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stunt_muppet at 03:07pm on 18/03/2007 under fanfics, fic posts, fic posts: het, l&o, one-shots
stunt_muppet at 03:07pm on 18/03/2007 under fanfics, fic posts, fic posts: het, l&o, one-shotsIt goes a little something like this:
1. Over breakfast, get what seems like a good idea for the "Time" challenge over atlawandorder100. Note it for later writing purposes.
2. Discover that Time Challenge is already closed. Grumble.
3. Attempt to return to Biology homework, only to find that drabble is poking you in the ribs and asking to be written.
4. Grumble some more. Spend too much time on drabble.
5. Realize that, because you're not submitting this, you're no longer bound by the 100-word limit. Go buck wild on wordcount.
6. Post ficlet. Feel productive. Attempt to go back to work.
1. Over breakfast, get what seems like a good idea for the "Time" challenge over at
lawandorder100. Note it for later writing purposes.2. Discover that Time Challenge is already closed. Grumble.
3. Attempt to return to Biology homework, only to find that drabble is poking you in the ribs and asking to be written.
4. Grumble some more. Spend too much time on drabble.
5. Realize that, because you're not submitting this, you're no longer bound by the 100-word limit. Go buck wild on wordcount.
6. Post ficlet. Feel productive. Attempt to go back to work.
Title: 4:37 a.m.
Words: 229
Rating: PG-13 (for mild sexual suggestion, nothing shown)
Flavor: TOS
Characters/Pairings: Jack McCoy/Claire Kincaid
A/N: Claire’s POV. This takes place fairly early in their relationship.
It’s 4:37 a.m. The bedside clock says so, at any rate. The clock on the far wall reads 4:39; I’m not sure which is right.
Jack’s still asleep, of course. I’ve been awake all night. I’ve spent these early hours staring at the wall, at the ceiling, out the window, and sometimes at him.
I could just go home. There’s no need for me to be here any longer. But for some reason I want to be there when he wakes up; I want him to think I was sleeping next to him even if I wasn’t.
Maybe I want me to think I was sleeping next to him. That would make everything a little simpler.
4:40 now, or 4:42, depending on which clock you’re looking at.
I could turn on the TV, or start a pot of coffee. It wouldn’t wake him; he’s managed to sleep through his own car alarm before. But I can’t help wondering if he’d know I wasn’t there, even for a few minutes. Or if it would matter to him.
Why do I care so much if it matters to him or not?
I could use another hour or two to think.
It’s 4:43 (or 4:45) a.m. I pull the covers up higher and go back to staring at the wall, and at the ceiling, and out the window, and sometimes at him.
busy
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