Fic: Crown of Gold (Brink!, Peter/Brink, PG)
Laura Harris is really not my favorite actress. And the sad thing is, I think it has a lot to do with the fact that she embodies Elise Chasten, who I still have not forgiven for stabbing Avery in the back. Or coming on to Stokely when it was so obvious that Stokely wanted Delilah. At any rate, I would like her to keep her lips off Jake. Because as completely unsexy as that scene was, he belongs with Diane. Poor, poor Diane. And while you're at it, Laura, honey? Step away from the fucking bleach already. Jesus. Your hair's whiter than my sister's was in college, and that was when the dayglow look was in.
I think I have to stop watching this show too. It was already pretty sucky (and not in the fun, porny way) but now that they're doing the Big Bad Corrupt Government vs. the Good and Noble NSA? If I wanna watch that crap I'll go back to JAG.
In fic news, I have taken a small break from the CSI writing marathon because I promised rl2hb that I would write down the Brink! ficlet that happened upon me yesterday morning. So this is that, and now I'm getting back to the CSI fic. It's Peter/Brink, for the two of you who have actually seen the movie and might want to read this, and it's PG. And yes, Rog, if you want it feel free to archive it on your site. Just be warned that it's relentlessly sappy and...well, it's kinda Disney. But when in Rome, as they say.
~
After they won the tournament Peter expected things to go back to normal. Sure, Brink still had to work at the pet groomer's to pay off the loan for their equipment, and Team X-Blades wasn't as obnoxious as they used to be around school, but other than that he figured everything would pretty much stay the same. They'd all still be friends, they'd still skate together because it was fun, and he didn't need anything more than that.
He hadn't really expected Brink's job to take up so much of his time. He hadn't expected Brink to be so tired when he did have time off, and he definitely hadn't expected to be the only one who cared.
Peter rolled to a stop in the Brinkers' driveway, a movement from the garage catching his attention just before he turned toward the front door. When he recognized the shock of blond hair he grinned and skated past Mr. Brinker's car and into the garage, stopping next to the work bench where Brink was cleaning his skates.
"Hey, man," Peter said, swallowing a laugh when Brink started and looked up. He looked tired, but more than that, he looked like he'd been so lost in his own world that he wouldn't have heard a parade marching right past him. "Long time no see."
"Tell me about it," Brink answered, and he sounded genuinely sorry about it. Guilt shot through Peter and he reminded himself that the reason Brink had to work so hard was because of them; nobody had made him lie to them, but they were the ones who'd made him feel like he had to buy back their friendship.
"So how's the job?" Peter asked, glancing down at the Pup'n'Suds t-shirt Brink was still wearing.
Brink shrugged and set his skates on the shelf, then sank heavily onto one of the stools his father kept in the garage. Peter pulled up the other one and climbed onto it, leaning back against the work bench to watch Brink push blond hair out of his eyes. "Not so bad, now that I've got the hang of it. It was pretty lame for awhile, though."
He grinned and Peter's heart did a funny little tap dance against his chest, but he swallowed against the sensation and forced what he hoped was a casual grin. He'd had that same reaction to his best friend's smile for awhile now; it was the reason he'd taken it so hard when he found out Brink betrayed them, and it was the reason it had been so easy to take him back when he wanted to skate with them again.
"Where's Gabbie and Jordi?" Brink asked, and Peter flushed when he realized he'd been staring. "Figured you guys would be at the skate park 'til late. Friday night and all."
"Yeah, except Jordi's parents grounded him when they found out he got a D on his History paper. They said he spends too much time at the skate park and not enough studying."
"Dude, that's weak."
"Jordi thought so." Peter grinned when Brink laughed, his stomach doing a little flip at the sound he didn't get to hear nearly often enough these days.
"So where's Gabbie?"
Peter's grin got a little brighter at that and he leaned forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You didn't hear it from me, but she's got a date."
"No way," Brink said, a smile lighting up his features and chasing some of the fatigue out of his eyes. And if he could Peter would spend the rest of his life thinking up new ways to get Brink to smile that way. "With who?"
"Boomer," Peter answered, laughing at the shock in the other boy's eyes. "They've been hanging out a lot lately at the skate park, and the other day I overheard him asking her to go out tonight. I think they went to a movie or something."
