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Mar. 15th, 2004 11:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyI did not film today. Spent the day in the classroom. Who knew such things were possible?
However, Sydney and Weiss from Alias are, quite literally, running amock in my head. Which is bad. Because I don't want to write Alias fic. I'm spoiler free girl, and this means that whatever I write can literally be thrown out of canon in a week, this being the same reason why 24 fanfic, aside from the odd vignette, is also a no-go for me. And besides, I've only seen up to season three episode one (see, this is how not into the fandom I am, I don't even look up the episode names in case the episode title is a spoiler. Once burned and all that) and any SWeiss fic out there (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
christinekh you gave me the name for it, I glare at you...) has probably already been done and done better, not that I can read it, because, you know, spoiler girl...
And in case you haven't already guessed it, this is by way of whinging that I've written about 1,500 words of a fic that I'm damn sure comes in the middle of something and I don't want it too! ...wails...
Too. Many. Bunnies.
RTE still have not shown Crash and Burn. Which I know I've seen, but there's a principle at stake dammit. On the bright side, I have just seen Forever. Which, you know, Warrick and the baba. (points right at icon) This is not a bad thing.
Also have fic for thecsreports 10 Words challenge. I used 8 of the ten (minimum five) (gel, guilt, thick, towel, tense, stop, power, silk) for a Warrick/Sara Homebodies post ep (season four, ep three) called
With an angry snap, Sara turns off the shower. She’s used up all her hot water, not to mention half a bottle of shower gel, all to not avail. She can still see Suzanna Kirkwood lying dead, can still feel the guilt clinging to her, along with the thought that she should have been able to protect her.
Shaking her head, she wraps a thick white towel around her body, and walks out into her bedroom, jumping when she realises she’s not alone. Warrick is sitting on her bed, waiting for her, and as if that’s not startling enough, he doesn’t look out of place there.
But he should; after all, they were over a long time ago.
“I let myself in,” he tells her, because he has a key to her place, just like she has one to his.
She shrugs, walks over to the mirror, takes up her hairbrush. “I was in the shower,” she says, stating the obvious, but feeling like she has to say something.
“I figured,” he says, standing up. “Did it work?”
The look in his eyes makes her hand shake. “Did what work?” she parries, and he chuckles.
“Obviously not,” he says, coming up to stand behind her. His large, warm hands land on her shoulders, and he sighs, his breath sending goosebumps across her skin. “You’re still tense.”
His hands begin to rub, and her eyes flutter shut, because it feels heavenly. A little voice in the back of her mind reminds her that they’re not together any more, that she should tell him to stop but she can’t quite seem to find the power of speech right now. All she can do is let her head fall back against his shoulder as his hands, soft as silk against her skin, move lower and lower. She’s not surprised when they tug gently at the towel, and the shiver that courses through her when it falls to the floor has little to do with cold and everything to do with his hands finding her hips, his lips finding her neck.
When he turns her in his arms, his lips finding hers, she responds eagerly, lets out a throaty moan of disappointment when he pulls back, looks down at her with a frown. “Believe it or not,” he says, “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came over here.”
From anyone else, she’d be doubtful, but she knows sincere Warrick when she sees him. “I know that,” she tells him quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop.” He lifts a questioning eyebrow, and she presses herself closer against him. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need this too,” she whispers.
He tilts his head, acknowledging the truth in her words, and she leans into him, brings her lips to his, and for the rest of their time together, neither is thinking about their cases. And when she falls asleep in his arms, both are completely relaxed.
However, Sydney and Weiss from Alias are, quite literally, running amock in my head. Which is bad. Because I don't want to write Alias fic. I'm spoiler free girl, and this means that whatever I write can literally be thrown out of canon in a week, this being the same reason why 24 fanfic, aside from the odd vignette, is also a no-go for me. And besides, I've only seen up to season three episode one (see, this is how not into the fandom I am, I don't even look up the episode names in case the episode title is a spoiler. Once burned and all that) and any SWeiss fic out there (
christinekh you gave me the name for it, I glare at you...) has probably already been done and done better, not that I can read it, because, you know, spoiler girl... And in case you haven't already guessed it, this is by way of whinging that I've written about 1,500 words of a fic that I'm damn sure comes in the middle of something and I don't want it too! ...wails...
Too. Many. Bunnies.
RTE still have not shown Crash and Burn. Which I know I've seen, but there's a principle at stake dammit. On the bright side, I have just seen Forever. Which, you know, Warrick and the baba. (points right at icon) This is not a bad thing.
Also have fic for the
csreports 10 Words challenge. I used 8 of the ten (minimum five) (gel, guilt, thick, towel, tense, stop, power, silk) for a Warrick/Sara Homebodies post ep (season four, ep three) called With an angry snap, Sara turns off the shower. She’s used up all her hot water, not to mention half a bottle of shower gel, all to not avail. She can still see Suzanna Kirkwood lying dead, can still feel the guilt clinging to her, along with the thought that she should have been able to protect her.
Shaking her head, she wraps a thick white towel around her body, and walks out into her bedroom, jumping when she realises she’s not alone. Warrick is sitting on her bed, waiting for her, and as if that’s not startling enough, he doesn’t look out of place there.
But he should; after all, they were over a long time ago.
“I let myself in,” he tells her, because he has a key to her place, just like she has one to his.
She shrugs, walks over to the mirror, takes up her hairbrush. “I was in the shower,” she says, stating the obvious, but feeling like she has to say something.
“I figured,” he says, standing up. “Did it work?”
The look in his eyes makes her hand shake. “Did what work?” she parries, and he chuckles.
“Obviously not,” he says, coming up to stand behind her. His large, warm hands land on her shoulders, and he sighs, his breath sending goosebumps across her skin. “You’re still tense.”
His hands begin to rub, and her eyes flutter shut, because it feels heavenly. A little voice in the back of her mind reminds her that they’re not together any more, that she should tell him to stop but she can’t quite seem to find the power of speech right now. All she can do is let her head fall back against his shoulder as his hands, soft as silk against her skin, move lower and lower. She’s not surprised when they tug gently at the towel, and the shiver that courses through her when it falls to the floor has little to do with cold and everything to do with his hands finding her hips, his lips finding her neck.
When he turns her in his arms, his lips finding hers, she responds eagerly, lets out a throaty moan of disappointment when he pulls back, looks down at her with a frown. “Believe it or not,” he says, “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came over here.”
From anyone else, she’d be doubtful, but she knows sincere Warrick when she sees him. “I know that,” she tells him quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop.” He lifts a questioning eyebrow, and she presses herself closer against him. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need this too,” she whispers.
He tilts his head, acknowledging the truth in her words, and she leans into him, brings her lips to his, and for the rest of their time together, neither is thinking about their cases. And when she falls asleep in his arms, both are completely relaxed.
