Drink up me archies, yo ho
Been working my arse off for the last couple of days, so I haven't had time to write or do anything at all... But today I got the day off, for working so hard, so go me.
Work's been a roller coaster. The first day of O-ringen was a circus, both day and night. Then we thought we had the systeme and everything under control and that the next day would be easier. Not so. Lunch hour that day, which would be Wednesday, was beyond hectic, we were four waitresses and 260 guests, the cutlery ran out, the plates ran out, the salad ran out and then, finally, the food went as well... I tell you we were in shock by the end of it. Our boss told us we could take a two-hour break, and sat outside in the tent, smoking, drinking coffee, eating ice cream that the boss's friend from the hot dog and ice cream bar across the street gave us... We were just knackered, about ready to crumble, but our heads were buzzing still... it was bizarre. I even had tingles in my legs for not scurrying around and in my arms for not carrying something heavy. Then the night shift came and was calm as the dead. Unbelievable. We'd all counted on the night to be even worse than the lunch had been! But instead of stressing ourselves to death, we had nothing to do and got really restless instead!
Yesterday, we (meaning, us that worked during lunch) got to quit early as well, at four in the afternoon. I went for a coffee with Fredde, although we didn't drink any coffee, we just sat talking and smoking. Then I got on the bus home, and convinced my parents to come see "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead man's chest" with us, so that I could go with them back into town, in the car. Of course, they were easiy persuaded. And the movie was GREAT! I don't know what those lunatic critics are on about, I thought it was fantastic, considering it's a Disney enterprise production and meant to appeal to people of all ages and so on and so forth... It was hilariously funny, exciting, with beautiful photoage, great acting, great action sequences which didn't get tiresome in the long run, some brilliant new characters! I was bouncing out of that theatre, and I don't mind telling you so... sort of....
Anyway. Reason I'm really updating my journal, is that I've written another XF fic, so I wanted to post that as well. I thought I'd put in under cut so that those poor people at the XF community don't have to scroll down the account of my bizarre and no doubt boring everyday life....
Title: Fragrance
Fandom: The X files
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Summary: Krycek’s thoughts after a certain kiss (in the canon universe, no less.)
Rating: PG
Prompt: #100 (Writer’s choice) fragrance.
Word Count: 1057
A/N: This is a Krycek POV and merely a reflection, in other words not much of a plot in this one, other than some internal angst and conflict for Krycek and the canon intrigue, of course, which can be found hinted at between the lines…
+
He leaned his head back, hard, against the brick wall that was comfortingly solid and made his scull throb dully from the impact. He banged his head against it once more, careful not to make a noise or alert attention in any way, keeping his rant of dirty words to himself, in the safe confinement of his now bruising head.
Across the street, directly in his line of sight, taunting him, was Fox Mulder’s tiny row of windows; the only ones that weren’t bright with some yellowish source of light from within. There was a faint blueish glow in one of them, which he knew came from the fish tank in the living room, but other than that it seemed Mulder preferred to live in the dark. An amusing idea, considering the irony of the symbolism and Mulder’s crusade.
He knew what it was like, although preference had really nothing to do with it as much as necessity, and survival instinct, but since he preferred to alive, he supposed he also preferred the darkness in a way, just like Mulder. They were alike in that way. They both preferred to stay alive, and thus they both lived still, lived to fight.
The lack illumination in the windows made Mulder invisible. He should be grateful for that, and thinking logically he probably was, but at the same time he ached to catch a glimpse of the man. Just one glimpse.
How the fuck did this happen? He thought angrily, knowing the answer full well, and he banged his head against the wall again, feeling a bump beginning to take shape on the back of his head.
For two weeks he’d stood there, across the street, staring at the window with the blueish glow, leaning back against the brick wall for support and silently scolding himself for even being there in the first place. It had been two weeks since he actually saw Mulder, two weeks since they spoke, and fought as usual, and then talked some more, and…
And for two weeks he’d stood across the street; regretting, hoping, cursing, head banging, et cetera. Not two weeks straight, mind you. He hadn’t left Mulder’s apartment and gone to stand across the street and never left, he wasn’t that pathetic, only just. He’d left alright, but for some reason he always ended up coming back. He might not have stood in that exact spot for two weeks straight but it sure felt like it.
Bang. He’d definitely have a headache come morning. How nice, he thought. Something to remind me of Mulder while I’m gone, and maybe then I won’t have to return to this god damn spot and this god damn wall, staring at his god damn window with the fish tank glow…
Sighing, he leaned away from the wall, tipping his head forward, staring for a moment at the rain slick asphalt between his feet, as though hoping it would hold any answers for him. Which, of course, it didn’t. then he looked away and after another moment had drifted by, he sauntered down the street, leaving again for an undefined, aimless away.