"Man. Gabbie on a real date." Brink smiled again and shook his head, and just for a second it almost felt like old times. "That's cool. Boomer's a good guy."
"Yeah, I guess."
Peter's smile faltered a little when he remembered why Brink knew Boomer so well; it hadn't been that long ago he'd taken Boomer's place on Team X-Blades, and when Brink stood up to Val, Boomer was the one to back him up. They'd never really been friends -- at least not as far as Peter knew -- but that didn't make it any easier for Peter to think about Brink skating with those guys.
"Do you ever miss it?"
"Miss what?" Brink asked, a bemused frown marring his features.
Peter flushed when he realized he'd said the words out loud; he knew he'd been thinking them, but he hadn't meant to ask. But the truth was that he wondered sometimes if Brink missed the fancy equipment and the indoor ramps and the prestige of being on X-Blades.
He'd seen the way Val still looked at Brink even now, and he wondered sometimes if that look in his eyes was all resentment or if there was something else there. He didn't wonder how Brink felt about Val -- if there was something there he didn't want to know about it, because just the thought made his stomach clench -- but he couldn't help wondering sometimes if the reason Brink didn't make more time for them was because it reminded him of what he'd given up.
"You know," he finally answered, shrugging self-consciously and looking down at the floor. "The professional ramps, the fancy skates, being part of a team like that. It must've been a rush."
"I guess, if you like being ordered around by a psychopath." Peter glanced up to find Brink grinning at him, his hair falling in his eyes again and Peter had to work hard not to reach over and push it back off his forehead. "Come on, dude, you know what Val's like. He's a complete asshole, why would anybody want to skate with him if they didn't have to?"
When he put it like that Peter had to admit it was a no-brainer, but it was still a little hard to let go of the idea that Brink was trying to avoid him. And he knew it was kind of desperate; if Brink didn't want to hang out with him anymore Peter should just let it go and get on with his life, but they'd been friends for a long time and he wasn't sure if he could. "So do you think they could use any more help at the dog groomer's?"
He didn't want to see Brink's reaction to the question; at best Brink would laugh and tell him he was crazy, and at worst he'd stammer through some lie about how it was a one-man job. But he had to know one way or the other -- that was why he'd come over here, after all -- and it was better just to get it over with as fast as he could.
"What are you talking about?" Brink asked, and when Peter forced himself to look up the other boy was smiling like it was all some big joke.
"It's not fair that you should have to pay for all our equipment, right?" Peter said, shrugging like it was no big deal. Like this wasn't the most important moment of his life, and maybe it wasn't, but it sure felt like it. "Besides," he added, flushing and looking down, "I kind of miss hanging out with you."
"So you want to wash dogs with me?"
When Peter shrugged Brink stopped laughing, and a second later Peter heard him stand up and move closer. A hand landed on his shoulder and he tried hard not to flinch, forcing himself to look at the other boy. This had been a bad idea -- possibly the worst idea he'd ever had -- because he was about to lose his best friend and it was too late to take any of it back. But Brink hadn't pulled his hand away yet, and he was looking at Peter like he was trying to work out exactly what they were talking about.
"Wash dogs, skate, whatever," Peter said, managing not to wince at the breathless quality of his voice. He hadn't meant to come over here sounding like such a girl, but it was hard to focus on much of anything when Brink was looking at him like he was just now seeing Peter for the first time.
"So the whatever part..." Brink began, trailing off with that cute little smile he usually only pulled out when he was trying to get Peter to go along with one of his crazy ideas, "is that like..."
He wasn't sure where he got the courage to do it. Maybe it wasn't even courage -- maybe it was desperation, because he knew if he didn't shut Brink up he was just going to keep talking until Peter actually died of embarrassment. One minute he was just sitting there, the weight of Brink's fingers burning into his shoulder, and the next he was surging forward, lips pressed hard against the other boy's. It was clumsy and a little awkward and over almost before it started, but when he pulled back again Brink was smiling.
"Whatever," Peter said, his cheeks burning and his mouth set in a determined line. And if Brink wanted to laugh at him or tell him to get lost he could take it, he could take anything as long as he finally knew where he stood.
For awhile Brink didn't say anything, but finally he laughed, and when he reached up to push his hair back off his forehead Peter could see that his fingers were shaking. "Whatever," Brink echoed, pulling his hand away from Peter's shoulder to sink back down onto the other stool. "Yeah, I think I like the sound of that."
