Happy birthday Lisa!!!
My dearest raggedy_edge has a birthday in just a few days. Since I can't be with her and the girls to celebrate and party the weekend away, I'm posting her presents early! Le gasp! I hope you enjoy them, darlin'. I miss your face~~ ♥ ♥ ♥
GreekGodsAU, Lee/authors choice, the only easy day was yesterday:
He stares at the bottle without really seeing it, yet all too aware of the spit of beer still sitting at the bottom; it'll do, in a moment or so, but it isn't what he wants. He can't have what he wants, not without going to see Hades, and Robert's words banging around inside his head won't let the fact that it's really an option lie still in his mind anymore.
Lee closes his eyes and tries not to think about it, about the cool waters of Lethe that would soothe his memories into nothing at all, nothing and nothing and nothing; so much family in one place can only mean trouble.
GreekGodsAU, Echo!James McAvoy/Hermes, don't underestimate the things I will do:
I know what that look means, and ok, maybe it doesn't take being Messanger to the Gods to catch his meaning, but I take pride in my ability to understand the full eloquence of what Echo is saying without saying a word at all; he used to tell beautiful stories, words woven together so perfectly you could nearly see them, and even now, even after piecing himself back together, even after Zeus and Hera moved on, he still has no voice.
Even his sighs don't make a sound.
"You know me all too well," I say, smiling and patting my breast pocket, "and why yes, I do in fact have your travel accommodations to Portland here in my pocket..."
Firefly/RPS, Steve/Ewan, a proper goodbye:
(Parallel to this.)
Ewan leans lightly with his shoulder against the window frame, watching the rain paint the glass as he sips his drink - he doesn't even know what he's drinking, isn't really tasting it - and tries not to think about the fact that he's been here for two days now and there's been neither sight nor sound of the crew of Calliope; they've done nothing to refuel, to restock... or to contact him.
He isn't sure what he was expecting, or why he was expecting anything. Although, when he doesn't let himself think about it, he would have thought that as often as he and St... the captain had shared a bunk, it would have warranted a proper goodbye or fare-the-well.
~
And when he can't help but think about it... Well, Ewan supposes he had thought the captain wouldn't have let him leave to begin with.
He eyes his bags, never unpacked and ready beside the door, and tries not to wonder if it wouldn't be best just to find other transport.
GothboysAU, Tyron/author's choice, let me hear you speaking just for me:
He knows he should call his brother, but he hates calling Lee like this, at these times when he just can't make the panic stop coiling up in his insides and scratching under his skin; he knows he should call because Lee will calm him down, always does, but Tyron hates that he's so dependent, especially since he's single again, especially when he'd have to confess to the fact that his ex had stolen his meds, probably to sell.
What if Lee tells him to fuck off this time cos it's his own damn fault?
Which is stupid, he knows it's stupid, and Lee would smack him right upside the head if he ever found out and so he pulls out his phone, pulls it out and stares at it and makes himself dial before he can shove it back in his pocket instead.
Avengers, Cap/Tony, if you've got something to say:
"Just say it," Tony says, grinding the words out; they've had this argument before, had it so many times, but every time Steve dances around what he's really thinking. He's doing it again, right now, eyes dancing with anger and that perfect, pretty jaw clenching to bite back and swallow the words that Tony just knows are going to be 'you aren't good enough to be here'.
"I just don't want you to get hurt," Steve finally says, and the way he sounds, the way he says it, the way he turns away... Tony doesn't know what to do with that.
Avengers, Cap/Tony, I never expected you:
"You, of all..." Tony says, and just stops, presses the heels of his hands against his eyes; he's too tired for this, to process this, because seriously, how does this even happen? Steve doesn't look at him, doesn't even take his eyes off the floor, his face burning bright with shame. "How do you just... walk away from a fight?"
~~~~
When Steve woke up in the twenty-first century, he didn't know what to do with himself, and he sure didn't think that there'd be love; he lost that, along with an entire century, lost his life, lost his dance, was just plain lost.
And then there was Tony Stark, brash, loud, flamboyant, flippant, disrespectful, and as-loyal-as-his-father Tony Stark, with his (strange) toys and odd hours and magnetic eyes; he's everything that Steve isn't, so modern and forward and downright frail, when it comes to it. So frail, but when Tony presses his lips against Steve's temple when they're curled together in bed, it feels like strength.
XFC, Erik/Xavier, if at first you don't succeed... cheat:
Charles understands Erik's hesitations on every level, understands why even when he does not put it on Erik feels the need to keep Shaw's damnable helmet, why he keeps the shard of a bullet beside it; Charles understands, but honestly everyone needs to move on, and he's lame, not incapable of deciding what he wants, or of being intimately aware of what Erik wants and denies himself, as though he doesn't deserve it now. He avoids Charles' touch, avoids being too close or alone, avoids having this conversation.
