FIC: "Anniversary" 1/1 LOTR/Hercules RPS/Gen PG
Title: “Anniversary” 1/1
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Karl Urban/Harry Sinclair/Marton Csokas/Mark Ferguson/Craig Parker/Bruce Hopkins/Lawrence Makoare/Sala Baker/Dean O’Gorman/Michael Hurst
Rating: PG
Summary: The Kiwis acknowledge a special day.
Website: Broadwriting
http://www.broadwriting.com/index2.html
Feedback: Of course.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Kevin Smith played Ares on Xena and Hercules. He died on February 16, 2002. Written for the contralamontre ‘love without being obvious’ challenge. Took the entire allotted hour to write.
Much thanks to Jenn, who may remember that I had this idea back last year.
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly”
-- The Beatles
“Alright, who’re we missing?” Harry asked, passing Karl his bottle of lager as he flopped down on the battered sofa.
“Marton and Mark just called; they’re on their way from the bottle shop now. Expect they’ll be a minute,” Karl replied, tipping his bottle towards Harry in thanks.
“You let them go off to buy alcohol on their own?” Craig asked with a smirk from his sprawled position on the easy chair next to Michael and Bruce.
“They volunteered.”
Dean grinned around his own bottle. “Fuck, mate, we may as well meet them. They’ll be an age.”
Lawrence and Sala barreled in from the kitchen, laughing as they started to pack the cooler with clumsily wrapped sandwiches. “Let’s get a move on, guys,” Lawrence said. “Sun’s setting soon.”
“If you made a mess of my kitchen, I’m making you come over and wash dishes for a week,” Karl grumbled.
“It’s fine,” Sala said, nudging Karl’s shoulder as he dropped onto the sofa.
“Next year we’re having it at your place,” Karl said.
Harry placed a soft kiss on Karl’s forehead. “But your place is next to the beach, love.”
“'Sides, you’ve got the best stocked fridge,” Bruce stated.
“Vulture.”
“You bet.”
Karl shook his head, but his lips curved in a small smile.
“Honey, we’re home!” Marton announced a second later, strolling in with Mark by his side. They were both carrying large paper bags.
“’Bout time.” Craig heaved himself out of the chair. “I’ll go get the blankets.”
“C’mon, let’s get the cooler,” Dean said, tugging Bruce up.
Harry glanced over at Michael. “Got the photo?”
Michael patted the cargo pocket of his shorts. “Right here.”
“Guess we’re ready, then.” Karl stood, and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The small group trundled out the sliding glass door toward the beach, Dean and Bruce awkwardly carrying the cooler between them. Karl and Harry led the procession, carrying the firewood, both of them thankful for the cool breeze in the almost oppressive heat.
“Well, another year,” Karl stated, after they’d started the pit fire and had passed out the sandwiches and bottles of beer. “Who’s first?”
Mark raised his hand, then stood, brushing sand off his shorts. He waited until everyone had quieted down before speaking. “Right, then. I’ll keep it brief. Unlike some I could mention.”
“Had a lot to say,” Michael mumbled over everyone’s easy laughter.
“You always do,” Craig said, slapping Michael playfully on the back.
“Well, I don’t. Not really.” Mark looked around the circle of men. “To Kevin. Life goes on, bra, but we miss you every day.”
“Life goes on,” the others repeated, more or less in unison, and they all took a long swallow from their bottles.
Michael stood as Mark sat down, and he stared at the picture in his hands. “Ashes to ashes,” he murmured, tossing it into the flames, eyes bright as the fire greedily consumed the paper.
Karl stood, gently squeezing Michael’s shoulder as Michael sat back down. “We salute you, brother, wherever you are,” Karl said, pouring a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet over the flames, watching as they leapt and danced higher.
One by one, they all stood, paid tribute, whether in words or verse. Craig was last, and his voice carried clear and strong in the waning rays of the sun. “You were the best and brightest of us all.”
He sat, and the silence lasted an indefinite amount of time, each man lost in memories, in the past.
“Alright,” Dean said, looking around, not bothering to wipe the tears that trailed across his cheeks. “Think everyone’s heard the story about Kevin locking me out of wardrobe in only my skivs, so it’s someone else’s go.”
Michael cleared his throat before speaking, still managing a smile for the group. “Did I ever tell you guys about the pineapple--”
“YES!”
“God, not everyone all at once,” Michael grumbled. “Alright, what about the time he tied my laces--”
“Michael, mate, we know. You’ve told us the story more than once.” Karl grinned, passing Michael another bottle. “Getting old and senile.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Harry said.
“Least you’re not going on about the same stories,” Sala said.
“Alright, I’ve got one.” Lawrence set his beer down in the sand, scooting forward a bit, eyes bright in the glow of the fire. “And I know you yokels’ve never heard it ‘cause I swore him to secrecy.”
“Does it involve your utter humiliation?” Bruce asked, eyes twinkling.
“Actually, yeah.”
“Oh, I’m all for it, then,” Craig stated, sprawling on his stomach on his blanket. “Let’s hear it.”
“Morbid lot,” Lawrence said, sighing.
“You got it,” Mark replied. “Now, start talking.”
Lawrence looked around at everyone in the loose circle, giving each of them a small smile. “Alright. But it doesn’t leave the group.”
“Of course,” Karl said, lacing his fingers with Harry’s as he gave Lawrence a cheeky grin.
“Alright, this was back when we were both in repertoire together...and this one day I was running late to rehearsal...”
