fic: RPS: What's Been Missing (1/1 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAARIROSE!)
Title: What's Been Missing
Series: Kane RPS
Rating: PG13
Words: 358
Pairing: Christian Kane/ambiguous male (though I'm leaning toward Steve...)
Note: Written for the wonderful caarirose for her birthday, even if it's a little late and not quite what I expected when I started. I hope you enjoy it, hon!
Summary: Chris never expected to miss LA.
Chris misses the heat. He's kicking around in the snow, wrapped in layers of flannel and leather but he can still feel the chill in his bones. He looks up into the sky, opens his mouth to catch a few drifting flakes on his tongue. Feels more of them pepper on his face, and pretends he can't remember the feel of warm breath in their place. Of tender hands and searing kisses that left him burning so bright nothing else mattered.
He misses the smell of the sea. Even if he were close enough to the Atlantic, it still wouldn't be the same. Wouldn't have that same blend of sun screen and sweat that meant too many hours strumming his guitar on the balcony. Wouldn't leave the same salty taste on his lips when he smiles.
If he's really honest with himself he misses smiling, really smiling, balls to bone. He gets close sometimes in the studio. When the notes and the words and the timing is just right. Except for how it's all wrong, because there's something missing. Directors and photographers keep trying to draw it out -- less smirking and more grinning, they say -- but the best they get is a shadow that never quite reaches his eyes.
Chris likes to think he's happy here.
But the truth is he misses the sun, in all it's stupid, blinding brilliance. Even the daylight is different here, like he's seeing the world through a filter and everything is just... less.
He jogs up the sidewalk toward the studio and bangs the slush off his boots on the stairs. Chris looks up when he realizes someone's holding the door open for him. Realizes he's holding the door open for him. He doesn't pause to think before he closes the space between them, before Chris has him pressed against the wall just to prove he's really there with his own hands and his own lips.
Finally something loosens in his chest, like he'd been holding his breath for far too long. Like what he'd really been missing was home.
Series: Kane RPS
Rating: PG13
Words: 358
Pairing: Christian Kane/ambiguous male (though I'm leaning toward Steve...)
Note: Written for the wonderful caarirose for her birthday, even if it's a little late and not quite what I expected when I started. I hope you enjoy it, hon!
Summary: Chris never expected to miss LA.
Chris misses the heat. He's kicking around in the snow, wrapped in layers of flannel and leather but he can still feel the chill in his bones. He looks up into the sky, opens his mouth to catch a few drifting flakes on his tongue. Feels more of them pepper on his face, and pretends he can't remember the feel of warm breath in their place. Of tender hands and searing kisses that left him burning so bright nothing else mattered.
He misses the smell of the sea. Even if he were close enough to the Atlantic, it still wouldn't be the same. Wouldn't have that same blend of sun screen and sweat that meant too many hours strumming his guitar on the balcony. Wouldn't leave the same salty taste on his lips when he smiles.
If he's really honest with himself he misses smiling, really smiling, balls to bone. He gets close sometimes in the studio. When the notes and the words and the timing is just right. Except for how it's all wrong, because there's something missing. Directors and photographers keep trying to draw it out -- less smirking and more grinning, they say -- but the best they get is a shadow that never quite reaches his eyes.
Chris likes to think he's happy here.
But the truth is he misses the sun, in all it's stupid, blinding brilliance. Even the daylight is different here, like he's seeing the world through a filter and everything is just... less.
He jogs up the sidewalk toward the studio and bangs the slush off his boots on the stairs. Chris looks up when he realizes someone's holding the door open for him. Realizes he's holding the door open for him. He doesn't pause to think before he closes the space between them, before Chris has him pressed against the wall just to prove he's really there with his own hands and his own lips.
Finally something loosens in his chest, like he'd been holding his breath for far too long. Like what he'd really been missing was home.