New Due South snippet
Title: Pass
Pairing: Turnbull/Gardino
Length: 300 words
Prompt: pale
Spoilers: "Juliet is Bleeding"
A/N:
lucifuge5 had this on a list of plot bunnies for other writers to write. Now please pardon me while I go sob.
It felt oddly pleasurable, that scrape against his shoulder, soft and rough, and probably only tolerable because of the body it was attached to, the familiar scent and voice.
“Everyone else wants me to shave it off.”
“I don’t,” Ren replied, glancing over his shoulder.
Louis traced lazy circles on Ren’s bare skin. “I didn’t know you had a facial hair kink.”
Ren grinned and rested his chin on his folded arms. “It takes the attention away from your ties.”
That earned Ren a gentle poke in his side. “Oh yeah? I’ve got some interesting ideas for ties.” He gently pulled until Ren was facing him, reaching down to brush his lips with a kiss.
***
Inspector Thatcher insisted that they attend the funeral. It was more formality on the part of the Consulate, but even through the fog Ren could see that her countenance was pale. The death of a fellow officer would not leave her without sorrow.
Ren stood at the funeral, keeping his face carefully stoic, while slowly shattering apart on the inside.
***
He was breaking his lease by looking for a new apartment, and he heard his mother’s voice in his mind, telling him to slow down. She had kept every one of his father’s possessions, until they slowly lost the scent of him.
It was too much. Louis had always felt like a fleeting presence anyway.
***
It was after the entire thing was over, and the car bomber apprehended, that
Fraser wordlessly pulled him into his office and let him break down quietly, one hand firmly on his back, as if he could hold Ren together, Fraser’s own eyes full of weary sorrow.
The knowledge that he would be doing this for Fraser had the bomb met its intended target gave him no comfort.
Pairing: Turnbull/Gardino
Length: 300 words
Prompt: pale
Spoilers: "Juliet is Bleeding"
A/N:
lucifuge5 had this on a list of plot bunnies for other writers to write. Now please pardon me while I go sob.
It felt oddly pleasurable, that scrape against his shoulder, soft and rough, and probably only tolerable because of the body it was attached to, the familiar scent and voice.
“Everyone else wants me to shave it off.”
“I don’t,” Ren replied, glancing over his shoulder.
Louis traced lazy circles on Ren’s bare skin. “I didn’t know you had a facial hair kink.”
Ren grinned and rested his chin on his folded arms. “It takes the attention away from your ties.”
That earned Ren a gentle poke in his side. “Oh yeah? I’ve got some interesting ideas for ties.” He gently pulled until Ren was facing him, reaching down to brush his lips with a kiss.
***
Inspector Thatcher insisted that they attend the funeral. It was more formality on the part of the Consulate, but even through the fog Ren could see that her countenance was pale. The death of a fellow officer would not leave her without sorrow.
Ren stood at the funeral, keeping his face carefully stoic, while slowly shattering apart on the inside.
***
He was breaking his lease by looking for a new apartment, and he heard his mother’s voice in his mind, telling him to slow down. She had kept every one of his father’s possessions, until they slowly lost the scent of him.
It was too much. Louis had always felt like a fleeting presence anyway.
***
It was after the entire thing was over, and the car bomber apprehended, that
Fraser wordlessly pulled him into his office and let him break down quietly, one hand firmly on his back, as if he could hold Ren together, Fraser’s own eyes full of weary sorrow.
The knowledge that he would be doing this for Fraser had the bomb met its intended target gave him no comfort.