Entry 04, The Donette Story
Title: The Donette Story
Entry Number: 04
Author: latemarch, Chelsea
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Genre: urban fantasy, romance
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1100
Notes: This is a direction continuation of Entry 01 for this season. Definitely check that out if you don't remember! This is mostly a little piece that will prelude a more serious scene; and this entry also contains a hearty dose of fluff. And Jaimie. So enjoy!
I also want to continue to encourage everyone to comment on each other's works! We've been doing great so far!
Chapter 11
We drove.
And we drove, and we drove some more. It seemed like whole countries passed by my window, though I knew that it was only a couple of miles. Jaimie was kind enough to take the wheel and actually do something for once, and I curled up in the back seat while Camlin kept him company.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling I’d had, the way those eyes had traced me and held a net over me. The tall, yellowed grasses had moved back and forth as if under the control of my unwanted voyeur, trying to mesmerize me, a song like that of a siren.
Casting a glance at the back of Camlin’s head, I couldn’t help but be glad that he’d interrupted me. I had a strange feeling that if left to my own devices, curiosity would have killed the cat. Me being the cat.
He must have sensed my ruminative stare, because after twenty minutes of unblinking meditation, I found myself suddenly pierced by the Greek oceans in his eyes. Camlin settled his chin on the shoulder of his seat and positively harpooned me with that stare. “What are you thinking? Jelly donuts?”
The old joke between us didn’t have much of an effect on me. I tilted my head back until it connected with the cool glass of the window and pursed my lips. “I don’t know… I guess I just thought that I, well… I though I saw-” Hesitating, I realized that he’d get far too upset if I told him what I was actually thinking about. I didn’t want to do that to him; after all, nothing had happened.
“Pam?” He glanced at Jaimie curiously, as if the other wolf might possibly know what was bothering me. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Tell him? I didn’t know what to do. Tell him about what was most likely my own delusion brought on by the stress of travel, by leaving behind my things, and by a sudden new fear of fast food restaurants? Looking at his concerned expression, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell the truth. Nothing had happened. “I think calling my mom upset me; I miss her.”
For a moment, I thought he suspected my lie, but after one tense second, he briefly broke eye contact with me. Frowning, Camlin intended to comfort me, and he stretched around his seat and reached for my hand. As our palms touched, I smiled, suddenly brightened, thinking. His lips quirked. “What are you laughing at?”
“Did you really know Shakespeare?” The thought excited the outrageously large part of me that identified as ‘geek.’
Camlin was still clearly unsure of what kind of mood, exactly, I was in. And I have to say, I couldn’t blame him. But he still flashed his teeth playfully at me. “When did I ever tell you that?”
“Is that a yes?” I asked, pursing my lips hopefully. And intending excite some laughter from him, added, “This is almost more exciting than the time I found out that my mom met John Stamos.”
Both men laughed, Jaimie a mad bark of sound that echoed in the car (I wasn’t sure how, exactly, as it was full of my stuff), and Camlin with a deeper, gruff laugh. It was practically designed to set hearts and biological clocks ticking, but I reigned myself in as he spoke. “I never knew the man himself, but I did see Macbeth at the Globe.” And then at my all-knowing nod, he asked, “What prompted this?”
I looked at our hands - they were pressed together like lovers. Fused so that every prophetic signal and delineating life line in our palms were matched and mated perfectly. The fleshy heel of our palms fit together just right, and our fingers pushed past each other and braided together. His thumb was absently stroking my knuckle, and against his pale, Celtic skin, I almost looked tanned.
He didn’t follow my gaze, so when I looked up again, Camlin was still staring straight at me. I shrugged a bit. “Holy palmer’s kiss.”
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand/ This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:/ My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand/ To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” Camlin began to lift my hand to his lips.
But we were interrupted.
“‘But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?/ It is the east, and Camlin is the sun!’” Jaimie grinned back at me. “A man who quotes Shakespeare? What a dish!” He seemed to think that I’d give him a high five for the dramatics.
But not even Jaimie could not interrupt us; Camlin’s lips finally connected with the back of my hand, and I nearly melted in the back seat, temporarily forgetting all about what we’d been talking about before, despite it’s rather serious nature. A playful spark emulated fireworks in Camlin’s eyes, and as his tongue laved my knuckle, all power of thought escaped me. “Shut up Jaimie.”
