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kaydeefalls
Well, enough time has passed since Christmas. Here are the drabblets I sent out in holiday cards.
Haven
"What's that picture?" little Faramir demands, chubby fingers poking at the page.
Merry's quill continues its quiet scratching. "Can you read the inscription?"
"Grey," Faramir reads. "Grey Havens." He looks up. "What's a Haven, Uncle?"
"A haven is a harbor," Merry tells the lad. "It's also a safe place, a refuge."
"Like daddy's house," Faramir says cheerfully. He wanders away, as small children do once their curiosity is satisfied.
Merry pauses in his writing, and remembers the relief in Frodo's tired eyes as he stepped aboard the last elven ship. "A little, yes." His words fade in the empty room.
*
Careful
Billy stops him on their way to Feet. "Be careful," Billy says. With Elijah, he doesn't finish, but Dom hears it anyway.
Billy has no idea. Elijah's the harsh one, the demanding one, the one who bruises and bites and leaves perfect Orlando marred in secret places, which Orlando, gasping, allows. Elijah's the one who likes to watch, his breath hitching as Dom and Orlando pulse together with one rhythm. Elijah's the one who wants to be fucked roughly, forever pushing Dom, harder, faster. Elijah's the sun. Dom and Orlando are blinded by him.
"Don't worry," Dom says. "We are."
*
After Kansas
"We're not in New Zealand anymore," Sean says, and can't meet his eyes.
He's right. In New Zealand, a boy who was barely a man and a man who was still a boy could meet and connect. They could love and hold and lean on each other for reserves of strength neither would have believed possible alone. They could curl up together and kiss and press and stroke, skin heating up skin so fast it fogged up the windows and frosted against the cold outside.
"We're not in Kansas anymore," Dorothy said, and spent her entire trip through Oz trying to find her way home.
Elijah wonders if he'll spend the rest of his life doing the same.
Haven
"What's that picture?" little Faramir demands, chubby fingers poking at the page.
Merry's quill continues its quiet scratching. "Can you read the inscription?"
"Grey," Faramir reads. "Grey Havens." He looks up. "What's a Haven, Uncle?"
"A haven is a harbor," Merry tells the lad. "It's also a safe place, a refuge."
"Like daddy's house," Faramir says cheerfully. He wanders away, as small children do once their curiosity is satisfied.
Merry pauses in his writing, and remembers the relief in Frodo's tired eyes as he stepped aboard the last elven ship. "A little, yes." His words fade in the empty room.
*
Careful
Billy stops him on their way to Feet. "Be careful," Billy says. With Elijah, he doesn't finish, but Dom hears it anyway.
Billy has no idea. Elijah's the harsh one, the demanding one, the one who bruises and bites and leaves perfect Orlando marred in secret places, which Orlando, gasping, allows. Elijah's the one who likes to watch, his breath hitching as Dom and Orlando pulse together with one rhythm. Elijah's the one who wants to be fucked roughly, forever pushing Dom, harder, faster. Elijah's the sun. Dom and Orlando are blinded by him.
"Don't worry," Dom says. "We are."
*
After Kansas
"We're not in New Zealand anymore," Sean says, and can't meet his eyes.
He's right. In New Zealand, a boy who was barely a man and a man who was still a boy could meet and connect. They could love and hold and lean on each other for reserves of strength neither would have believed possible alone. They could curl up together and kiss and press and stroke, skin heating up skin so fast it fogged up the windows and frosted against the cold outside.
"We're not in Kansas anymore," Dorothy said, and spent her entire trip through Oz trying to find her way home.
Elijah wonders if he'll spend the rest of his life doing the same.
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Date: 2005-03-28 05:51 pm (UTC)