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Jul. 31st, 2006 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iceminkI've been meaning to post this for a while, although I'm a little embarassed by it. I wrote this for the first round of the most recent ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
joss_las. The catagory was simply romance, so it's a little cheesy. Doing romance in under 1000 words is difficult. But hey, I figured I'd post it anyway.
Title: Umbrella
Rating: G
Pairing: Darla/Lindsey
Discalimer: I own none of the characters and just play with them for fun.
As Lindsey pushed open the door to his apartment, Darla barely looked up. She just sat curled up on the couch, nursing the blood he'd brought her earlier. That was about all she had done since Angel had set her and Drusilla on fire.
"Hey," he greeted her, but she didn't respond or ask why he was home so late.
Normally he would leave her be, but he was tired of that. The burns on her skin were healing, but she wasn't getting any better. Tonight he wasn't going to let her just sit there feeling sorry for herself.
He took the jar of blood from her hands. She looked at him in annoyance, but didn't say or do anything else.
"Come on," he said, taking her hands into his, and pulling her up. "You're getting out of here tonight."
"No," she finally protested, pulling away from him.
He wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He put an arm around her back, pulling her against his chest. Of course she was much stronger than him, and he'd seen first hand how brutal she could be if the mood took her, but she was so fractured now that it was hard to remember that she was a vampire. On the other hand, her cold delicate hands, and the defeated look in her eyes made it all to easy to remember that she was dead.
"I don't want to go out, I don't want anyone to see me like this," she insisted.
"It's okay. No one will see you," he promised. "But the fresh air will do you some good."
"I don't breathe," she pointed out, but she had stopped fighting him.
He was almost sorry, at least it would have been something if she'd kept resisting him. Instead she simply gave in, allowing him to lead her up to the rooftop of his apartment building.
On the roof, a table with two chairs was waiting for them. It was just an old card table, with a tattered table cloth thrown over it, and the chairs were just folding chairs, but it was the best he'd been able to do.
He pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit in, and then lit the candles on the table, before uncorking a bottle of blood he'd gotten special and pouring her a glass. There was also a bottle of champagne for them to share, but he had something else planned first.
He pressed play on a CD player that he'd brought up and began to sing:
When that I was a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed, and wished he'd drunk the whole bottle of champagne. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was a good signer all he had to do was track down a song she liked. He'd spent hours in Files and Records looking for any hint as to what sort of songs she might have liked.
It hadn't been a pleasant process. He'd kept coming across instrumentals that he could have played on his guitar if he still had two hands. It made the hand he didn't have throb with pain. But it had been worth it, he told himself. Darla would never have been brought back if he hadn't stood up to Angel that night.
As he sang he realized he should have just put on some of her favorite classical music and left it at that. Trying to make it personal by singing a song for her himself was a disaster. He winced at every note. He couldn't seem to get his voice to match up right with the CD, and he didn't even really know that she liked this song. Only that she'd attended a lot of performances of Twelfth Night and he'd been able to download the music online.
It was all so awful, and he'd he sounded so foolish, that when he reached the last verse he figured all he could do was the finish the process and make a complete fool out of himself. So he added in a verse that wasn't even part of the song and didn't scan correctly, trying to force it to match the music.
The rain it raineth every day
Upon the just and unjust fella,
But more upon the just because
The unjust hath the just's umbrella.
And then Darla smiled, and all the embarrassment was worth it.
"That was awful," she teased him.
"Yeah, it really was," he agreed as he hurried to turn off the CD player. "Sorry about that."
She got up and put her arms around his neck. Lindsey froze. It was the first real sign of life he'd seen in her since she'd come to him, wounded and hurt.
"So is the moral of the story that I should go out and start stealing umbrellas?" she joked.
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her tight against him, his heart racing as he felt her pressed against him. Their feet began to move in a slow circle, even though there was no music playing anymore.
"Actually I kind of thought you were the umbrella."
She laughed, "I don't think anyone has ever compared me to an umbrella before." She rested her head against his shoulder. "It's you who keeps the rain off of me," she whispered.
He tilted her face so that she was looking up at him. "I'll always be here to shelter you," he promised.
