Family Matters 12.18
Title: Family Matters
Fandom: RPS
Story: Highway: Press Run 12.18
Characters: Alan Davies and Robert Sean Leonard
Authors: michelleann68 + evila_elf = evila_ann
Prompt: coclaim100 54 Love Letters
Word Count: 1644
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Alan’s sister swings by for a visit.
Authors’ Notes: Feel free to friend us if you want to read a day ahead of the communities.
Where it all began:
Big table of prompts is here:
Order of the story is here:
Previous story:
Running Out of Steam
The tapping at the door would not stop. Alan poked his head out from under a pillow, squinting at the blindingly bright like that shone through the blinds. It was Sunday. He had managed to get through another night. Weeknights were nice, work was exhausting he could come home and collapse. Saturday proved tricky and luckily he kept lager in the fridge and applied it liberally until he no longer dreamed of a Robert’s fingertips across his back. Sunday on the other hand…
He rolled over and misjudged the edge, falling out of bed in a heap, the knocking continuing. Untangling himself from his duvet, he stood up and looked around for a pair of track pants to slip on. Scrubbing his hair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he wandered towards the front door and shouted at the unknown visitor to hang on.
Definitely not in the mood for visitors, he slowly cracked open the door, prepared to tell off whoever was pestering him at noon on a day he could be sleeping in. But instead of some stranger, he was met with his sister’s overly smiling face. He left the door open and walked away, knowing she would be take that as an invitation.
Traci followed behind into the foyer and glanced around, saddened by the darkness of the flat. And not just the absence of good lighting. It was obvious that Alan had not been as fastidious in his cleaning as he normally was, which was enough for her to really worry about him. “Alan, how are you?” She pulled him into a light hug. “You’ve stopped returning my calls.”
Alan shuffled his feet. “Work has been busy. You know how it gets.”
“Alan, you have me worried.”
Alan turned away from her scrutiny. A flash of browns caught his eye and he turned to look at his coat rack. A sweater looked back at him. It was the same sweater that Robert had worn last winter, flecked with all shades of browns, like Robert’s eyes were when the light caught on them. He wondered if it still smelled like him… Alan flinched when Traci covered it up with her coat. He turned to meet her eyes, catching the concerned look.
She held his gaze a moment before sighing, then turning and walking into the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil. “When was the last time you went shopping?” she called, peering into the cupboards. “Your pantry is nearly bare!”
Alan appeared, leaned against the kitchen entryway. “I’ve been doing okay…”
“Right you have,” she said sarcastically. “Now. Go shower yourself and get dressed. Then we can talk.”
Alan decided, based on the look he was getting, that this would be an argument he would never win. She always was the bossy one in the family. He turned, grumbling good-naturedly, and headed for the bathroom.
Traci watched with some satisfaction as her brother walked down the hall and she started to relax when she heard the taps turn on. She turned to the task at hand; clearing a table of unsorted mail so she could dust all the flat surfaces.
Tsking at the mess, she retrieved a bin from under the sink. As she started to sweep some crumbs inside, she noticed a few torn envelopes in the bottom. One thing stood out: The return address, California. Her heart sunk. He has been writing, she muttered to herself and pulled out a handful of envelopes, all unopened. There were a few torn ones mingled in, and she grabbed one of those, the letter still inside. She didn’t like to be a snoop, but she just couldn’t stand by for this. A few words stood out on the half-page, Can we please talk? …. I know it looked bad … She was misguided … I miss you… All the words just torn up and tossed away. She doubted that Alan even attempted to read them.
She loved her brother to pieces but not when he was a stubborn git. She looked around at the disheveled apartment, knowing just how unlike Alan it was, when it struck her: He was hurt and had lashed out. And now he had no idea how to ask for forgiveness. She was sure of it. He wanted Robert back, but was too embarrassed and worried that Robert would not be able to forgive him. Or that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
Traci wiped a few tears off her face, remembering how happy his voice had sounded on the phone as he talked away about his boyfriend. It was very hard to see her brother doing what appeared to be everything to screw it up. She had no idea what Robert’s side in this mess was, but she felt sure that Alan had overreacted to something minor. Again.
She had watched him make this same mistake several times over his life, but she thought that with Robert, it would be different. That he would manage to avoid seeing the nasty side of Alan. Robert seemed to calm the beast--a scared little boy who missed his mom so he struck out at anyone who started to get too close.
Hearing footfalls, Traci let the letter fall onto the counter, not bothering to look guilty.
“Alan why are you shutting him out? How can you doubt what you mean to him?” She lifted up the stack of letters and shook them for emphasis.
Alan froze, one foot raised to step into the kitchen. He looked at the letters, not able to deny what they were. Shit. Swallowing and trying to put a brave face on, he continued his way into the kitchen, turning off the softly whistling kettle.
Traci turned with him, not done ranting. “When are you going to stop building this wall around your heart and just let someone in?”
Those words sounded familiar. Had he thought something similar about Robert back at the start of their budding relationship?
