Prison Break - In the Dark
Title: In the Dark
Auteur : clair-de-lune
Characters Veronica, LJ, with a dash of one-sided Veronica/LJ
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 1330
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Veronica’s sleeping too, just like Nick. Or anyway, she fell into some comatose-like sleep, worn out by all she went through lately. She’s sleeping exactly for the same reasons why LJ won’t.
Notes: This is a fleshed-out version of one of the (ill-titled) Stories I Won’t Write. Thanks to torigates for the beta.
When he rolls over in the small bed of the hotel room for the fifth time in three minutes, he comes to the realization that he won’t get any sleep tonight and he pushes back the sheets with exasperation. It’s not like he doesn’t need to sleep: the recent events left him physically and emotionally exhausted. But his brain just won’t stop, thoughts and ideas and reasoning colliding and bumping.
He rolls onto his side and sits on the edge of the mattress; the floorboard squeaks under his feet. In the twin bed three feet away, Nick shifts and grumbles but doesn’t wake up. It annoys and makes LJ envious at the same time. How can the man sleep in such circumstances, how can he know that they’re - relatively - safe?
He pads across the bedroom, following the moving, blue light the adjacent sitting room is basking in. For a couple of seconds, he thinks that Veronica is still working on her laptop, but when he enters the room, he can see the computer, turned off and closed on a table. Vee is lying on the couch in front on the TV, which is playing an old black and white movie, one of those things that his mother loved so much, one of those things that always bored him to death. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat; he can’t think about his mom now or he will lose the little control he still has over his nerves. Damn, he can’t even think about his jerk of a step-father without feeling his throat constricting in pain - his jerk of a step-father and the way he shouted him to run away.
Veronica’s sleeping too, just like Nick. Or anyway, she fell into some comatose-like sleep, worn out by all she went through lately. She’s sleeping exactly for the same reasons why LJ won’t. She’s lying on the couch, pale and soft and strong, her black hair splayed over her face. Her skin glistens in the dim hotel suite, almost iridescent as the TV casts lights and shadows over her cheekbones and forehead. LJ glances at her as if he saw for the first time her familiar features, the delicate curve of her neck and, feeling like a thief, a hint of her breasts, a bit lower in the cleavage of her shirt.
It reminds him of the ambiguous fascination he had for her when he was just a kid. She was the girl, barely older than his mom yet so different, who helped him with his homework on week-ends. She was the young woman he once walked in on when she was wearing nothing but her underwear - blue lace, not something you can forget - in his father’s bathroom and who, rather than awkwardly showing him out, kindly asked him to close the door on his way out.
You’re not supposed to have a crush on your dad’s girlfriend. Fortunately, with the passing years, the girl who helped him with his homework chased away the young woman and her flimsy lingerie. But sometimes... sometimes when he’s tired and can’t quite think straight...
Without realizing what he’s doing, he sits on the coffee table and reaches out for her. Delicately, he puts two fingers under her ear and lets them slide along her jaw line and to her neck. Her skin is warm and smooth and it makes him forget that she can - and will, if he keeps that up - wake up any minute now. When he wanders down just a tad more, pushing away the soft fabric of her shirt, he brushes the swell of a breast, and Veronica grabs his wrist, her grip kind but firm. She doesn’t force him to get his hand off of her, she just withholds him, preventing him from going on as well as backing off.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
He looks up and wonders for how long she’s been staring at him, her green eyes partly accusing and partly amused. He slides down from the table and kneels by the couch.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just felt like...”
“You’re definitely your father’s son.” He glances at his fingers, their blunt nails harshly chopped on the asphalt during his runaway in the parking lot - they’re lightly pressed into the silky, pale flesh. He flinches when Vee speaks again. “You’re a bit old for that Oedipus thing now, don’t you think?” she says gently.
She releases his wrist and he thinks that he’s now going to have to remove his hand. Not an easy stunt: he must be fast enough not to give the impression to linger, but not touch her some more in the process, and...
She slaps the back of his hand, just like when he was a kid and twiddled anything within his reach, and he stumbles back in a hurry.
“I know that all the stuff going on is upsetting, LJ, but you must go back to bed. Now. Try to get some sleep, you need it.”
What he needs, he thinks but doesn’t dare telling her, is his mother. Or his father. As things go, even his step-father would be nice. He needs someone he knows and trusts, someone who will hug him and promise him that everything is going to be all right, even though the thought is absurd since the situation worsens every day. Nick, despite his best efforts, definitely can’t be that person.
“Let me stay with you,” he pleads. “Nick snores.”
It’s not quite true - worst case scenario, Nick breathes noisily - but she doesn’t argue. With a small knowing smirk, she lifts the cover up and scoots towards the back of the couch to make room for him. He settles into the vacant space she’s just made for him and snuggles up to her.
