The First Time You Told Me
This one's another Robbie creation from this summer that we never got around to posting. Ah well, in this Carby slump that we're getting from TPTB, I feel like this is a great time for some fuzz.
Feedback is greatly appreciated; this one's for all my Carby gals from FF way back ;)
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The light from the small bedside lamp casts a warm glow upon the room. The room is silent, pierced only by the sound of contented sighs and the occasional page turning. Propped up against a series of pillows, he reads a medical journal, eyes eagerly scanning the pages, soaking up the information and committing it to memory.
Sitting beside him, reclining on
her side, head up on one elbow, she struggles against the strains of
unconsciousness about to engulf her. Periodically, her eyes flutter shut, and her head lulls dully to the
side. But, drawing another breath, her
eyes snap wide open, straining against the light, and fix her gaze unwaveringly
back on him.
She sighs loudly, hoping to evoke a response from him. She's triumphant as he turns to her, smiling cheekily. He speaks; his voice is deep and soothing to the ear with an aura of playfulness.
"There something stuck in my teeth?"
She shakes her head, looking bewildered, as if a trance has just been broken.
"Hmm …?"
"You've been staring at me for the past ten minutes."
She shrugs and shakes her head, drawing another deep breath as if she's about to say something. But she releases the air, a pensive look crossing her face. He cocks his head to the side, watching her intently as she looks like she's about to share an emotional revelation. But she is still silent, diverting her eyes elsewhere and breaking their gaze.
He takes the folded up journal in his lap and sets in on the nightstand beside the bed they share. It falls with a soft thump, again jarring her daze. He turns back to her, reaching out a finger and gently running it tenderly along the length of her chin. A spark of emotion flickers across her features, tinting them with a hint of pleasure. He speaks again, but his tone is softer, matching the tranquil but cozy atmosphere of the room. He is suddenly less playful, more serious and loving, sensing her hunger for sensitivity.
"We should get to sleep; you have an early shift tomorrow."
She shakes her head, smiling almost wistfully, and sits up to drape her arms around his neck. She pulls him close enough so they are head to head and impulsively leans in so their lips meet in a tender rendezvous. For a brief moment of passion, full warm lips massage each other, pulling gently with relaxed vigor. She pulls away, her lips inches away from his, and begins to speak softly, arms still around his neck.
"I don't want to sleep right now; I just want to be with you. It feels like we never get to spend time like this together anymore."
A smile shimmers across his face at her amorous but implicit suggestion as they lean in for another brief kiss and pull away.
"I get the feeling that you won't
be saying that tomorrow morning at
She shakes her head, causing their heads to rub together from the close proximity they are sitting at.
"I don't need to sleep. Sleep brings dreams, but when I'm with you, what's happening in reality is better than anything that could happen in a dream. I don't need to dream anymore." She pauses thoughtfully, her intense stare boring into him. "That's love, John." Another pause as an element of surprise mixed with an utmost seriousness and simplicity enters her voice. "I love you."
It comes out sounding almost like a question, but he fully understands the implications. They lean into another kiss, this one deeper and more passion filled. His arms pull her head close, as they fall to the bed, her body on top of his. He rolls over so that she is underneath him, as his hands begin to wander and trace patterns across her scantly clothed body.
She giggles softly as he murmurs incoherent nothings into her ear. Laughing together, they escape under the billowing sheets.
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She sits at the desk at the hospital, frazzled and painted with exhaustion. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, she idly flips through a patient's chart, mind completely consumed by thoughts of bed and sleep.
He walks up to the other side of the desk, leaning up against the wall, but she is oblivious to his presence. For a moment, he stares at her in delight. Without announcing his presence, he speaks.
"Me too."
"What?
His cocky grin is devilish and signature. He's glorifying in her confusion.
"I said me too. What you were saying last night about the reality being better than the dream and not wanting to sleep because of it. I agree."
She raises her eyebrows at him, looking expectantly for him to elaborate. Off his silence, she wonders aloud.
"So what exactly are you trying to tell me?"
He turns his body, about to walk away. Only his head stays focused on her, mouth moving in synchrony with his words. The sound that flows forth is truly spoken from the heart, short and simple, but very frank and truthful.
"I love you, Abby."
He grins and walks away. Her hand rushes to her mouth to contain the murmur of surprise. Slowly, her face breaks into a smile. The first time is the most special, she's been told. And it is.
They're in love.
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