Title: Clocktower
Author: Me
Disclaimer: They belong to WB.
Note: I'm not sure exactly where this belongs in the timeline of events, but yeah. Ok.
Pairing: Dinah/Helena
She's standing at the balcony of the clocktower. I'm not. I'm standing inside, where it's safe. Where I don't need to worry about this burning feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that makes me want to pin her against a wall and make her feel the exact same way. Her back is facing me. Arms crossed, as usual. Soft sunlight pouring over the perfection that is her. Her smell is everywhere. Light scent of strawberry kiwi, of all things. It's probably her shampoo. I see her shiver, wrap those slender arms around the even leaner body. I imagine what it'd feel like with my arms around her. Holding her. Nose buried in her soft short hair, lips pressed to the back of her neck. I'm not that much shorter than her. It's mostly her shoes, an illusion. I can feel her breathing with me, inhale, exhale, puff of air when she chuckels. It's much much too early to bury myself in these fantasies. I haven't even said 'good morning' to her yet. Nevertheless, I am here, she is there, and that glass is far too thin to hold the tension I must be radiating her way. Somehow I think she knows it too because she's moving. Head down, long casual strides back inside. I'm not sure if I've braced myself to face her yet. I might be blushing. So I turn, back now facing her and staring at the door. About ready to walk into the kitchen, but no. No, she won't let me go. Her warm palm is placed lightly on my shoulder, enough to make me die just then. Not so pefectly manicured nails grip at me, so I look back. Now I know i'm blushing because she's smiling a smile so unfamiliar yet so comforting. A warm smile. A smile I pray that she will only give to me. Her fluttering eyes prove that she's still a little sleepy, unlike I, who seems on the verge of a heart attack.
"Morning, Blondie." The tone of her voice is just what I need, and so slowly the corner of my mouth is tugged into a smirk. She leads me into the kitchen for breakfast.
Author: Me
Disclaimer: They belong to WB.
Note: I'm not sure exactly where this belongs in the timeline of events, but yeah. Ok.
Pairing: Dinah/Helena
She's standing at the balcony of the clocktower. I'm not. I'm standing inside, where it's safe. Where I don't need to worry about this burning feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that makes me want to pin her against a wall and make her feel the exact same way. Her back is facing me. Arms crossed, as usual. Soft sunlight pouring over the perfection that is her. Her smell is everywhere. Light scent of strawberry kiwi, of all things. It's probably her shampoo. I see her shiver, wrap those slender arms around the even leaner body. I imagine what it'd feel like with my arms around her. Holding her. Nose buried in her soft short hair, lips pressed to the back of her neck. I'm not that much shorter than her. It's mostly her shoes, an illusion. I can feel her breathing with me, inhale, exhale, puff of air when she chuckels. It's much much too early to bury myself in these fantasies. I haven't even said 'good morning' to her yet. Nevertheless, I am here, she is there, and that glass is far too thin to hold the tension I must be radiating her way. Somehow I think she knows it too because she's moving. Head down, long casual strides back inside. I'm not sure if I've braced myself to face her yet. I might be blushing. So I turn, back now facing her and staring at the door. About ready to walk into the kitchen, but no. No, she won't let me go. Her warm palm is placed lightly on my shoulder, enough to make me die just then. Not so pefectly manicured nails grip at me, so I look back. Now I know i'm blushing because she's smiling a smile so unfamiliar yet so comforting. A warm smile. A smile I pray that she will only give to me. Her fluttering eyes prove that she's still a little sleepy, unlike I, who seems on the verge of a heart attack.
"Morning, Blondie." The tone of her voice is just what I need, and so slowly the corner of my mouth is tugged into a smirk. She leads me into the kitchen for breakfast.