by G Richmond
Status: Draft 1
Author: G. Richmond
Feedback levels: UP TO LEVEL 2
Feedback requests: Flow
Author's notes: Written for 100fics challenge (036. Smell). This is my first ever attempt as such a short piece (is it called a drabble?) so I'm not sure how well it reads. I myself don't often read drabbles, so I'm not really sure if this if effective or not :/
It was a pleasing, comforting smell, and it was terribly important. It was a smell he never got tired of waking up to, of falling asleep to, something that never failed to draw a smile to his face. It was familiar, sensual, and at times it felt like he could survive on that smell alone. It had so many memories attached it could have read as a biography, but each image was as vivid as the day it was made. It shaped his mood, attuned his senses and influenced his actions.
Never mind that it tickled his face, or that it was sometimes really too hot to get that close, or that occasionally it nearly suffocated him. He couldn't get enough. He couldn't pinpoint if it was a certain perfume, or soap, or if it was completely natural, but he found that he really didn't care. It could have been an illusion as far as he was concerned, as long as it didn't go away.
And when it did try to go away, well, he had counter-measures against that.
He would wrap his arm tighter around Face's waist, pull him back against his chest, and hold him there until he stopped struggling. Which never took long, since Face was usually too tired to put up much of a fight. And Face never really meant to move away, even in the heat of summer, when bare-skin contact was uncomfortable and sticky. He always allowed Murdock the comfort of sleeping with his nose buried in his hair, because he knew the smell was important,
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