So Charles does what he does best, except more gently, drops hints, nudges, mental images that Erik cannot mistake for anything other than Charles expressing what he wants, what he wants Erik to do to him, that he wants Erik; even so, it takes a month for the man to give in, pressing Charles into wall and claiming his mouth at last...
GreekGodsAU, Lee/authors choice, the only easy day was yesterday:
He stares at the bottle without really seeing it, yet all too aware of the spit of beer still sitting at the bottom; it'll do, in a moment or so, but it isn't what he wants. He can't have what he wants, not without going to see Hades, and Robert's words banging around inside his head won't let the fact that it's really an option lie still in his mind anymore.
Lee closes his eyes and tries not to think about it, about the cool waters of Lethe that would soothe his memories into nothing at all, nothing and nothing and nothing; so much family in one place can only mean trouble.
GreekGodsAU, Echo!James McAvoy/Hermes, don't underestimate the things I will do:
I know what that look means, and ok, maybe it doesn't take being Messanger to the Gods to catch his meaning, but I take pride in my ability to understand the full eloquence of what Echo is saying without saying a word at all; he used to tell beautiful stories, words woven together so perfectly you could nearly see them, and even now, even after piecing himself back together, even after Zeus and Hera moved on, he still has no voice.
Even his sighs don't make a sound.
"You know me all too well," I say, smiling and patting my breast pocket, "and why yes, I do in fact have your travel accommodations to Portland here in my pocket..."
Firefly/RPS, Steve/Ewan, a proper goodbye:
(Parallel to this.)
Ewan leans lightly with his shoulder against the window frame, watching the rain paint the glass as he sips his drink - he doesn't even know what he's drinking, isn't really tasting it - and tries not to think about the fact that he's been here for two days now and there's been neither sight nor sound of the crew of Calliope; they've done nothing to refuel, to restock... or to contact him.
He isn't sure what he was expecting, or why he was expecting anything. Although, when he doesn't let himself think about it, he would have thought that as often as he and St... the captain had shared a bunk, it would have warranted a proper goodbye or fare-the-well.
~
And when he can't help but think about it... Well, Ewan supposes he had thought the captain wouldn't have let him leave to begin with.
He eyes his bags, never unpacked and ready beside the door, and tries not to wonder if it wouldn't be best just to find other transport.
GothboysAU, Tyron/author's choice, let me hear you speaking just for me:
He knows he should call his brother, but he hates calling Lee like this, at these times when he just can't make the panic stop coiling up in his insides and scratching under his skin; he knows he should call because Lee will calm him down, always does, but Tyron hates that he's so dependent, especially since he's single again, especially when he'd have to confess to the fact that his ex had stolen his meds, probably to sell.
What if Lee tells him to fuck off this time cos it's his own damn fault?
Which is stupid, he knows it's stupid, and Lee would smack him right upside the head if he ever found out and so he pulls out his phone, pulls it out and stares at it and makes himself dial before he can shove it back in his pocket instead.
Avengers, Cap/Tony, if you've got something to say:
"Just say it," Tony says, grinding the words out; they've had this argument before, had it so many times, but every time Steve dances around what he's really thinking. He's doing it again, right now, eyes dancing with anger and that perfect, pretty jaw clenching to bite back and swallow the words that Tony just knows are going to be 'you aren't good enough to be here'.
"I just don't want you to get hurt," Steve finally says, and the way he sounds, the way he says it, the way he turns away... Tony doesn't know what to do with that.
Avengers, Cap/Tony, I never expected you:
"You, of all..." Tony says, and just stops, presses the heels of his hands against his eyes; he's too tired for this, to process this, because seriously, how does this even happen? Steve doesn't look at him, doesn't even take his eyes off the floor, his face burning bright with shame. "How do you just... walk away from a fight?"
~~~~
When Steve woke up in the twenty-first century, he didn't know what to do with himself, and he sure didn't think that there'd be love; he lost that, along with an entire century, lost his life, lost his dance, was just plain lost.
And then there was Tony Stark, brash, loud, flamboyant, flippant, disrespectful, and as-loyal-as-his-father Tony Stark, with his (strange) toys and odd hours and magnetic eyes; he's everything that Steve isn't, so modern and forward and downright frail, when it comes to it. So frail, but when Tony presses his lips against Steve's temple when they're curled together in bed, it feels like strength.
XFC, Erik/Xavier, if at first you don't succeed... cheat:
Charles understands Erik's hesitations on every level, understands why even when he does not put it on Erik feels the need to keep Shaw's damnable helmet, why he keeps the shard of a bullet beside it; Charles understands, but honestly everyone needs to move on, and he's lame, not incapable of deciding what he wants, or of being intimately aware of what Erik wants and denies himself, as though he doesn't deserve it now. He avoids Charles' touch, avoids being too close or alone, avoids having this conversation.
So Charles does what he does best, except more gently, drops hints, nudges, mental images that Erik cannot mistake for anything other than Charles expressing what he wants, what he wants Erik to do to him, that he wants Erik; even so, it takes a month for the man to give in, pressing Charles into wall and claiming his mouth at last...