Almost
Title: Almost
Pairing: Very slight Angus/Malcolm
Rating: PG-13?
Disclaimer: If I owned Malcolm and Angus, I'd make them fuck 24/7 for my own little pornos. Seeing as I DON'T own them (*sob, sniffle*) I just have to settle for IMAGINING them fucking 24/7, and then posting the fruits of my labour horny imagination for you lovely people!
Warnings: I'm a sucker for angst, so here you go!
Summary: The day Angus is supposed to get married...
Dedications: for hellz_happyface, stormy_mayday and drink_on_me.
Angus Young was supposed to be getting married today. 19th July, 1984 (A/N: AS FAR AS I AM AWARE, THAT DATE IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. ANYHOW. BACK TO THE FIC). He was already decked out in his little suit, hair neat for once, pretty white silk waistcoat, shiny shoes and apparently ready to get hitched.
So why was he screaming at himself internally?
He was getting married to Ellen, who was supposed to be the girl of his dreams. She was fairly smart, reasonably amusing, quite cute, made him "do your own damn laundry!", and generally treated him like her best friend as well as her fiance. There was only one problem, although it was one admittedly huge problem.
He didn't love her.
He couldn't love her. It wasn't that he hadn't tried - God had he tried! - but he just couldn't seem to find her attractive the way that he found Mal - other people attractive. She couldn't make him smile just by looking at him, didn't start his pulse racing and butterflies fluttering in his stomach when she entered a room, couldn't make him hard for no reason, didn't get into his head whenever he was horny and just fuck with his head, driving him mad, couldn't seem to read him like an open book the way Mal - other people could.
His thoughts were encroaching on dangerous territory; he chastised himself harshly and bit his lip, trying to hold back the sudden unexpected flurry of tears threatening to spill free, trying to hold back any other thoughts that could lead to him throwing caution to the wind and Mal - other people down to the floor and just fucking hi - them...
"Knock, knock..."
Malcolm.
The odd fluttering sensation roiled in his stomach, making him duck his head and cover his mouth in panic. He so did not want to throw up on his brother right now. Malcolm smiled sympathetically and pulled his little bro into a hug.
"Pre-nuptials nerves?"
"Like you have no idea!" Angus whimpered, eyes terrified as he averted them from his brother's searching dark orbs. Malcolm held him at arm's length, scrutinizing him intensely like a lab scientist with a new sample under a microscope. He seemed to know what Angus was afraid of and tilted his chin up with one finger under his jaw to make Angus look him directly in the eyes.
"Ang... you do wanna do this, don't you? You wanna get married?"
Angus mumbled unintelligibly, turning his face away. Malcolm once again caught his chin and held him there, eyes gentle and inquiring without demanding an answer (unusual for Malcolm).
"Say again?"
"No," Angus sighed in reply, admitting defeat. "No, I don't want to get married."
"Oh fuck, shit, Christ, bollocks, buggering arse and fuck," Malcolm swore, hugging his brother closer again. Angus was crying quietly against his shoulder, tiny hands bunched in the material of Malcolm's best man tux, tears slipping out from under his closed lids to trail down his cheeks and onto Malcolm's jacket as he rested his head on Malcolm's shoulder.
"Angus..." Malcolm said quietly, shushing his brother's gulps and sobs sweetly, stroking a finger down Angus's cheek. His hands supported Angus' back and smoothed his hair soothingly in a very comforting, paternal/big brotherly gesture. He smiled softly when Angus looked up.
"Hey, wee man, I'm not judgin'," he smiled, petting Angus' hair again and feeling his brother lean into the comforting stroking like a small child, "I just wanna know why."
"I don't love her," Angus whispered, the words muffled against Malcolm's shoulder. His big brother kissed his forehead lightly and held on a little tighter.
"Why not?"
"What's t-this a-anyway, the Sp-Spanish Inqui-inquisition?" Angus gulped, briefly raising his head to meet Malcolm's eyes, a weak smile trembling on his little face before he burrowed back into Malcolm's embrace. Malcolm laughed softly and kissed the crown of his head.
"Nah, you daft bugger. Ellen's a nice girl; what is it that's got you so fuckin'..." he struggled for the right word, "...spooked?"
"I'm dying, Malcolm. Every day I get closer. I'm dying, and whenever I look at her I think, 'That's not who I want to spend the rest of my life with.'"
Malcolm stared at him, hurt, shock and bewilderment reeling in a wild jumble in his eyes. He gripped Angus tighter and bit his lip, fighting tears as he growled, ""Don't you fuckin' say that, Angus. Don't you never fuckin' ever say that!"
"Mal... I've only got so long left."
