Word fic
I'm on a bit of a roll, I guess. Here's another fic written from a word chosen at random from the dictionary. These are getting longer than I wanted them to be, so the next one I do will be shorter. I promise. This one's almost 1,500 words.
These word fics are not beta'd, by the way. nyteflyer has promised to look them over for me when she gets time so that I can post them to the comms.
Retake
I came home to find Timmy sitting at our kitchen table, his head in his hands. Another headache, probably. The closer we got to the wedding, the more Tylenol he consumed. For the umpteenth time I thought about stuffing him into the car and eloping just to avoid all the time-consuming and energy-sapping details that went into creating the wedding of Timmy’s dreams.
But Timmy would have hated that. He wanted to get married in front of our friends and families, to show the world that we were committed to each other. But if the whole thing didn’t come and go in a big hurry, I’d probably have to have Timmy committed.
“What’s wrong?” I kissed the top of his head and began massaging his shoulders. “Bad day?”
“Bad pictures.” He groaned in appreciation as I pushed my thumbs into the sore spots just below his shoulder blades. “We need to get new ones.”
It was a good thing I was standing behind him so he couldn’t see me roll my eyes. I wasn’t about to sit for another engagement picture. What a waste of two hours that was. I’d suggested we just get someone to take some candid shots in the park, but Timmy said I was off my rocker. He went on to explain how we’d treasure these pictures forever, blah, blah, blah.
The worst and best thing about the whole mess was that he’d approved the pictures himself after spending a couple of hours looking at all the shots from our sitting. I’d left the job to him, and I was selfishly grateful that I couldn’t be blamed for anything.
“Let me see them.” I sat down at the table. Timmy slid the envelope over to me and resumed moaning.
“In one pose, my hair doesn’t look right, and your tie is crooked. In the other one, I’m not sitting up straight enough, and neither are you.”
I pulled out the stack of pictures and examined both poses. They looked fine to me, though a little too stiff and formal for my taste. My tie was crooked only when compared to his, and I thought his hair looked good messed up just a little. As for sitting up straight, we’d been at that posing business for more than an hour by the time that shot was taken.
“They’re not bad, honey.” I held up the two pictures. “Which one do you like least? We’ll go with the other one.”
Timmy barely gave them a glance. “I hate both of them.”
I tried to be patient. The pictures were already paid for, and they’d cost a lot. I couldn’t see paying for them twice.
“Let’s sleep on it,” I said. I squeezed his arm. “Now go change, and we’ll go out for pizza. My treat.”
Timmy got up from the table, kissed my forehead and shuffled off to the bedroom. As soon as I heard the door close, I got on the phone with a friend of ours.
I told Jake what had happened and what I wanted to do, ignoring his snickering responses.
“You’re as whipped as I am, Don,” he said.
I told him to fuck off, but he just kept laughing at me. Finally, he agreed to have his wife call Tim.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take care of the whole thing. But remember, you owe me.”
“If you can get me out of this mess, I’ll spy on anyone you want,” I said.
“Really? There’s this guy at work …”
I called him an ass and hung up the phone. Tim came back to the kitchen, looking good enough to eat in his faded jeans and white, button-down shirt.
“Just let me get changed and we’ll head out,” I said. As I closed the bedroom door I heard the phone ring. I crossed my fingers, hoping against hope that my plan would work.
*****
We met Jake and Carrie and their two little kids for lunch the next day. The kids insisted on going to the park afterward, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Timmy said we’d go with them. As the kids got on the swings and yelled for their father to push, Carrie pulled a camera out of her purse and started taking pictures of them.
“Want me to push you?” I held out a swing to Tim. “I’ll even catch you if you want to jump out.”
Tim sat down in the swing, smiling at me in that little-boy way I loved so much. I moved around the swing so that I was standing behind him, winked at Carrie and gave Tim a little push.
When the kids tired of the swings, they led us all over the playground, happy to play with “the big kids,” as they referred to Timmy and me. We climbed on a jungle gym, crawled through plastic tunnels and tripped around an obstacle course.
“My God, they’re exhausting,” Tim said after a couple of hours. “How do you keep up?”
Jake laughed and put his arm around Carrie’s shoulders. “She does everything, that’s how.”
The kids yanked on their father’s pantlegs and begged for ice cream. We sauntered on down to a little stand not far from the playground and bought huge cones. We found a picnic table, but before I could sit down, Timmy pulled me onto his lap. He held out his cone and I tasted it, keeping my gaze on his.
“That’s sexy,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I could be licking something else if you’d take me home.”
Tim laughed, completely relaxed now and having a good time. We pretty much forgot anyone else was around until Jake told us to spare the kids’ tender eyesight and get a room.