“Did you really dump you fiancé?” he asks softly.
The sound of a gun shot comes from the TV and he startles. Vee squeezes him lightly against her; he almost doesn’t have to make an effort to loosen in her embrace.
“We decided to cancel the wedding,” she answers cautiously.
“Are you sleeping with Nick?” he adds, and it was really, really not a good question to ask, because she grabs his ear and rudely twists it. He wriggles to try and escape her, but she’s quite merciless regarding punishments and she doesn’t let him go until she has decided to do so.
“Mind your own business, kiddo.”
“Do you still love my father?”
That is his business, right? Kind of.
She doesn’t answer right away, but at least, she doesn’t pinch his ear. “Of course,” she says in the end. “I’ve always loved him. I’ll always love him.” She affectionately pats his shoulder. “Exactly like I’ll always love you and your Uncle Mike.”
He nearly feels like smiling. He kicks her shin and grumbles that people always deal with as if he was still a kid and anybody will ever tell him anything. Just to prove him right, she does deal with him as if was still a kid: she tousles his hair, gently kisses the top of his head, and it’s so comforting and pleasant that he could cry.
He tries to shift and move but she closes her arms around him, she enfolds him in her embrace and holds him tight. She smells good; her hand is warm on his skin. He has a very unwanted image of bare skin, blue lace and black hair and he’s relieved not to totally face her. He tries to bring up more sensible memories of geography textbooks and English papers but even so, he fidgets nervously and clutches the blanket.
“Keep quiet and go to sleep,” she commands.
Maybe it’s because he can’t move, maybe it’s Veronica’s even breathing right next to him, or the fact that she still as an arm around his shoulders, but eventually, he does fall asleep, his cheek pressed against her forearm.
-Fin-
Comments are always welcome.
Initial drabble
Prompt: Veronica Donovan / LJ Burrows / in the dark
Her skin glistens in the dark hotel suite, almost iridescent. She’s lying on the couch of the small sitting room, pale and soft and strong, her black hair splayed over her face. LJ sits on the coffee table and reaches for her. Delicately, he puts two fingers right under Veronica’s ear and lets them slide along her jaw line and to her neck; her skin is warm and smooth. When he brushes her cleavage, Veronica grabs his wrist and sympathetically tells him that she knows all the stuff going on is upsetting, but he must go back to his room. Right now.
Auteur : clair-de-lune
Characters Veronica, LJ, with a dash of one-sided Veronica/LJ
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 1330
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Veronica’s sleeping too, just like Nick. Or anyway, she fell into some comatose-like sleep, worn out by all she went through lately. She’s sleeping exactly for the same reasons why LJ won’t.
Notes: This is a fleshed-out version of one of the (ill-titled) Stories I Won’t Write. Thanks to torigates for the beta.
When he rolls over in the small bed of the hotel room for the fifth time in three minutes, he comes to the realization that he won’t get any sleep tonight and he pushes back the sheets with exasperation. It’s not like he doesn’t need to sleep: the recent events left him physically and emotionally exhausted. But his brain just won’t stop, thoughts and ideas and reasoning colliding and bumping.
He rolls onto his side and sits on the edge of the mattress; the floorboard squeaks under his feet. In the twin bed three feet away, Nick shifts and grumbles but doesn’t wake up. It annoys and makes LJ envious at the same time. How can the man sleep in such circumstances, how can he know that they’re - relatively - safe?
He pads across the bedroom, following the moving, blue light the adjacent sitting room is basking in. For a couple of seconds, he thinks that Veronica is still working on her laptop, but when he enters the room, he can see the computer, turned off and closed on a table. Vee is lying on the couch in front on the TV, which is playing an old black and white movie, one of those things that his mother loved so much, one of those things that always bored him to death. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat; he can’t think about his mom now or he will lose the little control he still has over his nerves. Damn, he can’t even think about his jerk of a step-father without feeling his throat constricting in pain - his jerk of a step-father and the way he shouted him to run away.
Veronica’s sleeping too, just like Nick. Or anyway, she fell into some comatose-like sleep, worn out by all she went through lately. She’s sleeping exactly for the same reasons why LJ won’t. She’s lying on the couch, pale and soft and strong, her black hair splayed over her face. Her skin glistens in the dim hotel suite, almost iridescent as the TV casts lights and shadows over her cheekbones and forehead. LJ glances at her as if he saw for the first time her familiar features, the delicate curve of her neck and, feeling like a thief, a hint of her breasts, a bit lower in the cleavage of her shirt.
