Cradled tenderly
who: owen and tosh
what: romantic evening
when: Dec. 25. about 8 PM
where: their flat
Rating: Owen.
There was a certain show Owen made about despising Christmas. Always he played the part of Scrooge in the story that was not a story but indeed his life, wandering and cursing with no fear of ghosts. If ghosts came that night, as they often did with bleary persistence, Owen drowned them in spirits until he could barely think straight.
He was never the religious sort either, preferring science and maths to God and the like. Probably a fault of his mother, who'd never made the effort to take him to church. Then again, everything was a fault of his mother in the end. Even this place -- "Aternaville." He would never have been here if not for her; she always made sure he felt unluckiest. In a sea of six billion souls, he was alone and unloved.
Until Katie.
No.
Until Tosh.
Until the women in his life made him domestic and filled his head with nothing else but thoughts of them. Their faces, their smiles -- the way she smiled and always smelled of cleanliness and jasmine and perfection. The softness of her eyes and her mouth...Tosh had complete control of him and had no idea. The thought was beyond distressing. (Terrifying, but Owen would never admit to being scared.)
Owen made an exception for Christmas tonight, allowing it a free pass as he decorated the apartment with candles and flowers and poured them both tall glasses of gold champagne as he waited for Tosh to come home.
He wanted to see that soft mouth smile.
what: romantic evening
when: Dec. 25. about 8 PM
where: their flat
Rating: Owen.
There was a certain show Owen made about despising Christmas. Always he played the part of Scrooge in the story that was not a story but indeed his life, wandering and cursing with no fear of ghosts. If ghosts came that night, as they often did with bleary persistence, Owen drowned them in spirits until he could barely think straight.
He was never the religious sort either, preferring science and maths to God and the like. Probably a fault of his mother, who'd never made the effort to take him to church. Then again, everything was a fault of his mother in the end. Even this place -- "Aternaville." He would never have been here if not for her; she always made sure he felt unluckiest. In a sea of six billion souls, he was alone and unloved.
Until Katie.
No.
Until Tosh.
Until the women in his life made him domestic and filled his head with nothing else but thoughts of them. Their faces, their smiles -- the way she smiled and always smelled of cleanliness and jasmine and perfection. The softness of her eyes and her mouth...Tosh had complete control of him and had no idea. The thought was beyond distressing. (Terrifying, but Owen would never admit to being scared.)
Owen made an exception for Christmas tonight, allowing it a free pass as he decorated the apartment with candles and flowers and poured them both tall glasses of gold champagne as he waited for Tosh to come home.
He wanted to see that soft mouth smile.