*grimaces* I feel very rusty writing Lost but you inspired me to try writing Lost again, so voila! Hope you enjoy :)
“Will you please move over?” Juliet says, lips pursed around the forced politeness.
“Will you please stop hogging that covers?” He mocks, giving them a well measured yank that leaves her half uncovered.
“You know I freeze at night.” She snaps irritably, tugging the covers back and burrowing beneath them.
She tucks her nose under the covers and wiggles her toes a little, trying to warm up while he bitches about her cover hogging tendencies and moves even closer. She blows an irritated little huff of air through her nose before snipping,
“Move.over. I can’t sleep when you’re breathing down my neck.”
She gets pissy when she hasn’t had enough sleep or when she’s cold, and she’s coming off of fifteen hours at the garage and they’re left to fight the chilly weather with only a thin comforter and a couple threadbare sheets. He edges away from her, still a little hesitant when it comes to invoking the wrath of Juliet, before slipping out of bed and shuffling down the hallway.
She peeks over the covers when he returns, arms full of a light bundle. He drops it on the bed before flicking it out over the comforter and she sits up a little, inspecting the fabric. He stands at the end of the bed, shifting a little because it is damn cold, before asking,
“There, happy?”
She rubs it between her fingertips before snorting out a little laugh,
“Is this our tablecloth?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t bother giving any sort of explanation
She laughs again, smoothing her hand over the rough fabric before she says, “Come back to bed.”
He obliges, ducking beneath the covers and reaching for her. She jumps and lets out a completely uncharacteristic squeak, jerking away as she shivers,
“Your hands are freezing.”
“Sorry.” He cups his hands around his mouth and blows into them until his fingers are warm enough to wrap around her waist.
He feels her stiffen and she opens her mouth to tell him (for the hundredth time) that if he insists on breathing down her neck she will send him out to the living room where there is only a lumpy couch completely lacking in any sort of blanket, so he edges a knee between her thighs and pushes upwards until her mouth closes.
She turns back to face him and he grins in what he hopes is a winning manner, “You wanted to get warmed up, what better way?”
“You’re impossible.” She huffs, turning away from him.
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timeasmymeasure
LOST, Miles/Juliet, Domesticity, Part 1
Date: 9/6/10 04:18 am (UTC)“Will you please move over?” Juliet says, lips pursed around the forced politeness.
“Will you please stop hogging that covers?” He mocks, giving them a well measured yank that leaves her half uncovered.
“You know I freeze at night.” She snaps irritably, tugging the covers back and burrowing beneath them.
She tucks her nose under the covers and wiggles her toes a little, trying to warm up while he bitches about her cover hogging tendencies and moves even closer. She blows an irritated little huff of air through her nose before snipping,
“Move.over. I can’t sleep when you’re breathing down my neck.”
She gets pissy when she hasn’t had enough sleep or when she’s cold, and she’s coming off of fifteen hours at the garage and they’re left to fight the chilly weather with only a thin comforter and a couple threadbare sheets. He edges away from her, still a little hesitant when it comes to invoking the wrath of Juliet, before slipping out of bed and shuffling down the hallway.
She peeks over the covers when he returns, arms full of a light bundle. He drops it on the bed before flicking it out over the comforter and she sits up a little, inspecting the fabric. He stands at the end of the bed, shifting a little because it is damn cold, before asking,
“There, happy?”
She rubs it between her fingertips before snorting out a little laugh,
“Is this our tablecloth?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t bother giving any sort of explanation
She laughs again, smoothing her hand over the rough fabric before she says, “Come back to bed.”
He obliges, ducking beneath the covers and reaching for her. She jumps and lets out a completely uncharacteristic squeak, jerking away as she shivers,
“Your hands are freezing.”
“Sorry.” He cups his hands around his mouth and blows into them until his fingers are warm enough to wrap around her waist.
He feels her stiffen and she opens her mouth to tell him (for the hundredth time) that if he insists on breathing down her neck she will send him out to the living room where there is only a lumpy couch completely lacking in any sort of blanket, so he edges a knee between her thighs and pushes upwards until her mouth closes.
She turns back to face him and he grins in what he hopes is a winning manner, “You wanted to get warmed up, what better way?”
“You’re impossible.” She huffs, turning away from him.