The Bluebird and the Oriole
Title:The Bluebird and the Oriole
Rating: PG
Prompt: Robots/Androids
Warnings: None
Word Count:2,072
Summary: Asher returns home to Missouri after his band breaks up. A chance encounter at the airport in Atlanta however, cheers him up. Deaf!Dean Verse
The book had been a gift for Asher's seventeenth birthday. His mom had gone to Kansas City, without him knowing, and stood in line to purchase him an autographed copy of In Search of the Thunderous Silence. When Asher heard that Dean Coulter was going to be in Kansas City signing books, he had wanted to go, but it was the same weekend he was scheduled to take the ACT exam and there was no getting around that. The book had been given to him the next Saturday - and he'd almost been afraid to read it, as if the mere act of turning the pages would cause the ink scrawled on the title page to vanish.
Asher was sort of embarrassed to admit he'd spent hours staring at the name Dean Coulter as if it held some sort of hint of how he had accomplished so much. While the man retired from gymnastics the same year Asher had been born, he'd still seen plenty of the routines he'd done at competitions thanks to You Tube.
So on Sunday night, with homework and chores done, he'd settled down with the book to read the first two chapters before going to bed.
It ended up being the first five, and even then, he only put the book down because it was nearly midnight and he had school in the morning. And it didn't matter, because he couldn't sleep.
Lying in the darkness, it just seemed impossible to Asher that anyone would want to hurt a little kid just for being deaf. He had to wonder about the man that Dean called Sir. (Reading the book gave Asher the feeling he could start simply calling the man Dean.) Sir sounded absolutely horrible. Even though he was the only deaf person in his family, his two older brothers and his parents all communicated with him in ASL. The animals on the farm didn't seem to care one way or another. He could speak, thanks to speech therapy, but he didn't like to do it.
It didn't feel right, exactly.
The next day at school, Asher had left the book at home so nothing would happen to it. But it didn't matter - plenty of kids at the School for the Deaf in Columbia were reading the book and it seemed to be the subject of many conversations. There was something that several of his classmates seemed to find funny, and it had to do with stuffed animals. He had no idea what they were talking about until he read chapter eleven.
The idea of an eighteen month old hacking off the ears of her stuffed animals wasn't funny in Asher's mind at all.
It was heartbreaking.
When he'd battled cancer at the age of ten, both of his older brothers had shaved their heads so he wouldn't feel bad about being bald.
Asher was now almost twelve years into remission and really, the only reason the doctors checked to see if the cancer was back once a year was because they were stunned it hadn't returned. It was still terrifying for him to go into the University of Kansas Medical Center and answer all those questions, and he always had the inkling of fear that there would be one little thing he'd dismissed as nothing would turn into something major. It'd be nice to just go through the rest of his life believing he was a walking medical miracle.
*
The band in Germany had turned into a fiasco after a few months. It wasn't that they were awful, far from it - but apparently he, and ironically, the drummer, Kurt, were the only ones of the five members who could remain clean and sober, and stay out of trouble. Now here he was, heading back home to Missouri, feeling defeated. Asher had wanted this band thing to work out so badly - he'd wanted to help break down walls like other members of deaf society had done - and now, now he was going back to the family farm until he could figure out what to do next.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as the plane touched down and he peered out the window at the lashing rain falling in Atlanta. There was another movement he couldn't place and he gripped the arm rests with his hands and from the expression on the other passenger's faces, there was some sort of wretched noise. At long last, the plane slowed and then turned off the runway and headed for the gate.
Deep down he supposed he wasn't too upset about having to return home. Maybe it was just the reason, rather than the actual act.
Once the plane stopped and he joined the stream of passengers heading out into the throng of people at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, Asher smiled at the thought of being home for Thanksgiving. That alone would be great. He'd missed his mom's cooking, he'd missed his brothers, his dad - and the farm. Sure, it sounded lame, but he liked the pace and it was nice when the only major worry every year was the weather. He shouldered his backpack and adjusted his hold on his carry-on bag before heading over to the departure board to check for his gate.
He felt himself smile as another thought came to him. Now that he was back in the States, he might have more time to communicate with Liesel Coulter. Quite honestly, he couldn't believe that he ran into the daughter of his childhood hero on the flight to Germany back in June. For the most part, their relationship was all texts and emails. The time difference didn't make for good phone conversations. He'd told her he was going back to Missouri and she'd stated she was sorry that the band thing hadn't worked out.
Asher stopped short as he almost came even with the boards. Almost as if he'd made her appear just by thinking about her, standing in front of the Arrival-Departure boards was Liesel. She'd changed a little, but still recognizable as the same girl he'd seen on the flight to Frankfurt in June. When she turned towards him, her face squinted for a moment in thought and then - she smiled. That 'granite-cleaving' smile her father wrote about in his book.
