storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-02-12 08:05 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-02-12 08:05 pm
Ruffled Fur (Danny/Sawyer)
Title: Ruffled Fur
Length: 217 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days_exchnge: 18. that torrent of unquiet dream
Fandom: Cats Don't Dance
Pairing: slight Danny/Sawyer; mostly Sawyer gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: If Danny ever knew limits, they only lasted until he figured out how to get around them.
Sawyer hates Danny.
She hates him because she had the dreams buried; because she could type eighty words a minute now; because she keeps the boss's schedule; because she knows her limits.
If Danny ever knew limits, they only lasted until he figured out how to get around them. A true cat, then, the sort that slips around doors and through cracks as if his bones were fluid, always ending up in the place he most wants to be.
And maybe she had been that girl once-- or dreamed of being that girl-- but that is all done. She has a job, she makes the rent... that is all that matters.
He offers his paw and she doesn't want to take it and the dreams flood her again, all of the sudden, the burning in her feet to dance and the wash of applause she always imagines in her head.
"Come on," he says, and she wants to hit him, and instead she takes the offered grip. She doesn't cry then, the joy rising in waves, but she does later, lying abed in the dark and alone.
It hurts her to realize that she's wasted so much time. What is typing skills to a dancer? What is scheduling to a singer?
When she sleeps, she dances in her dreams.
Length: 217 words
Prompt:
31_days_exchnge: 18. that torrent of unquiet dreamFandom: Cats Don't Dance
Pairing: slight Danny/Sawyer; mostly Sawyer gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: If Danny ever knew limits, they only lasted until he figured out how to get around them.
Sawyer hates Danny.
She hates him because she had the dreams buried; because she could type eighty words a minute now; because she keeps the boss's schedule; because she knows her limits.
If Danny ever knew limits, they only lasted until he figured out how to get around them. A true cat, then, the sort that slips around doors and through cracks as if his bones were fluid, always ending up in the place he most wants to be.
And maybe she had been that girl once-- or dreamed of being that girl-- but that is all done. She has a job, she makes the rent... that is all that matters.
He offers his paw and she doesn't want to take it and the dreams flood her again, all of the sudden, the burning in her feet to dance and the wash of applause she always imagines in her head.
"Come on," he says, and she wants to hit him, and instead she takes the offered grip. She doesn't cry then, the joy rising in waves, but she does later, lying abed in the dark and alone.
It hurts her to realize that she's wasted so much time. What is typing skills to a dancer? What is scheduling to a singer?
When she sleeps, she dances in her dreams.