We left the park a little while later, trading hugs with Jake and Carrie and the kids. Carrie whispered something in my ear, and I gave her an extra hug. She was so much like Timmy, and I could see why Jake adored her.
Timmy and I went home, whereupon he reminded me of what I’d said in the park. I told him I was game if he was, and it was a race to the bedroom. I treated him to one of my best blowjobs, and he responded in kind. When it was over, I had to fight to stay awake, but as soon as Timmy drifted off, I got up, put on my bathrobe and snuck out of the bedroom to check my email.
There was the promised message from Carrie:
“They turned out great. I hope this works!”
I opened the folder and caught my breath. There were more than fifty pictures of Timmy and me. And they were all terrific. Timmy looked relaxed and happy, and I was my usual dorky self, grinning like an idiot every time I looked at him. I looked at all of them twice, deciding which ones would make good engagement pictures.
I jumped when I felt Timmy’s hands on my shoulders.
“Not sleepy?” He rested his chin on my head. “What are you doing?”
It was now or never. “Looking at some pictures. Wanna see them?”
“Sure.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “What are they?”
I put the pictures in slideshow mode and let them roll. Tim didn’t say a word until he’d seen them all.
“I knew she was taking some pictures, but I didn’t think she took this many.” He restarted the slideshow. “They’re really pretty good.”
“I think they’re more us,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers.
“We look happy,” Timmy said. He put his arm around me and leaned his head on my shoulder. “That’s the way I’d like the world to see us.”
“I think they’d do for engagement pictures.” I kissed his nose. “What do you think?”
Timmy smiled. “Have I told you that you’re brilliant?”
“Not lately.”
Timmy sat up straight and gave me the kind of kiss that I knew from experience would lead to round two. I was about to close the laptop, but Timmy stopped me. He clicked “reply” and started typing:
“Thanks, Carrie. They’re perfect and so are you.”
He signed his name, hit “send” and closed the lid.
“You’re pretty close to perfect yourself,” I said as I followed him to our bedroom.
“Perfection is overrated.” Timmy shed his bathrobe and climbed into bed. “Things should be less than perfect, I’ve decided.”
I got into bed, too, and pulled Timmy on top of me. “Why’s that?”
He leaned down and kissed me. “Because if we were perfect, we wouldn’t need to practice.”
“I could use some practice right now,” I said, sighing as his lips caressed my neck. “A lot of practice.”
“That,” Timmy said, “is perfectly fine with me.”
These word fics are not beta'd, by the way. nyteflyer has promised to look them over for me when she gets time so that I can post them to the comms.
Retake
I came home to find Timmy sitting at our kitchen table, his head in his hands. Another headache, probably. The closer we got to the wedding, the more Tylenol he consumed. For the umpteenth time I thought about stuffing him into the car and eloping just to avoid all the time-consuming and energy-sapping details that went into creating the wedding of Timmy’s dreams.
But Timmy would have hated that. He wanted to get married in front of our friends and families, to show the world that we were committed to each other. But if the whole thing didn’t come and go in a big hurry, I’d probably have to have Timmy committed.
“What’s wrong?” I kissed the top of his head and began massaging his shoulders. “Bad day?”
“Bad pictures.” He groaned in appreciation as I pushed my thumbs into the sore spots just below his shoulder blades. “We need to get new ones.”
It was a good thing I was standing behind him so he couldn’t see me roll my eyes. I wasn’t about to sit for another engagement picture. What a waste of two hours that was. I’d suggested we just get someone to take some candid shots in the park, but Timmy said I was off my rocker. He went on to explain how we’d treasure these pictures forever, blah, blah, blah.
The worst and best thing about the whole mess was that he’d approved the pictures himself after spending a couple of hours looking at all the shots from our sitting. I’d left the job to him, and I was selfishly grateful that I couldn’t be blamed for anything.
“Let me see them.” I sat down at the table. Timmy slid the envelope over to me and resumed moaning.
“In one pose, my hair doesn’t look right, and your tie is crooked. In the other one, I’m not sitting up straight enough, and neither are you.”
I pulled out the stack of pictures and examined both poses. They looked fine to me, though a little too stiff and formal for my taste. My tie was crooked only when compared to his, and I thought his hair looked good messed up just a little. As for sitting up straight, we’d been at that posing business for more than an hour by the time that shot was taken.
“They’re not bad, honey.” I held up the two pictures. “Which one do you like least? We’ll go with the other one.”
Timmy barely gave them a glance. “I hate both of them.”
I tried to be patient. The pictures were already paid for, and they’d cost a lot. I couldn’t see paying for them twice.
“Let’s sleep on it,” I said. I squeezed his arm. “Now go change, and we’ll go out for pizza. My treat.”