“Asher!” She took a few steps closer to him. “Didn't think I'd run into you in this place.”
He set his carry-on bag down. “Mutual. Customs was a pain.”
“I'll bet. It's never fun.” She ran a hand through her hair. “How was the trip over the Atlantic?”
“I don't remember much, I slept most of the way.” He grinned sheepishly. “Headed home for Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. It's easier to fly home than drive. I'd spend a total of four days of my break getting there and back.” She checked the board at the same time he did and then they headed down the concourse together. “Again, I'm sorry the band thing didn't work out.”
“So am I. But at the same time, I'm sort of relieved. It was stressful to be in a country where communication was hard.” He sighed as they turned and stopped near an empty row of chairs. He set his bag down again. “But I'm guessing...” He stopped short when he saw the look on her face.
“Don't say I wouldn't understand, because believe me, I do.” She shook her head. “Let's try a better subject - looking forward to getting home?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “How long until your flight leaves?”
She checked her watch. “I've got about forty-five minutes. You?”
“Three hours, which isn't that bad of a layover.” He adjusted his backpack. “I'm just glad I don't have to change planes anywhere else between here and Kansas City.”
“I know what you mean. I once had to fly to Denver from here to get on a flight to Austin. It's crazy.” She let out a sigh. “Is it me, or is this a rather awkward conversation?”
Asher covered his mouth to repress his laugh. “It is awkward.” He cleared his throat before speaking again. “You look better than you did in June.” He saw her look. “That is, uh...”
“I know what you mean. I probably looked awful.” She shrugged.
“Not awful.” He reached out and hesitantly touched her cheek. “You don't look as sad.”
She smiled and leaned towards his hand slightly. “I feel better - end of the semester stress and all.”
He spread his hand enough so his thumb was brushing her cheekbone, the tips of his fingers almost touching her ear. Then, before his courage failed him, he leaned forward and kissed her softly. When he pulled back, he saw that her face had gone pink. “Sorry.”
“Don't be sorry.” She bit her bottom lip. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”
Now it was his turn to blush. “Since August?” He gave her a very awkward smile.
Her blush returned. “You could have told me sooner.”
“I didn't think it was the sort of thing one should do in an email or text.” Asher ran a hand through his hair. “And with the time difference, it wasn't exactly easy to communicate any other way.”
“Point.” The nervous look was back on her face. “I don't suppose we could um... try that again, or uh...”
He responded by placing his lips back on hers, a little more certain this time. He could tell that she was trembling slightly and as his finger accidentally grazed the shell of her ear, and felt her jerk in response. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Okay?”
She nodded in response, her eyes somewhat wide.
Asher let out a breath, pressed another kiss to her forehead and stepped back. “I'll walk you to your gate. Something tells me if we stand here much longer, you might miss your flight.”
“You're bad.” She folded her arms and pursed her lips in mock indignation - before grinning and picking up her carry on in one hand and taking his hand with the other.
He looked down at their intertwined fingers, an odd feeling fluttering in his stomach. He gave her hand a slight squeeze, picked up his bag and the two of them headed down the bustling corridor.
*
The sensation of the plane touching down jerked Asher from his sleep and looked around, slightly confused from his sudden awakening. He yawned, stretched his arms over his head and checked his watch as the plane slowed and came to a stop at the terminal. A warm sense settled over him and the thought of seeing his family made him smile. He knew that his brothers were coming to pick him up and while he was expecting a good deal of brotherly ribbing, he found was almost looking forward to it. After shouldering his bag and picking up his carry-on, he headed up the narrow aisle towards the front of the plane, giving a nod of thanks and a smile to the crew standing near the exit. A cold blast of air greeted him as he went from plane to passageway and he had the feeling it'd be snowing in Missouri soon.
Once he reached the inside of the airport, he spotted his brothers, Caleb and Jason almost instantly. Although that could have to do with the bright orange poster Jason was holding over his head that said 'Welcome Home, thr-Ash Man.' He laughed and made his way through the crowd to join the pair.
“You need a haircut!” Caleb, the oldest instantly stated, giving him a very convincing mom look before giving him a hug.
“So do you.” Asher snorted into his brother's shoulder. “At least mine's clean.”
Jason hugged him before holding him out at arm's length. “He has a point, Caleb - and he's also shaved.”
“Shut up.” Caleb jerked his head towards the baggage claim and they went down the concourse. “When was the last time you showered anyway, Jace?”
