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whiskeycoffee2008-12-16 06:34 pm
mjules.livejournal.com) wrote in whiskeycoffee2008-12-16 06:34 pm
Entry tags:
"Needle and Thread" (Calvin & Hobbes, gen, 1/1)
Title: Needle and Thread
Author: m.jules
Fandom: Calvin & Hobbes
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Written 01/31/08 for a prompt by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladystarblade
It was this kind of moment that always took her by surprise, made her smile, and made her realize that everything else was worth it.
Her son, so rarely still or serious, sat in his bedroom, needle and thread (that he'd stolen from her sewing kit without asking first) in his hand, tongue curled up over his upper lip in concentration, eyes red-rimmed with tears he'd swear he hadn't cried.
"Nurse - sutures," he muttered, holding out his hand to an imaginary assistant. "Thank you. Nurse - sponge." He used the back of his own wrist to dab at the non-existent sweat on his forehead.
The needle hovered and quivered above the frayed fabric where his stuffed tiger's tail had come loose from the body, and he grumbled, "Quiet in the operating room! This is life or death, here."
Smiling, she crept away from the door - quietly so as not to give away her presence. She decided she'd better put her sewing kit back together, since she was certain he hadn't been stealthy enough to leave the scene undisturbed.
What she hadn't expected was for him to have scattered everything - even the tin of straight pins - across the carpet. As she held her breath and counted to ten - twenty - thirty - forty, she pictured the look on his face as he sewed his best friend back together and tried to convince herself that those moments really DID make everything else worth it.
Author: m.jules
Fandom: Calvin & Hobbes
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Written 01/31/08 for a prompt by
ladystarbladeIt was this kind of moment that always took her by surprise, made her smile, and made her realize that everything else was worth it.
Her son, so rarely still or serious, sat in his bedroom, needle and thread (that he'd stolen from her sewing kit without asking first) in his hand, tongue curled up over his upper lip in concentration, eyes red-rimmed with tears he'd swear he hadn't cried.
"Nurse - sutures," he muttered, holding out his hand to an imaginary assistant. "Thank you. Nurse - sponge." He used the back of his own wrist to dab at the non-existent sweat on his forehead.
The needle hovered and quivered above the frayed fabric where his stuffed tiger's tail had come loose from the body, and he grumbled, "Quiet in the operating room! This is life or death, here."
Smiling, she crept away from the door - quietly so as not to give away her presence. She decided she'd better put her sewing kit back together, since she was certain he hadn't been stealthy enough to leave the scene undisturbed.
What she hadn't expected was for him to have scattered everything - even the tin of straight pins - across the carpet. As she held her breath and counted to ten - twenty - thirty - forty, she pictured the look on his face as he sewed his best friend back together and tried to convince herself that those moments really DID make everything else worth it.
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