Blue
Title: Blue
Pairing: Percy/Teddy (Sort of? Unrequited? Or not. You be the judge. Ha.)
Prompt: bound & gagged
Rating: PG13 for a spot of innuendo?
Words: ~300
Summary: The blue of Percy's eyes does not occur in nature or in vocabulary.
Warnings: Eh. Creepiness? Cross-gen implications?
Notes: snarkyscorp figured out my wizard_love contribution before the reveals and wanted some Percy/Teddy... and this is what happened. Psh. I don't know. My brain is short-circuiting lately. But I had a little fun with this one, though I've no idea where it came from. I started it ages ago, and then it just sort of finished itself.
Teddy's struggling for the word he wants - azure? indigo? cyan? - but he can't find it. It doesn't exist.
The blue of Percy's eyes does not occur in nature or in vocabulary. It isn't the dreamy, buoyant blue of water. It isn't the solid, professional blue of ink. And it isn’t the bubblegum blue of his own baby hair, sugar-sunny and tropical.
Percy's eyes are an eerie blue, the back-lighting of a dream that's all hallways and shadows and corners you can't see around. Yes. That's where Teddy's seen it before; that's its origin - it's a blue pulled out of his own abstractions, his own unsettled mind.
And there, in his head, he's crawling through it, on elbows and knees because his hands are bound, silenced by the invisible gag of unconscious muteness - that place where you try to scream but you can’t; that place where it just echoes back against your teeth and gets shoved down your throat and into your belly and downdowndown until it explodes out of you, hot and sticky, your own microcosmic disaster.
It's everywhere: tinting the tile and the stone and his naked, goosebumped skin, and he's just in it. He's swimming. He's drowning. He can't breathe, even in his own fantasies, and maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he just wants to open up and swallow, suck it down until his lungs are floating and he's got his chin turned up and there's just blueblue sky and blueblue eyes and he doesn't have to say a word, because Percy just knows.
He always knows.
He rubs one clean thumb across his clean-shaven chin, and he straightens his tie, and he looks down, and he's so tall he's like God, eyes some colour that's only his - his and Teddy's, theirs - and he knows.
Pairing: Percy/Teddy (Sort of? Unrequited? Or not. You be the judge. Ha.)
Prompt: bound & gagged
Rating: PG13 for a spot of innuendo?
Words: ~300
Summary: The blue of Percy's eyes does not occur in nature or in vocabulary.
Warnings: Eh. Creepiness? Cross-gen implications?
Notes: snarkyscorp figured out my wizard_love contribution before the reveals and wanted some Percy/Teddy... and this is what happened. Psh. I don't know. My brain is short-circuiting lately. But I had a little fun with this one, though I've no idea where it came from. I started it ages ago, and then it just sort of finished itself.
Teddy's struggling for the word he wants - azure? indigo? cyan? - but he can't find it. It doesn't exist.
The blue of Percy's eyes does not occur in nature or in vocabulary. It isn't the dreamy, buoyant blue of water. It isn't the solid, professional blue of ink. And it isn’t the bubblegum blue of his own baby hair, sugar-sunny and tropical.
Percy's eyes are an eerie blue, the back-lighting of a dream that's all hallways and shadows and corners you can't see around. Yes. That's where Teddy's seen it before; that's its origin - it's a blue pulled out of his own abstractions, his own unsettled mind.
And there, in his head, he's crawling through it, on elbows and knees because his hands are bound, silenced by the invisible gag of unconscious muteness - that place where you try to scream but you can’t; that place where it just echoes back against your teeth and gets shoved down your throat and into your belly and downdowndown until it explodes out of you, hot and sticky, your own microcosmic disaster.
It's everywhere: tinting the tile and the stone and his naked, goosebumped skin, and he's just in it. He's swimming. He's drowning. He can't breathe, even in his own fantasies, and maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he just wants to open up and swallow, suck it down until his lungs are floating and he's got his chin turned up and there's just blueblue sky and blueblue eyes and he doesn't have to say a word, because Percy just knows.
He always knows.
He rubs one clean thumb across his clean-shaven chin, and he straightens his tie, and he looks down, and he's so tall he's like God, eyes some colour that's only his - his and Teddy's, theirs - and he knows.