Timmy got up from the table, kissed my forehead and shuffled off to the bedroom. As soon as I heard the door close, I got on the phone with a friend of ours.
I told Jake what had happened and what I wanted to do, ignoring his snickering responses.
“You’re as whipped as I am, Don,” he said.
I told him to fuck off, but he just kept laughing at me. Finally, he agreed to have his wife call Tim.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take care of the whole thing. But remember, you owe me.”
“If you can get me out of this mess, I’ll spy on anyone you want,” I said.
“Really? There’s this guy at work …”
I called him an ass and hung up the phone. Tim came back to the kitchen, looking good enough to eat in his faded jeans and white, button-down shirt.
“Just let me get changed and we’ll head out,” I said. As I closed the bedroom door I heard the phone ring. I crossed my fingers, hoping against hope that my plan would work.
*****
We met Jake and Carrie and their two little kids for lunch the next day. The kids insisted on going to the park afterward, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Timmy said we’d go with them. As the kids got on the swings and yelled for their father to push, Carrie pulled a camera out of her purse and started taking pictures of them.
“Want me to push you?” I held out a swing to Tim. “I’ll even catch you if you want to jump out.”
Tim sat down in the swing, smiling at me in that little-boy way I loved so much. I moved around the swing so that I was standing behind him, winked at Carrie and gave Tim a little push.
When the kids tired of the swings, they led us all over the playground, happy to play with “the big kids,” as they referred to Timmy and me. We climbed on a jungle gym, crawled through plastic tunnels and tripped around an obstacle course.
“My God, they’re exhausting,” Tim said after a couple of hours. “How do you keep up?”
Jake laughed and put his arm around Carrie’s shoulders. “She does everything, that’s how.”
The kids yanked on their father’s pantlegs and begged for ice cream. We sauntered on down to a little stand not far from the playground and bought huge cones. We found a picnic table, but before I could sit down, Timmy pulled me onto his lap. He held out his cone and I tasted it, keeping my gaze on his.
“That’s sexy,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I could be licking something else if you’d take me home.”
Tim laughed, completely relaxed now and having a good time. We pretty much forgot anyone else was around until Jake told us to spare the kids’ tender eyesight and get a room.
We left the park a little while later, trading hugs with Jake and Carrie and the kids. Carrie whispered something in my ear, and I gave her an extra hug. She was so much like Timmy, and I could see why Jake adored her.
Timmy and I went home, whereupon he reminded me of what I’d said in the park. I told him I was game if he was, and it was a race to the bedroom. I treated him to one of my best blowjobs, and he responded in kind. When it was over, I had to fight to stay awake, but as soon as Timmy drifted off, I got up, put on my bathrobe and snuck out of the bedroom to check my email.
There was the promised message from Carrie:
“They turned out great. I hope this works!”
I opened the folder and caught my breath. There were more than fifty pictures of Timmy and me. And they were all terrific. Timmy looked relaxed and happy, and I was my usual dorky self, grinning like an idiot every time I looked at him. I looked at all of them twice, deciding which ones would make good engagement pictures.
I jumped when I felt Timmy’s hands on my shoulders.
“Not sleepy?” He rested his chin on my head. “What are you doing?”
It was now or never. “Looking at some pictures. Wanna see them?”
“Sure.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “What are they?”
I put the pictures in slideshow mode and let them roll. Tim didn’t say a word until he’d seen them all.
“I knew she was taking some pictures, but I didn’t think she took this many.” He restarted the slideshow. “They’re really pretty good.”
“I think they’re more us,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers.
“We look happy,” Timmy said. He put his arm around me and leaned his head on my shoulder. “That’s the way I’d like the world to see us.”
“I think they’d do for engagement pictures.” I kissed his nose. “What do you think?”
Timmy smiled. “Have I told you that you’re brilliant?”
“Not lately.”
Timmy sat up straight and gave me the kind of kiss that I knew from experience would lead to round two. I was about to close the laptop, but Timmy stopped me. He clicked “reply” and started typing:
“Thanks, Carrie. They’re perfect and so are you.”
He signed his name, hit “send” and closed the lid.
“You’re pretty close to perfect yourself,” I said as I followed him to our bedroom.
“Perfection is overrated.” Timmy shed his bathrobe and climbed into bed. “Things should be less than perfect, I’ve decided.”
I got into bed, too, and pulled Timmy on top of me. “Why’s that?”
He leaned down and kissed me. “Because if we were perfect, we wouldn’t need to practice.”
“I could use some practice right now,” I said, sighing as his lips caressed my neck. “A lot of practice.”
“That,” Timmy said, “is perfectly fine with me.”