Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Sketches Of You •|| CLORSHA ||•

[A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, we had a party today and it somehow ended up with me being in the hospital so... Now I have time to write! :')]

Prompt: Sorcha finds Clodagh's old sketchbook.

Sorcha was rummaging through the attic, searching for some old holiday decorations, when she stumbled across a dusty box shoved into the corner. It was labeled “Clodagh’s Stuff” in faded marker.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled it down, setting it on the floor. Inside were stacks of notebooks, loose papers, and what looked like a very worn sketchbook at the bottom.

Clodagh used to draw?

Sorcha picked up the sketchbook and flipped it open, her curiosity turning to astonishment.

The first page was a portrait of her. Not just any portrait— it was her, from their school days, with her usual mischievous grin and sparkling eyes, drawn in exquisite detail. Sorcha gasped, tracing a finger over the lines.

Page after page revealed more drawings of her: Sorcha laughing, Sorcha concentrating on her homework, Sorcha playing hockey, Sorcha with her hair flying in the wind. Interspersed were drawings of daffodils—her favorite flowers—and whimsical little sketches of her favorite snacks.

Her heart caught in her throat as she noticed the small notes in the margins.

“She’s so beautiful. I hope she doesn’t notice I’m staring again.”

“Why does she make my heart race like this?”

Sorcha turned another page, and tears prickled at her eyes. It was a drawing of the two of them, their hands almost brushing, their faces lit up with unspoken feelings.

“Hey, babe, I thought you were—”

Clodagh’s voice broke through the silence, and Sorcha jumped, clutching the sketchbook to her chest.

Clodagh froze in the doorway, her cheeks turning pink as her eyes landed on the book in Sorcha’s hands. “Oh no,” she groaned. “You found it.”

“Oh, I found it, alright.” Sorcha stood, grinning as she waved the sketchbook. “Care to explain why my gorgeous face is on every single page of this thing?”

Clodagh covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled. “Because I had a crush on you, alright? A huge, embarrassing crush. Can we drop it now?”

“Drop it?” Sorcha’s grin widened. “Clodagh, this is adorable. You were in love with me even back then.”

“I married you, didn’t I?” Clodagh shot back, lowering her hands to reveal her flushed cheeks and playful glare.

Sorcha walked over to her, holding the sketchbook open to the portrait on the first page. “You’re telling me you drew this masterpiece of your now-wife and then just kept it hidden? Clodagh, this is incredible.”

Clodagh sighed, reaching out to close the sketchbook, but Sorcha pulled it away with a teasing smile.

“You know,” Sorcha said, looping her arms around Clodagh’s neck, “if you ever wanted to draw me again, I wouldn’t complain.”

Clodagh smirked, finally wrapping her arms around Sorcha’s waist. “You’d have to sit still, and we both know you’re incapable of that.”

“For you? I’d try.” Sorcha leaned in, her voice softening. “Seriously, Clodagh. These are beautiful. Thank you for loving me like this—even back then.”

Clodagh’s smirk softened into a tender smile. “I’ll always love you like this, Sorcha. And for the record, I still draw you sometimes.”

Sorcha’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you now?”

“Maybe,” Clodagh said, her smile turning sly. “But you’ll have to behave if you want to see them.”

Sorcha laughed, pulling her even closer. “Deal. As long as you keep drawing me, I’ll behave.”

Their laughter echoed through the attic, the forgotten box and its treasures left for another time as they lost themselves in the warmth of each other’s presence.