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shallownessTitle: How Tea and Socks go together
Fandom: The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Jane/Rochester (or Tea/Socks)
Summary: Socks needs Tea, and Socks gives Tea something she never had before.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Note: 226 words. Inspired by episode 54. Anthropomorfic!AU, I suppose. (Not the crackiest fic I’ve ever written.)
How Tea and Socks go together: shallowness
She’s what he’s learned he needs to turn to in a crisis to clear your head. She’s a constant reminder to him that not everything is crazy complicated - boil the water, infuse the tea leaves with it, drink and be soothed.
Tea has reminded him that some things are as good as they seem to be.
Socks makes her laugh. He’s not plain and practical, he’s colourful, wacky exuberance. ‘Look at me’, he seems to yell, winking with a twitch of his toes. So, she looks. Of course she does, and she smiles, but in a corner of her mind, Tea wonders, ‘Why so bright? Why so psychedelic? Is there a playing card tucked inside, face down?’
It seems mean to think like that, small-minded, as she watches him move, pointing towards so many things she never noticed before. And then he stills, listening to her tell him what she thinks.
She has to remind herself that she’s tea, honest-to-goodness tea. Plain. Sure, she tries different blends for different moods. She’s still young, she’s growing, changing, but the basics are the same. No one changes them. A brew of water and leaves fill a cup with a warmth that lasts.
They both know what the cold is like, she’s sure of that. It is one of the strands of that string he once talked about.
Fin
Fandom: The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Jane/Rochester (or Tea/Socks)
Summary: Socks needs Tea, and Socks gives Tea something she never had before.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Note: 226 words. Inspired by episode 54. Anthropomorfic!AU, I suppose. (Not the crackiest fic I’ve ever written.)
She’s what he’s learned he needs to turn to in a crisis to clear your head. She’s a constant reminder to him that not everything is crazy complicated - boil the water, infuse the tea leaves with it, drink and be soothed.
Tea has reminded him that some things are as good as they seem to be.
Socks makes her laugh. He’s not plain and practical, he’s colourful, wacky exuberance. ‘Look at me’, he seems to yell, winking with a twitch of his toes. So, she looks. Of course she does, and she smiles, but in a corner of her mind, Tea wonders, ‘Why so bright? Why so psychedelic? Is there a playing card tucked inside, face down?’
It seems mean to think like that, small-minded, as she watches him move, pointing towards so many things she never noticed before. And then he stills, listening to her tell him what she thinks.
She has to remind herself that she’s tea, honest-to-goodness tea. Plain. Sure, she tries different blends for different moods. She’s still young, she’s growing, changing, but the basics are the same. No one changes them. A brew of water and leaves fill a cup with a warmth that lasts.
They both know what the cold is like, she’s sure of that. It is one of the strands of that string he once talked about.
Fin
