notabricklayer: (Raised eyebrow of doom)
notabricklayer ([personal profile] notabricklayer) wrote2010-10-23 11:18 pm

(no subject)

The lights of their apartment come up in the way he is used to lights coming on the way he is used to lights coming on - smoothing increasing from dark to light with barely a hitch inbetween. The apartment is the same as before - a naturally quirky Victorian that's slightly stark thanks to the driven surgeon who had made this his home once upon a time.

He always meant to take time off, decorate the place a little more elaborately, set it up to be more of a home than a place to collapse after long shifts. Maybe now's time.

But right now he can do something about these damned boots. Some day he is going to both fund and write a paper outlining the evils of these boots, and he'll stuff it down the throats of every lazy ass on the Starfleet Surgeon General's board.

[identity profile] olyabird.livejournal.com 2010-11-08 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
She nestles down, her head pillowed against his arm, letting a deep sigh go. Content. Safe. Sated. Sleep isn't but a few breaths away.