“He loves you and you hold his fear against him when it is an even greater fear that made you overreact and run scared before you had really tested what you have. You should have faith in the both of you. I did. And our father and stepmum did against all their prejudices. Even Robert did, even though it meant that he had to change his entire perception of himself. But it was you who, at the first real bump, ran like a scared little boy. You are not five anymore, Alan. You need to grow up.” She sat down and started to thumb through the letters, waiting for the anger she hoped he still had in him that meant he did care, even if he was not ready to admit it to himself.
Alan stood rooted to the floor at the words that banged around in his head. “Your tongue lashing is too late,” he said sadly, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He shuffled a little on his feet, looking for words. “The letters stopped coming a few weeks ago.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, staring across at the pile of letters in front of Traci. “He has moved on by now. I ruined it. Stephen had made that all very clear. He is over me, so just drop it. I don’t need to hear it!”
There it was, that spark of anger she had been hoping for.
“I am so tired of being told I am the bad guy. He is the one who cheated. He is the one who ran scared whenever I moved forward. He is not a saint and I am fucking tired of being the one who is vilified.” He scooted back his chair, almost tipping it, and turned to walk out of the room, but stopped. Shoulders slumped, he fought the tears that were building up. This was it. He did not want to believe it, but he was the one who had lost Robert and it was all his fault.
Traci watched her stubborn pig-headed brother finally let go. She wanted to walk over and hug him, urge him to call Robert, but she knew that was not what he needed. He needed to grieve and mourn. Maybe in a few weeks or months she would tell him to call Robert, say hello, and to reach out and see if there is still something there. “Alan?”
Alan wiped his hands across his face and turned around. “Yes, Traci?”
“Do you want me to get you anything? I could go to the store. Or stay here…”
“No, I’m fine. I think I just want to be alone. It was nice to see you.” His voice cracked on the last word.
Traci stood up, leaving the stack of unopened letters on his table, and pulling him into a reassuring hug and a kiss before she said good bye, gathered her coat, and left.
Alan pressed his head up against the door as he realized how much of a right cock up he had made of his life. He was going to head to the couch for a lay-down, but found himself in the kitchen, then at the table, peering down at the letters. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, but he ignored them. He grabbed a letter-half, then rooted around for the other. The torn ones were among the first that had been sent. Pulling the two pages free of their sheaths, he smoothed them out, then hurried from the room, quickly returning with a roll of tape. Once the two halves were reunited to the best of his ability, he took a deep breath and began to read, needing to know and be reminded of how much he had lost. How much he had tossed away.
12.19 Old Friend
Fandom: RPS
Story: Highway: Press Run 12.18
Characters: Alan Davies and Robert Sean Leonard
Authors: michelleann68 + evila_elf = evila_ann
Prompt: coclaim100 54 Love Letters
Word Count: 1644
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Alan’s sister swings by for a visit.
Authors’ Notes: Feel free to friend us if you want to read a day ahead of the communities.
Where it all began:
Big table of prompts is here:
Order of the story is here:
Previous story:
Running Out of Steam
The tapping at the door would not stop. Alan poked his head out from under a pillow, squinting at the blindingly bright like that shone through the blinds. It was Sunday. He had managed to get through another night. Weeknights were nice, work was exhausting he could come home and collapse. Saturday proved tricky and luckily he kept lager in the fridge and applied it liberally until he no longer dreamed of a Robert’s fingertips across his back. Sunday on the other hand…
He rolled over and misjudged the edge, falling out of bed in a heap, the knocking continuing. Untangling himself from his duvet, he stood up and looked around for a pair of track pants to slip on. Scrubbing his hair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he wandered towards the front door and shouted at the unknown visitor to hang on.
Definitely not in the mood for visitors, he slowly cracked open the door, prepared to tell off whoever was pestering him at noon on a day he could be sleeping in. But instead of some stranger, he was met with his sister’s overly smiling face. He left the door open and walked away, knowing she would be take that as an invitation.
Traci followed behind into the foyer and glanced around, saddened by the darkness of the flat. And not just the absence of good lighting. It was obvious that Alan had not been as fastidious in his cleaning as he normally was, which was enough for her to really worry about him. “Alan, how are you?” She pulled him into a light hug. “You’ve stopped returning my calls.”
Alan shuffled his feet. “Work has been busy. You know how it gets.”
“Alan, you have me worried.”
Alan turned away from her scrutiny. A flash of browns caught his eye and he turned to look at his coat rack. A sweater looked back at him. It was the same sweater that Robert had worn last winter, flecked with all shades of browns, like Robert’s eyes were when the light caught on them. He wondered if it still smelled like him… Alan flinched when Traci covered it up with her coat. He turned to meet her eyes, catching the concerned look.
She held his gaze a moment before sighing, then turning and walking into the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil. “When was the last time you went shopping?” she called, peering into the cupboards. “Your pantry is nearly bare!”
Alan appeared, leaned against the kitchen entryway. “I’ve been doing okay…”
“Right you have,” she said sarcastically. “Now. Go shower yourself and get dressed. Then we can talk.”
