(no subject)
Title: Wild Sage (Part I)
Pairing: Gillian Welch/David Rawlings, Gillian Welch/David Rawlings/Conor Oberst, John Darnielle/Conor Oberst
Rating: R
Prompt: chocolate
Summary: You watch them dance in the kitchen in the mornings while David makes breakfast, or listen to his guitar-playing at night while Gillian cooks dinner.
Word Count: 989
Disclaimer
Notes: Part of the Tim/Conor arc, but also the first half or this part of it. Gillian Welch opened for Bright Eyes on his American tour this May, and David Rawlings is her guitar player. John Darnielle is of Mountain Goats fame, and the title is the title of a Mountain Goats song.
You are fairly sure that it's justified, when you tell Tim you're going away for a while. He's still spending so much time with Kim - with Sierra, and his eyes light up every time he talks about her - and you need time. You've cut back on your coke use, but you've started going out again, with Jenny and Neely and everyone else, and it's so hard to stop. You look like a skeleton, skin stretched tight over prominent bones.
So you tell your brother, and two days later, he tells you his friend has some friends you can stay with.
---
Both you and your brother are silent on the long drive from Omaha to Gillian's place. You've met her before, at a party, and you remember thinking she was very nice. Her smile was bright, and genuine, and you hadn't realized she lived so far from the city.
The house is small, and the property is large, and Gillian answers the door in this dress that is so, so stereotypically Western that she either got it at a thrift store or some upscale hipster shop. "Hi there, darlin'," she says, and leans over to hug you. She's so much older than you, it seems - maybe thirty years old. She hugs your brother, who hands you your suitcase and tells her to take care of you.
She leads you inside, and you take off your shoes. She is barefoot, but you keep your socks on. She tells you to leave your bag in the hall.
"Who is it, Gil?" The voice is deep and a little rough, and when you step into the kitchen, you see a man, maybe in his mid-thirties, a guitar in his lap. He reminds you of Tim, maybe Tim in ten years, with dark, messy hair and stubble and an easy smile.
"Honey, this is Conor, Justin's baby brother," Gillian says. She looks at you. "Are you hungry? I was just going to start making dinner."
You nod, and the man introduces himself as David, offers you a glass of whisky, so you say yes.
That night is spent quietly drinking, and listening to David play, watching Gillian watching David and smiling when he catches her.
---
Your first week with her and David - Gillian calls him Dave - is spent in much the same fashion as the first night; you watch them dance in the kitchen in the mornings while David makes breakfast, or listen to his guitar-playing at night while Gillian cooks dinner. That's sort of the routine, it seems, and your contribution is washing the dishes, or drying them.
You all talk music and drink and stay up way too late, and by the fourth night, you find yourself comfortable enough to pass out on the couch between the two of them, Gillian's hand buried in your hair and David's arm holding you and her together. Her head is on your shoulder, and you don't think you've ever felt so comfortable.
---
David laughs when you make observations on the porch swing, the sunset bright and orange across the backyard. Your head is in Gillian's lap, and her fingers seem almost permanently attached to your hair. It doesn't make it any less messy, but it doesn't make it any worse, and either way, it feels nice.
She's singing some old folk song, one you've heard on an old Townes Van Zandt record David plays all the time. He's singing in harmony, and their voices, together, are more beautiful than anything you've ever heard.
---
Your bedroom is right next to David and Gillian's, and every night you can hear them murmuring, the soft squeak of bedsprings as they move. The walls are paper thin, but they are as quiet as they are gentle. Somehow it doesn't surprise you.
What does surprise you is when David shows up at your bedroom door in just his jeans, hair a little bit more tousled than usual. "Gil wants to know if you'd like to come sleep with us," he asks, his tone suggesting that either answer will be more than alright.
You feel very small as you accept, and get up, in a t-shirt you think used to belong to Tim and boxer-briefs. David's smile grows fonder, and he puts his arm around your waist, leading you back to their bed.
---
You've been with them a month and a half when John comes around. He's a little shy unless he's drunk, but he's drunk when his car pulls into the driveway, and David takes you aside to tell you that John is going through some rough times.
He's running away from his wife, he tells you, as the four of you - you, him, David and Gillian - work your way through your third bottle of wine. David and Gillian are in their own little world, sharing a chair. His lips are on her neck, and his arms are around her waist, holding her in his lap.
John reminds you of Tim, sort of like dark chocolate. Sweet and bitter and something you crave. The difference is you only want chocolate once in a while, and Tim... well, you want him more than once in a while.
But right now you have John, and he is like Tim, like David, dark-haired and bright-eyed and interesting, and really, you aren't so surprised that you stay in your own bed that night, with John on top of you and your body writhing under his.
When you wake up, he's not there, but the bed right next to you is still warm. You can hear John's voice and David's quieter, deeper one just outside your door. You pull on your jeans, let them hang off your hips.
You don't quite understand what's been said, but John gives you an apologetic look. David's arm wraps around your waist, and he pulls you into his side as the three of you go downstairs.
Gillian is waiting in the kitchen, and she finds a radio station while David makes breakfast.
