aibhinn_fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aibhinn_fics) wrote2007-12-10 07:20 am
aibhinn_fics) wrote2007-12-10 07:20 am
Entry tags:
Fic: In the Mood
Title: In the Mood
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aibhinn
Pairing: Jack/Estelle
Summary: A meeting that would change two lives, in the midst of the London Blitz. No, not that one.
Rating: G
Word count: 478
Author's notes: Written for challenge one, round one of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerinadrawer competition. Prompt: 'First times'.
The first time Estelle saw Jack Harkness, she knew she loved him.
He drew the eye, though she didn't know how. It wasn't his uniform—there were lots of RAF boys around—nor his bearing, nor even his accent; the Americans had been sending volunteers for years, so running into one wasn't altogether surprising.
It was him.
He turned and looked straight at her, and she suddenly understood what the poems she'd read for so long had been talking about. The world narrowed; nobody existed but the two of them for one long, precious moment. His eyes, so very blue under his dark brows, met hers, and she knew.
She knew.
The song ended. She must have made some sort of excuse to her partner, but she really didn't know what it was. All she knew was that he was coming towards her, holding out his hand, smiling at her in a way that no-one had ever done before.
Feeling oddly as though she were walking into her destiny, she took his hand and let him pull her into a dance position, his right palm warm against her waist through the green linen of her dress. The music started, a slow dance, and they began to sway together.
"I'm Captain—" he began, but she shook her head. He stopped, frowning in surprise.
"I don't want to think about the war," she said firmly. "I came to get away from reality, not to be reminded of it." He looked confused, and she clarified, "I don't want to know your rank." Because like it or not, this was war time, and though she'd hardly met the man, she couldn't bear to think of him going off to fight.
He grinned suddenly, as though with relief, and she felt her heart flip over. "Fair enough," he said. "No rank, no uniform. I'm only wearing this coat because the colour brings out my eyes."
"Yes, it does," she said without thinking, and felt herself blush as he grinned even more broadly. "I'm Estelle," she said to bring the subject back on track.
His hand tightened, pulling her a bit closer. "My name's Jack."
"Jack," she repeated, the syllable rolling over her tongue. She met his eyes, and allowed her smile to spread slowly across her face. "I'm glad you asked me to dance."
"Me too." His voice was a bit husky. "This might be a little forward, but if it's all right with you, I might just have to dance with you for the rest of the night."
"You might, at that," she agreed, and was rewarded with a smile. Not the grin from before; a smile.
Estelle sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, and felt his thumb gently stroke her ribcage. She didn't know how but she knew, the war notwithstanding, she'd be with this man until she died.
Author:
aibhinnPairing: Jack/Estelle
Summary: A meeting that would change two lives, in the midst of the London Blitz. No, not that one.
Rating: G
Word count: 478
Author's notes: Written for challenge one, round one of the
writerinadrawer competition. Prompt: 'First times'.The first time Estelle saw Jack Harkness, she knew she loved him.
He drew the eye, though she didn't know how. It wasn't his uniform—there were lots of RAF boys around—nor his bearing, nor even his accent; the Americans had been sending volunteers for years, so running into one wasn't altogether surprising.
It was him.
He turned and looked straight at her, and she suddenly understood what the poems she'd read for so long had been talking about. The world narrowed; nobody existed but the two of them for one long, precious moment. His eyes, so very blue under his dark brows, met hers, and she knew.
She knew.
The song ended. She must have made some sort of excuse to her partner, but she really didn't know what it was. All she knew was that he was coming towards her, holding out his hand, smiling at her in a way that no-one had ever done before.
Feeling oddly as though she were walking into her destiny, she took his hand and let him pull her into a dance position, his right palm warm against her waist through the green linen of her dress. The music started, a slow dance, and they began to sway together.
"I'm Captain—" he began, but she shook her head. He stopped, frowning in surprise.
"I don't want to think about the war," she said firmly. "I came to get away from reality, not to be reminded of it." He looked confused, and she clarified, "I don't want to know your rank." Because like it or not, this was war time, and though she'd hardly met the man, she couldn't bear to think of him going off to fight.
He grinned suddenly, as though with relief, and she felt her heart flip over. "Fair enough," he said. "No rank, no uniform. I'm only wearing this coat because the colour brings out my eyes."
"Yes, it does," she said without thinking, and felt herself blush as he grinned even more broadly. "I'm Estelle," she said to bring the subject back on track.
His hand tightened, pulling her a bit closer. "My name's Jack."
"Jack," she repeated, the syllable rolling over her tongue. She met his eyes, and allowed her smile to spread slowly across her face. "I'm glad you asked me to dance."
"Me too." His voice was a bit husky. "This might be a little forward, but if it's all right with you, I might just have to dance with you for the rest of the night."
"You might, at that," she agreed, and was rewarded with a smile. Not the grin from before; a smile.
Estelle sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, and felt his thumb gently stroke her ribcage. She didn't know how but she knew, the war notwithstanding, she'd be with this man until she died.
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I love that line. It's *so* Jack, vain little peacock that he is!
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That broke my heart. Beautiful.
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I really have to get over to writerinadrawer -- it's just been a disjointed week . . .
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Thanks!