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kricketstitle; rating: port of call; pg13
fandom, pairing; count: haven, audrey/duke; 361
notes: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mollivanders here
Audrey doesn't tell him things anymore.
Truth is?
She never has.
-
She eats dry toast and fingers the rolled-up corner of the newspaper that's been sitting on the table for a week -- since the last time they made port. She never reads it, but Duke always buys her one anyway. Every now and then she turns to the section with the comics, does the Sudoku puzzle, reads the Family Circus.
She never checks her horoscope.
Doesn't even know her real birthday -- or if she even has one.
Duke watches her scribble words on a notepad until her pen runs dry and his coffee is cold.
-
They don't talk about Nathan.
Nathan, as it turns out, is just the first of many things they don't talk about -- but they especially don't talk about him.
Duke wears a chain around his neck with a mangled piece of metal at the end. The bullet weighs heavy on his chest, tucked beneath his shirt and out of view. Every now and then Audrey leans into him, her hand going to the spot at his chest where the bullet rests. He kisses her, and she grins against his lips.
Everything's fine.
She won't say.
Everything's fucked.
He presses the words against her tongue with his own.
Sometimes, when they're in bed together, Audrey comes with her eyes closed, her lip between her teeth, words swallowed and muffled as Duke moves on top of her.
This is as close as they ever get to talking about Nathan.
-
Audrey never seems as free as when she's in the ocean.
Duke finds some out-of-the-way inlet, a place where the water is shallower and calm enough. The sun is high in the sky in the afternoon, and Audrey watches him from her perch at the bow. "Let's go swimming," she grins.
Duke pushes her hair out of her eyes, kisses her nose.
"You're so predictable, Parker," he tells her, and it's only a half-truth.
He watches her strip down to her suit and thinks that maybe this is okay -- that this is enough.
If this is all he can have, he'll take it.
fandom, pairing; count: haven, audrey/duke; 361
notes: written for
mollivanders hereAudrey doesn't tell him things anymore.
Truth is?
She never has.
-
She eats dry toast and fingers the rolled-up corner of the newspaper that's been sitting on the table for a week -- since the last time they made port. She never reads it, but Duke always buys her one anyway. Every now and then she turns to the section with the comics, does the Sudoku puzzle, reads the Family Circus.
She never checks her horoscope.
Doesn't even know her real birthday -- or if she even has one.
Duke watches her scribble words on a notepad until her pen runs dry and his coffee is cold.
-
They don't talk about Nathan.
Nathan, as it turns out, is just the first of many things they don't talk about -- but they especially don't talk about him.
Duke wears a chain around his neck with a mangled piece of metal at the end. The bullet weighs heavy on his chest, tucked beneath his shirt and out of view. Every now and then Audrey leans into him, her hand going to the spot at his chest where the bullet rests. He kisses her, and she grins against his lips.
Everything's fine.
She won't say.
Everything's fucked.
He presses the words against her tongue with his own.
Sometimes, when they're in bed together, Audrey comes with her eyes closed, her lip between her teeth, words swallowed and muffled as Duke moves on top of her.
This is as close as they ever get to talking about Nathan.
-
Audrey never seems as free as when she's in the ocean.
Duke finds some out-of-the-way inlet, a place where the water is shallower and calm enough. The sun is high in the sky in the afternoon, and Audrey watches him from her perch at the bow. "Let's go swimming," she grins.
Duke pushes her hair out of her eyes, kisses her nose.
"You're so predictable, Parker," he tells her, and it's only a half-truth.
He watches her strip down to her suit and thinks that maybe this is okay -- that this is enough.
If this is all he can have, he'll take it.