Poly Tie-Ins
Title: Days in Goodness Spent
Fandom: "Murder by Numbers" & "Repo! The Genetic Opera"
Characters/pairing: Justin & Shilo
Timeline: Sometime during 2009
Warnings: Awkward seventeen year-olds from different universes in love?
Summary: In which Justin and Shilo are In A Doomed Relationship. Lord Byron says it best.
For Molly's prompt asking for Justin, Shilo, and fluff. Her Shilo will never fail to be adorable.
The snow, no matter how heavily it fell over the rest of the City, never entered this part of the garden. Tropical plants grew tall here--heliconia, jasmine, red ginger, exotic orchids--and the air was heavy with an inexplicable, ever-present humidity. A natural greenhouse in Xanadu. It was, suffice it to say, one of Justin's favorite places in the City (the other two being the eerie graveyard and the small section of the garden devoted to carnivorous plants), and he liked coming here with Shilo. She looked like a transplant in the bright garden--a white lily or a black hollyhock in a field of vibrant mixed bouquets. He doubted that her world had plants like this in it. What little he had seen of it was gray.
Tuesdays had somehow become picnic days. Justin had that day of the week off from work largely because very little of note happened on Tuesdays. Perhaps it was the deities' off day; perhaps serial killers preferred to strike on more conspicuous days of the week. For whatever reason, though, idle Tuesdays had given rise to a tendency to picnic in Xanadu's tropical region. Shilo brought the food; it was safer for all concerned that way. Sandwiches, juice, the occasional cookies... simple meals. Tuesdays were good days for simple meals.
The snow that blanketed the rest of the City on this particular Tuesday refused to fall in the designated picnic spot. The temperature was warm and an unseen sun illuminated leaves, flowers, and the two teenagers. Their winter coats lay in a pile by the empty picnic basket, wet with melted snow. Shilo and Justin were side by side on their stomachs, watching an iridescent jewel beetle. The beetle wasn't doing much to attract their attention, but it didn't seem to mind the spectators.
"They lay their eggs on burnt wood," Shilo murmured drowsily, half to herself. It was hard to stay awake in the warm, humid garden.
Justin stifled a yawn. "Why?"
"All the tree sap and things that protect the tree from beetles burn up. If the wood's still hot, predators stay away, too."
"How do they find the burnt wood?"
Shilo shrugged. The small movement sent the beetle scurrying away across the dirt. "They can sense them." She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the gray winter sky where, far above their heads, an invisible force was parting the snow, forcing it to fall to one side or the other.
Justin did the same and nudged her arm with his. "Did you have them at home?"
"Have what?"
"Those beetles."
"Oh, those." Shilo closed her eyes. "No. I read about them at the library, though."
A long, comfortable silence overtook them. Justin looked over at Shilo, studying her profile and committing it to memory. He wanted that memory for the inevitable time in the future when Tuesdays weren't spent in Xanadu with Shilo. Hopefully that time was distant.
Justin wished he was better with words. He could use them well enough, but not in an artistic way. Shilo's hair could be described as ebony, but Justin would never be able to work that word into an expression that captured anything other than a color. The great poets could have worked it into a verse that said everything about her hair--the way the diffused lighting hit it, its contrast against her pale skin and the bright surroundings--easily and gracefully. As Justin lacked that skill, he would have to be content with a carefully preserved memory.
Shilo cracked one eye open. She could tell Justin was staring at her without looking, but it was good to let him know that she knew. "What're you doing?"
Sheepishly, Justin looked up at the sky. "Memorizing things."
"What things?"
He failed to reply. Shilo pushed herself up to her elbows to block his line of sight. She repeated her question. "What things are you memorizing?"
"Everything," Justin replied with an enigmatic smile.
Shilo could guess what 'everything' included. Sure that she wouldn't get more of an answer than that out of Justin, she rolled closer to him and followed his eyes to the gray sky.
Justin wasn't the only one who spent most of Tuesday memorizing.
Title: An Interlude
Fandom: "Murder by Numbers"
Characters/pairing: Justin & Richard
Timeline: During a Fourth Wall Weekend, sometime in 2009
Warnings: Richard's language, innuendo
Summary: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here" (Shakespeare).
For Alms' prompt involving Richard, Justin, and milkshakes. Here's to her for playing a wonderfully wicked version of Richard.
"Hey, Justin."
Justin jumped, understandably startled by the sound of his dead friend's voice. Inside of his apartment, no less. "Richard?"
A small flame flared into existence, briefly illuminating Richard's face before being reduced to the red-hot cherry of a cigarette butt. The blond was sprawled across Justin's sofa, eternal smirk firmly in place. "Don't sound so happy to see me."