Overhead, the stars came out, illuminating the sky in brilliant points of light.
* * *
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Karl Urban/Harry Sinclair/Marton Csokas/Mark Ferguson/Craig Parker/Bruce Hopkins/Lawrence Makoare/Sala Baker/Dean O’Gorman/Michael Hurst
Rating: PG
Summary: The Kiwis acknowledge a special day.
Website: Broadwriting
http://www.broadwriting.com/index2.html
Feedback: Of course.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Kevin Smith played Ares on Xena and Hercules. He died on February 16, 2002. Written for the contralamontre ‘love without being obvious’ challenge. Took the entire allotted hour to write.
Much thanks to Jenn, who may remember that I had this idea back last year.
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly”
-- The Beatles
“Alright, who’re we missing?” Harry asked, passing Karl his bottle of lager as he flopped down on the battered sofa.
“Marton and Mark just called; they’re on their way from the bottle shop now. Expect they’ll be a minute,” Karl replied, tipping his bottle towards Harry in thanks.
“You let them go off to buy alcohol on their own?” Craig asked with a smirk from his sprawled position on the easy chair next to Michael and Bruce.
“They volunteered.”
Dean grinned around his own bottle. “Fuck, mate, we may as well meet them. They’ll be an age.”
Lawrence and Sala barreled in from the kitchen, laughing as they started to pack the cooler with clumsily wrapped sandwiches. “Let’s get a move on, guys,” Lawrence said. “Sun’s setting soon.”
“If you made a mess of my kitchen, I’m making you come over and wash dishes for a week,” Karl grumbled.
“It’s fine,” Sala said, nudging Karl’s shoulder as he dropped onto the sofa.
“Next year we’re having it at your place,” Karl said.
Harry placed a soft kiss on Karl’s forehead. “But your place is next to the beach, love.”
“'Sides, you’ve got the best stocked fridge,” Bruce stated.
“Vulture.”
“You bet.”
Karl shook his head, but his lips curved in a small smile.
“Honey, we’re home!” Marton announced a second later, strolling in with Mark by his side. They were both carrying large paper bags.
“’Bout time.” Craig heaved himself out of the chair. “I’ll go get the blankets.”
“C’mon, let’s get the cooler,” Dean said, tugging Bruce up.
Harry glanced over at Michael. “Got the photo?”
Michael patted the cargo pocket of his shorts. “Right here.”
“Guess we’re ready, then.” Karl stood, and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The small group trundled out the sliding glass door toward the beach, Dean and Bruce awkwardly carrying the cooler between them. Karl and Harry led the procession, carrying the firewood, both of them thankful for the cool breeze in the almost oppressive heat.
“Well, another year,” Karl stated, after they’d started the pit fire and had passed out the sandwiches and bottles of beer. “Who’s first?”
Mark raised his hand, then stood, brushing sand off his shorts. He waited until everyone had quieted down before speaking. “Right, then. I’ll keep it brief. Unlike some I could mention.”
“Had a lot to say,” Michael mumbled over everyone’s easy laughter.
“You always do,” Craig said, slapping Michael playfully on the back.
“Well, I don’t. Not really.” Mark looked around the circle of men. “To Kevin. Life goes on, bra, but we miss you every day.”
“Life goes on,” the others repeated, more or less in unison, and they all took a long swallow from their bottles.
Michael stood as Mark sat down, and he stared at the picture in his hands. “Ashes to ashes,” he murmured, tossing it into the flames, eyes bright as the fire greedily consumed the paper.
Karl stood, gently squeezing Michael’s shoulder as Michael sat back down. “We salute you, brother, wherever you are,” Karl said, pouring a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet over the flames, watching as they leapt and danced higher.
One by one, they all stood, paid tribute, whether in words or verse. Craig was last, and his voice carried clear and strong in the waning rays of the sun. “You were the best and brightest of us all.”
He sat, and the silence lasted an indefinite amount of time, each man lost in memories, in the past.
“Alright,” Dean said, looking around, not bothering to wipe the tears that trailed across his cheeks. “Think everyone’s heard the story about Kevin locking me out of wardrobe in only my skivs, so it’s someone else’s go.”
Michael cleared his throat before speaking, still managing a smile for the group. “Did I ever tell you guys about the pineapple--”
“YES!”
“God, not everyone all at once,” Michael grumbled. “Alright, what about the time he tied my laces--”
“Michael, mate, we know. You’ve told us the story more than once.” Karl grinned, passing Michael another bottle. “Getting old and senile.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Harry said.
“Least you’re not going on about the same stories,” Sala said.
“Alright, I’ve got one.” Lawrence set his beer down in the sand, scooting forward a bit, eyes bright in the glow of the fire. “And I know you yokels’ve never heard it ‘cause I swore him to secrecy.”
“Does it involve your utter humiliation?” Bruce asked, eyes twinkling.
“Actually, yeah.”
“Oh, I’m all for it, then,” Craig stated, sprawling on his stomach on his blanket. “Let’s hear it.”
“Morbid lot,” Lawrence said, sighing.
“You got it,” Mark replied. “Now, start talking.”
Lawrence looked around at everyone in the loose circle, giving each of them a small smile. “Alright. But it doesn’t leave the group.”
“Of course,” Karl said, lacing his fingers with Harry’s as he gave Lawrence a cheeky grin.
“Alright, this was back when we were both in repertoire together...and this one day I was running late to rehearsal...”
Overhead, the stars came out, illuminating the sky in brilliant points of light.
* * *