"I know," she murmured before she reached up to thank him with a kiss.
joss_las. The catagory was simply romance, so it's a little cheesy. Doing romance in under 1000 words is difficult. But hey, I figured I'd post it anyway.Title: Umbrella
Rating: G
Pairing: Darla/Lindsey
Discalimer: I own none of the characters and just play with them for fun.
As Lindsey pushed open the door to his apartment, Darla barely looked up. She just sat curled up on the couch, nursing the blood he'd brought her earlier. That was about all she had done since Angel had set her and Drusilla on fire.
"Hey," he greeted her, but she didn't respond or ask why he was home so late.
Normally he would leave her be, but he was tired of that. The burns on her skin were healing, but she wasn't getting any better. Tonight he wasn't going to let her just sit there feeling sorry for herself.
He took the jar of blood from her hands. She looked at him in annoyance, but didn't say or do anything else.
"Come on," he said, taking her hands into his, and pulling her up. "You're getting out of here tonight."
"No," she finally protested, pulling away from him.
He wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He put an arm around her back, pulling her against his chest. Of course she was much stronger than him, and he'd seen first hand how brutal she could be if the mood took her, but she was so fractured now that it was hard to remember that she was a vampire. On the other hand, her cold delicate hands, and the defeated look in her eyes made it all to easy to remember that she was dead.
"I don't want to go out, I don't want anyone to see me like this," she insisted.
"It's okay. No one will see you," he promised. "But the fresh air will do you some good."
"I don't breathe," she pointed out, but she had stopped fighting him.
He was almost sorry, at least it would have been something if she'd kept resisting him. Instead she simply gave in, allowing him to lead her up to the rooftop of his apartment building.
On the roof, a table with two chairs was waiting for them. It was just an old card table, with a tattered table cloth thrown over it, and the chairs were just folding chairs, but it was the best he'd been able to do.
He pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit in, and then lit the candles on the table, before uncorking a bottle of blood he'd gotten special and pouring her a glass. There was also a bottle of champagne for them to share, but he had something else planned first.
He pressed play on a CD player that he'd brought up and began to sing:
When that I was a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed, and wished he'd drunk the whole bottle of champagne. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was a good signer all he had to do was track down a song she liked. He'd spent hours in Files and Records looking for any hint as to what sort of songs she might have liked.
It hadn't been a pleasant process. He'd kept coming across instrumentals that he could have played on his guitar if he still had two hands. It made the hand he didn't have throb with pain. But it had been worth it, he told himself. Darla would never have been brought back if he hadn't stood up to Angel that night.
As he sang he realized he should have just put on some of her favorite classical music and left it at that. Trying to make it personal by singing a song for her himself was a disaster. He winced at every note. He couldn't seem to get his voice to match up right with the CD, and he didn't even really know that she liked this song. Only that she'd attended a lot of performances of Twelfth Night and he'd been able to download the music online.
It was all so awful, and he'd he sounded so foolish, that when he reached the last verse he figured all he could do was the finish the process and make a complete fool out of himself. So he added in a verse that wasn't even part of the song and didn't scan correctly, trying to force it to match the music.
The rain it raineth every day
Upon the just and unjust fella,
But more upon the just because
The unjust hath the just's umbrella.
And then Darla smiled, and all the embarrassment was worth it.
"That was awful," she teased him.
"Yeah, it really was," he agreed as he hurried to turn off the CD player. "Sorry about that."
She got up and put her arms around his neck. Lindsey froze. It was the first real sign of life he'd seen in her since she'd come to him, wounded and hurt.
"So is the moral of the story that I should go out and start stealing umbrellas?" she joked.
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her tight against him, his heart racing as he felt her pressed against him. Their feet began to move in a slow circle, even though there was no music playing anymore.
"Actually I kind of thought you were the umbrella."
She laughed, "I don't think anyone has ever compared me to an umbrella before." She rested her head against his shoulder. "It's you who keeps the rain off of me," she whispered.
He tilted her face so that she was looking up at him. "I'll always be here to shelter you," he promised.
"I know," she murmured before she reached up to thank him with a kiss.
