Fic: Shedding Skin (1/1)
Title: Shedding Skin
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jacob/Esau
Word Count: 371
Summary: He didn’t expect it to happen like this. For starfoozle, who requested “Jacob/Esau” at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers through 5.16 - The Incident, Parts 1 & 2; Speculative Spoilers for Season 6.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: For starfoozle: I'd never actually thought about these two quite like this until I'd already finished this ficlet, but I kind of like it as one facet, one interpretation of many. Hopefully, you will, too :)
Shedding Skin
When it’s all said and done, of course they end up on a goddamn beach.
He didn’t expect it to happen like it did; didn’t expect the smoke, the world razed, didn’t expect the burning flesh to linger like it does; even here, even now. He didn’t expect the whole of it to follow one into the fire - to follow him, out of everyone; didn’t expect them all to burn.
He doesn’t expect the tightness in his chest where a human heart should be, the relief at seeing that silhouette, painted stark on the hilltop against the gathering storm. He doesn’t expect to breathe easier, knowing that it’s not over; not yet - because even through all the hatred, the lethal animosity that had threatened to undo the very fabric of reality - unravel the tapestry of time itself - since the birth of this world; even drowning in that pool of viscous, suffocating contempt, they are nothing without each other.
It’s without precedent, without surprise that he walks, steps heavy against the failing ground - the gait, like his skin, his face, showing the weight of the world as it is, without apology; Jacob, though - he bears the weight of the world as it ought to be, instead.
He’s not sure which is worse.
Jacob turns to him, eyes blue like the rain, and it’s against his better judgement that he presses their mouths together, tastes infinity from the other side; and it’s with a sweet sort of sting that they come together, that they fall apart, two halves of the same whole. They are equal, opposite forces, tied together in some twisted, cosmic double jeopardy, and it’s just not worth it anymore, if ever it was.
“Progress?” he asks, almost sad, his lips far enough away not to brush against the swell of that mouth again, though his hand still lingers close by; and for the first time, it sounds to his own ears like it’s finished, like he’s done.
“Don’t worry,” Jacob murmurs, whispers to the wind - his whisper is the wind; “the end is on it’s way.”
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jacob/Esau
Word Count: 371
Summary: He didn’t expect it to happen like this. For starfoozle, who requested “Jacob/Esau” at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers through 5.16 - The Incident, Parts 1 & 2; Speculative Spoilers for Season 6.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: For starfoozle: I'd never actually thought about these two quite like this until I'd already finished this ficlet, but I kind of like it as one facet, one interpretation of many. Hopefully, you will, too :)
Shedding Skin
When it’s all said and done, of course they end up on a goddamn beach.
He didn’t expect it to happen like it did; didn’t expect the smoke, the world razed, didn’t expect the burning flesh to linger like it does; even here, even now. He didn’t expect the whole of it to follow one into the fire - to follow him, out of everyone; didn’t expect them all to burn.
He doesn’t expect the tightness in his chest where a human heart should be, the relief at seeing that silhouette, painted stark on the hilltop against the gathering storm. He doesn’t expect to breathe easier, knowing that it’s not over; not yet - because even through all the hatred, the lethal animosity that had threatened to undo the very fabric of reality - unravel the tapestry of time itself - since the birth of this world; even drowning in that pool of viscous, suffocating contempt, they are nothing without each other.
It’s without precedent, without surprise that he walks, steps heavy against the failing ground - the gait, like his skin, his face, showing the weight of the world as it is, without apology; Jacob, though - he bears the weight of the world as it ought to be, instead.
He’s not sure which is worse.
Jacob turns to him, eyes blue like the rain, and it’s against his better judgement that he presses their mouths together, tastes infinity from the other side; and it’s with a sweet sort of sting that they come together, that they fall apart, two halves of the same whole. They are equal, opposite forces, tied together in some twisted, cosmic double jeopardy, and it’s just not worth it anymore, if ever it was.
“Progress?” he asks, almost sad, his lips far enough away not to brush against the swell of that mouth again, though his hand still lingers close by; and for the first time, it sounds to his own ears like it’s finished, like he’s done.
“Don’t worry,” Jacob murmurs, whispers to the wind - his whisper is the wind; “the end is on it’s way.”