Ficlet: Rain (Sky High, Layla/Warren, PG)
Nov. 26th, 2017 03:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shallownessRain. Sky High. PG.
Layla Williams/Warren Peace
Summary: Layla sees the positives of rain.
400 words. Written for the prompt ‘Any, any, rain’ at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic
Rain: shallowness
Layla has always loved rain, since realising as a kid it was as vital for plants’ growth as sunshine. Sure, it made her damp and cold, unless if there was a nearby tree she could coax to give her some coverage, or she’d listened to her mom and worn a coat. But the fresh smell of rained-on earth and city made her think of new starts and hope.
And now, even though she got caught unawares by a shower over Maxville and has no coat on, Layla hustles home smiling, knowing Warren will dry her out and warm her up.
Warren hears Layla come in, but only turns around to look at her when he’s put the last book on the shelf.
“You’re dripping,” he observes.
“It’s not that bad,” Layla retorts. She waves her hand up and down in what’s meant to be a sign for something, but probably not that her damp clothes are clinging to her body. He gives her a look to show he has no clue what she wants.
“Your powers. Dry me out,” she says.
That he can do, but he teases, “Always wanting me to use my powers. Light this, cook this, warm me up, Warren. That’s why you moved in with me.”
“You love it when I order you about,” she responds, and then she sneezes. It’s just a little one, but it makes Warren stride towards her, creating a flame over each finger of one hand. He passes it over Layla’s body, down to her feet and up to her damp red hair, circling around her. There’s an intensity to it. He’s determined to keep the flames at the right level to make sure she’s dry.
“Thank you,” she says, low-voiced, revealing the intimacy of what he did got to her, too.
“You should have taken a coat,” he says, as he douses the flames, but not the heat between them.
“I should,” she agrees.
A beat later, and his lips are on hers or her lips are on his, his hands tangling in her hair as her arms go around his back to draw his body closer. The energy that’s building up between them is like that of a storm, as they both enjoy the fact that they can touch each other where they want, as much as they want. For Layla, the chill from the rain is long gone.
Fin
Layla Williams/Warren Peace
Summary: Layla sees the positives of rain.
400 words. Written for the prompt ‘Any, any, rain’ at
comment_ficLayla has always loved rain, since realising as a kid it was as vital for plants’ growth as sunshine. Sure, it made her damp and cold, unless if there was a nearby tree she could coax to give her some coverage, or she’d listened to her mom and worn a coat. But the fresh smell of rained-on earth and city made her think of new starts and hope.
And now, even though she got caught unawares by a shower over Maxville and has no coat on, Layla hustles home smiling, knowing Warren will dry her out and warm her up.
Warren hears Layla come in, but only turns around to look at her when he’s put the last book on the shelf.
“You’re dripping,” he observes.
“It’s not that bad,” Layla retorts. She waves her hand up and down in what’s meant to be a sign for something, but probably not that her damp clothes are clinging to her body. He gives her a look to show he has no clue what she wants.
“Your powers. Dry me out,” she says.
That he can do, but he teases, “Always wanting me to use my powers. Light this, cook this, warm me up, Warren. That’s why you moved in with me.”
“You love it when I order you about,” she responds, and then she sneezes. It’s just a little one, but it makes Warren stride towards her, creating a flame over each finger of one hand. He passes it over Layla’s body, down to her feet and up to her damp red hair, circling around her. There’s an intensity to it. He’s determined to keep the flames at the right level to make sure she’s dry.
“Thank you,” she says, low-voiced, revealing the intimacy of what he did got to her, too.
“You should have taken a coat,” he says, as he douses the flames, but not the heat between them.
“I should,” she agrees.
A beat later, and his lips are on hers or her lips are on his, his hands tangling in her hair as her arms go around his back to draw his body closer. The energy that’s building up between them is like that of a storm, as they both enjoy the fact that they can touch each other where they want, as much as they want. For Layla, the chill from the rain is long gone.
Fin
