Title: Pas de Deux (dance of two)
Author: DramaPhile
Category: story, babyfic, Fluff
Spoilers: requiem
Rating: G
Disclaimer: technically, I don't mention any names per say... they're still not mine though. *sigh*
Summary: Mulder dances with his little girl
Notes: this is pure babyfic fluff that I came up with when I needed to get rid of my depressing story mood. There are only so many times you can kill off a character before it gets to you. Sorry for the long sentences, we've been reading Faulkner (the guy who loves two-page long sentences) in English and it's seeping into my writing style.
Pas De Deux
By DramaPhile
They whirl in a dizzying dance; tiny feet in much cried-over patent leather mary janes now stand atop big feet in white socks that shuffle on the carpet. The music swimming from the Super-Dynamic-Digital-Sub-Woofers is older than either dancer, but neither notices, or cares. They dance in their own world, hands clasping, skirt twirling, dodging corners and coffee tables, laughing and smiling like nothing else exists than dancing hand in hand, feet perched on bigger feet.
She stands at the doorway, half in, half out, the only outsider privy to their secret world, marveling at the effortless grace of He and She as they glide across the floor, tears trickling into the corners of her smile.
Author: DramaPhile
Category: story, babyfic, Fluff
Spoilers: requiem
Rating: G
Disclaimer: technically, I don't mention any names per say... they're still not mine though. *sigh*
Summary: Mulder dances with his little girl
Notes: this is pure babyfic fluff that I came up with when I needed to get rid of my depressing story mood. There are only so many times you can kill off a character before it gets to you. Sorry for the long sentences, we've been reading Faulkner (the guy who loves two-page long sentences) in English and it's seeping into my writing style.
Pas De Deux
By DramaPhile
They whirl in a dizzying dance; tiny feet in much cried-over patent leather mary janes now stand atop big feet in white socks that shuffle on the carpet. The music swimming from the Super-Dynamic-Digital-Sub-Woofers is older than either dancer, but neither notices, or cares. They dance in their own world, hands clasping, skirt twirling, dodging corners and coffee tables, laughing and smiling like nothing else exists than dancing hand in hand, feet perched on bigger feet.
She stands at the doorway, half in, half out, the only outsider privy to their secret world, marveling at the effortless grace of He and She as they glide across the floor, tears trickling into the corners of her smile.