Small Promises
Title: Small Promises
Fandom: Rockstar Addict Verse
Characters/Pairings: Alex/Grace, mentions of Hunter and Dean
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: vylentcrymz: park
Disclaimer:All belongs to vylentcrymz and I
Note: I'm almost done with this set of ficlet requests, so last call if you want to go request something.
There was something oddly comforting about parks. It didn’t matter what city they were in, even the tiniest, most Deliverance-like craphole had a park for it’s kidlets to run around in.
Or for older, hornier kids to cause their own brand of mischief in.
It would always start out the same, they would park Dean’s Impala and take off running. Dean and whatever girl he’d managed to charm into tagging along that night would head for the trees to do good knows what, never to be seen until the sun came up over the tops of the trees, or at least until Alex climbed up onto the nearest available playground equipment and yelled that they were leaving and taking his precious car with him.
Hunter, ever the sensitive writer, would head off to a secluded corner of the park with his notebook, a pen, and a joint, ready to scribble down anything the muses had to offer.
Alex and Gracie, well, their activities always started out innocently enough. They’d find the swing set, because almost every park had one, (except for this one in Roswell. Dean had joked that maybe the aliens had taken it) and settled in.
Sometimes they would swing side by side; with Alex scuffingthe toes of his worn black Converses in the sand or dirt while Gracie twisted the chains until her hands hurt before letting go, giggling as she spun (and usually gave him a heart attack). But usually Alex decided to stay behind her, giving her a push or catching her during panicky moments when he could swear she was about three seconds from flying through the air like that blonde girl in Matilda.
Tonight's no different, at least not yet. Dean, Hunter, and Dean’s latest conquest, a perky little redhead named Amber head off to their designated areas, and Gracie grabs Alex’s hand, practically dragging him down a steep hill toward a wooden swing set.
“Come on, slowpoke!” she says between giggles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she plops into the seat. “You’ve been on another planet all night!
“Hey, I happen to like my planet,” he says with a grin as he grabs the chains and starts to push. “It’s full of hot half naked girls who are all madly in love with me.”
She pouts. “I hate your planet, it sucks.”
“More than Dean?”
Gracie bursts into giggles, looking around before whispering: “Better watch that, Amber might not be so into our boy if she knew we were talking about literal sucking.”
“Sure she would. In a post-Brokeback world, it only gets them hotter.”
She grins, looking up at him. “Know this from experience, do you?”
“Nah,” he says, grabbing her by the hips to stop her and nuzzle her neck. “ Besides, I’m not a very good rockstar.”
“Mmm… really? Why’s that?”
He smiles against her skin, murmuring: “Because I’m a one woman man.”
She’s speechless for a moment, and he bites his lip, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that was really cheesy. Ignore me, Gracie, I stayed up late last night with Hunter and watched some Lifetime movie and I‘m probably-”
Gracie yanks him down for a kiss, cutting him off. It’s a slow, soft kiss, like they have all the time in the world, which he supposes they do. What he said before wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal, but he knows it means as much to Gracie it does to him.
Because those six words were as good as any, at least for people like them.
At least until he finally found the right ones.
Fandom: Rockstar Addict Verse
Characters/Pairings: Alex/Grace, mentions of Hunter and Dean
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: vylentcrymz: park
Disclaimer:All belongs to vylentcrymz and I
Note: I'm almost done with this set of ficlet requests, so last call if you want to go request something.
There was something oddly comforting about parks. It didn’t matter what city they were in, even the tiniest, most Deliverance-like craphole had a park for it’s kidlets to run around in.
Or for older, hornier kids to cause their own brand of mischief in.
It would always start out the same, they would park Dean’s Impala and take off running. Dean and whatever girl he’d managed to charm into tagging along that night would head for the trees to do good knows what, never to be seen until the sun came up over the tops of the trees, or at least until Alex climbed up onto the nearest available playground equipment and yelled that they were leaving and taking his precious car with him.
Hunter, ever the sensitive writer, would head off to a secluded corner of the park with his notebook, a pen, and a joint, ready to scribble down anything the muses had to offer.
Alex and Gracie, well, their activities always started out innocently enough. They’d find the swing set, because almost every park had one, (except for this one in Roswell. Dean had joked that maybe the aliens had taken it) and settled in.
Sometimes they would swing side by side; with Alex scuffingthe toes of his worn black Converses in the sand or dirt while Gracie twisted the chains until her hands hurt before letting go, giggling as she spun (and usually gave him a heart attack). But usually Alex decided to stay behind her, giving her a push or catching her during panicky moments when he could swear she was about three seconds from flying through the air like that blonde girl in Matilda.
Tonight's no different, at least not yet. Dean, Hunter, and Dean’s latest conquest, a perky little redhead named Amber head off to their designated areas, and Gracie grabs Alex’s hand, practically dragging him down a steep hill toward a wooden swing set.
“Come on, slowpoke!” she says between giggles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she plops into the seat. “You’ve been on another planet all night!
“Hey, I happen to like my planet,” he says with a grin as he grabs the chains and starts to push. “It’s full of hot half naked girls who are all madly in love with me.”
She pouts. “I hate your planet, it sucks.”
“More than Dean?”
Gracie bursts into giggles, looking around before whispering: “Better watch that, Amber might not be so into our boy if she knew we were talking about literal sucking.”
“Sure she would. In a post-Brokeback world, it only gets them hotter.”
She grins, looking up at him. “Know this from experience, do you?”
“Nah,” he says, grabbing her by the hips to stop her and nuzzle her neck. “ Besides, I’m not a very good rockstar.”
“Mmm… really? Why’s that?”
He smiles against her skin, murmuring: “Because I’m a one woman man.”
She’s speechless for a moment, and he bites his lip, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that was really cheesy. Ignore me, Gracie, I stayed up late last night with Hunter and watched some Lifetime movie and I‘m probably-”
Gracie yanks him down for a kiss, cutting him off. It’s a slow, soft kiss, like they have all the time in the world, which he supposes they do. What he said before wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal, but he knows it means as much to Gracie it does to him.
Because those six words were as good as any, at least for people like them.
At least until he finally found the right ones.