Graffixation Stories and Artwork #13
Artist: nindevotee
What They Needed by cmk418
They couldn’t be more different, she thought. The easy-going man lounging at her kitchen table, with the easy smile and the “thank you” as she poured him a cup of coffee the morning after he came to stay, and her husband, tightly wound, unable to sleep last night as he turned over in his mind again and again what angle his twin might be playing. They might be good for each other, she thought. Chris gave her a devilish grin and her mind took a leap it shouldn’t, settling for just a moment on the possibilities that were dirty, sexy, wrong and may have been just what the three of them needed.
Tilt/Shift by Trillingstar and Ozsaur
Title: Tilt/Shift
Authors: ozsaur & trillingstar - an OzStar Production!
Fandom: OZ/SVU; Kathy Stabler, Elliot Stabler, Chris Keller
Rating: R
Warnings:
Word count: ~1400
Notes: Written for Oz Graffixation at oz_graffiti.
Authors Thank: each other for being so Ozsome, and nindevotee for creating the artwork that inspired us!
Summary:: Tilt-shift photography sometimes specifically refers to the use of tilt for selective focus.
Arms full of grocery bags, Kathy hurries up the sidewalk outside the house. She can hear people fighting all the way out to the sidewalk. Although she can't tell what they're saying, the angry, frustrated tenor of their voices worries her.
Elliot hates making a scene, especially in his own home. It's disquieting, hearing the muffled sounds of their argument filtering out to the street. The other voice belongs to Chris, and Kathy clutches her bags as she rushes to the front door.
The hallway is dim, even during the high sun of the early afternoon, so it's easy to see everything that's going on in the light-filled living room: Elliot and Chris grappling with each other, their hands on each other's arms, locked together and spinning around as one tries to find an advantage over the other. They're evenly matched.
They're cousins, but closer than any brothers, identical in so many ways, but differing in the essentials. Elliot's bone-deep honesty is one of the reasons that she chose him, never looking a second time at Chris.
Honesty, though, isn't quite the same as revealing. There's always been something between Elliot and Chris that Kathy has never been able to figure out.
Kathy hovers in the hall outside the living room, nearly dropping the groceries when the first casualty falls - a lamp knocked off the side table near Elliot's easy chair. Trying to calm her breathing, Kathy doesn't know what to do, because she's never seen them argue like this before, and this is well beyond a spat. Her heart beats wildly when Chris shoves Elliot back a step. There's a loud crunching noise as broken glass grinds under Elliot's heel.
"I didn't do anything, El!" Chris snarls, getting right back into Elliot's face.
"You never do anything," Elliot yells back, one hand reaching up to palm Chris's neck, fingernails raking through the hair at his nape. "But you're always in trouble. You can't keep bringing it to my door. I have a family now."
"What the fuck am I!" Chris shouts.
Elliot flinches, managing to drive Chris back a couple of feet. The coffee table screeches across the hardwood floor as Chris's legs slam into it. Kathy gasps loudly, but they don't hear her. They don't see her at all, too focused on each other to notice anyone else.
Chris almost falls down, and only Elliot's grip on him keeps him upright. That's when she realizes that while they've been pushing at each other, they've also been holding onto each other, keeping each other close, like two orbiting satellites bound together by gravity.
They spin around together, their faces inches apart, and Kathy's stomach rolls with nausea. The kernel of an idea about what Elliot has been hiding all these years worms into her brain, and she doesn't want to know the rest. She backs up, keeping her footsteps light.
"You said you'd never leave me," Chris says. His voice is so raw that she doesn't know how Elliot bears it. "You said you'd always have my back. You're a goddamn liar!"
Elliot expels a deep breath in an audible whoosh of air. One of his hands is still cupping Chris's neck and he's gripping Chris's bicep with the other, squeezing again and again, soothing, calming.
"I'm not leaving you," he says, sounding wrung out and apologetic. "You're the one who can't stay in one place. You're the one who keeps fucking up. For once. Do the right thing."
