Ficlet: Yellow Brick Road
Title: Yellow Brick Road
Author: Khirsah
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Sam/Jamie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Maybe you’ll get a replacement. There’s plenty like me to be found. Mongrels who ain’t got a penny, sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground.
Notes: For mizzmarvel. Also? Draaaaaaaaaama whoring. You've been warned.
“Oh for God’s sake!” Jamie spat, taking a hard left and praying to the good half-dozen entities his dupes had worshiped over the years that he wouldn’t end up as a few colorful smears across the pavement for his pains. The engine of his old clunker protested, brakes squealing and tires leaving an arc of black on broken asphalt, but he managed to make it down the one-way street without any unnecessary death-defying.
“Heeeell yeah,” Strong Guy said with a hooting laugh, grabbing for the Oh Shit handle as Jamie leaned on the horn. The car in front of them swerved, seesawing back and forth before shooting out onto the intersecting road as if flying. Jamie followed hot on its tail, more angry than anything, and pressed his palm to the horn in another blaze of noise.
It never got any better when they ran from him. He figured that, by now, he’d be almost used to the idea of his dupes leading lives of their own without any input from him, but he wasn’t. If anything, it just got worse over time. As more and more of them went rogue and disappeared into the ether, Jamie began to feel more and more panicked.
Those were pieces of him out there, doing God knew what. Those were little bits of his flesh and blood going native, and there wasn’t much he could do about it but try to track them down whenever one popped up on his radar.
Like this one. If Rahne hadn’t gone back to the mansion to check on some old friends, Jamie doubted he would have heard about his dupe playing X-Man for some time. Things were just too crazy after the decimation and the bombings and etc. and so on for Scott Summers and Emma Frost to dot every I and cross every T. Hell, he was pretty sure Jean Grey could come back from the dead again and they’d somehow manage to miss it.
It didn’t help that they all had their heads so far up their a-
“Hooooooooooooooooooooooooohah!” Strong Guy bellowed as they took a sudden, shaky right. They hit the curb, going airborn before their seatbelts slammed them back again. Another Jamie toppled to the side, howling in outrage, and Jamie reabsorbed him before he, oh, fell out the window and ran off to pursue a life in the circus or something. Stupid powers.
“He’s heading back to the mansion,” Jamie said, foot almost to the floor as he pressed against the accelerator with everything he had. He’d be damned if he let the dupe make it all the way back. He wasn’t going to get pulled into some kind of thing over all of this. He was going to grab the dupe, shake him around a little, then reabsorb him and…and maybe send a nice e-mail to Scott-n-Emma.
So sorry for the trouble, that’s really not me you signed up for certain death, maybe you should, oh, I don’t know, check next time, thanks bunches, Jamie.
Or something.
“This one’s really running for it,” Strong Guy said, beating the dash with one hand, grinning big enough to show every tooth in his mouth. Things had been hard lately, and the big guy needed to unwind. That’s what Jamie had told himself when he’d dragged his friend along on Rahne’s tip, even though he hadn’t been expecting a crazy chase scene right out of a movie. Sure, sometimes they resisted, but this was getting-
Fuck.
The crash was unexpected, horrible, and only Jamie’s instincts had his foot on the brake and his hands swerving the wheel in time. They fishtailed, making a wild circle that set the world to spinning and Jamie’s heart to pounding. He flinched, expecting impact, but when he opened his eyes a moment later and looked around, all he saw was a line of buildings and a blessedly whole gunmetal grey hood stretching forward like the eager nose of a bloodhound.
“Son of a bitch.”
Jamie turned his head at the words, shoving the car into park, and his heart stopped in his chest. Sweet mother of destruction, the other car was a mess. Its red metal was scrunched up like an accordion, smoke spilling from the hood. Glass was scattered across the ground, catching the afternoon light, and Jamie could just make out the lolling head of his dupe moving sluggishly against cracked leather.
He wrenched off his seatbelt and almost fell out of the stalled car. The air smelled like smoke and gas and the other car’s engine was still running, making coughing sputters as it nestled against the electric pole. The dupe was moving slowly, groan just heard over the engine, and Jamie stumbled into the fray with a sick mix of emotions that went from thank God I got him to crap, do I want him if he’s dying?
He reached past the shattered window and unlocked the door, pulling it open with some effort. The dupe’s face was pale and bloody, eyes going from bleary to panicked as Jamie leaned over him and killed the ignition. Blood-streaked hands grappled with the seatbelt, and Jamie realized with a sick clench of his stomach that the dupe was about to run again-that he was terrified of being absorbed.
“Wait.”
Jamie grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him out of the car, yanking him toward safety.
“Wait, wait, no, you don’t understand.”
He grabbed two handfuls of the dupe’s shirt, noting the feel of the X-uniform under the cloth, and that just pissed him off more. Of all the places the dupe could have gone, of all the things he could have done, he ran right back to the mansion like a kicked dog who just couldn’t get enough.
