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Fanfic 100 - 036, Smell
Title: Now
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Benjamin Barker, Nellie Lovett
Prompt: 036, Smell
Word Count: 203
Rating: G
Summary: One of three little drabbles.
Author's Notes: First fics post-movie. The movie will, of course, influence a little bit...but the continuity, such as it is, is mainly the same as my pre-film fiction. If it matters, which it likely doesn't.
He recognized her instantly. Oh, certainly the years had changed her, and in more than age. Her clothes were thrice-mended or more, her hands gnarled with kneading dough and pounding meat. Her hair was still auburn, as it had been, but still, Mrs. Lovett looked older than he knew she truly was.
But it was the shop’s smell – the smell of grime and pies and perhaps a little cheap cologne. It brought him back, though there used to be a good deal more pie and a good deal less grime. If she would stop prattling at him for half a moment… He closed his eyes. He was home. Really, truly, home. It could almost have been fifteen years ago.
But she was missing.
Without being told, he knew Lucy wasn’t upstairs. Her scent, the elusive, delicate scent of her, was missing. Not all the grime in London could keep him from knowing the perfume of his wife’s hair, her skin. He had memorized it, and it was gone.
He opened his eyes, and realized he still had a bite of the revolting excuse for a pie in his mouth.
“Go on dear, spit it out. On the floor,” she said, tiredly. He did.
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Benjamin Barker, Nellie Lovett
Prompt: 036, Smell
Word Count: 203
Rating: G
Summary: One of three little drabbles.
Author's Notes: First fics post-movie. The movie will, of course, influence a little bit...but the continuity, such as it is, is mainly the same as my pre-film fiction. If it matters, which it likely doesn't.
He recognized her instantly. Oh, certainly the years had changed her, and in more than age. Her clothes were thrice-mended or more, her hands gnarled with kneading dough and pounding meat. Her hair was still auburn, as it had been, but still, Mrs. Lovett looked older than he knew she truly was.
But it was the shop’s smell – the smell of grime and pies and perhaps a little cheap cologne. It brought him back, though there used to be a good deal more pie and a good deal less grime. If she would stop prattling at him for half a moment… He closed his eyes. He was home. Really, truly, home. It could almost have been fifteen years ago.
But she was missing.
Without being told, he knew Lucy wasn’t upstairs. Her scent, the elusive, delicate scent of her, was missing. Not all the grime in London could keep him from knowing the perfume of his wife’s hair, her skin. He had memorized it, and it was gone.
He opened his eyes, and realized he still had a bite of the revolting excuse for a pie in his mouth.
“Go on dear, spit it out. On the floor,” she said, tiredly. He did.
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