"How can I do the right thing when you're gone?" Chris mutters brokenly.
"I'm right here," Elliot says.
Now their voices are low, intimate. They're still so close, though no longer pushing or pulling.
"You're leaving me," Chris says, his devastation clear.
"I have a wife and a kid now; I can't carry you any more. You have to pull some of the weight, Chris." Elliot is almost pleading, and his expression matches his tone. He looks as though it's hurting him to say these words, but he's saying them anyway. There has to be a space for her in his words, or maybe he's saying them because of her. Either way, she doesn't want to hear this. She doesn't know how to hear this. It's too much.
When they move again, it's like watching the collapse of gravity as two bodies crash together, becoming one. Her mouth drops open, and realizations flash through her mind, so many that she can't grab hold of any of them, even though she wants to write them all out, make a list and dissect each one.
It's obvious that they've done this before. What she'd mistaken for the deeply caring bonds of cousins raised as brothers was definitely more than that. They'd forged a closeness fiery enough to keep the world at bay, and now that she knows what to look for, she's seeing hunger that has always been there. She sees need sitting heavily on both of them. That's why they've always spent so much time together, always been so easy with each other, slinging arms around shoulders, playfully bumping hips, the occasional tussle, light smacks to the back of the head or punch on an arm. The smooth slide of a hand on the other's back, a quick kiss to the cheek, the affection in Elliot's voice whenever he talks about Chris.
She's breathing heavily now, quiet pants of air, bags clutched close to her chest as some kind of protection. Creeping out the door, Kathy stands on the stoop, shell-shocked, aware of a veil that's been lifted, and her skin prickles with knowledge that she can't give back.
Pressing a trembling hand to her abdomen, she thinks about her options. She hasn't told Elliot, yet; she was going to do that tonight over a nice dinner. It's not exactly good news, especially with Elliot working two jobs, but not unwelcome either. He adores Maureen. He'll love this one, too. He will.
Kathy shakes her head, pulling herself together. Hefting the grocery bags, she makes sure that the keys jingle as she pushes them into the lock (again, because it's already unlocked, she's already seen it). She kicks at the bottom of the door with the toe of her shoe, and she's careful to keep her back to the living room, pretending to have trouble getting the keys out of the lock.
When she turns around, Elliot and Chris are sitting at opposite ends of the couch.
Elliot gets up, smiling, and Kathy tries not to see the pinkness around his mouth, the effects of Chris's goatee rubbing his skin.
"Hey, you're home early," Elliot says. He aims a kiss at her, and her stomach drops at the thought that he might kiss her mouth. She ducks her head, and his lips brush her cheek. She pretends to be occupied with putting her keys away and rifling through her purse.
Elliot takes the bag into the kitchen. Inwardly, Kathy braces herself to look at Chris, who's sprawled on the couch, looking cool and casual, and not like he'd just been crushing Elliot in a passionate embrace only a few minutes ago.
"Will you staying for dinner, Chris?" She's proud that her voice doesn't crack at all.
Chris grins at her, running his hands down his denim-clad thighs. She's seen him do this motion a thousand times. By now she knows that he does it to lure in whoever he's speaking with, to draw attention to himself. Kathy finds that she's more immune than usual.
"Nah, I've got plans tonight. Got a date with Angelique," he says, his smirk turning dirty, and for the first time, Kathy doesn't want to roll her eyes and smile back indulgently.
She shrugs. "Well, if you change your mind..."
Steeling herself, Kathy heads into the kitchen. Elliot has emptied most of the bags, and the ingredients range over the counter.
"Lasagna?" Elliot asks heartily, holding up the the fresh tomatoes. "What's the occasion?"
Each glimpse of them together had been like flipping through a scrapbook: a snapshot, an exposure of their life, the one they'd created together and apart from her. Each time she focuses on something new, she feels as if she's losing sight of the old, the steady.
Kathy can't meet his gaze, but manages a half-smile as she takes the tomatoes out of his hands. "You'll just have to wait and see," she says.
