[IF] December A - SIlence
Dec. 15th, 2006 09:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boar_expertHe reaches for a shirt she’s already picked up to hand to him. He taps her on the shoulder and hands her the power bar she was going to grab off the table in their hotel room.
It’s a silence between them that’s so thick it nearly blocks out Michael’s voice as he rattles off the day’s agenda...getting LJ to safety, finding out more about the woman that had provided them with that file on the whole damn case. It’s not like Lincoln isn’t already a fairly taciturn individual...but the lack of words that they *need* is more than a little scary.
Even when they made love, there was so little to say...a sentence here or there spoke volumes of feeling and intent between them, and the little touches, looks, and small acts are even now communicating more than any long, drawn out talk about where they stand or who they are to each other ever possibly could.
She’s done this before, knowing someone this well...and the frightening thing about this is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about Lincoln. Not nearly enough to exist like this with him...to have that silence in a matter of two days when it took her six months with Kevin and an entire childhood with Tom to achieve that level of rapport.
Love drew her to those men...and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever have that with Lincoln. She wants to, though, and that frightens her.
It’s not love or any sort of magic that lets them have that instant communion...it’s nothing more than an overpowering physical chemistry that neither of them can deny, and an ability, both inherent and learned, to work a situation by working the people in it...not with charm, but hawklike, predatory instincts. They are not wise, understanding, or sympathetic people in the conventional sense...they are shrewd, cunning, and manipulative under the right circumstances.
He sees her hunger through some physical tell she’s revealed to him, gives her the power bar because neither Michael, LJ, nor he will eat it. She hands him the shirt because she saw him looking for his shoes a moment before, and knows he’s getting dressed.
It’s not a silence borne of love’s bond or one heart’s knowledge of the other...it’s borne of the burning, all-consuming hunger that won’t allow them to keep their hands off each other. It’s the nearly obsessive way she watches him rub a hand over those sensuous lips, or the way she feels him watch her hips sway when she walks. They don’t know each other...they’re addicted to each other.
But even love is an addiction...and Kate knows that the fear of that ultimate vice won’t let her remain here much longer.
Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 463
It’s a silence between them that’s so thick it nearly blocks out Michael’s voice as he rattles off the day’s agenda...getting LJ to safety, finding out more about the woman that had provided them with that file on the whole damn case. It’s not like Lincoln isn’t already a fairly taciturn individual...but the lack of words that they *need* is more than a little scary.
Even when they made love, there was so little to say...a sentence here or there spoke volumes of feeling and intent between them, and the little touches, looks, and small acts are even now communicating more than any long, drawn out talk about where they stand or who they are to each other ever possibly could.
She’s done this before, knowing someone this well...and the frightening thing about this is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about Lincoln. Not nearly enough to exist like this with him...to have that silence in a matter of two days when it took her six months with Kevin and an entire childhood with Tom to achieve that level of rapport.
Love drew her to those men...and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever have that with Lincoln. She wants to, though, and that frightens her.
It’s not love or any sort of magic that lets them have that instant communion...it’s nothing more than an overpowering physical chemistry that neither of them can deny, and an ability, both inherent and learned, to work a situation by working the people in it...not with charm, but hawklike, predatory instincts. They are not wise, understanding, or sympathetic people in the conventional sense...they are shrewd, cunning, and manipulative under the right circumstances.
He sees her hunger through some physical tell she’s revealed to him, gives her the power bar because neither Michael, LJ, nor he will eat it. She hands him the shirt because she saw him looking for his shoes a moment before, and knows he’s getting dressed.
It’s not a silence borne of love’s bond or one heart’s knowledge of the other...it’s borne of the burning, all-consuming hunger that won’t allow them to keep their hands off each other. It’s the nearly obsessive way she watches him rub a hand over those sensuous lips, or the way she feels him watch her hips sway when she walks. They don’t know each other...they’re addicted to each other.
But even love is an addiction...and Kate knows that the fear of that ultimate vice won’t let her remain here much longer.
Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 463
