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Dec. 22nd, 2004 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyI'm on my holidays! *dances* And in even better news, the children's concert today, which I organised in the school, went well. Yes, we started late, and therefore yes, we ran late. But everyone enjoyed it, and my class, who some of you have heard me talk about, sang. As in, they sang. Not too sure about the musicality of it all (they seemed to adopt the American Idol Season Three Mantra: Loud is the New Good) but they raised their voices and they sang their lungs out and they were just magnificent and I'm so frickin' proud of them at this point in time... by half nine on January 10th, I'll need you to remind me of this post, but for the moment, all is well with HelsinkiClass!
So to celebrate, I'm writing a companion piece of the post-apocalyptic fic I wrote for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nekosmuse last night. Of course I am. *headdesk*
And in other news, fluffy fic, for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writers_choice open challenge, back to #17, the other side of the window.
Title: Life Goes On
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Warrick/Sara
Rating: PG
Word Count: 419
Life goes on on the other side of the window.
It is daylight outside, and there is work to be done at the crime lab. There is evidence to be processed, papers to be filed, criminals to be interviewed. There is a fridge that needs to be patrolled daily, just in case Grissom takes it into his head to put some new and improved experiment there, and there are things that she has to do, important things.
In other matters, outside of the crime lab, there is shopping that needs to be done, her cupboards practically bare, the lack of real food in the apartment appalling. The only food to be found is in the refrigerator, cartons of Chinese food long past their eat-by dates, giving off, she’s sure, an odour that surpasses anything that Grissom’s experiments might have given out. She’s pretty sure that she needs to put on a load of laundry, is almost certain that there’s something at the dry cleaner’s that she has to pick up – maybe a lot of somethings, she’s lost track a little. There’s a stack of mail on the counter that she has to sort through, bills that she has to pay.
Outside her bedroom window, life goes on. People walk up and down the street, calling out hello to their neighbours, talking to each other, passing the time of day. Children ride bicycles, play basketball and chasing games. Cars drive by, people going on about their business, and Sara knows that she should get up, knows that she should join them.
Life is going on on the other side of the window.
But on this side of the window, she is lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, and she is looking at Warrick asleep beside her. The blanket has slipped to his waist, and his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. His long eyelashes move slightly against his skin, his head tilted slightly towards her, his lips turned up in the slightest of smiles; whatever he’s dreaming about, it’s a pleasant dream. She shifts slightly, the better to see him, and even in sleep, he registers that, his body moving towards her, hand seeking out some part of her underneath the covers, stopping its search when it encounters the skin of her stomach. He lets out a long breath then, but he doesn’t wake up, sleeps on soundly.
It makes her smile.
Life goes on on the other side of the window.
She lets it.
So to celebrate, I'm writing a companion piece of the post-apocalyptic fic I wrote for
nekosmuse last night. Of course I am. *headdesk*And in other news, fluffy fic, for the
writers_choice open challenge, back to #17, the other side of the window. Title: Life Goes On
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Warrick/Sara
Rating: PG
Word Count: 419
Life goes on on the other side of the window.
It is daylight outside, and there is work to be done at the crime lab. There is evidence to be processed, papers to be filed, criminals to be interviewed. There is a fridge that needs to be patrolled daily, just in case Grissom takes it into his head to put some new and improved experiment there, and there are things that she has to do, important things.
In other matters, outside of the crime lab, there is shopping that needs to be done, her cupboards practically bare, the lack of real food in the apartment appalling. The only food to be found is in the refrigerator, cartons of Chinese food long past their eat-by dates, giving off, she’s sure, an odour that surpasses anything that Grissom’s experiments might have given out. She’s pretty sure that she needs to put on a load of laundry, is almost certain that there’s something at the dry cleaner’s that she has to pick up – maybe a lot of somethings, she’s lost track a little. There’s a stack of mail on the counter that she has to sort through, bills that she has to pay.
Outside her bedroom window, life goes on. People walk up and down the street, calling out hello to their neighbours, talking to each other, passing the time of day. Children ride bicycles, play basketball and chasing games. Cars drive by, people going on about their business, and Sara knows that she should get up, knows that she should join them.
Life is going on on the other side of the window.
But on this side of the window, she is lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, and she is looking at Warrick asleep beside her. The blanket has slipped to his waist, and his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. His long eyelashes move slightly against his skin, his head tilted slightly towards her, his lips turned up in the slightest of smiles; whatever he’s dreaming about, it’s a pleasant dream. She shifts slightly, the better to see him, and even in sleep, he registers that, his body moving towards her, hand seeking out some part of her underneath the covers, stopping its search when it encounters the skin of her stomach. He lets out a long breath then, but he doesn’t wake up, sleeps on soundly.
It makes her smile.
Life goes on on the other side of the window.
She lets it.