"How did you get here?"
Richard grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "What's it matter? I'm here now." He said, stubbing his cigarette out on the back of the sofa before climbing to his feet, actions easy and cat-like. "Didja miss me?"
Justin didn't answer, backing towards the apartment door. His look made Richard think of a trapped animal.
"C'mon," he said, opening his arms as if asking for a hug. "Stop spinning out. It's not like I haven't been here before."
"You're in my house." The reply was unnecessary by virtue of being obvious, but Justin was still clearly surprised by the fact.
Richard snorted and circled Justin, blocking the door. "And you can't even say hi? You can't ask me how eternity's going?" He managed to hide his smirk behind feigned hurt. "You too busy living it up to make time for your best friend in the whole world?"
"We're not friends."
"That stings, Justin. No, that seriously stings." It was only half a lie. "Hey, relax. I'm not here to kill you or anything. Sit down. I just wanna talk to you."
Justin didn't believe that for a moment. "What do we have to talk about?" he asked coldly. "Your betrayal?"
"My--what? My betrayal?" Anger propelled Richard towards the other boy, but he stopped himself from doing anything more than grabbing him by the shoulders. He laughed hollowly. "My betrayal. Right." Richard mussed Justin's carefully combed-back hair in a fond gesture. "Sure, whatever. Just sit and I'll get the milkshakes."
"Milkshakes." It wasn't a question so much as a flat denial that milkshakes were a remote possibility in the current situation.
"Yeah." Richard slung an arm around Justin's shoulders--taking some pleasure in the discomfort that still caused his friend--and steered him towards the sofa. "We're gonna eat them and have a friendly talk. Like friends."
He gave Justin enough of a push to get him to sit, retrieved the milkshakes from where he had placed them in the freezer, and came back to find that the other boy hadn't moved. Richard stretched out next to him, taking up far more room than he needed, and put a vanilla milkshake in Justin's hands. "There, see? I wasn't lying about that."
Justin stirred back to life, staring at the milkshake as if it was an unidentifiable, alien object. "You just want to talk," he reiterated carefully, sure he had missed something."
"Well, yeah," Richard replied. "Being dead gets lonely, you know? Wanted to see how my best buddy's doing." He elbowed Justin in the ribs none too gently. "I saw you with your girl."
That got Justin to look at him. "Shilo?"
Richard shrugged nonchalantly and sipped his milkshake. "Whatever. Pale, skinny... not much in the way of boobs." Ah, the wide-eyed look of horror on Justin's face was priceless. "What the fuck're you doing with her, Justin? Can you even see the hot girls around here? I can't turn around out there without running into a pair of double-Ds."
"I like her," Justin mumbled.
"Aw. You like her." Richard's voice was patronizing. "Just like you liked Lisa, right?"
That earned him a glare. "Shilo isn't like Lisa."
"Every girl's a fucking slut."
"Don't say that."
Richard grinned and set his own milkshake on Justin's coffee table. "Don't deny it. Christ, Jus... do I have to fuck this one too to make you believe me?"
Justin snapped and, without thinking, hurled his milkshake at Richard's head. His uncanny inability to do anything vaguely athletic with any amount of competency, however, resulted in a wide miss. The milkshake hit the wall and, consequently, everything within a five-foot radius.
"And you said you changed," Richard laughed, pulling Justin close for a hug. His arms tightened around him and his voice, suddenly empty of all humor, dropped to an angry growl. "You can't change, Justin. You can't fucking change. What we did? That doesn't go away."
Justin slumped against Richard, anger expelled. That didn't mean that he wasn't thinking about taking a swing at his friend. "Get out."
"You don't want that."
"Get out." Justin's voice was flat and hard.
Richard frowned and pushed Justin away. "You don't know what the fuck you want," he hissed, standing. "Freedom, prison, me, her--you have no idea. You never did. It's all just thinking with you. You make it so you never have to choose."
"Get out."
"Sure, whatever." Richard's irritation melted away into a knowing smile. "I know what you want, Justin. It's not me going away."
Going off of Justin's stony expression, he didn't believe him.
Richard opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "I'll be back when you make up your mind."
The door shut before Justin could come up with a response.
Justin sank back down into his sofa, thinking. Part of him wanted to go after Richard; part of him despised him for entertaining that thought. What could Richard possibly know? The fact that Richard was incapable of change after death said nothing about Justin's ability to change. They weren't alike. There were second chances...
Richard sauntered down the hallway, lighting another cigarette. The clock had tolled midnight and he hadn't disappeared. Maybe Justin would be better company after dwelling on their conversation for a few hours.
Inside the apartment, Justin's cat crept out from under the sofa and began to lap up the splattered remains of his milkshake.
