MINIFILL: The Morning After [1/2] (homophobic reactions)interesting_ginDecember 28 2011, 22:58:06 UTC
Yesterday was a mistake. On that, at least, they are agreed.
After they are finished watching the news, watching Kennedy drawl on, watching the colour drain from the children’s faces, Erik mutters something about how they should all get a good night’s sleep and goes outside. The room is too hot to think, muggy in the August sweat. He leans against the stone railings, looking out at the panoramic vista, and finds a cigarette in his pockets.
Now if only he had a lighter, he thinks.
“Erik,” says a low voice from behind him, and he spins to see Charles, looking sheepish, holding out his own.
There is a pause that seems to stretch on into forever.
“Thank you,” says Erik, snatching it from him, making sure to avoid his fingers brushing Charles’ own. He lights the cigarette quickly, takes a drag, and chucks the lighter back to Charles, who catches it, but barely.
Charles comes and stands beside him, leaning on his elbows, and looks at him with concern in his blue eyes.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asks.
Erik looks at him, and then looks away, breathes out, and puts the cigarette back to his lips. The smoke curls up into the warm summer night. “Talk about what?” he asks, flicking ash from the end.
“What happened,” says Charles, “we ought to talk about it. I know you’re scared. I can hear you-”
“I’m pretty sure I told you to stay out of my head,” Erik snaps firmly.
“I’m pretty sure you invited me in last night,” says Charles, equally firmly.
Erik flushes, scowls, turns away and storms off up the steps.
“Erik,” Charles sighs, and then shouts after him “we can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away!”
“Yes we can,” says Erik, stopping in his tracks. "In fact that’s exactly what we ought to do.”
“Erik,” says Charles again, and his face is crimson with embarassment, those cheeks (hollowed out sucking on his cock) that Erik kissed blushing and fearful, “if you want - it doesn’t have to happen again.”
“It won’t, because nothing happened.”
“Fine,” says Charles, suddenly furious, “fine.”
The silence is endless and boundless, and makes Erik sick to his stomach.
“I could make sure it never happens again,” says Charles, quietly. “I could make sure you never wanted it to.”
“I didn’t want it to.”
“Oh, so now I forced you?”
“I don’t know,” Erik yells, “I don’t know what you did, but I didn’t - I would never - scheisse.” He rubs his hands (pulling and stroking and grabbing at hot slick skin) across his face, wrings out the stress and irritation and takes another drag that burns his lips. “I am not like that,” he says. “I don’t - I’m not queer, for god’s sake.”
“Of course not,” Charles says, carefully non-judgemental. Then he is by Erik’s side, and his fingers brush at Erik’s lips (biting and kissing all the moans from his face) and he plucks the cigarette straight from his lips. “If you want me to take it away,” he says quietly, dropping it to the ground, “I will.”
MINIFILL: The Morning After [2/2] (homophobic reactions)interesting_ginDecember 28 2011, 22:58:51 UTC
“What?” Erik whispers.
“These fucking - this wanting, this whatever. This peversion. I'd do it for you. I'd help you.”
“You stay out of my head.”
“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” Charles half-shouts. “You can’t just let this come between us because you’re too afraid to admit that you’ve got an illness.”
“Are you offering to fix me?” Erik hisses. “Because I’m not a dog. I don’t need neutering.”
“Erik, for heaven’s sake, I’m offering to help. I don’t want this any more than you do.”
“Do you not? Why? Do I scare you, Charles?”
Erik grins; goes to place one hand on Charles’ shoulder.
“Don’t touch me, you goddamned-” he yelps, snatches his arm away, steps back as far as he can.
There is a pause, and he can hear the wind in the trees, and it sounds like regret.
“Oh, I see,” says Erik, unsmiling and vindicated. “You don’t want to help me, you want to help yourself. Scared of what I trigger, are you?”
“You don’t trigger anything,” Charles lies.
“Well, forget it. You want this to be over? Fine.” He pulls his hands back, rubs his temples, closes his eyes and breathes out hard through his nose. He steps back himself. “It is. It already is, for god’s sake. Makes no difference to me. You deal with your own baggage. I don’t need fixing, because I am not a damn faggot. It makes no difference to me.”
He turns on his heel and heads up the steps away.
“Yeah,” says Charles, half to himself because there’s no-one to listen, cold and hurt and betrayed, “you’re really acting like it.”
Re: MINIFILL: The Morning After [2/2] (homophobic reactions)interesting_ginDecember 29 2011, 17:45:15 UTC
No problem! [I found it really cathartic actually... :)]I really hope somebody fills it properly and does it justice, because I can't wait to read it :)
Re: MINIFILL: The Morning After [2/2] (homophobic reactions)ascoolsuchasiDecember 29 2011, 18:03:43 UTC
Haha, don't worry about it. Minn does too. XD
and oh, fun fact, i have the horrible habit of, you know, not reading who the author of fics are and i just realised it was you and i say that in a very god way because i was reading stuff off your journal....yesterday i think and was flailing over all the awesome.