“Please,” the dupe begged, struggling, as Jamie prepared to absorb him. Then, “Oh fuck, Sam,” and he was gone.
It was like being hit by a train shooting from the long dark of a tunnel. Images slammed through him-a wide, crooked smile. Golden hair falling across a clear brow. Dimples against tanned cheeks and hands that knew hard work, that had learned every secret of his body.
The sensation of touch came next, thrilling through his blood, and Jamie gasped as he fell to his knees, aware of a warm breath against his neck. Lips traversing the length of his collarbone. Sam, Sam Guthrie’s body pressing heavy and hot over his, hips pushing him deep into the mattress as he slid inch by slick inch into Jamie’s aching hole.
“Fuck. Fuck,” he hissed, eyes squeezing shut, and God, Jamie could hear him. The little catch of his breath every time Jamie grinned. The way his laugh seemed to come from deep inside, escaping in gasps of breath and more pure than anything he could remember. The slow, southern drawl whispering in the shell of his ear as Sam wrapped his long body around his and murmured, “I think I fell in love with you. Why’d I have to go and do something crazy like that, huh?” and oh, Jamie remembered how this felt. He remembered what it was like to sense the whole universe opening up inside him, and him feeling safe and small and at peace in the face of it.
He hadn’t felt that way since the tornado came. And now it was all ending in another kind a tragedy altogether.
“Jamie. Jamie!” Strong Guy’s voice was in his ears and his big hands were on him, helping him to his feet, but all Jamie could feel was the whisper of Sam’s breath and the almost shy brush of his mouth. They’d been lovers for awhile now. His dupe and Sam.
Him and Sam.
Sam.
“ I have to,” Jamie began, but he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. He had to get back to X-Factor Investigations? He had to get back to the X-Men, to Sam? The memories were swirling around inside him like a cyclone spinning about the heartland. Wrecking everything in its path. “I have to…”
“You have to?” Strong Guy echoed, and the smoke of his dupe’s ruined car burned Jamie’s eyes, tearing them up. His temples throbbed in time with his crumbling heart.
“I have to go home,” Jamie said, and there was too much meaning there for him to hold onto it all. It was all just too much. “I have to go… God, Sam.”
When he fell into unconsciousness, there was nothing but blue skies and open fields and the warmth of a long-familiar body against his side. An arm tugging him closer. A drawling voice in his ear. “When’re you coming back, Jamie? When're you coming home?”
Author: Khirsah
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Sam/Jamie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Maybe you’ll get a replacement. There’s plenty like me to be found. Mongrels who ain’t got a penny, sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground.
Notes: For mizzmarvel. Also? Draaaaaaaaaama whoring. You've been warned.
“Oh for God’s sake!” Jamie spat, taking a hard left and praying to the good half-dozen entities his dupes had worshiped over the years that he wouldn’t end up as a few colorful smears across the pavement for his pains. The engine of his old clunker protested, brakes squealing and tires leaving an arc of black on broken asphalt, but he managed to make it down the one-way street without any unnecessary death-defying.
“Heeeell yeah,” Strong Guy said with a hooting laugh, grabbing for the Oh Shit handle as Jamie leaned on the horn. The car in front of them swerved, seesawing back and forth before shooting out onto the intersecting road as if flying. Jamie followed hot on its tail, more angry than anything, and pressed his palm to the horn in another blaze of noise.
It never got any better when they ran from him. He figured that, by now, he’d be almost used to the idea of his dupes leading lives of their own without any input from him, but he wasn’t. If anything, it just got worse over time. As more and more of them went rogue and disappeared into the ether, Jamie began to feel more and more panicked.
Those were pieces of him out there, doing God knew what. Those were little bits of his flesh and blood going native, and there wasn’t much he could do about it but try to track them down whenever one popped up on his radar.
Like this one. If Rahne hadn’t gone back to the mansion to check on some old friends, Jamie doubted he would have heard about his dupe playing X-Man for some time. Things were just too crazy after the decimation and the bombings and etc. and so on for Scott Summers and Emma Frost to dot every I and cross every T. Hell, he was pretty sure Jean Grey could come back from the dead again and they’d somehow manage to miss it.
It didn’t help that they all had their heads so far up their a-
“Hooooooooooooooooooooooooohah!” Strong Guy bellowed as they took a sudden, shaky right. They hit the curb, going airborn before their seatbelts slammed them back again. Another Jamie toppled to the side, howling in outrage, and Jamie reabsorbed him before he, oh, fell out the window and ran off to pursue a life in the circus or something. Stupid powers.
“He’s heading back to the mansion,” Jamie said, foot almost to the floor as he pressed against the accelerator with everything he had. He’d be damned if he let the dupe make it all the way back. He wasn’t going to get pulled into some kind of thing over all of this. He was going to grab the dupe, shake him around a little, then reabsorb him and…and maybe send a nice e-mail to Scott-n-Emma.