It reminds him of the ambiguous fascination he had for her when he was just a kid. She was the girl, barely older than his mom yet so different, who helped him with his homework on week-ends. She was the young woman he once walked in on when she was wearing nothing but her underwear - blue lace, not something you can forget - in his father’s bathroom and who, rather than awkwardly showing him out, kindly asked him to close the door on his way out.
You’re not supposed to have a crush on your dad’s girlfriend. Fortunately, with the passing years, the girl who helped him with his homework chased away the young woman and her flimsy lingerie. But sometimes... sometimes when he’s tired and can’t quite think straight...
Without realizing what he’s doing, he sits on the coffee table and reaches out for her. Delicately, he puts two fingers under her ear and lets them slide along her jaw line and to her neck. Her skin is warm and smooth and it makes him forget that she can - and will, if he keeps that up - wake up any minute now. When he wanders down just a tad more, pushing away the soft fabric of her shirt, he brushes the swell of a breast, and Veronica grabs his wrist, her grip kind but firm. She doesn’t force him to get his hand off of her, she just withholds him, preventing him from going on as well as backing off.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
He looks up and wonders for how long she’s been staring at him, her green eyes partly accusing and partly amused. He slides down from the table and kneels by the couch.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just felt like...”
“You’re definitely your father’s son.” He glances at his fingers, their blunt nails harshly chopped on the asphalt during his runaway in the parking lot - they’re lightly pressed into the silky, pale flesh. He flinches when Vee speaks again. “You’re a bit old for that Oedipus thing now, don’t you think?” she says gently.
She releases his wrist and he thinks that he’s now going to have to remove his hand. Not an easy stunt: he must be fast enough not to give the impression to linger, but not touch her some more in the process, and...
She slaps the back of his hand, just like when he was a kid and twiddled anything within his reach, and he stumbles back in a hurry.
“I know that all the stuff going on is upsetting, LJ, but you must go back to bed. Now. Try to get some sleep, you need it.”
What he needs, he thinks but doesn’t dare telling her, is his mother. Or his father. As things go, even his step-father would be nice. He needs someone he knows and trusts, someone who will hug him and promise him that everything is going to be all right, even though the thought is absurd since the situation worsens every day. Nick, despite his best efforts, definitely can’t be that person.
“Let me stay with you,” he pleads. “Nick snores.”
It’s not quite true - worst case scenario, Nick breathes noisily - but she doesn’t argue. With a small knowing smirk, she lifts the cover up and scoots towards the back of the couch to make room for him. He settles into the vacant space she’s just made for him and snuggles up to her.
“Did you really dump you fiancé?” he asks softly.
The sound of a gun shot comes from the TV and he startles. Vee squeezes him lightly against her; he almost doesn’t have to make an effort to loosen in her embrace.
“We decided to cancel the wedding,” she answers cautiously.
“Are you sleeping with Nick?” he adds, and it was really, really not a good question to ask, because she grabs his ear and rudely twists it. He wriggles to try and escape her, but she’s quite merciless regarding punishments and she doesn’t let him go until she has decided to do so.
“Mind your own business, kiddo.”
“Do you still love my father?”
That is his business, right? Kind of.
She doesn’t answer right away, but at least, she doesn’t pinch his ear. “Of course,” she says in the end. “I’ve always loved him. I’ll always love him.” She affectionately pats his shoulder. “Exactly like I’ll always love you and your Uncle Mike.”
He nearly feels like smiling. He kicks her shin and grumbles that people always deal with as if he was still a kid and anybody will ever tell him anything. Just to prove him right, she does deal with him as if was still a kid: she tousles his hair, gently kisses the top of his head, and it’s so comforting and pleasant that he could cry.
He tries to shift and move but she closes her arms around him, she enfolds him in her embrace and holds him tight. She smells good; her hand is warm on his skin. He has a very unwanted image of bare skin, blue lace and black hair and he’s relieved not to totally face her. He tries to bring up more sensible memories of geography textbooks and English papers but even so, he fidgets nervously and clutches the blanket.
“Keep quiet and go to sleep,” she commands.
Maybe it’s because he can’t move, maybe it’s Veronica’s even breathing right next to him, or the fact that she still as an arm around his shoulders, but eventually, he does fall asleep, his cheek pressed against her forearm.
-Fin-
Comments are always welcome.
Initial drabble
Prompt: Veronica Donovan / LJ Burrows / in the dark
Her skin glistens in the dark hotel suite, almost iridescent. She’s lying on the couch of the small sitting room, pale and soft and strong, her black hair splayed over her face. LJ sits on the coffee table and reaches for her. Delicately, he puts two fingers right under Veronica’s ear and lets them slide along her jaw line and to her neck; her skin is warm and smooth. When he brushes her cleavage, Veronica grabs his wrist and sympathetically tells him that she knows all the stuff going on is upsetting, but he must go back to his room. Right now.