~
ETA:
1. I don't think incest and/or CHAN is okay even in a fictional/fantasy format. There are certain taboos that shouldn't be broken, and holding them up as sexy in any way is not only offensive to survivors of those particular crimes, but dangerous on several levels.
2. Tom Welling freaks me out. Seriously. There's something not right about that boy.
3. Using the word 'rape' in the context of expressing sexual desire for anyone, including fictional characters, is a really, really irresponsible thing to do. I cringe every time I see someone saying 'I want to rape so-and-so' or even 'I want to rape your icon'. First of all, dude. That's kind of a lame thing to say. And secondly, think about what you're saying for a second. Wanting to have sex with someone is not the same as wanting to forcibly humiliate and degrade someone in a sexual way.
4. Speaking of rape, Rapefic is not cool with me. I'm sure if handled sensitively by someone who knows what they're talking about it would be enlightening, albeit disturbing, but using rape as a h/c tool is vile and irresponsible.
5. Pet names. Stop it. Just stop it. Now. If it's canonically accurate it's one thing -- we know that Greg has used the term 'baby' to refer to a SO in season one, for instance. This does not mean Nick/Gil/Warrick/whoever would put up with it. Well, Warrick might, if he were gay, and if he even liked Greg as a person, which I sometimes get the impression he really doesn't. Greggo I will concede, Nicky (even though it makes my skin crawl, but Greg has NEVER said it in canon), but that's about it.
6. I hate the word 'lover' as an endearment. Hate hate HATE it. Yeah, this is the same as #5, but it bears repeating. Stop. It. Please.
7. Complete sentences are your friend. Experimenting with styles is fine, and bending rules to set a mood is good too. But chopping the subject off every one of your sentences generally renders your work unreadable. And if you're relying on spellcheck to catch your typos, get yourself a beta too. Spellcheck isn't that reliable, and grammar check is completely worthless.
8. I'm not a Tolkien fan. I think he was a lousy writer. Let the defriending begin.
9. I think J.K. Rowling is a lousy writer too. Her strength lies in universe-building, but there's HP fic out there that's better than the source material. Everybody knows it's true.
10. I've watched a couple episodes of Smallville now and I don't really get what the big draw is. Michael Rosenbaum isn't really that good of an actor, and Tom Welling's even more disturbing when he's talking. I don't get it. Seriously.
I'm getting back to Nick now, I swear. No, really, I'm going.
I think I have to stop watching this show too. It was already pretty sucky (and not in the fun, porny way) but now that they're doing the Big Bad Corrupt Government vs. the Good and Noble NSA? If I wanna watch that crap I'll go back to JAG.
In fic news, I have taken a small break from the CSI writing marathon because I promised rl2hb that I would write down the Brink! ficlet that happened upon me yesterday morning. So this is that, and now I'm getting back to the CSI fic. It's Peter/Brink, for the two of you who have actually seen the movie and might want to read this, and it's PG. And yes, Rog, if you want it feel free to archive it on your site. Just be warned that it's relentlessly sappy and...well, it's kinda Disney. But when in Rome, as they say.
~
After they won the tournament Peter expected things to go back to normal. Sure, Brink still had to work at the pet groomer's to pay off the loan for their equipment, and Team X-Blades wasn't as obnoxious as they used to be around school, but other than that he figured everything would pretty much stay the same. They'd all still be friends, they'd still skate together because it was fun, and he didn't need anything more than that.
He hadn't really expected Brink's job to take up so much of his time. He hadn't expected Brink to be so tired when he did have time off, and he definitely hadn't expected to be the only one who cared.
Peter rolled to a stop in the Brinkers' driveway, a movement from the garage catching his attention just before he turned toward the front door. When he recognized the shock of blond hair he grinned and skated past Mr. Brinker's car and into the garage, stopping next to the work bench where Brink was cleaning his skates.
"Hey, man," Peter said, swallowing a laugh when Brink started and looked up. He looked tired, but more than that, he looked like he'd been so lost in his own world that he wouldn't have heard a parade marching right past him. "Long time no see."
"Tell me about it," Brink answered, and he sounded genuinely sorry about it. Guilt shot through Peter and he reminded himself that the reason Brink had to work so hard was because of them; nobody had made him lie to them, but they were the ones who'd made him feel like he had to buy back their friendship.