He could still smell him, that was the most frustrating part of this whole circus. Two weeks and he could still smell, breathe, the scent of him… the scent that was Mulder, coated in some manufactured fragrance, humble but nice enough to notice, almost sweet but also wild; the essence of Mulder in a nut shell; the fragrance of rain and thunder combined, the smell of a storm.
Two weeks and he almost imagine he felt the taste of him on the tip of his tongue every time he ran it across his bottom lip, even though the kiss had been rough and hastened, and he barely tasted him to begin with.
And here we go again, he thought bitterly, rounding a corner cautiously, sneaking around the sphere of light cast by a streetlamp. That’s what it’s all about. The kiss. That’s what keeps dragging me back there.
Why’d he have to kiss him? Why on earth did he have to go and do that? He sure as hell had shocked himself just as much as he’d shocked Mulder when he did it. But he was positive Mulder had forgot about it quick enough. He probably hadn’t thought about it for thirteen days and nights, whilst he himself had done nothing but think about it, for fourteen days, and nights. Every second of each of them he kept coming back to that crucial moment in his mind, over and over again, and that’s why he kept returning to that spot across the street, staring up at Mulder’s window, hoping for a glimpse.
But no more. He had things to do, things that couldn’t be put on hold any longer. He thought he probably wouldn’t see Mulder again, or if he did, it would only be a glimpse of him, just like he’d wished for, no more, no less than a glimpse, before one of them reached the end of the line, probably a bullet from the end of the other’s gun, and then the ultimate dark.
Death didn’t scare him so much. It’s what he knew would likely come to pass in life before it reached him that brought shivers to his spine. And knowing that whatever he left for now, he would have to face with Mulder’s fragrance still stuck to his skin…
He wasn’t sure whether that was actually a bad thing. But according to the statistics of their history, it would most likely turn out to be fatally so, but on the other hand he’d never been a fan of statistics and as he paused for a last deep breath of freedom, before climbing into the car, and caught that whiff of electrified freshness on the cool night wind, and found himself thinking: “feels like rain in the air. Probably a storm coming…”, he knew he wasn’t about to start now.
End.
Work's been a roller coaster. The first day of O-ringen was a circus, both day and night. Then we thought we had the systeme and everything under control and that the next day would be easier. Not so. Lunch hour that day, which would be Wednesday, was beyond hectic, we were four waitresses and 260 guests, the cutlery ran out, the plates ran out, the salad ran out and then, finally, the food went as well... I tell you we were in shock by the end of it. Our boss told us we could take a two-hour break, and sat outside in the tent, smoking, drinking coffee, eating ice cream that the boss's friend from the hot dog and ice cream bar across the street gave us... We were just knackered, about ready to crumble, but our heads were buzzing still... it was bizarre. I even had tingles in my legs for not scurrying around and in my arms for not carrying something heavy. Then the night shift came and was calm as the dead. Unbelievable. We'd all counted on the night to be even worse than the lunch had been! But instead of stressing ourselves to death, we had nothing to do and got really restless instead!
Yesterday, we (meaning, us that worked during lunch) got to quit early as well, at four in the afternoon. I went for a coffee with Fredde, although we didn't drink any coffee, we just sat talking and smoking. Then I got on the bus home, and convinced my parents to come see "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead man's chest" with us, so that I could go with them back into town, in the car. Of course, they were easiy persuaded. And the movie was GREAT! I don't know what those lunatic critics are on about, I thought it was fantastic, considering it's a Disney enterprise production and meant to appeal to people of all ages and so on and so forth... It was hilariously funny, exciting, with beautiful photoage, great acting, great action sequences which didn't get tiresome in the long run, some brilliant new characters! I was bouncing out of that theatre, and I don't mind telling you so... sort of....
Anyway. Reason I'm really updating my journal, is that I've written another XF fic, so I wanted to post that as well. I thought I'd put in under cut so that those poor people at the XF community don't have to scroll down the account of my bizarre and no doubt boring everyday life....
Title: Fragrance
Fandom: The X files
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Summary: Krycek’s thoughts after a certain kiss (in the canon universe, no less.)
Rating: PG
Prompt: #100 (Writer’s choice) fragrance.
