(no subject)
Title: Long Time Coming
Prompt: “the heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.” Ecclesiastes 7:4 in 1hr or 500 words-whatever comes first. (10-5-05)
Notes: Scripps/Posner, History Boys futurefic. PG. 479 words.
Summary: He must be a fool, feeling a laugh bubble up in his belly at Posner’s cluelessness.
He told Dakin about not... you know. Wanking. Jerking off. Masturbating, if you want to be clinical about it. And it had been something of a joke between them then. Dakin had whatever girl he wanted and told his exploits to Scripps. Scripps, on the other hand, had a few years of celibacy and Jesus. It was almost a win-win situation, if he looked at it the right way. After drinking. And possibly getting the slightest bit high.
To say that it was torture was an understatement.
Posner understood, though. He was left out on the sidelines like Scripps, only for his age as opposed to religious beliefs. Or, rather, not always for his religious beliefs. It was part of whatever had the two of them drawing together time and again, what had them staying fast friends even when everyone had gone their separate ways.
Scripps burst into the flat only a moment after Posner had finished putting dinner on. He smiled a greeting at his roommate and kept setting the table. The domestic things, he’d said, were the little bits of what he could do to make the evenings easy. Drowning in studies and homework pushed everyone to their limits.
"Pos," Donald starts, voice gruff.
"I hope you like beef roast leftovers. I haven't been to the market this week and you've always been picky." Posner talks away with only half an ear to Scripps.
"Pos," he tries again.
"Or I could call for takeaway if you'd rather. Though I can't stand the sight of one more Tandoori Chicken, no matter what Akhtar said." Scripps sighs as his friend continues blithely onward.
Taking matters into his own hands, he reaches out and turns David bodily away from the table. “It’s finished, Pos.” He can’t suppress a groan of frustration when he gets nothing but a blank look in return. “I’m a deacon, Pos. I received my ordination today.”
“Scrippsy, you’re not making much sense,” Posner says softly. “Are congratulations in order?” He pauses, before backhanding Donald’s shoulder lightly. “And why didn’t you tell me beforehand? I would’ve come or made something nicer for dinner. Done something, at any rate.” He looks around at the poor spread, trying to decide if it’s worth putting away to hot up another day if they go out, or if he should just chuck it.
Donald drops his head, his hands still wrapped around David’s narrow shoulders. He must be a fool, feeling a laugh bubble up in his belly at Posner’s cluelessness. There’s nothing for it, he figures, except to take matters into his own hands. He pulls David closer, shutting him up with a long kiss. In time, he’ll explain that it means he’s finally free to have sex; that it means he can commit like he’s wanted to do since they were in school.
But it’ll wait a while longer.
Prompt: “the heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.” Ecclesiastes 7:4 in 1hr or 500 words-whatever comes first. (10-5-05)
Notes: Scripps/Posner, History Boys futurefic. PG. 479 words.
Summary: He must be a fool, feeling a laugh bubble up in his belly at Posner’s cluelessness.
He told Dakin about not... you know. Wanking. Jerking off. Masturbating, if you want to be clinical about it. And it had been something of a joke between them then. Dakin had whatever girl he wanted and told his exploits to Scripps. Scripps, on the other hand, had a few years of celibacy and Jesus. It was almost a win-win situation, if he looked at it the right way. After drinking. And possibly getting the slightest bit high.
To say that it was torture was an understatement.
Posner understood, though. He was left out on the sidelines like Scripps, only for his age as opposed to religious beliefs. Or, rather, not always for his religious beliefs. It was part of whatever had the two of them drawing together time and again, what had them staying fast friends even when everyone had gone their separate ways.
Scripps burst into the flat only a moment after Posner had finished putting dinner on. He smiled a greeting at his roommate and kept setting the table. The domestic things, he’d said, were the little bits of what he could do to make the evenings easy. Drowning in studies and homework pushed everyone to their limits.
"Pos," Donald starts, voice gruff.
"I hope you like beef roast leftovers. I haven't been to the market this week and you've always been picky." Posner talks away with only half an ear to Scripps.
"Pos," he tries again.
"Or I could call for takeaway if you'd rather. Though I can't stand the sight of one more Tandoori Chicken, no matter what Akhtar said." Scripps sighs as his friend continues blithely onward.
Taking matters into his own hands, he reaches out and turns David bodily away from the table. “It’s finished, Pos.” He can’t suppress a groan of frustration when he gets nothing but a blank look in return. “I’m a deacon, Pos. I received my ordination today.”
“Scrippsy, you’re not making much sense,” Posner says softly. “Are congratulations in order?” He pauses, before backhanding Donald’s shoulder lightly. “And why didn’t you tell me beforehand? I would’ve come or made something nicer for dinner. Done something, at any rate.” He looks around at the poor spread, trying to decide if it’s worth putting away to hot up another day if they go out, or if he should just chuck it.
Donald drops his head, his hands still wrapped around David’s narrow shoulders. He must be a fool, feeling a laugh bubble up in his belly at Posner’s cluelessness. There’s nothing for it, he figures, except to take matters into his own hands. He pulls David closer, shutting him up with a long kiss. In time, he’ll explain that it means he’s finally free to have sex; that it means he can commit like he’s wanted to do since they were in school.
But it’ll wait a while longer.