, settling her hands on his hips, “Not without you there.”
Realising that with those big doe eyes of hers, and that angelic face that there was no way he was going to win this argument, there was no point in even trying, “Okay,” he said, “Let’s go back to bed,” he added, turning off the light and letting her lead him back into the bedroom.
Climbing into the bed, he pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest and placing soft, loving kisses atop her head. He stroked her arm gently with the tips of his fingers, lulling her back into a deep sleep. He lay there and watched as her breathing became deeper and evened out, her face losing the pained expression that was there whenever she was awake, even when she smiled, until she finally looked at peace.
Happy that she wasn’t going to wake up, he settled back and stared up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes but knew it was in vein and as relieved as he was that she was getting the rest that she needed, he knew that there was no way he would get to sleep any time soon. Sighing slightly, he accepted his fate before looking back down at Mellie and deciding that since he had nothing else to do, he might as well watch her sleep. After all, it wasn’t like it was a bad way to spend the night.
THE END