storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-07-13 01:45 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-07-13 01:45 pm
Between Breaths We Live (George/Daisy)
Title: Between Breaths We Live
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Length: 185 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days 3 Jul 09 // to hear you breathe
Pairing: George/Daisy established
Other: PG for vague sexual references
Excerpt: But when Daisy slept, she was an angel.
George liked to listen to Daisy sleep. It was especially nice after a long day, those days that came at least once a week since Rube had left. The new diner sucked and the new waiter always forgot she hated decaf, and the reap had been a twelve-year-old with dreams of a career in ballet (cut short by a tap-dancing shoe to the forehead). She and Daisy had done nothing but fight, sniping back and forth over the terrible coffee.
But when Daisy slept, she was an angel. George knew it was an illusion, she knew that the fingers that slipped into her jeans had been more places than she really wanted to think about, but Daisy seemed delicate in her sleep, her breath slow and steady, her brow unfurrowed. George reached over and brushed her cheek. Daisy didn't move.
George sighed. Tomorrow, the waiter had better remember her order. Tomorrow, maybe the reap would be an old person who'd lived a long life. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
George shut off the light and listened to Daisy sleep until she drifted off as well.
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Length: 185 words
Prompt:
31_days 3 Jul 09 // to hear you breathePairing: George/Daisy established
Other: PG for vague sexual references
Excerpt: But when Daisy slept, she was an angel.
George liked to listen to Daisy sleep. It was especially nice after a long day, those days that came at least once a week since Rube had left. The new diner sucked and the new waiter always forgot she hated decaf, and the reap had been a twelve-year-old with dreams of a career in ballet (cut short by a tap-dancing shoe to the forehead). She and Daisy had done nothing but fight, sniping back and forth over the terrible coffee.
But when Daisy slept, she was an angel. George knew it was an illusion, she knew that the fingers that slipped into her jeans had been more places than she really wanted to think about, but Daisy seemed delicate in her sleep, her breath slow and steady, her brow unfurrowed. George reached over and brushed her cheek. Daisy didn't move.
George sighed. Tomorrow, the waiter had better remember her order. Tomorrow, maybe the reap would be an old person who'd lived a long life. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
George shut off the light and listened to Daisy sleep until she drifted off as well.