He protested without any real fire, hitting the car horn with his palm. “But I waxed poetic!”
“Wax on… wax off, Daniel-san.” I mumbled, as I liquefied in between the back seats; I could only hope that I didn’t stick to the cushions. What had we been talking about?
It wasn’t important - I vowed to tell him the truth later, when he wasn’t inappropriately propositioning my hand. I could only hope that that was a looong time later.
That night we stayed at yet another Alpha’s house, which I wasn’t so sure I was happy about. My list of reasons for this grew long and demanding, but Camlin only heard a few: I wasn’t an expert on werewolf law and customs, and I was sure that I’d put my foot in it. It wasn’t necessarily the easiest thing for me to meet new people under normal circumstances. And these were anything but normal. And most profusely did I protest that we had to share a room with Jaimie.
It sounded like a bratty thing to be upset about, sharing a room. But I’d been stuck in the same car with Jaimie for unending hours upon end, and I’d had enough of his wise cracks, his inopportune interruptions, and his very loud sing-along sessions with the radio. It wasn’t a problem for me to share a room with Camlin (we’d end up in the same bed anyway), because we had that whole mate thing going on.
And Camlin didn’t insist on singing along to every ‘N Sync song that came on the radio.
- - end entry 04 - -
So yeah. Some of you expressed some love for Camlin in the last entry, so here you go. Camlin and his tongue. RAWR! Ha ha, I love my guy. And Jaimie of course, just can't be ignored. One of my best friends is for sure on Team Jaimie (but she's read the entirety of what I have written so far so...). I think I am on Team Camlin, Team Jaimie, and Team Letholdus Bane. You haven't met him yet, but trust me. He's awesome.
Oh, and Team Arthur.
I thought that Camlin would be the kind of guy to quote Shakespeare occasionally. I figure that he's so old, he's probably got a lot of books memorized. But let me know if this seems kind of odd to you.
And I thought that I'd mention again about the prison tour that I was able to go on last week. It really was an incredible and extreme experience, so I want to share it with as many people as possible. San Quentin State Prison Tour
Entry Number: 04
Author: latemarch, Chelsea
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Genre: urban fantasy, romance
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1100
Notes: This is a direction continuation of Entry 01 for this season. Definitely check that out if you don't remember! This is mostly a little piece that will prelude a more serious scene; and this entry also contains a hearty dose of fluff. And Jaimie. So enjoy!
I also want to continue to encourage everyone to comment on each other's works! We've been doing great so far!
Chapter 11
We drove.
And we drove, and we drove some more. It seemed like whole countries passed by my window, though I knew that it was only a couple of miles. Jaimie was kind enough to take the wheel and actually do something for once, and I curled up in the back seat while Camlin kept him company.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling I’d had, the way those eyes had traced me and held a net over me. The tall, yellowed grasses had moved back and forth as if under the control of my unwanted voyeur, trying to mesmerize me, a song like that of a siren.
Casting a glance at the back of Camlin’s head, I couldn’t help but be glad that he’d interrupted me. I had a strange feeling that if left to my own devices, curiosity would have killed the cat. Me being the cat.
He must have sensed my ruminative stare, because after twenty minutes of unblinking meditation, I found myself suddenly pierced by the Greek oceans in his eyes. Camlin settled his chin on the shoulder of his seat and positively harpooned me with that stare. “What are you thinking? Jelly donuts?”
The old joke between us didn’t have much of an effect on me. I tilted my head back until it connected with the cool glass of the window and pursed my lips. “I don’t know… I guess I just thought that I, well… I though I saw-” Hesitating, I realized that he’d get far too upset if I told him what I was actually thinking about. I didn’t want to do that to him; after all, nothing had happened.
“Pam?” He glanced at Jaimie curiously, as if the other wolf might possibly know what was bothering me. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Tell him? I didn’t know what to do. Tell him about what was most likely my own delusion brought on by the stress of travel, by leaving behind my things, and by a sudden new fear of fast food restaurants? Looking at his concerned expression, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell the truth. Nothing had happened. “I think calling my mom upset me; I miss her.”