"Y-you're fuckin' 29, Angus! Y-you're not f-fuckin' dyin'! Wh-What shit you t-tryin' to p-pull, tellin' me that?!" Malcolm ran his fingers through his younger brother's hair, as if he needed to reassure himself that Angus was still there. Anger bubbled under the cracking veneer of control and he shook Angus hard, staring deep into dull blue eyes with confused, hurt brown ones.
"I'm m-marrying Ellen b-b-because she's having m-my kid, Mal. I want her t-to know that I did m-my b-best to love her before - b-before I - "
Malcolm slapped him, cutting off the rest of his sentence furiously. "YOU'RE. NOT. FUCKING. DYING!"
Angus burst into fresh tears, clinging to his brother desperately, lips seeking Malcolm's, hands tangling in his brother's collar-length hair. He kissed him frantically, clutching Malcolm to him before pulling away.
"I love you, Mal. That's why I can't marry her."
He ran.
Ran not for his life - he knew that was running out - but for his sanity, not caring that he passed about fifty baffled guests, all of whom were almost bowled over by a stricken, sprinting Malcolm behind him. He ran on and on, past the church, through the gate, out down the street... He didn't hear the yells of his name, Malcolm's howl of panic, didn't hear the shriek of brakes until it was too late -
Flying through the air was an oddly liberating experience. He was weightless for a second before the sickening falling and then the crack! as he landed like a broken ragdoll minus its stuffing on the tarmac, open eyes blurry and hazy as he tried to focus on the horrified, stock-still, paralysed figure of his brother.
Suddenly Malcolm was at his side, cradling him against his chest, tears dripping onto his face, hands stroking the blood-matted hair from his eyes, whimpering and sobbing, "Please... Angus, no... Please don't go... Please don't leave me... For fuck's sake, Angus, please... Please don't go... Please, no... Don't leave me... Don't go..."
Angus tried so damn hard to hold on, to tell his brother that it was okay, he wouldn't let go, he promised he wouldn't go, tried to tell Malcolm that he loved him, so unbearably much...
Malcolm Young sat in the middle of the road, crying, cradling the lifeless body of his younger brother to his chest and still begging him brokenly:
"... I love you... Please don't go."
The End.
OMFG. Even made myself cry there D'X . Thankfully, Eton Mess is cheering me up :P
P.S. You know where Angus is always saying "Mal - other people"? That's him cutting himself off :P
Pairing: Very slight Angus/Malcolm
Rating: PG-13?
Disclaimer: If I owned Malcolm and Angus, I'd make them fuck 24/7 for my own little pornos. Seeing as I DON'T own them (*sob, sniffle*) I just have to settle for IMAGINING them fucking 24/7, and then posting the fruits of my labour horny imagination for you lovely people!
Warnings: I'm a sucker for angst, so here you go!
Summary: The day Angus is supposed to get married...
Dedications: for hellz_happyface, stormy_mayday and drink_on_me.
Angus Young was supposed to be getting married today. 19th July, 1984 (A/N: AS FAR AS I AM AWARE, THAT DATE IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. ANYHOW. BACK TO THE FIC). He was already decked out in his little suit, hair neat for once, pretty white silk waistcoat, shiny shoes and apparently ready to get hitched.
So why was he screaming at himself internally?
He was getting married to Ellen, who was supposed to be the girl of his dreams. She was fairly smart, reasonably amusing, quite cute, made him "do your own damn laundry!", and generally treated him like her best friend as well as her fiance. There was only one problem, although it was one admittedly huge problem.
He didn't love her.
He couldn't love her. It wasn't that he hadn't tried - God had he tried! - but he just couldn't seem to find her attractive the way that he found Mal - other people attractive. She couldn't make him smile just by looking at him, didn't start his pulse racing and butterflies fluttering in his stomach when she entered a room, couldn't make him hard for no reason, didn't get into his head whenever he was horny and just fuck with his head, driving him mad, couldn't seem to read him like an open book the way Mal - other people could.
His thoughts were encroaching on dangerous territory; he chastised himself harshly and bit his lip, trying to hold back the sudden unexpected flurry of tears threatening to spill free, trying to hold back any other thoughts that could lead to him throwing caution to the wind and Mal - other people down to the floor and just fucking hi - them...
"Knock, knock..."
Malcolm.
The odd fluttering sensation roiled in his stomach, making him duck his head and cover his mouth in panic. He so did not want to throw up on his brother right now. Malcolm smiled sympathetically and pulled his little bro into a hug.
"Pre-nuptials nerves?"
"Like you have no idea!" Angus whimpered, eyes terrified as he averted them from his brother's searching dark orbs. Malcolm held him at arm's length, scrutinizing him intensely like a lab scientist with a new sample under a microscope. He seemed to know what Angus was afraid of and tilted his chin up with one finger under his jaw to make Angus look him directly in the eyes.