"So how's the job?" Peter asked, glancing down at the Pup'n'Suds t-shirt Brink was still wearing.
Brink shrugged and set his skates on the shelf, then sank heavily onto one of the stools his father kept in the garage. Peter pulled up the other one and climbed onto it, leaning back against the work bench to watch Brink push blond hair out of his eyes. "Not so bad, now that I've got the hang of it. It was pretty lame for awhile, though."
He grinned and Peter's heart did a funny little tap dance against his chest, but he swallowed against the sensation and forced what he hoped was a casual grin. He'd had that same reaction to his best friend's smile for awhile now; it was the reason he'd taken it so hard when he found out Brink betrayed them, and it was the reason it had been so easy to take him back when he wanted to skate with them again.
"Where's Gabbie and Jordi?" Brink asked, and Peter flushed when he realized he'd been staring. "Figured you guys would be at the skate park 'til late. Friday night and all."
"Yeah, except Jordi's parents grounded him when they found out he got a D on his History paper. They said he spends too much time at the skate park and not enough studying."
"Dude, that's weak."
"Jordi thought so." Peter grinned when Brink laughed, his stomach doing a little flip at the sound he didn't get to hear nearly often enough these days.
"So where's Gabbie?"
Peter's grin got a little brighter at that and he leaned forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You didn't hear it from me, but she's got a date."
"No way," Brink said, a smile lighting up his features and chasing some of the fatigue out of his eyes. And if he could Peter would spend the rest of his life thinking up new ways to get Brink to smile that way. "With who?"
"Boomer," Peter answered, laughing at the shock in the other boy's eyes. "They've been hanging out a lot lately at the skate park, and the other day I overheard him asking her to go out tonight. I think they went to a movie or something."
"Man. Gabbie on a real date." Brink smiled again and shook his head, and just for a second it almost felt like old times. "That's cool. Boomer's a good guy."
"Yeah, I guess."
Peter's smile faltered a little when he remembered why Brink knew Boomer so well; it hadn't been that long ago he'd taken Boomer's place on Team X-Blades, and when Brink stood up to Val, Boomer was the one to back him up. They'd never really been friends -- at least not as far as Peter knew -- but that didn't make it any easier for Peter to think about Brink skating with those guys.
"Do you ever miss it?"
"Miss what?" Brink asked, a bemused frown marring his features.
Peter flushed when he realized he'd said the words out loud; he knew he'd been thinking them, but he hadn't meant to ask. But the truth was that he wondered sometimes if Brink missed the fancy equipment and the indoor ramps and the prestige of being on X-Blades.
He'd seen the way Val still looked at Brink even now, and he wondered sometimes if that look in his eyes was all resentment or if there was something else there. He didn't wonder how Brink felt about Val -- if there was something there he didn't want to know about it, because just the thought made his stomach clench -- but he couldn't help wondering sometimes if the reason Brink didn't make more time for them was because it reminded him of what he'd given up.
"You know," he finally answered, shrugging self-consciously and looking down at the floor. "The professional ramps, the fancy skates, being part of a team like that. It must've been a rush."
"I guess, if you like being ordered around by a psychopath." Peter glanced up to find Brink grinning at him, his hair falling in his eyes again and Peter had to work hard not to reach over and push it back off his forehead. "Come on, dude, you know what Val's like. He's a complete asshole, why would anybody want to skate with him if they didn't have to?"
When he put it like that Peter had to admit it was a no-brainer, but it was still a little hard to let go of the idea that Brink was trying to avoid him. And he knew it was kind of desperate; if Brink didn't want to hang out with him anymore Peter should just let it go and get on with his life, but they'd been friends for a long time and he wasn't sure if he could. "So do you think they could use any more help at the dog groomer's?"
He didn't want to see Brink's reaction to the question; at best Brink would laugh and tell him he was crazy, and at worst he'd stammer through some lie about how it was a one-man job. But he had to know one way or the other -- that was why he'd come over here, after all -- and it was better just to get it over with as fast as he could.
"What are you talking about?" Brink asked, and when Peter forced himself to look up the other boy was smiling like it was all some big joke.
