The One with the Crocs + Three Drabbles
OMFG! I come bearing Gus!fic. Three angsty drabbles and one somewhat funny ficlet.
I'm so rusty at this writing thing. Like whoa.
[.039 Taste]
It's funny how the smallest of statements can have the biggest of impacts. From an ad-man's point of view, he could appreciate the bluntness found in brevity; he'd made a career out of slogans catchy enough to hold the unwashed masses' attention long enough to buy the product du jour.
While campaigns to 'Eat the Meat' could expand waistlines, and 'Honesty' could get positive people to part with more cash, neither truly hurt consumers.
But this...
Burying his hands in his hair, he tried to stave off the helplessness he felt brought on by four little words:
"We're moving to Canada."
(A/N: In case you're wondering, the taste prompt reminded me of the phrase 'bitter taste in my mouth'.)
[.042 Triangle]
She was the single most manipulative woman I ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Somehow, years later, I found myself falling in love with her and building a life together -- on her terms.
We bought the charming little fixer-upper rather than the modern, turn-key apartment that I preferred.
And, when it came time to having a child, she never once considered using a sperm bank. Oh, no, it had to be Brian fucking Kinney.
I can only blame my own stupidity and her undeniable talent for twisting things in her favor.
Perhaps she should have been the lawyer instead.
[.075 Shade]
Mother's always liked to play her little games. Leveled cruelty she learned at her mother's knee designed to shred a man through word and deed.
She enjoyed hurting Momma the most, carefully alluding that Momma would never have her affection the way Brian did, that Momma would never be my real, biological parent, that Momma would never be as smart or as successful as Brian.
They were all little digs that shadowed their marriage, all whispered the same thing -- you're not good enough, you never will be because you're not him.
She never realized I heard and felt them too.
The One With the Crocs
[.016 Purple]
Dedicated to shadownyc who told me to get off my ass and write. ♥
Brian looked at the shoes on his son's feet with something akin to horror.
Gus followed the action with a barely suppressed smirk.
"What," he asked, flopping gracelessly into the diner booth across from his fathers.
Justin, for his part, had turned to face the window in a vain attempt to keep from laughing at Brian's expression. It was clear what his partner was thinking; after all the careful parenting the gang had done, after all the trips shopping and the lectures on how to dress to impress, Gus Kinney had done the unthinkable.
The fancy suits and Italian leather shoes Brian had always expected his child, the pediatric surgeon, to wear upon graduation had been replaced with something far cheaper and much more practical -- scrubs. But not just any scrubs. Oh, no. He picked the colorful ones that were all so hideously ugly that Deb liked them.
And, while Brian had been willing to overlook the too-saccharine-for-word scrubs because his son spent so much time the operating room and dealing with sick kids, this was very nearly grounds for disowning his one and only child.
"Please tell me that wasn't a pair of purple Crocs on your feet, Sonny Boy."
Smirking, Gus took a sip of his coffee, nodded his head, and said, "Okay, Dad. I won't tell you."
That was all it took for Justin's shoulders to start shaking with laughter...
...and Brian to shoot his partner a look of contempt.
"But they're Crocs. They're shoes for kids and fat people and soccer moms wear."
"They're comfortable, and I can clean the blood and puke off with soap and water."
"But they're purple and ugly."
"And comfortable with tons of back support since I spend hours standing when I'm operating," Gus said, pausing to pluck at his gamboling kitties on his shirt. "Besides. They match with my scrubs."
Sighing, Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly, it was time for an intervention. Now, if he could just get the guys to back him...
fanfic100: 72/100 completed.
I'm so rusty at this writing thing. Like whoa.
[.039 Taste]
It's funny how the smallest of statements can have the biggest of impacts. From an ad-man's point of view, he could appreciate the bluntness found in brevity; he'd made a career out of slogans catchy enough to hold the unwashed masses' attention long enough to buy the product du jour.
While campaigns to 'Eat the Meat' could expand waistlines, and 'Honesty' could get positive people to part with more cash, neither truly hurt consumers.
But this...
Burying his hands in his hair, he tried to stave off the helplessness he felt brought on by four little words:
"We're moving to Canada."
(A/N: In case you're wondering, the taste prompt reminded me of the phrase 'bitter taste in my mouth'.)
[.042 Triangle]
She was the single most manipulative woman I ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Somehow, years later, I found myself falling in love with her and building a life together -- on her terms.
We bought the charming little fixer-upper rather than the modern, turn-key apartment that I preferred.
And, when it came time to having a child, she never once considered using a sperm bank. Oh, no, it had to be Brian fucking Kinney.
I can only blame my own stupidity and her undeniable talent for twisting things in her favor.
Perhaps she should have been the lawyer instead.
[.075 Shade]
Mother's always liked to play her little games. Leveled cruelty she learned at her mother's knee designed to shred a man through word and deed.
She enjoyed hurting Momma the most, carefully alluding that Momma would never have her affection the way Brian did, that Momma would never be my real, biological parent, that Momma would never be as smart or as successful as Brian.
They were all little digs that shadowed their marriage, all whispered the same thing -- you're not good enough, you never will be because you're not him.
She never realized I heard and felt them too.
The One With the Crocs
[.016 Purple]
Dedicated to shadownyc who told me to get off my ass and write. ♥
Brian looked at the shoes on his son's feet with something akin to horror.
Gus followed the action with a barely suppressed smirk.
"What," he asked, flopping gracelessly into the diner booth across from his fathers.
Justin, for his part, had turned to face the window in a vain attempt to keep from laughing at Brian's expression. It was clear what his partner was thinking; after all the careful parenting the gang had done, after all the trips shopping and the lectures on how to dress to impress, Gus Kinney had done the unthinkable.
The fancy suits and Italian leather shoes Brian had always expected his child, the pediatric surgeon, to wear upon graduation had been replaced with something far cheaper and much more practical -- scrubs. But not just any scrubs. Oh, no. He picked the colorful ones that were all so hideously ugly that Deb liked them.
And, while Brian had been willing to overlook the too-saccharine-for-word scrubs because his son spent so much time the operating room and dealing with sick kids, this was very nearly grounds for disowning his one and only child.
"Please tell me that wasn't a pair of purple Crocs on your feet, Sonny Boy."
Smirking, Gus took a sip of his coffee, nodded his head, and said, "Okay, Dad. I won't tell you."
That was all it took for Justin's shoulders to start shaking with laughter...
...and Brian to shoot his partner a look of contempt.
"But they're Crocs. They're shoes for kids and fat people and soccer moms wear."
"They're comfortable, and I can clean the blood and puke off with soap and water."
"But they're purple and ugly."
"And comfortable with tons of back support since I spend hours standing when I'm operating," Gus said, pausing to pluck at his gamboling kitties on his shirt. "Besides. They match with my scrubs."
Sighing, Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly, it was time for an intervention. Now, if he could just get the guys to back him...
fanfic100: 72/100 completed.