Fandom: "Murder by Numbers" & "Repo! The Genetic Opera"
Characters/pairing: Justin & Shilo
Timeline: Sometime during 2009
Warnings: Awkward seventeen year-olds from different universes in love?
Summary: In which Justin and Shilo are In A Doomed Relationship. Lord Byron says it best.
For Molly's prompt asking for Justin, Shilo, and fluff. Her Shilo will never fail to be adorable.
The snow, no matter how heavily it fell over the rest of the City, never entered this part of the garden. Tropical plants grew tall here--heliconia, jasmine, red ginger, exotic orchids--and the air was heavy with an inexplicable, ever-present humidity. A natural greenhouse in Xanadu. It was, suffice it to say, one of Justin's favorite places in the City (the other two being the eerie graveyard and the small section of the garden devoted to carnivorous plants), and he liked coming here with Shilo. She looked like a transplant in the bright garden--a white lily or a black hollyhock in a field of vibrant mixed bouquets. He doubted that her world had plants like this in it. What little he had seen of it was gray.
Tuesdays had somehow become picnic days. Justin had that day of the week off from work largely because very little of note happened on Tuesdays. Perhaps it was the deities' off day; perhaps serial killers preferred to strike on more conspicuous days of the week. For whatever reason, though, idle Tuesdays had given rise to a tendency to picnic in Xanadu's tropical region. Shilo brought the food; it was safer for all concerned that way. Sandwiches, juice, the occasional cookies... simple meals. Tuesdays were good days for simple meals.
The snow that blanketed the rest of the City on this particular Tuesday refused to fall in the designated picnic spot. The temperature was warm and an unseen sun illuminated leaves, flowers, and the two teenagers. Their winter coats lay in a pile by the empty picnic basket, wet with melted snow. Shilo and Justin were side by side on their stomachs, watching an iridescent jewel beetle. The beetle wasn't doing much to attract their attention, but it didn't seem to mind the spectators.
"They lay their eggs on burnt wood," Shilo murmured drowsily, half to herself. It was hard to stay awake in the warm, humid garden.
Justin stifled a yawn. "Why?"
"All the tree sap and things that protect the tree from beetles burn up. If the wood's still hot, predators stay away, too."
"How do they find the burnt wood?"
Shilo shrugged. The small movement sent the beetle scurrying away across the dirt. "They can sense them." She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the gray winter sky where, far above their heads, an invisible force was parting the snow, forcing it to fall to one side or the other.
Justin did the same and nudged her arm with his. "Did you have them at home?"
"Have what?"
"Those beetles."
"Oh, those." Shilo closed her eyes. "No. I read about them at the library, though."
A long, comfortable silence overtook them. Justin looked over at Shilo, studying her profile and committing it to memory. He wanted that memory for the inevitable time in the future when Tuesdays weren't spent in Xanadu with Shilo. Hopefully that time was distant.
Justin wished he was better with words. He could use them well enough, but not in an artistic way. Shilo's hair could be described as ebony, but Justin would never be able to work that word into an expression that captured anything other than a color. The great poets could have worked it into a verse that said everything about her hair--the way the diffused lighting hit it, its contrast against her pale skin and the bright surroundings--easily and gracefully. As Justin lacked that skill, he would have to be content with a carefully preserved memory.
Shilo cracked one eye open. She could tell Justin was staring at her without looking, but it was good to let him know that she knew. "What're you doing?"
Sheepishly, Justin looked up at the sky. "Memorizing things."
"What things?"
He failed to reply. Shilo pushed herself up to her elbows to block his line of sight. She repeated her question. "What things are you memorizing?"
"Everything," Justin replied with an enigmatic smile.
Shilo could guess what 'everything' included. Sure that she wouldn't get more of an answer than that out of Justin, she rolled closer to him and followed his eyes to the gray sky.
Justin wasn't the only one who spent most of Tuesday memorizing.
Title: An Interlude
Fandom: "Murder by Numbers"
Characters/pairing: Justin & Richard
Timeline: During a Fourth Wall Weekend, sometime in 2009
Warnings: Richard's language, innuendo
Summary: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here" (Shakespeare).
For Alms' prompt involving Richard, Justin, and milkshakes. Here's to her for playing a wonderfully wicked version of Richard.
"Hey, Justin."
Justin jumped, understandably startled by the sound of his dead friend's voice. Inside of his apartment, no less. "Richard?"
A small flame flared into existence, briefly illuminating Richard's face before being reduced to the red-hot cherry of a cigarette butt. The blond was sprawled across Justin's sofa, eternal smirk firmly in place. "Don't sound so happy to see me."
"How did you get here?"
