Title and Author ; Brewing Storms - Chapter Six - Becky
Disclaimer ; Much to my regret, I don't have the intelligence, know-how, luck, or power of Michael Crichton, John Wells, or anybody else at WB who create ER. Sadly, I really don't. Wish I did, mind.
Style ; Unsettled, plot-less, Carby fuzz. Of course. What else d'you expect from me?!
Spoilers ; No. I see none.
Feedback ; Please, do give me my 'something to hang onto' in the form of reviews! Either email me - with 'fanfiction' in the subject title please - otherwise, I don't open it - leave a review with the review button, or, if all else fails, and you're from the C4 - ER board, then review there too! All reviews are greatly appreciated - because, I do, simply need that feedback!
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It was role reversal. He sat on the couch, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket, and she, she padded into the living room, bleary-eyed, and searching for him. The only difference - him. He was sitting, a phone glued to his ear, arranging the evening. Their romantic evening out, the one they never usually got to entail.
She approached him, whispering in the morning silence, and crawling into his lap, snuggling down against him.
" Yeah, okay, thankyou sir. That's Carter. Mr. and Mrs. I'll see you this evening. Thankyou." He took the phone from his ear, and placed it back on the coffee table where he had retrieved it minutes before.
Their eyes met. And their hands intertwined, a hopeful look plastered across her face.
He nodded. " Seven thirty."
Silence engulfed them once again, as she moved from their position of comfort to a standing, and began walking towards the kitchen cabinets.
" D'you want some breakfast?" Her voice resonated back to him as he sat, his feet tucked under him, his hand resting on the left side of his face. He shook his head. She nodded.
She busied herself with the contents of the kitchen, before entering in his eye line again, looking upon him with deep concern.
" You okay?"
He nodded.
" Toothache."
She approached him.
" You should take something for -"
He shook his head.
" I'll be okay."
And she nodded, noting his apparent stubbornness. They embraced eachother, their morning ritual, the one that never died.
" Promise me something," She was murmuring against his chest, as his chin lay atop her head.
" What?"
" You'll get it sorted before dinner tonight." She reached up, kissed his cheek, and left the room, tying her dressing gown around her tighter.
And he stood there. Nodding. Because he would.
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Author's Notes ; Okay, so how was that for pointless fuzz?! Well, it was fuzz, and it was pointless. Hmmm. Well, uh, yeah. I'm writing this for the pure enjoyment, and boredom buster of how to get rid of my writer's lack of motivation. I have ideas - one's that I guess could work, I just can't get them onto paper, I don't know how to go about it. Hmmm. So yeah, there's another chapter of mindless carby fuzz which is enabling me to write something, and think about John Carter at the same time. Not a bad thing I s'pose.
Please, do me a *huge* favour, by continuing the reviews! I need them. They're my 'something to hang onto'.
