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lonetread*sigh* This is why I don't write shippy stories. At least I managed to keep this from turning out as bad as it could have, right? 200 words. Day 17 word count: 244/100, give or take a few.
Title is from a quote by John Donne, "And now good morrow to our waking souls, which watch not one another out of fear; for love, all love of other sights controls, and makes one little room, an everywhere". Not entirely sure what he's saying, but it sounded cool/appropriate.
And now good morrow to our waking souls
When Sam opened his eyes, he found himself (or, well, whomever he was now, anyway) in bed.
OK. All things considered, he'd had plenty of worse mornings.
Then he sat up and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall next to the bed. He was in a hotel, he decided, and in the mirror was a short-haired young man with what seemed to be a perpetual look of determined strength. Not bad looking. He'd had worse hosts.
But then he turned and came quickly to the surprising realization that he wasn't alone. Beside him lay a tall young man, with long hair and long limbs and long everything everywhere and Sam didn't know how he hadn't noticed him in a second. He wondered what their names were, and where they were. And most of all he wondered if this was really what it looked like.
He supposed he had something to be grateful for – at least they were wearing clothes.
So all in all, it could have been worse.
(Later, upon finding out they were brothers, he wasn't sure whether this meant it had gotten better or worse. He decided, pragmatically, not to worry about it.)
Title is from a quote by John Donne, "And now good morrow to our waking souls, which watch not one another out of fear; for love, all love of other sights controls, and makes one little room, an everywhere". Not entirely sure what he's saying, but it sounded cool/appropriate.
And now good morrow to our waking souls
When Sam opened his eyes, he found himself (or, well, whomever he was now, anyway) in bed.
OK. All things considered, he'd had plenty of worse mornings.
Then he sat up and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall next to the bed. He was in a hotel, he decided, and in the mirror was a short-haired young man with what seemed to be a perpetual look of determined strength. Not bad looking. He'd had worse hosts.
But then he turned and came quickly to the surprising realization that he wasn't alone. Beside him lay a tall young man, with long hair and long limbs and long everything everywhere and Sam didn't know how he hadn't noticed him in a second. He wondered what their names were, and where they were. And most of all he wondered if this was really what it looked like.
He supposed he had something to be grateful for – at least they were wearing clothes.
So all in all, it could have been worse.
(Later, upon finding out they were brothers, he wasn't sure whether this meant it had gotten better or worse. He decided, pragmatically, not to worry about it.)