That's what she'll be doing, too.
end
What They Needed by cmk418
They couldn’t be more different, she thought. The easy-going man lounging at her kitchen table, with the easy smile and the “thank you” as she poured him a cup of coffee the morning after he came to stay, and her husband, tightly wound, unable to sleep last night as he turned over in his mind again and again what angle his twin might be playing. They might be good for each other, she thought. Chris gave her a devilish grin and her mind took a leap it shouldn’t, settling for just a moment on the possibilities that were dirty, sexy, wrong and may have been just what the three of them needed.
Tilt/Shift by Trillingstar and Ozsaur
Title: Tilt/Shift
Authors: ozsaur & trillingstar - an OzStar Production!
Fandom: OZ/SVU; Kathy Stabler, Elliot Stabler, Chris Keller
Rating: R
Warnings:
Word count: ~1400
Notes: Written for Oz Graffixation at oz_graffiti.
Authors Thank: each other for being so Ozsome, and nindevotee for creating the artwork that inspired us!
Summary:: Tilt-shift photography sometimes specifically refers to the use of tilt for selective focus.
Arms full of grocery bags, Kathy hurries up the sidewalk outside the house. She can hear people fighting all the way out to the sidewalk. Although she can't tell what they're saying, the angry, frustrated tenor of their voices worries her.
Elliot hates making a scene, especially in his own home. It's disquieting, hearing the muffled sounds of their argument filtering out to the street. The other voice belongs to Chris, and Kathy clutches her bags as she rushes to the front door.
The hallway is dim, even during the high sun of the early afternoon, so it's easy to see everything that's going on in the light-filled living room: Elliot and Chris grappling with each other, their hands on each other's arms, locked together and spinning around as one tries to find an advantage over the other. They're evenly matched.
They're cousins, but closer than any brothers, identical in so many ways, but differing in the essentials. Elliot's bone-deep honesty is one of the reasons that she chose him, never looking a second time at Chris.
Honesty, though, isn't quite the same as revealing. There's always been something between Elliot and Chris that Kathy has never been able to figure out.
Kathy hovers in the hall outside the living room, nearly dropping the groceries when the first casualty falls - a lamp knocked off the side table near Elliot's easy chair. Trying to calm her breathing, Kathy doesn't know what to do, because she's never seen them argue like this before, and this is well beyond a spat. Her heart beats wildly when Chris shoves Elliot back a step. There's a loud crunching noise as broken glass grinds under Elliot's heel.
"I didn't do anything, El!" Chris snarls, getting right back into Elliot's face.
"You never do anything," Elliot yells back, one hand reaching up to palm Chris's neck, fingernails raking through the hair at his nape. "But you're always in trouble. You can't keep bringing it to my door. I have a family now."
"What the fuck am I!" Chris shouts.
Elliot flinches, managing to drive Chris back a couple of feet. The coffee table screeches across the hardwood floor as Chris's legs slam into it. Kathy gasps loudly, but they don't hear her. They don't see her at all, too focused on each other to notice anyone else.
Chris almost falls down, and only Elliot's grip on him keeps him upright. That's when she realizes that while they've been pushing at each other, they've also been holding onto each other, keeping each other close, like two orbiting satellites bound together by gravity.
They spin around together, their faces inches apart, and Kathy's stomach rolls with nausea. The kernel of an idea about what Elliot has been hiding all these years worms into her brain, and she doesn't want to know the rest. She backs up, keeping her footsteps light.
"You said you'd never leave me," Chris says. His voice is so raw that she doesn't know how Elliot bears it. "You said you'd always have my back. You're a goddamn liar!"
Elliot expels a deep breath in an audible whoosh of air. One of his hands is still cupping Chris's neck and he's gripping Chris's bicep with the other, squeezing again and again, soothing, calming.
"I'm not leaving you," he says, sounding wrung out and apologetic. "You're the one who can't stay in one place. You're the one who keeps fucking up. For once. Do the right thing."
"How can I do the right thing when you're gone?" Chris mutters brokenly.