"It's not fair that you should have to pay for all our equipment, right?" Peter said, shrugging like it was no big deal. Like this wasn't the most important moment of his life, and maybe it wasn't, but it sure felt like it. "Besides," he added, flushing and looking down, "I kind of miss hanging out with you."
"So you want to wash dogs with me?"
When Peter shrugged Brink stopped laughing, and a second later Peter heard him stand up and move closer. A hand landed on his shoulder and he tried hard not to flinch, forcing himself to look at the other boy. This had been a bad idea -- possibly the worst idea he'd ever had -- because he was about to lose his best friend and it was too late to take any of it back. But Brink hadn't pulled his hand away yet, and he was looking at Peter like he was trying to work out exactly what they were talking about.
"Wash dogs, skate, whatever," Peter said, managing not to wince at the breathless quality of his voice. He hadn't meant to come over here sounding like such a girl, but it was hard to focus on much of anything when Brink was looking at him like he was just now seeing Peter for the first time.
"So the whatever part..." Brink began, trailing off with that cute little smile he usually only pulled out when he was trying to get Peter to go along with one of his crazy ideas, "is that like..."
He wasn't sure where he got the courage to do it. Maybe it wasn't even courage -- maybe it was desperation, because he knew if he didn't shut Brink up he was just going to keep talking until Peter actually died of embarrassment. One minute he was just sitting there, the weight of Brink's fingers burning into his shoulder, and the next he was surging forward, lips pressed hard against the other boy's. It was clumsy and a little awkward and over almost before it started, but when he pulled back again Brink was smiling.
"Whatever," Peter said, his cheeks burning and his mouth set in a determined line. And if Brink wanted to laugh at him or tell him to get lost he could take it, he could take anything as long as he finally knew where he stood.
For awhile Brink didn't say anything, but finally he laughed, and when he reached up to push his hair back off his forehead Peter could see that his fingers were shaking. "Whatever," Brink echoed, pulling his hand away from Peter's shoulder to sink back down onto the other stool. "Yeah, I think I like the sound of that."
~
ETA:
1. I don't think incest and/or CHAN is okay even in a fictional/fantasy format. There are certain taboos that shouldn't be broken, and holding them up as sexy in any way is not only offensive to survivors of those particular crimes, but dangerous on several levels.
2. Tom Welling freaks me out. Seriously. There's something not right about that boy.
3. Using the word 'rape' in the context of expressing sexual desire for anyone, including fictional characters, is a really, really irresponsible thing to do. I cringe every time I see someone saying 'I want to rape so-and-so' or even 'I want to rape your icon'. First of all, dude. That's kind of a lame thing to say. And secondly, think about what you're saying for a second. Wanting to have sex with someone is not the same as wanting to forcibly humiliate and degrade someone in a sexual way.
4. Speaking of rape, Rapefic is not cool with me. I'm sure if handled sensitively by someone who knows what they're talking about it would be enlightening, albeit disturbing, but using rape as a h/c tool is vile and irresponsible.
5. Pet names. Stop it. Just stop it. Now. If it's canonically accurate it's one thing -- we know that Greg has used the term 'baby' to refer to a SO in season one, for instance. This does not mean Nick/Gil/Warrick/whoever would put up with it. Well, Warrick might, if he were gay, and if he even liked Greg as a person, which I sometimes get the impression he really doesn't. Greggo I will concede, Nicky (even though it makes my skin crawl, but Greg has NEVER said it in canon), but that's about it.
6. I hate the word 'lover' as an endearment. Hate hate HATE it. Yeah, this is the same as #5, but it bears repeating. Stop. It. Please.
7. Complete sentences are your friend. Experimenting with styles is fine, and bending rules to set a mood is good too. But chopping the subject off every one of your sentences generally renders your work unreadable. And if you're relying on spellcheck to catch your typos, get yourself a beta too. Spellcheck isn't that reliable, and grammar check is completely worthless.
8. I'm not a Tolkien fan. I think he was a lousy writer. Let the defriending begin.
9. I think J.K. Rowling is a lousy writer too. Her strength lies in universe-building, but there's HP fic out there that's better than the source material. Everybody knows it's true.
10. I've watched a couple episodes of Smallville now and I don't really get what the big draw is. Michael Rosenbaum isn't really that good of an actor, and Tom Welling's even more disturbing when he's talking. I don't get it. Seriously.
I'm getting back to Nick now, I swear. No, really, I'm going.