For a moment, I thought he suspected my lie, but after one tense second, he briefly broke eye contact with me. Frowning, Camlin intended to comfort me, and he stretched around his seat and reached for my hand. As our palms touched, I smiled, suddenly brightened, thinking. His lips quirked. “What are you laughing at?”
“Did you really know Shakespeare?” The thought excited the outrageously large part of me that identified as ‘geek.’
Camlin was still clearly unsure of what kind of mood, exactly, I was in. And I have to say, I couldn’t blame him. But he still flashed his teeth playfully at me. “When did I ever tell you that?”
“Is that a yes?” I asked, pursing my lips hopefully. And intending excite some laughter from him, added, “This is almost more exciting than the time I found out that my mom met John Stamos.”
Both men laughed, Jaimie a mad bark of sound that echoed in the car (I wasn’t sure how, exactly, as it was full of my stuff), and Camlin with a deeper, gruff laugh. It was practically designed to set hearts and biological clocks ticking, but I reigned myself in as he spoke. “I never knew the man himself, but I did see Macbeth at the Globe.” And then at my all-knowing nod, he asked, “What prompted this?”
I looked at our hands - they were pressed together like lovers. Fused so that every prophetic signal and delineating life line in our palms were matched and mated perfectly. The fleshy heel of our palms fit together just right, and our fingers pushed past each other and braided together. His thumb was absently stroking my knuckle, and against his pale, Celtic skin, I almost looked tanned.
He didn’t follow my gaze, so when I looked up again, Camlin was still staring straight at me. I shrugged a bit. “Holy palmer’s kiss.”
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand/ This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:/ My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand/ To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” Camlin began to lift my hand to his lips.
But we were interrupted.
“‘But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?/ It is the east, and Camlin is the sun!’” Jaimie grinned back at me. “A man who quotes Shakespeare? What a dish!” He seemed to think that I’d give him a high five for the dramatics.
But not even Jaimie could not interrupt us; Camlin’s lips finally connected with the back of my hand, and I nearly melted in the back seat, temporarily forgetting all about what we’d been talking about before, despite it’s rather serious nature. A playful spark emulated fireworks in Camlin’s eyes, and as his tongue laved my knuckle, all power of thought escaped me. “Shut up Jaimie.”
He protested without any real fire, hitting the car horn with his palm. “But I waxed poetic!”
“Wax on… wax off, Daniel-san.” I mumbled, as I liquefied in between the back seats; I could only hope that I didn’t stick to the cushions. What had we been talking about?
It wasn’t important - I vowed to tell him the truth later, when he wasn’t inappropriately propositioning my hand. I could only hope that that was a looong time later.
That night we stayed at yet another Alpha’s house, which I wasn’t so sure I was happy about. My list of reasons for this grew long and demanding, but Camlin only heard a few: I wasn’t an expert on werewolf law and customs, and I was sure that I’d put my foot in it. It wasn’t necessarily the easiest thing for me to meet new people under normal circumstances. And these were anything but normal. And most profusely did I protest that we had to share a room with Jaimie.
It sounded like a bratty thing to be upset about, sharing a room. But I’d been stuck in the same car with Jaimie for unending hours upon end, and I’d had enough of his wise cracks, his inopportune interruptions, and his very loud sing-along sessions with the radio. It wasn’t a problem for me to share a room with Camlin (we’d end up in the same bed anyway), because we had that whole mate thing going on.
And Camlin didn’t insist on singing along to every ‘N Sync song that came on the radio.
- - end entry 04 - -
So yeah. Some of you expressed some love for Camlin in the last entry, so here you go. Camlin and his tongue. RAWR! Ha ha, I love my guy. And Jaimie of course, just can't be ignored. One of my best friends is for sure on Team Jaimie (but she's read the entirety of what I have written so far so...). I think I am on Team Camlin, Team Jaimie, and Team Letholdus Bane. You haven't met him yet, but trust me. He's awesome.
Oh, and Team Arthur.
I thought that Camlin would be the kind of guy to quote Shakespeare occasionally. I figure that he's so old, he's probably got a lot of books memorized. But let me know if this seems kind of odd to you.
And I thought that I'd mention again about the prison tour that I was able to go on last week. It really was an incredible and extreme experience, so I want to share it with as many people as possible. San Quentin State Prison Tour