“Judging from the smell, I'd say it was a week ago.” Asher interjected, grinning.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Robots/Androids
Warnings: None
Word Count:2,072
Summary: Asher returns home to Missouri after his band breaks up. A chance encounter at the airport in Atlanta however, cheers him up. Deaf!Dean Verse
The book had been a gift for Asher's seventeenth birthday. His mom had gone to Kansas City, without him knowing, and stood in line to purchase him an autographed copy of In Search of the Thunderous Silence. When Asher heard that Dean Coulter was going to be in Kansas City signing books, he had wanted to go, but it was the same weekend he was scheduled to take the ACT exam and there was no getting around that. The book had been given to him the next Saturday - and he'd almost been afraid to read it, as if the mere act of turning the pages would cause the ink scrawled on the title page to vanish.
Asher was sort of embarrassed to admit he'd spent hours staring at the name Dean Coulter as if it held some sort of hint of how he had accomplished so much. While the man retired from gymnastics the same year Asher had been born, he'd still seen plenty of the routines he'd done at competitions thanks to You Tube.
So on Sunday night, with homework and chores done, he'd settled down with the book to read the first two chapters before going to bed.
It ended up being the first five, and even then, he only put the book down because it was nearly midnight and he had school in the morning. And it didn't matter, because he couldn't sleep.
Lying in the darkness, it just seemed impossible to Asher that anyone would want to hurt a little kid just for being deaf. He had to wonder about the man that Dean called Sir. (Reading the book gave Asher the feeling he could start simply calling the man Dean.) Sir sounded absolutely horrible. Even though he was the only deaf person in his family, his two older brothers and his parents all communicated with him in ASL. The animals on the farm didn't seem to care one way or another. He could speak, thanks to speech therapy, but he didn't like to do it.
It didn't feel right, exactly.
The next day at school, Asher had left the book at home so nothing would happen to it. But it didn't matter - plenty of kids at the School for the Deaf in Columbia were reading the book and it seemed to be the subject of many conversations. There was something that several of his classmates seemed to find funny, and it had to do with stuffed animals. He had no idea what they were talking about until he read chapter eleven.
The idea of an eighteen month old hacking off the ears of her stuffed animals wasn't funny in Asher's mind at all.
It was heartbreaking.
When he'd battled cancer at the age of ten, both of his older brothers had shaved their heads so he wouldn't feel bad about being bald.
Asher was now almost twelve years into remission and really, the only reason the doctors checked to see if the cancer was back once a year was because they were stunned it hadn't returned. It was still terrifying for him to go into the University of Kansas Medical Center and answer all those questions, and he always had the inkling of fear that there would be one little thing he'd dismissed as nothing would turn into something major. It'd be nice to just go through the rest of his life believing he was a walking medical miracle.
*
The band in Germany had turned into a fiasco after a few months. It wasn't that they were awful, far from it - but apparently he, and ironically, the drummer, Kurt, were the only ones of the five members who could remain clean and sober, and stay out of trouble. Now here he was, heading back home to Missouri, feeling defeated. Asher had wanted this band thing to work out so badly - he'd wanted to help break down walls like other members of deaf society had done - and now, now he was going back to the family farm until he could figure out what to do next.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as the plane touched down and he peered out the window at the lashing rain falling in Atlanta. There was another movement he couldn't place and he gripped the arm rests with his hands and from the expression on the other passenger's faces, there was some sort of wretched noise. At long last, the plane slowed and then turned off the runway and headed for the gate.
Deep down he supposed he wasn't too upset about having to return home. Maybe it was just the reason, rather than the actual act.
Once the plane stopped and he joined the stream of passengers heading out into the throng of people at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, Asher smiled at the thought of being home for Thanksgiving. That alone would be great. He'd missed his mom's cooking, he'd missed his brothers, his dad - and the farm. Sure, it sounded lame, but he liked the pace and it was nice when the only major worry every year was the weather. He shouldered his backpack and adjusted his hold on his carry-on bag before heading over to the departure board to check for his gate.
He felt himself smile as another thought came to him. Now that he was back in the States, he might have more time to communicate with Liesel Coulter. Quite honestly, he couldn't believe that he ran into the daughter of his childhood hero on the flight to Germany back in June. For the most part, their relationship was all texts and emails. The time difference didn't make for good phone conversations. He'd told her he was going back to Missouri and she'd stated she was sorry that the band thing hadn't worked out.
Asher stopped short as he almost came even with the boards. Almost as if he'd made her appear just by thinking about her, standing in front of the Arrival-Departure boards was Liesel. She'd changed a little, but still recognizable as the same girl he'd seen on the flight to Frankfurt in June. When she turned towards him, her face squinted for a moment in thought and then - she smiled. That 'granite-cleaving' smile her father wrote about in his book.