"Ang... you do wanna do this, don't you? You wanna get married?"
Angus mumbled unintelligibly, turning his face away. Malcolm once again caught his chin and held him there, eyes gentle and inquiring without demanding an answer (unusual for Malcolm).
"Say again?"
"No," Angus sighed in reply, admitting defeat. "No, I don't want to get married."
"Oh fuck, shit, Christ, bollocks, buggering arse and fuck," Malcolm swore, hugging his brother closer again. Angus was crying quietly against his shoulder, tiny hands bunched in the material of Malcolm's best man tux, tears slipping out from under his closed lids to trail down his cheeks and onto Malcolm's jacket as he rested his head on Malcolm's shoulder.
"Angus..." Malcolm said quietly, shushing his brother's gulps and sobs sweetly, stroking a finger down Angus's cheek. His hands supported Angus' back and smoothed his hair soothingly in a very comforting, paternal/big brotherly gesture. He smiled softly when Angus looked up.
"Hey, wee man, I'm not judgin'," he smiled, petting Angus' hair again and feeling his brother lean into the comforting stroking like a small child, "I just wanna know why."
"I don't love her," Angus whispered, the words muffled against Malcolm's shoulder. His big brother kissed his forehead lightly and held on a little tighter.
"Why not?"
"What's t-this a-anyway, the Sp-Spanish Inqui-inquisition?" Angus gulped, briefly raising his head to meet Malcolm's eyes, a weak smile trembling on his little face before he burrowed back into Malcolm's embrace. Malcolm laughed softly and kissed the crown of his head.
"Nah, you daft bugger. Ellen's a nice girl; what is it that's got you so fuckin'..." he struggled for the right word, "...spooked?"
"I'm dying, Malcolm. Every day I get closer. I'm dying, and whenever I look at her I think, 'That's not who I want to spend the rest of my life with.'"
Malcolm stared at him, hurt, shock and bewilderment reeling in a wild jumble in his eyes. He gripped Angus tighter and bit his lip, fighting tears as he growled, ""Don't you fuckin' say that, Angus. Don't you never fuckin' ever say that!"
"Mal... I've only got so long left."
"Y-you're fuckin' 29, Angus! Y-you're not f-fuckin' dyin'! Wh-What shit you t-tryin' to p-pull, tellin' me that?!" Malcolm ran his fingers through his younger brother's hair, as if he needed to reassure himself that Angus was still there. Anger bubbled under the cracking veneer of control and he shook Angus hard, staring deep into dull blue eyes with confused, hurt brown ones.
"I'm m-marrying Ellen b-b-because she's having m-my kid, Mal. I want her t-to know that I did m-my b-best to love her before - b-before I - "
Malcolm slapped him, cutting off the rest of his sentence furiously. "YOU'RE. NOT. FUCKING. DYING!"
Angus burst into fresh tears, clinging to his brother desperately, lips seeking Malcolm's, hands tangling in his brother's collar-length hair. He kissed him frantically, clutching Malcolm to him before pulling away.
"I love you, Mal. That's why I can't marry her."
He ran.
Ran not for his life - he knew that was running out - but for his sanity, not caring that he passed about fifty baffled guests, all of whom were almost bowled over by a stricken, sprinting Malcolm behind him. He ran on and on, past the church, through the gate, out down the street... He didn't hear the yells of his name, Malcolm's howl of panic, didn't hear the shriek of brakes until it was too late -
Flying through the air was an oddly liberating experience. He was weightless for a second before the sickening falling and then the crack! as he landed like a broken ragdoll minus its stuffing on the tarmac, open eyes blurry and hazy as he tried to focus on the horrified, stock-still, paralysed figure of his brother.
Suddenly Malcolm was at his side, cradling him against his chest, tears dripping onto his face, hands stroking the blood-matted hair from his eyes, whimpering and sobbing, "Please... Angus, no... Please don't go... Please don't leave me... For fuck's sake, Angus, please... Please don't go... Please, no... Don't leave me... Don't go..."
Angus tried so damn hard to hold on, to tell his brother that it was okay, he wouldn't let go, he promised he wouldn't go, tried to tell Malcolm that he loved him, so unbearably much...
Malcolm Young sat in the middle of the road, crying, cradling the lifeless body of his younger brother to his chest and still begging him brokenly:
"... I love you... Please don't go."
The End.
OMFG. Even made myself cry there D'X . Thankfully, Eton Mess is cheering me up :P
P.S. You know where Angus is always saying "Mal - other people"? That's him cutting himself off :P