"I'm right here," Elliot says.
Now their voices are low, intimate. They're still so close, though no longer pushing or pulling.
"You're leaving me," Chris says, his devastation clear.
"I have a wife and a kid now; I can't carry you any more. You have to pull some of the weight, Chris." Elliot is almost pleading, and his expression matches his tone. He looks as though it's hurting him to say these words, but he's saying them anyway. There has to be a space for her in his words, or maybe he's saying them because of her. Either way, she doesn't want to hear this. She doesn't know how to hear this. It's too much.
When they move again, it's like watching the collapse of gravity as two bodies crash together, becoming one. Her mouth drops open, and realizations flash through her mind, so many that she can't grab hold of any of them, even though she wants to write them all out, make a list and dissect each one.
It's obvious that they've done this before. What she'd mistaken for the deeply caring bonds of cousins raised as brothers was definitely more than that. They'd forged a closeness fiery enough to keep the world at bay, and now that she knows what to look for, she's seeing hunger that has always been there. She sees need sitting heavily on both of them. That's why they've always spent so much time together, always been so easy with each other, slinging arms around shoulders, playfully bumping hips, the occasional tussle, light smacks to the back of the head or punch on an arm. The smooth slide of a hand on the other's back, a quick kiss to the cheek, the affection in Elliot's voice whenever he talks about Chris.
She's breathing heavily now, quiet pants of air, bags clutched close to her chest as some kind of protection. Creeping out the door, Kathy stands on the stoop, shell-shocked, aware of a veil that's been lifted, and her skin prickles with knowledge that she can't give back.
Pressing a trembling hand to her abdomen, she thinks about her options. She hasn't told Elliot, yet; she was going to do that tonight over a nice dinner. It's not exactly good news, especially with Elliot working two jobs, but not unwelcome either. He adores Maureen. He'll love this one, too. He will.
Kathy shakes her head, pulling herself together. Hefting the grocery bags, she makes sure that the keys jingle as she pushes them into the lock (again, because it's already unlocked, she's already seen it). She kicks at the bottom of the door with the toe of her shoe, and she's careful to keep her back to the living room, pretending to have trouble getting the keys out of the lock.
When she turns around, Elliot and Chris are sitting at opposite ends of the couch.
Elliot gets up, smiling, and Kathy tries not to see the pinkness around his mouth, the effects of Chris's goatee rubbing his skin.
"Hey, you're home early," Elliot says. He aims a kiss at her, and her stomach drops at the thought that he might kiss her mouth. She ducks her head, and his lips brush her cheek. She pretends to be occupied with putting her keys away and rifling through her purse.
Elliot takes the bag into the kitchen. Inwardly, Kathy braces herself to look at Chris, who's sprawled on the couch, looking cool and casual, and not like he'd just been crushing Elliot in a passionate embrace only a few minutes ago.
"Will you staying for dinner, Chris?" She's proud that her voice doesn't crack at all.
Chris grins at her, running his hands down his denim-clad thighs. She's seen him do this motion a thousand times. By now she knows that he does it to lure in whoever he's speaking with, to draw attention to himself. Kathy finds that she's more immune than usual.
"Nah, I've got plans tonight. Got a date with Angelique," he says, his smirk turning dirty, and for the first time, Kathy doesn't want to roll her eyes and smile back indulgently.
She shrugs. "Well, if you change your mind..."
Steeling herself, Kathy heads into the kitchen. Elliot has emptied most of the bags, and the ingredients range over the counter.
"Lasagna?" Elliot asks heartily, holding up the the fresh tomatoes. "What's the occasion?"
Each glimpse of them together had been like flipping through a scrapbook: a snapshot, an exposure of their life, the one they'd created together and apart from her. Each time she focuses on something new, she feels as if she's losing sight of the old, the steady.
Kathy can't meet his gaze, but manages a half-smile as she takes the tomatoes out of his hands. "You'll just have to wait and see," she says.
That's what she'll be doing, too.
end