“Asher!” She took a few steps closer to him. “Didn't think I'd run into you in this place.”
He set his carry-on bag down. “Mutual. Customs was a pain.”
“I'll bet. It's never fun.” She ran a hand through her hair. “How was the trip over the Atlantic?”
“I don't remember much, I slept most of the way.” He grinned sheepishly. “Headed home for Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. It's easier to fly home than drive. I'd spend a total of four days of my break getting there and back.” She checked the board at the same time he did and then they headed down the concourse together. “Again, I'm sorry the band thing didn't work out.”
“So am I. But at the same time, I'm sort of relieved. It was stressful to be in a country where communication was hard.” He sighed as they turned and stopped near an empty row of chairs. He set his bag down again. “But I'm guessing...” He stopped short when he saw the look on her face.
“Don't say I wouldn't understand, because believe me, I do.” She shook her head. “Let's try a better subject - looking forward to getting home?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “How long until your flight leaves?”
She checked her watch. “I've got about forty-five minutes. You?”
“Three hours, which isn't that bad of a layover.” He adjusted his backpack. “I'm just glad I don't have to change planes anywhere else between here and Kansas City.”
“I know what you mean. I once had to fly to Denver from here to get on a flight to Austin. It's crazy.” She let out a sigh. “Is it me, or is this a rather awkward conversation?”
Asher covered his mouth to repress his laugh. “It is awkward.” He cleared his throat before speaking again. “You look better than you did in June.” He saw her look. “That is, uh...”
“I know what you mean. I probably looked awful.” She shrugged.
“Not awful.” He reached out and hesitantly touched her cheek. “You don't look as sad.”
She smiled and leaned towards his hand slightly. “I feel better - end of the semester stress and all.”
He spread his hand enough so his thumb was brushing her cheekbone, the tips of his fingers almost touching her ear. Then, before his courage failed him, he leaned forward and kissed her softly. When he pulled back, he saw that her face had gone pink. “Sorry.”
“Don't be sorry.” She bit her bottom lip. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”
Now it was his turn to blush. “Since August?” He gave her a very awkward smile.
Her blush returned. “You could have told me sooner.”
“I didn't think it was the sort of thing one should do in an email or text.” Asher ran a hand through his hair. “And with the time difference, it wasn't exactly easy to communicate any other way.”
“Point.” The nervous look was back on her face. “I don't suppose we could um... try that again, or uh...”
He responded by placing his lips back on hers, a little more certain this time. He could tell that she was trembling slightly and as his finger accidentally grazed the shell of her ear, and felt her jerk in response. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Okay?”
She nodded in response, her eyes somewhat wide.
Asher let out a breath, pressed another kiss to her forehead and stepped back. “I'll walk you to your gate. Something tells me if we stand here much longer, you might miss your flight.”
“You're bad.” She folded her arms and pursed her lips in mock indignation - before grinning and picking up her carry on in one hand and taking his hand with the other.
He looked down at their intertwined fingers, an odd feeling fluttering in his stomach. He gave her hand a slight squeeze, picked up his bag and the two of them headed down the bustling corridor.
*
The sensation of the plane touching down jerked Asher from his sleep and looked around, slightly confused from his sudden awakening. He yawned, stretched his arms over his head and checked his watch as the plane slowed and came to a stop at the terminal. A warm sense settled over him and the thought of seeing his family made him smile. He knew that his brothers were coming to pick him up and while he was expecting a good deal of brotherly ribbing, he found was almost looking forward to it. After shouldering his bag and picking up his carry-on, he headed up the narrow aisle towards the front of the plane, giving a nod of thanks and a smile to the crew standing near the exit. A cold blast of air greeted him as he went from plane to passageway and he had the feeling it'd be snowing in Missouri soon.
Once he reached the inside of the airport, he spotted his brothers, Caleb and Jason almost instantly. Although that could have to do with the bright orange poster Jason was holding over his head that said 'Welcome Home, thr-Ash Man.' He laughed and made his way through the crowd to join the pair.
“You need a haircut!” Caleb, the oldest instantly stated, giving him a very convincing mom look before giving him a hug.
“So do you.” Asher snorted into his brother's shoulder. “At least mine's clean.”
Jason hugged him before holding him out at arm's length. “He has a point, Caleb - and he's also shaved.”
“Shut up.” Caleb jerked his head towards the baggage claim and they went down the concourse. “When was the last time you showered anyway, Jace?”
“Judging from the smell, I'd say it was a week ago.” Asher interjected, grinning.