Alan decided, based on the look he was getting, that this would be an argument he would never win. She always was the bossy one in the family. He turned, grumbling good-naturedly, and headed for the bathroom.
Traci watched with some satisfaction as her brother walked down the hall and she started to relax when she heard the taps turn on. She turned to the task at hand; clearing a table of unsorted mail so she could dust all the flat surfaces.
Tsking at the mess, she retrieved a bin from under the sink. As she started to sweep some crumbs inside, she noticed a few torn envelopes in the bottom. One thing stood out: The return address, California. Her heart sunk. He has been writing, she muttered to herself and pulled out a handful of envelopes, all unopened. There were a few torn ones mingled in, and she grabbed one of those, the letter still inside. She didn’t like to be a snoop, but she just couldn’t stand by for this. A few words stood out on the half-page, Can we please talk? …. I know it looked bad … She was misguided … I miss you… All the words just torn up and tossed away. She doubted that Alan even attempted to read them.
She loved her brother to pieces but not when he was a stubborn git. She looked around at the disheveled apartment, knowing just how unlike Alan it was, when it struck her: He was hurt and had lashed out. And now he had no idea how to ask for forgiveness. She was sure of it. He wanted Robert back, but was too embarrassed and worried that Robert would not be able to forgive him. Or that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
Traci wiped a few tears off her face, remembering how happy his voice had sounded on the phone as he talked away about his boyfriend. It was very hard to see her brother doing what appeared to be everything to screw it up. She had no idea what Robert’s side in this mess was, but she felt sure that Alan had overreacted to something minor. Again.
She had watched him make this same mistake several times over his life, but she thought that with Robert, it would be different. That he would manage to avoid seeing the nasty side of Alan. Robert seemed to calm the beast--a scared little boy who missed his mom so he struck out at anyone who started to get too close.
Hearing footfalls, Traci let the letter fall onto the counter, not bothering to look guilty.
“Alan why are you shutting him out? How can you doubt what you mean to him?” She lifted up the stack of letters and shook them for emphasis.
Alan froze, one foot raised to step into the kitchen. He looked at the letters, not able to deny what they were. Shit. Swallowing and trying to put a brave face on, he continued his way into the kitchen, turning off the softly whistling kettle.
Traci turned with him, not done ranting. “When are you going to stop building this wall around your heart and just let someone in?”
Those words sounded familiar. Had he thought something similar about Robert back at the start of their budding relationship?
“He loves you and you hold his fear against him when it is an even greater fear that made you overreact and run scared before you had really tested what you have. You should have faith in the both of you. I did. And our father and stepmum did against all their prejudices. Even Robert did, even though it meant that he had to change his entire perception of himself. But it was you who, at the first real bump, ran like a scared little boy. You are not five anymore, Alan. You need to grow up.” She sat down and started to thumb through the letters, waiting for the anger she hoped he still had in him that meant he did care, even if he was not ready to admit it to himself.
Alan stood rooted to the floor at the words that banged around in his head. “Your tongue lashing is too late,” he said sadly, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He shuffled a little on his feet, looking for words. “The letters stopped coming a few weeks ago.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, staring across at the pile of letters in front of Traci. “He has moved on by now. I ruined it. Stephen had made that all very clear. He is over me, so just drop it. I don’t need to hear it!”
There it was, that spark of anger she had been hoping for.
“I am so tired of being told I am the bad guy. He is the one who cheated. He is the one who ran scared whenever I moved forward. He is not a saint and I am fucking tired of being the one who is vilified.” He scooted back his chair, almost tipping it, and turned to walk out of the room, but stopped. Shoulders slumped, he fought the tears that were building up. This was it. He did not want to believe it, but he was the one who had lost Robert and it was all his fault.
Traci watched her stubborn pig-headed brother finally let go. She wanted to walk over and hug him, urge him to call Robert, but she knew that was not what he needed. He needed to grieve and mourn. Maybe in a few weeks or months she would tell him to call Robert, say hello, and to reach out and see if there is still something there. “Alan?”
Alan wiped his hands across his face and turned around. “Yes, Traci?”
“Do you want me to get you anything? I could go to the store. Or stay here…”
“No, I’m fine. I think I just want to be alone. It was nice to see you.” His voice cracked on the last word.
Traci stood up, leaving the stack of unopened letters on his table, and pulling him into a reassuring hug and a kiss before she said good bye, gathered her coat, and left.
Alan pressed his head up against the door as he realized how much of a right cock up he had made of his life. He was going to head to the couch for a lay-down, but found himself in the kitchen, then at the table, peering down at the letters. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, but he ignored them. He grabbed a letter-half, then rooted around for the other. The torn ones were among the first that had been sent. Pulling the two pages free of their sheaths, he smoothed them out, then hurried from the room, quickly returning with a roll of tape. Once the two halves were reunited to the best of his ability, he took a deep breath and began to read, needing to know and be reminded of how much he had lost. How much he had tossed away.
12.19 Old Friend