After they are finished watching the news, watching Kennedy drawl on, watching the colour drain from the children’s faces, Erik mutters something about how they should all get a good night’s sleep and goes outside. The room is too hot to think, muggy in the August sweat. He leans against the stone railings, looking out at the panoramic vista, and finds a cigarette in his pockets.
Now if only he had a lighter, he thinks.
“Erik,” says a low voice from behind him, and he spins to see Charles, looking sheepish, holding out his own.
There is a pause that seems to stretch on into forever.
“Thank you,” says Erik, snatching it from him, making sure to avoid his fingers brushing Charles’ own. He lights the cigarette quickly, takes a drag, and chucks the lighter back to Charles, who catches it, but barely.
Charles comes and stands beside him, leaning on his elbows, and looks at him with concern in his blue eyes.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asks.
Erik looks at him, and then looks away, breathes out, and puts the cigarette back to his lips. The smoke curls up into the warm summer night. “Talk about what?” he asks, flicking ash from the end.
“What happened,” says Charles, “we ought to talk about it. I know you’re scared. I can hear you-”
“I’m pretty sure I told you to stay out of my head,” Erik snaps firmly.
“I’m pretty sure you invited me in last night,” says Charles, equally firmly.
Erik flushes, scowls, turns away and storms off up the steps.
“Erik,” Charles sighs, and then shouts after him “we can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away!”
“Yes we can,” says Erik, stopping in his tracks. "In fact that’s exactly what we ought to do.”
“Erik,” says Charles again, and his face is crimson with embarassment, those cheeks (hollowed out sucking on his cock) that Erik kissed blushing and fearful, “if you want - it doesn’t have to happen again.”
“It won’t, because nothing happened.”
“Fine,” says Charles, suddenly furious, “fine.”
The silence is endless and boundless, and makes Erik sick to his stomach.
“I could make sure it never happens again,” says Charles, quietly. “I could make sure you never wanted it to.”
“I didn’t want it to.”
“Oh, so now I forced you?”
“I don’t know,” Erik yells, “I don’t know what you did, but I didn’t - I would never - scheisse.” He rubs his hands (pulling and stroking and grabbing at hot slick skin) across his face, wrings out the stress and irritation and takes another drag that burns his lips. “I am not like that,” he says. “I don’t - I’m not queer, for god’s sake.”
“Of course not,” Charles says, carefully non-judgemental. Then he is by Erik’s side, and his fingers brush at Erik’s lips (biting and kissing all the moans from his face) and he plucks the cigarette straight from his lips. “If you want me to take it away,” he says quietly, dropping it to the ground, “I will.”
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“These fucking - this wanting, this whatever. This peversion. I'd do it for you. I'd help you.”
“You stay out of my head.”
“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” Charles half-shouts. “You can’t just let this come between us because you’re too afraid to admit that you’ve got an illness.”
“Are you offering to fix me?” Erik hisses. “Because I’m not a dog. I don’t need neutering.”
“Erik, for heaven’s sake, I’m offering to help. I don’t want this any more than you do.”
“Do you not? Why? Do I scare you, Charles?”
Erik grins; goes to place one hand on Charles’ shoulder.
“Don’t touch me, you goddamned-” he yelps, snatches his arm away, steps back as far as he can.
There is a pause, and he can hear the wind in the trees, and it sounds like regret.
“Oh, I see,” says Erik, unsmiling and vindicated. “You don’t want to help me, you want to help yourself. Scared of what I trigger, are you?”
“You don’t trigger anything,” Charles lies.
“Well, forget it. You want this to be over? Fine.” He pulls his hands back, rubs his temples, closes his eyes and breathes out hard through his nose. He steps back himself. “It is. It already is, for god’s sake. Makes no difference to me. You deal with your own baggage. I don’t need fixing, because I am not a damn faggot. It makes no difference to me.”
He turns on his heel and heads up the steps away.
“Yeah,” says Charles, half to himself because there’s no-one to listen, cold and hurt and betrayed, “you’re really acting like it.”
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This is so, so perfect and painful...oh, boys. :(
Thanks so much for filling this!
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Boys!
This was....Well I agree with OP, perfect and painful.
Also, if you ever archive this or what not, "scheisse" should be "scheiße" with the ß instead of two ss.
:D
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and oh, fun fact, i have the horrible habit of, you know, not reading who the author of fics are and i just realised it was you and i say that in a very god way because i was reading stuff off your journal....yesterday i think and was flailing over all the awesome.
Reply
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