A/N: This will be an ongoing series of Sweenett/Toddvett drabbles. Each will be no more and no less than 100 words, and will not be connected to each other whatsoever. Expect everything ranging from unrequited love to shared feelings, fluff to angst, pure absurdity to something with more solemnity . . . you get the idea.
For those following Moments, my general ST drabble series, the first nine drabbles posted here will look familiar to you, as I've also posted them in Moments. From now on though, I'll be posting all my Sweenett drabbles here instead (unless it's more of a Sweenett companionship than romance, in which case I might cross-post again).
Also, as with my other drabble series, I will be taking requests. =) So if you have some Sweenett concept/idea/etc that you would like me to write, do let me know! Please know, however, that I don't write smut. I write sex, but will not describe to you every last detail. Save your dirtier requests for someone else. ;]
This first drabble is dedicated to my dance teacher, who unwittingly inspired this entire scene.
He starts to leave her bed. She grasps his forearm. "Why not stay the night for once, love?"
"Eleanor," he warns, withdrawing his arm.
There's too much light in her dark gaze, too much love; he looks away.
"Just . . . lie down. Close your eyes."
But he can't. To close your eyes is to trust someone not to hurt you.
He knows people always hurt each other.
Her face presses into his shoulder, lips shifting against his skin as she murmurs: "Even if your eyes're closed, I won't ever hurt you."
He knows this too. It scares him.