original: "Otherwordly Loophole" slash
Title: Otherworldly Loophole
Author: sensitization
Rating: PG
Summary: Barry thought living in the library for his entire afterlife would be a dream come true. He didn’t realize how excruciatingly dull it would be.
A few people mentioned that they liked the 'black sheep' in Nobel's family, so I figured I bring him back this week in his own story. :)
--
Barry hates the silence.
He scowls, as he perches on top of the bookshelf, agitated beyond belief, scratching at non-existent itches and tapping his foot on the shelves. Even in the afterlife, the urge for a nicotine stick never really went away.
He never thought that he’d miss the noise and general chaos that went with being a Wilbrand. The reason why he spent so much of his life holed up in libraries was that even if his dearest relatives tramped in looking for him, he had a very good reason for telling them to pipe down. Of course, it was sort of diluted when cellphones came into play, but he enjoyed the solace that libraries gave him. But now that he really was going to be in one for all of eternity, he was really starting to hate it. He was this close to wishing that he was still at the Wilbrand house, listening to Albie work on his latest death metal opera, Nobel with his Civil War reenactments, and even Nana’s Kanye West albums blaring from the ancient boombox as she tended her petunias.
There really wasn’t much to do, seeing that he was unable to grasp anything, as his ghostly self would just go right through the object. Seventy thousand books at his disposal and he couldn’t open a single one of them seemed like a particularly unusual and cruel joke on the part of whoever designated him to haunt here. After scaring that dreadful, constantly sneezing librarian into resigning her post (seriously, he really was doing her a huge favor, she should’ve thought about how much havoc dusty books would wrack on her allergies before she took up the job), he really has nothing left to do. He could read over that girl's shoulder again, but he's kind of fed up with vampire baseball and werewolves.
Scowling, he floats off to sit on the winged lions outside.
--
The thing about haunting something was that typically one doesn't get to choose what it is. If that was the case, amusement parks and beaches would be overflowing with spectres. As it is, Barry figured that he isn't crammed into the hospital like the rest because he did all his 'killing himself softly' right on the library steps with his multiple smoke breaks. He has seen an old gentleman ghost hovering exclusively above the elderly librarian that spends her time clacking on the keyboard using only her two pointer fingers. They don't talk, but nod in recognition whenever they see each other. Barry can't help but feel a little pity for him, being practically stuck in the library all the time as well, but he can see the quiet affection in the ghost's eyes as he watches over at Mrs. Calligan, and recognizes the contentment in his afterlife.
--
Barry’s seen him before, back when he was still living. He’s usually strolling in or out of the gym right across from the library, exchanging hi-fives with equally muscular men and chugging down neon colored sports drinks. Their eyes have met once or twice, but Barry always just looks away, taking another drag of his cigarette and tried to look as aloof as possible.
But instead of the gym, Barry sees him making a detour into the library's parking lot, and stepping out of his car and making his way into the library, looking very out of his element as his head turned every which way, before spotting Barry, locking eyes with him.
Barry looks around, to see if there was something behind him that would warrant that much attention, but seeing nothing, turns back and points a finger at himself.
The guy nods, and if Barry’s amygdala still functioned after his sixteenth birthday when his father showed him how to ghost ride while shooting off fireworks on the car’s roof, he might have even found the deep stare and piercing eyes a little frightening. As it is, he merely nods and floats to an empty corner of the library, next to all the maps.
"What do you want?" Barry rasps.
The man grinned, revealing a row of shark-like teeth. “I'm Tus. Short for…well, Brutus. Took out the first part, because it was bad enough in middle school with constantly going to the principal’s office for stuff I didn’t even do.”
"That doesn't answer my quest--"
“I think you’re hot,” Tus confesses. Seeing Barry's practiced disapproving frown and crossed arms seemed to knock his confidence down a few rungs, and he shoves his hands in his jean pockets, looking away.
“Shouldn’t you be finding a nice, breathing person to settle down with? Be able to take home to meet your parents?”