Word Count: 1057
A/N: This is a Krycek POV and merely a reflection, in other words not much of a plot in this one, other than some internal angst and conflict for Krycek and the canon intrigue, of course, which can be found hinted at between the lines…
+
He leaned his head back, hard, against the brick wall that was comfortingly solid and made his scull throb dully from the impact. He banged his head against it once more, careful not to make a noise or alert attention in any way, keeping his rant of dirty words to himself, in the safe confinement of his now bruising head.
Across the street, directly in his line of sight, taunting him, was Fox Mulder’s tiny row of windows; the only ones that weren’t bright with some yellowish source of light from within. There was a faint blueish glow in one of them, which he knew came from the fish tank in the living room, but other than that it seemed Mulder preferred to live in the dark. An amusing idea, considering the irony of the symbolism and Mulder’s crusade.
He knew what it was like, although preference had really nothing to do with it as much as necessity, and survival instinct, but since he preferred to alive, he supposed he also preferred the darkness in a way, just like Mulder. They were alike in that way. They both preferred to stay alive, and thus they both lived still, lived to fight.
The lack illumination in the windows made Mulder invisible. He should be grateful for that, and thinking logically he probably was, but at the same time he ached to catch a glimpse of the man. Just one glimpse.
How the fuck did this happen? He thought angrily, knowing the answer full well, and he banged his head against the wall again, feeling a bump beginning to take shape on the back of his head.
For two weeks he’d stood there, across the street, staring at the window with the blueish glow, leaning back against the brick wall for support and silently scolding himself for even being there in the first place. It had been two weeks since he actually saw Mulder, two weeks since they spoke, and fought as usual, and then talked some more, and…
And for two weeks he’d stood across the street; regretting, hoping, cursing, head banging, et cetera. Not two weeks straight, mind you. He hadn’t left Mulder’s apartment and gone to stand across the street and never left, he wasn’t that pathetic, only just. He’d left alright, but for some reason he always ended up coming back. He might not have stood in that exact spot for two weeks straight but it sure felt like it.
Bang. He’d definitely have a headache come morning. How nice, he thought. Something to remind me of Mulder while I’m gone, and maybe then I won’t have to return to this god damn spot and this god damn wall, staring at his god damn window with the fish tank glow…
Sighing, he leaned away from the wall, tipping his head forward, staring for a moment at the rain slick asphalt between his feet, as though hoping it would hold any answers for him. Which, of course, it didn’t. then he looked away and after another moment had drifted by, he sauntered down the street, leaving again for an undefined, aimless away.
He could still smell him, that was the most frustrating part of this whole circus. Two weeks and he could still smell, breathe, the scent of him… the scent that was Mulder, coated in some manufactured fragrance, humble but nice enough to notice, almost sweet but also wild; the essence of Mulder in a nut shell; the fragrance of rain and thunder combined, the smell of a storm.
Two weeks and he almost imagine he felt the taste of him on the tip of his tongue every time he ran it across his bottom lip, even though the kiss had been rough and hastened, and he barely tasted him to begin with.
And here we go again, he thought bitterly, rounding a corner cautiously, sneaking around the sphere of light cast by a streetlamp. That’s what it’s all about. The kiss. That’s what keeps dragging me back there.
Why’d he have to kiss him? Why on earth did he have to go and do that? He sure as hell had shocked himself just as much as he’d shocked Mulder when he did it. But he was positive Mulder had forgot about it quick enough. He probably hadn’t thought about it for thirteen days and nights, whilst he himself had done nothing but think about it, for fourteen days, and nights. Every second of each of them he kept coming back to that crucial moment in his mind, over and over again, and that’s why he kept returning to that spot across the street, staring up at Mulder’s window, hoping for a glimpse.
But no more. He had things to do, things that couldn’t be put on hold any longer. He thought he probably wouldn’t see Mulder again, or if he did, it would only be a glimpse of him, just like he’d wished for, no more, no less than a glimpse, before one of them reached the end of the line, probably a bullet from the end of the other’s gun, and then the ultimate dark.
Death didn’t scare him so much. It’s what he knew would likely come to pass in life before it reached him that brought shivers to his spine. And knowing that whatever he left for now, he would have to face with Mulder’s fragrance still stuck to his skin…
He wasn’t sure whether that was actually a bad thing. But according to the statistics of their history, it would most likely turn out to be fatally so, but on the other hand he’d never been a fan of statistics and as he paused for a last deep breath of freedom, before climbing into the car, and caught that whiff of electrified freshness on the cool night wind, and found himself thinking: “feels like rain in the air. Probably a storm coming…”, he knew he wasn’t about to start now.
End.