So sorry for the trouble, that’s really not me you signed up for certain death, maybe you should, oh, I don’t know, check next time, thanks bunches, Jamie.
Or something.
“This one’s really running for it,” Strong Guy said, beating the dash with one hand, grinning big enough to show every tooth in his mouth. Things had been hard lately, and the big guy needed to unwind. That’s what Jamie had told himself when he’d dragged his friend along on Rahne’s tip, even though he hadn’t been expecting a crazy chase scene right out of a movie. Sure, sometimes they resisted, but this was getting-
Fuck.
The crash was unexpected, horrible, and only Jamie’s instincts had his foot on the brake and his hands swerving the wheel in time. They fishtailed, making a wild circle that set the world to spinning and Jamie’s heart to pounding. He flinched, expecting impact, but when he opened his eyes a moment later and looked around, all he saw was a line of buildings and a blessedly whole gunmetal grey hood stretching forward like the eager nose of a bloodhound.
“Son of a bitch.”
Jamie turned his head at the words, shoving the car into park, and his heart stopped in his chest. Sweet mother of destruction, the other car was a mess. Its red metal was scrunched up like an accordion, smoke spilling from the hood. Glass was scattered across the ground, catching the afternoon light, and Jamie could just make out the lolling head of his dupe moving sluggishly against cracked leather.
He wrenched off his seatbelt and almost fell out of the stalled car. The air smelled like smoke and gas and the other car’s engine was still running, making coughing sputters as it nestled against the electric pole. The dupe was moving slowly, groan just heard over the engine, and Jamie stumbled into the fray with a sick mix of emotions that went from thank God I got him to crap, do I want him if he’s dying?
He reached past the shattered window and unlocked the door, pulling it open with some effort. The dupe’s face was pale and bloody, eyes going from bleary to panicked as Jamie leaned over him and killed the ignition. Blood-streaked hands grappled with the seatbelt, and Jamie realized with a sick clench of his stomach that the dupe was about to run again-that he was terrified of being absorbed.
“Wait.”
Jamie grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him out of the car, yanking him toward safety.
“Wait, wait, no, you don’t understand.”
He grabbed two handfuls of the dupe’s shirt, noting the feel of the X-uniform under the cloth, and that just pissed him off more. Of all the places the dupe could have gone, of all the things he could have done, he ran right back to the mansion like a kicked dog who just couldn’t get enough.
“Please,” the dupe begged, struggling, as Jamie prepared to absorb him. Then, “Oh fuck, Sam,” and he was gone.
It was like being hit by a train shooting from the long dark of a tunnel. Images slammed through him-a wide, crooked smile. Golden hair falling across a clear brow. Dimples against tanned cheeks and hands that knew hard work, that had learned every secret of his body.
The sensation of touch came next, thrilling through his blood, and Jamie gasped as he fell to his knees, aware of a warm breath against his neck. Lips traversing the length of his collarbone. Sam, Sam Guthrie’s body pressing heavy and hot over his, hips pushing him deep into the mattress as he slid inch by slick inch into Jamie’s aching hole.
“Fuck. Fuck,” he hissed, eyes squeezing shut, and God, Jamie could hear him. The little catch of his breath every time Jamie grinned. The way his laugh seemed to come from deep inside, escaping in gasps of breath and more pure than anything he could remember. The slow, southern drawl whispering in the shell of his ear as Sam wrapped his long body around his and murmured, “I think I fell in love with you. Why’d I have to go and do something crazy like that, huh?” and oh, Jamie remembered how this felt. He remembered what it was like to sense the whole universe opening up inside him, and him feeling safe and small and at peace in the face of it.
He hadn’t felt that way since the tornado came. And now it was all ending in another kind a tragedy altogether.
“Jamie. Jamie!” Strong Guy’s voice was in his ears and his big hands were on him, helping him to his feet, but all Jamie could feel was the whisper of Sam’s breath and the almost shy brush of his mouth. They’d been lovers for awhile now. His dupe and Sam.
Him and Sam.
Sam.
“ I have to,” Jamie began, but he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. He had to get back to X-Factor Investigations? He had to get back to the X-Men, to Sam? The memories were swirling around inside him like a cyclone spinning about the heartland. Wrecking everything in its path. “I have to…”
“You have to?” Strong Guy echoed, and the smoke of his dupe’s ruined car burned Jamie’s eyes, tearing them up. His temples throbbed in time with his crumbling heart.
“I have to go home,” Jamie said, and there was too much meaning there for him to hold onto it all. It was all just too much. “I have to go… God, Sam.”
When he fell into unconsciousness, there was nothing but blue skies and open fields and the warmth of a long-familiar body against his side. An arm tugging him closer. A drawling voice in his ear. “When’re you coming back, Jamie? When're you coming home?”