Pairing: Gillian Welch/David Rawlings, Gillian Welch/David Rawlings/Conor Oberst, John Darnielle/Conor Oberst
Rating: R
Prompt: chocolate
Summary: You watch them dance in the kitchen in the mornings while David makes breakfast, or listen to his guitar-playing at night while Gillian cooks dinner.
Word Count: 989
Disclaimer
Notes: Part of the Tim/Conor arc, but also the first half or this part of it. Gillian Welch opened for Bright Eyes on his American tour this May, and David Rawlings is her guitar player. John Darnielle is of Mountain Goats fame, and the title is the title of a Mountain Goats song.
You are fairly sure that it's justified, when you tell Tim you're going away for a while. He's still spending so much time with Kim - with Sierra, and his eyes light up every time he talks about her - and you need time. You've cut back on your coke use, but you've started going out again, with Jenny and Neely and everyone else, and it's so hard to stop. You look like a skeleton, skin stretched tight over prominent bones.
So you tell your brother, and two days later, he tells you his friend has some friends you can stay with.
---
Both you and your brother are silent on the long drive from Omaha to Gillian's place. You've met her before, at a party, and you remember thinking she was very nice. Her smile was bright, and genuine, and you hadn't realized she lived so far from the city.
The house is small, and the property is large, and Gillian answers the door in this dress that is so, so stereotypically Western that she either got it at a thrift store or some upscale hipster shop. "Hi there, darlin'," she says, and leans over to hug you. She's so much older than you, it seems - maybe thirty years old. She hugs your brother, who hands you your suitcase and tells her to take care of you.
She leads you inside, and you take off your shoes. She is barefoot, but you keep your socks on. She tells you to leave your bag in the hall.
"Who is it, Gil?" The voice is deep and a little rough, and when you step into the kitchen, you see a man, maybe in his mid-thirties, a guitar in his lap. He reminds you of Tim, maybe Tim in ten years, with dark, messy hair and stubble and an easy smile.
"Honey, this is Conor, Justin's baby brother," Gillian says. She looks at you. "Are you hungry? I was just going to start making dinner."
You nod, and the man introduces himself as David, offers you a glass of whisky, so you say yes.
That night is spent quietly drinking, and listening to David play, watching Gillian watching David and smiling when he catches her.
---
Your first week with her and David - Gillian calls him Dave - is spent in much the same fashion as the first night; you watch them dance in the kitchen in the mornings while David makes breakfast, or listen to his guitar-playing at night while Gillian cooks dinner. That's sort of the routine, it seems, and your contribution is washing the dishes, or drying them.
You all talk music and drink and stay up way too late, and by the fourth night, you find yourself comfortable enough to pass out on the couch between the two of them, Gillian's hand buried in your hair and David's arm holding you and her together. Her head is on your shoulder, and you don't think you've ever felt so comfortable.
---
David laughs when you make observations on the porch swing, the sunset bright and orange across the backyard. Your head is in Gillian's lap, and her fingers seem almost permanently attached to your hair. It doesn't make it any less messy, but it doesn't make it any worse, and either way, it feels nice.
She's singing some old folk song, one you've heard on an old Townes Van Zandt record David plays all the time. He's singing in harmony, and their voices, together, are more beautiful than anything you've ever heard.
---
Your bedroom is right next to David and Gillian's, and every night you can hear them murmuring, the soft squeak of bedsprings as they move. The walls are paper thin, but they are as quiet as they are gentle. Somehow it doesn't surprise you.
What does surprise you is when David shows up at your bedroom door in just his jeans, hair a little bit more tousled than usual. "Gil wants to know if you'd like to come sleep with us," he asks, his tone suggesting that either answer will be more than alright.
You feel very small as you accept, and get up, in a t-shirt you think used to belong to Tim and boxer-briefs. David's smile grows fonder, and he puts his arm around your waist, leading you back to their bed.
---
You've been with them a month and a half when John comes around. He's a little shy unless he's drunk, but he's drunk when his car pulls into the driveway, and David takes you aside to tell you that John is going through some rough times.
He's running away from his wife, he tells you, as the four of you - you, him, David and Gillian - work your way through your third bottle of wine. David and Gillian are in their own little world, sharing a chair. His lips are on her neck, and his arms are around her waist, holding her in his lap.
John reminds you of Tim, sort of like dark chocolate. Sweet and bitter and something you crave. The difference is you only want chocolate once in a while, and Tim... well, you want him more than once in a while.
But right now you have John, and he is like Tim, like David, dark-haired and bright-eyed and interesting, and really, you aren't so surprised that you stay in your own bed that night, with John on top of you and your body writhing under his.
When you wake up, he's not there, but the bed right next to you is still warm. You can hear John's voice and David's quieter, deeper one just outside your door. You pull on your jeans, let them hang off your hips.
You don't quite understand what's been said, but John gives you an apologetic look. David's arm wraps around your waist, and he pulls you into his side as the three of you go downstairs.
Gillian is waiting in the kitchen, and she finds a radio station while David makes breakfast.