NickVie one shots (fluff)

hammocks in the dusk (70s)

Her hair was glistening in the sunlight as it shone from behind her head. It created a halo from the frizz of her pretty little perm and i couldn't stop staring. Her hand scrawled her pencil across the pages of her book of poetry and I lay, gently swinging on the hammock we had put up together last summer. Looking at her was like heaven, and I could forget everything around me when I focussed on the cute upwards curve of her nose, how her blonde fringe was just a little too long, so that it hung nearly into her eyes. There was nothing cuter than the way she mouthed each word as she wrote it, and then lifted her pencil and put the end of it on her lip as she muttered and chose the next lines of her artwork.

She was as sweet as an apple from a tree in the summer; more comforting to look at than the feeling of laying by a fireplace, wrapped in a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate in winter.

I knew she'd stay with her words for hours, forgetting to eat or think of anything else. And so i stood up slowly and walked inside to make two cups of tea for the both of us. I made mine quickly, throwing in the sugar, taking out the tea bag a little too early, but with hers I took my time. One sugar, no milk and the tea bag left in just a little longer than would be normal. But of course, her teas were so normal to me I could make them blindfolded.

I brought out the mugs, carefully carrying them so that not a drop of hers was spilled. As I reached the porch, my chest filled with a pleasant rush of love as I saw her still in the same place as she had been. I set her mug down on the small table beside her. The mug I had chosen for her was her favourite - it had a moon on it with dark blue decoration all around the cup and ceramic details on the handle. It was pretty, and matched her perfectly with her witchy attire and her face which was enough to make even the hardest of people smile. She looked up at me when I set the mug down and thanked me, her big brown doe eyes kind. I smiled back but my heart sank as I thought about how she had no idea how much I loved her, and how it wasn't possible for her to love me as anything more than a friend.
"I made it how you liked it," I said, stopping myself from choking up.
She put down her pencil and lifted the mug with both hands, bringing it to her lips. She took a sip and smiled.
"Perfect."
Her slight Southern accent made my ears tingle. Nothing was more perfect than this woman. Every second with her was worth the pain I felt without her. As I sat back down on my hammock and she got back to her poem, I wished I could stay here forever, and drowned out the future with the sound of birdsong and the presence of the woman who broke my heart by breathing.