In Time Fics: red, red roses... + the language of dying (Henry/Will, PG-13)
Title: red, red roses (and dead things)
Fandom: In Time
Pairing: Henry Hamilton/Will Salas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 300
Summary: Another way Henry's last night of life might have gone.
Author's Note: For the 'sharp' prompt at slashthedrabble.
There's nothing like eluding death to bring things into focus... even for someone who, technically, has done so for over a century. Henry can't remember the last time his heart's pumped like this; the last time his nerves sang. He feels so alive. He's immortal... And for the first time in his memory, he doesn't feel deadened by immortality.
He rides the heady rush of adrenaline sizzling through his body, and acts on instinct. Want, take, have. That's how people live in Dayton... They haven't got time for anything else. Henry wants to taste the slightly parted lips near his, so he takes them. He presses his body into his savior's, captures the man's young mouth.
The boy goes stiff. Bright eyes flicker beneath fluttering lashes. If they were in New Greenwich, they'd still be talking about how they intend to proceed in getting to know one another. Here, Henry doesn't even know his companion's name, but there is no censure or disgust in the boy's gaze. Only surprise, sharpening into a sort of wonder, and a hunger that makes Henry harder than he's ever been to see it.
"My name is Henry Hamilton," he says against the boy's naked skin, initiating introductions after the fact.
"Will Salas," the boy says back, watching Henry's every move like he is the unpredictable one between them. This boy with less than a day to live, who risked his life to save a stranger.
"Will," Henry begins, planning. He came to Dayton because he abhorred living for nothing, after all. What sense would it make then- What sense would there be in dying for no one? "If you had as much time as I do... what would you do with it?"
[end.]
And because I couldn't let that be that...
Title: the language of dying
Fandom: In Time
Pairing: Henry Hamilton/Will Salas
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Want, take, have. That's how they do things in Dayton, right?
There's nothing like eluding death to bring things into focus... even for someone who, technically, eludes death every day; has done so for over a century. Henry can't remember the last time his heart's pumped like this, if it ever has. His nerves sing. Bile rises at the back of his throat. It's horrifying and awful and amazing. He feels so alive. He's immortal... And for the first time in his memory, he doesn't feel deadened by immortality.
He rides the heady rush of adrenaline sizzling through his body, and acts on instinct. Want, take, have. That's how people live here in Dayton, right? They have to... They haven't got time for anything else. Henry wants to taste the slightly parted lips near his, so he takes them. He presses his body into his savior's, captures the man's young mouth, revels in their shared breath.
The boy goes stiff. Bright eyes flicker beneath fluttering lashes and search his. If they were in New Greenwich, they'd still be talking about how they intend to proceed in getting to know one another. Here, Henry doesn't even know his companion's name, but there is no censure or disgust in the boy's gaze. Only surprise, sharpening into a sort of wonder, and a hunger that makes Henry harder than he's ever been to see it.
"My name is Henry Hamilton," he says against the boy's naked skin, initiating introductions after the fact.
"Will Salas," the boy says back, watching Henry's every move like he is the unpredictable one between them. Like he is something special. This boy with less than a day to live, who risked his life to save a man with more time ahead of him than he could stomach only twelve hours ago.
"Will," Henry begins, biting back the fear. He came to Dayton to die, after all. He should have the courage to change his life, as drastically as he would have by ending it. "I will give you half the time on this clock to make me feel the way I feel now every day."
Henry knows how that sounds. Spoken while the two of them lie sated and entwined.
Will doesn't disappoint when he reacts. His eyes go cold and hard and he tenses. "I'm not a whore," he says sharply. Insult - and, if Henry's not wrong, hurt - woven through the words. "Besides... you just fucked me for free. Why would you offer to pay me for it?"
Ghetto boys. Even their language is harsh and fast. Fucked. "I'm not talking about fucking," Henry replies, rolling his tongue around the word. "I'm talking about living. Come home with me. You'll never have to worry about how much time is on your clock again."
Henry means it. Will looks at him like he's crazy, but- But fuck sanity. Fuck what's expected. Fuck proper and reasonable and normal... Will only makes one complaint, anyhow.
"My mother-"
"We'll take her with us. You'll both live as long as you please." So long as they help Henry continue seeing some pleasure in living.
Will stares at him... stares hard and long. In the bar, Henry saw something he's never seen before. When Will risked death to help him, he saw sacrifice. Now he sees hope. Such terrible, desperate hope...
Hope and skepticism. "You don't mean it." Will's voice sounds thick.
Henry brushes his lips along the strong column of Will's throat, against the rabbiting pulse felt there. The kiss is equal parts persuasion and promise.
"Give me your hand."
