Fics like my applejack, my silent night

When the bell rings, Cairo takes an anxious breath before collecting her things. She’s not entirely certain as to why, but her stomach is turning on itself with nerves, making her feel a bit nauseous. She has this peculiar urge to swaddle Winnie like a baby, wrap her up and feed her soup and keep her safe from all things that might go sour. Her hands twitch with it: the want. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so overwhelming. There’s the squeak of a chair, and Cairo turns to see Winnie standing up. She has a comical pout on her face, so big and dramatic that any child wearing it would be accused of falsehoods and melodrama, and her backpack straps are almost slipping off her shoulders, being held up only by the sheer will of the universe, Cairo surmises. Winnie heads across the room with small steps that seem to be more her sliding across the floor than actually walking, and she seeks out Cairo like a heat-seeking missile, reaching out to take her hand like a child who had just found a lost parent at the grocery store. “Cairo,” she whines. “I’m hot.” --- Winnie is sick; Cairo's never been much of a nurturer, but she's willing to try. Winnie/Cairo AU.

Fics like my applejack, my silent night

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