Richard grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "What's it matter? I'm here now." He said, stubbing his cigarette out on the back of the sofa before climbing to his feet, actions easy and cat-like. "Didja miss me?"
Justin didn't answer, backing towards the apartment door. His look made Richard think of a trapped animal.
"C'mon," he said, opening his arms as if asking for a hug. "Stop spinning out. It's not like I haven't been here before."
"You're in my house." The reply was unnecessary by virtue of being obvious, but Justin was still clearly surprised by the fact.
Richard snorted and circled Justin, blocking the door. "And you can't even say hi? You can't ask me how eternity's going?" He managed to hide his smirk behind feigned hurt. "You too busy living it up to make time for your best friend in the whole world?"
"We're not friends."
"That stings, Justin. No, that seriously stings." It was only half a lie. "Hey, relax. I'm not here to kill you or anything. Sit down. I just wanna talk to you."
Justin didn't believe that for a moment. "What do we have to talk about?" he asked coldly. "Your betrayal?"
"My--what? My betrayal?" Anger propelled Richard towards the other boy, but he stopped himself from doing anything more than grabbing him by the shoulders. He laughed hollowly. "My betrayal. Right." Richard mussed Justin's carefully combed-back hair in a fond gesture. "Sure, whatever. Just sit and I'll get the milkshakes."
"Milkshakes." It wasn't a question so much as a flat denial that milkshakes were a remote possibility in the current situation.
"Yeah." Richard slung an arm around Justin's shoulders--taking some pleasure in the discomfort that still caused his friend--and steered him towards the sofa. "We're gonna eat them and have a friendly talk. Like friends."
He gave Justin enough of a push to get him to sit, retrieved the milkshakes from where he had placed them in the freezer, and came back to find that the other boy hadn't moved. Richard stretched out next to him, taking up far more room than he needed, and put a vanilla milkshake in Justin's hands. "There, see? I wasn't lying about that."
Justin stirred back to life, staring at the milkshake as if it was an unidentifiable, alien object. "You just want to talk," he reiterated carefully, sure he had missed something."
"Well, yeah," Richard replied. "Being dead gets lonely, you know? Wanted to see how my best buddy's doing." He elbowed Justin in the ribs none too gently. "I saw you with your girl."
That got Justin to look at him. "Shilo?"
Richard shrugged nonchalantly and sipped his milkshake. "Whatever. Pale, skinny... not much in the way of boobs." Ah, the wide-eyed look of horror on Justin's face was priceless. "What the fuck're you doing with her, Justin? Can you even see the hot girls around here? I can't turn around out there without running into a pair of double-Ds."
"I like her," Justin mumbled.
"Aw. You like her." Richard's voice was patronizing. "Just like you liked Lisa, right?"
That earned him a glare. "Shilo isn't like Lisa."
"Every girl's a fucking slut."
"Don't say that."
Richard grinned and set his own milkshake on Justin's coffee table. "Don't deny it. Christ, Jus... do I have to fuck this one too to make you believe me?"
Justin snapped and, without thinking, hurled his milkshake at Richard's head. His uncanny inability to do anything vaguely athletic with any amount of competency, however, resulted in a wide miss. The milkshake hit the wall and, consequently, everything within a five-foot radius.
"And you said you changed," Richard laughed, pulling Justin close for a hug. His arms tightened around him and his voice, suddenly empty of all humor, dropped to an angry growl. "You can't change, Justin. You can't fucking change. What we did? That doesn't go away."
Justin slumped against Richard, anger expelled. That didn't mean that he wasn't thinking about taking a swing at his friend. "Get out."
"You don't want that."
"Get out." Justin's voice was flat and hard.
Richard frowned and pushed Justin away. "You don't know what the fuck you want," he hissed, standing. "Freedom, prison, me, her--you have no idea. You never did. It's all just thinking with you. You make it so you never have to choose."
"Get out."
"Sure, whatever." Richard's irritation melted away into a knowing smile. "I know what you want, Justin. It's not me going away."
Going off of Justin's stony expression, he didn't believe him.
Richard opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "I'll be back when you make up your mind."
The door shut before Justin could come up with a response.
Justin sank back down into his sofa, thinking. Part of him wanted to go after Richard; part of him despised him for entertaining that thought. What could Richard possibly know? The fact that Richard was incapable of change after death said nothing about Justin's ability to change. They weren't alike. There were second chances...
Richard sauntered down the hallway, lighting another cigarette. The clock had tolled midnight and he hadn't disappeared. Maybe Justin would be better company after dwelling on their conversation for a few hours.
Inside the apartment, Justin's cat crept out from under the sofa and began to lap up the splattered remains of his milkshake.