( it's said through a wry smile as she tugs off socks, lets her jacket fall from her shoulders and to the floor; with that gone, and the boots, that accounts for all of the knives. wait — nope, she forgot one tucked into the leg of her jeans, but she grabs that one and leaves it by her boots, too.
this probably should be weird, but it isn't. maybe it's their collective shared histories, of mismatched memories, of sacrifices, of ridiculous bar brawls in the middle of the 1970s. mick's winking at her and leonard's deliciously dragging out her name and sara decides, in this very moment: fuck it.
maybe she could've taken the couch, but there's something simultaneously terrible and appealing about the idea of sneaking her way between the two of them — not that there's actually much sneaking involved when it comes down to it, sara deciding to crawl right onto the bed and wedge her way between them, back of her head hitting the pillows (or, rather, the corners of both and the miniscule dip between them) as she lets out a relieved sigh. they're warm on either side of her — one side a little more than the other, Obviously — and it's easy to let herself relax against them, not really feeling a need to explain herself unless (until?) she's asked. )
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( it's said through a wry smile as she tugs off socks, lets her jacket fall from her shoulders and to the floor; with that gone, and the boots, that accounts for all of the knives. wait — nope, she forgot one tucked into the leg of her jeans, but she grabs that one and leaves it by her boots, too.
this probably should be weird, but it isn't. maybe it's their collective shared histories, of mismatched memories, of sacrifices, of ridiculous bar brawls in the middle of the 1970s. mick's winking at her and leonard's deliciously dragging out her name and sara decides, in this very moment: fuck it.
maybe she could've taken the couch, but there's something simultaneously terrible and appealing about the idea of sneaking her way between the two of them — not that there's actually much sneaking involved when it comes down to it, sara deciding to crawl right onto the bed and wedge her way between them, back of her head hitting the pillows (or, rather, the corners of both and the miniscule dip between them) as she lets out a relieved sigh. they're warm on either side of her — one side a little more than the other, Obviously — and it's easy to let herself relax against them, not really feeling a need to explain herself unless (until?) she's asked. )