Response to Challenge #2
Title: Infinity Under the Palm of Your Hand
Rating: Eh, PG-13 ish
Notes: Follows my response to challenge #1. Post Season Seven, definite Spoilers.
Oz has a map of the world tattooed on his back. It's intricate and looks old, even though the ink is new and on smooth, young skin. It's etched in black; made up of jagged lines of land and smooth curves of letters. The skin between the lines is white, dotted with ginger freckles. It isn't the world as it is now--there are things missing.
Oz is on his stomach with his head on his arms and a sleepy Oz-smile on his mouth while Xander straddles his sheet-covered hips, laying eyes on the tattoo for the first time. "Um. Wow. When did you get that?"
He thinks he should have noticed it before, but then again there had been no time for noticing very large tattoo's on Oz's back before, only time for getting rid of clothing, making skin press into skin, make that ache go away (finally).
"'m not sure." Oz replies, rubbing his face against his arms in a sleepy way, "I was in Nepal."
"Oh." Xander reaches out and touches the line of the coasts of Western Europe,to Russia, to Italy, to a few other countries he's been since home became a crater in the ground, and then his finger travels diagonally to South America. He's retracing his journey, minus Sunnydale which doesn't exist on this map (appropriate), on Oz's flesh. The pad of his finger is featherlight on the ink lines, as though they could smudge. "Did it hurt?"
"I was pretty numb, actually."
"Oh." That phrase implies so much--wolf-potions and ancient chanting and possibly the freaky tribal sex and drugs you can only see or even hear of in a very...unique porno. Not that Xander would know. It implies stuff he'll probably never get Oz to tell him about.
There are words, written out in that black ink, in Latin that Xander doesn't understand, that he isn't sure if Oz understands either. There are places on the map he's seen, ones he wishes he hadn't (Russia had pretty much sucked, and he had hated Giles for making him pick up newly awakened Slayers there). There are places that, when he was living in his parents' basement, working job after mind numbing job, that he thought he would never see. He's living in one of those places now. He flattens his hand over the map, covering all but the edges, then lets his fingers splay out. Chile is next to his thumb, Africa curves between his index and middle fingers. His pinky touches the far East. He closes his eyes and lets his forehead fall forward to rest on Oz's back, his hair falling across all the places they've been and places they will never go.
Rating: Eh, PG-13 ish
Notes: Follows my response to challenge #1. Post Season Seven, definite Spoilers.
Oz has a map of the world tattooed on his back. It's intricate and looks old, even though the ink is new and on smooth, young skin. It's etched in black; made up of jagged lines of land and smooth curves of letters. The skin between the lines is white, dotted with ginger freckles. It isn't the world as it is now--there are things missing.
Oz is on his stomach with his head on his arms and a sleepy Oz-smile on his mouth while Xander straddles his sheet-covered hips, laying eyes on the tattoo for the first time. "Um. Wow. When did you get that?"
He thinks he should have noticed it before, but then again there had been no time for noticing very large tattoo's on Oz's back before, only time for getting rid of clothing, making skin press into skin, make that ache go away (finally).
"'m not sure." Oz replies, rubbing his face against his arms in a sleepy way, "I was in Nepal."
"Oh." Xander reaches out and touches the line of the coasts of Western Europe,to Russia, to Italy, to a few other countries he's been since home became a crater in the ground, and then his finger travels diagonally to South America. He's retracing his journey, minus Sunnydale which doesn't exist on this map (appropriate), on Oz's flesh. The pad of his finger is featherlight on the ink lines, as though they could smudge. "Did it hurt?"
"I was pretty numb, actually."
"Oh." That phrase implies so much--wolf-potions and ancient chanting and possibly the freaky tribal sex and drugs you can only see or even hear of in a very...unique porno. Not that Xander would know. It implies stuff he'll probably never get Oz to tell him about.
There are words, written out in that black ink, in Latin that Xander doesn't understand, that he isn't sure if Oz understands either. There are places on the map he's seen, ones he wishes he hadn't (Russia had pretty much sucked, and he had hated Giles for making him pick up newly awakened Slayers there). There are places that, when he was living in his parents' basement, working job after mind numbing job, that he thought he would never see. He's living in one of those places now. He flattens his hand over the map, covering all but the edges, then lets his fingers splay out. Chile is next to his thumb, Africa curves between his index and middle fingers. His pinky touches the far East. He closes his eyes and lets his forehead fall forward to rest on Oz's back, his hair falling across all the places they've been and places they will never go.