Henry returns home fifty-eight years lighter and with two new passengers in his town car.
[end.]
Fandom: In Time
Pairing: Henry Hamilton/Will Salas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 300
Summary: Another way Henry's last night of life might have gone.
Author's Note: For the 'sharp' prompt at slashthedrabble.
There's nothing like eluding death to bring things into focus... even for someone who, technically, has done so for over a century. Henry can't remember the last time his heart's pumped like this; the last time his nerves sang. He feels so alive. He's immortal... And for the first time in his memory, he doesn't feel deadened by immortality.
He rides the heady rush of adrenaline sizzling through his body, and acts on instinct. Want, take, have. That's how people live in Dayton... They haven't got time for anything else. Henry wants to taste the slightly parted lips near his, so he takes them. He presses his body into his savior's, captures the man's young mouth.
The boy goes stiff. Bright eyes flicker beneath fluttering lashes. If they were in New Greenwich, they'd still be talking about how they intend to proceed in getting to know one another. Here, Henry doesn't even know his companion's name, but there is no censure or disgust in the boy's gaze. Only surprise, sharpening into a sort of wonder, and a hunger that makes Henry harder than he's ever been to see it.
"My name is Henry Hamilton," he says against the boy's naked skin, initiating introductions after the fact.
"Will Salas," the boy says back, watching Henry's every move like he is the unpredictable one between them. This boy with less than a day to live, who risked his life to save a stranger.
"Will," Henry begins, planning. He came to Dayton because he abhorred living for nothing, after all. What sense would it make then- What sense would there be in dying for no one? "If you had as much time as I do... what would you do with it?"
[end.]
And because I couldn't let that be that...
Title: the language of dying
Fandom: In Time
Pairing: Henry Hamilton/Will Salas
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Want, take, have. That's how they do things in Dayton, right?
There's nothing like eluding death to bring things into focus... even for someone who, technically, eludes death every day; has done so for over a century. Henry can't remember the last time his heart's pumped like this, if it ever has. His nerves sing. Bile rises at the back of his throat. It's horrifying and awful and amazing. He feels so alive. He's immortal... And for the first time in his memory, he doesn't feel deadened by immortality.
He rides the heady rush of adrenaline sizzling through his body, and acts on instinct. Want, take, have. That's how people live here in Dayton, right? They have to... They haven't got time for anything else. Henry wants to taste the slightly parted lips near his, so he takes them. He presses his body into his savior's, captures the man's young mouth, revels in their shared breath.
The boy goes stiff. Bright eyes flicker beneath fluttering lashes and search his. If they were in New Greenwich, they'd still be talking about how they intend to proceed in getting to know one another. Here, Henry doesn't even know his companion's name, but there is no censure or disgust in the boy's gaze. Only surprise, sharpening into a sort of wonder, and a hunger that makes Henry harder than he's ever been to see it.
"My name is Henry Hamilton," he says against the boy's naked skin, initiating introductions after the fact.
"Will Salas," the boy says back, watching Henry's every move like he is the unpredictable one between them. Like he is something special. This boy with less than a day to live, who risked his life to save a man with more time ahead of him than he could stomach only twelve hours ago.
"Will," Henry begins, biting back the fear. He came to Dayton to die, after all. He should have the courage to change his life, as drastically as he would have by ending it. "I will give you half the time on this clock to make me feel the way I feel now every day."
Henry knows how that sounds. Spoken while the two of them lie sated and entwined.
Will doesn't disappoint when he reacts. His eyes go cold and hard and he tenses. "I'm not a whore," he says sharply. Insult - and, if Henry's not wrong, hurt - woven through the words. "Besides... you just fucked me for free. Why would you offer to pay me for it?"
Ghetto boys. Even their language is harsh and fast. Fucked. "I'm not talking about fucking," Henry replies, rolling his tongue around the word. "I'm talking about living. Come home with me. You'll never have to worry about how much time is on your clock again."
Henry means it. Will looks at him like he's crazy, but- But fuck sanity. Fuck what's expected. Fuck proper and reasonable and normal... Will only makes one complaint, anyhow.
"My mother-"
"We'll take her with us. You'll both live as long as you please." So long as they help Henry continue seeing some pleasure in living.
Will stares at him... stares hard and long. In the bar, Henry saw something he's never seen before. When Will risked death to help him, he saw sacrifice. Now he sees hope. Such terrible, desperate hope...
Hope and skepticism. "You don't mean it." Will's voice sounds thick.
Henry brushes his lips along the strong column of Will's throat, against the rabbiting pulse felt there. The kiss is equal parts persuasion and promise.
"Give me your hand."
Henry returns home fifty-eight years lighter and with two new passengers in his town car.
[end.]