“That’s the thing,” Tus mumbles sheepishly. “I kind of…scare everyone away. You don’t want to know how many blind dates have ran away screaming before I even got to the table or how many online dating sites have screened me out.” Tus shrugged, “I figured that I really couldn’t scare a ghost half to death if they’re, y’know…” he waves a hand around, “and you’re in the business of being terrifying and untouchable as well, figured we had at least that in common. Plus, you're hot, like I said.”
Barry’s trying very hard not to smile now. He’s got a reputation to maintain.
"This isn't going to work..."
"Oh."
“Unless I haunt you.”
Tus’ eyes widen slightly, “you really want to?”
Barry tries to play it off as being utterly nonchalant, trying not to vibrate in excitement of finally getting out of his silent prison - and the prospect of haunting a particularly gorgeous fleshie. “Don’t have much else to do here. My only stipulations are that you flip my books’ pages and we come back here every week to borrow at least 3 books.”
"Done. Hang on," Tus agrees immediately, as he fishes his hoodie for a particular scrap of paper and squints, trying to read the chicken scratch scribbled on it.
"What's your name?"
"Barry."
Tus flashes a quick smile up at Barry, before mumbling something low in Latin that Barry couldn’t quite catch. Inexplicably pulled towards Tus, Barry snaps right by the man's side, who’s looking way too excited for standing in the lobby of the library.
“How did you do that?” Barry asked, trying to test his boundaries, but feeling most comfortable right by Tus.
Tus shrugs. “Crazy grandma." And Barry nods and smiles slightly, knowing full well what that usually entails.
Tus' shark grin becomes back full force, before wilting, a confused look scrunching up his face. “Wait, how do I borrow a book?”
Author: sensitization
Rating: PG
Summary: Barry thought living in the library for his entire afterlife would be a dream come true. He didn’t realize how excruciatingly dull it would be.
A few people mentioned that they liked the 'black sheep' in Nobel's family, so I figured I bring him back this week in his own story. :)
--
Barry hates the silence.
He scowls, as he perches on top of the bookshelf, agitated beyond belief, scratching at non-existent itches and tapping his foot on the shelves. Even in the afterlife, the urge for a nicotine stick never really went away.
He never thought that he’d miss the noise and general chaos that went with being a Wilbrand. The reason why he spent so much of his life holed up in libraries was that even if his dearest relatives tramped in looking for him, he had a very good reason for telling them to pipe down. Of course, it was sort of diluted when cellphones came into play, but he enjoyed the solace that libraries gave him. But now that he really was going to be in one for all of eternity, he was really starting to hate it. He was this close to wishing that he was still at the Wilbrand house, listening to Albie work on his latest death metal opera, Nobel with his Civil War reenactments, and even Nana’s Kanye West albums blaring from the ancient boombox as she tended her petunias.
There really wasn’t much to do, seeing that he was unable to grasp anything, as his ghostly self would just go right through the object. Seventy thousand books at his disposal and he couldn’t open a single one of them seemed like a particularly unusual and cruel joke on the part of whoever designated him to haunt here. After scaring that dreadful, constantly sneezing librarian into resigning her post (seriously, he really was doing her a huge favor, she should’ve thought about how much havoc dusty books would wrack on her allergies before she took up the job), he really has nothing left to do. He could read over that girl's shoulder again, but he's kind of fed up with vampire baseball and werewolves.
Scowling, he floats off to sit on the winged lions outside.
--
The thing about haunting something was that typically one doesn't get to choose what it is. If that was the case, amusement parks and beaches would be overflowing with spectres. As it is, Barry figured that he isn't crammed into the hospital like the rest because he did all his 'killing himself softly' right on the library steps with his multiple smoke breaks. He has seen an old gentleman ghost hovering exclusively above the elderly librarian that spends her time clacking on the keyboard using only her two pointer fingers. They don't talk, but nod in recognition whenever they see each other. Barry can't help but feel a little pity for him, being practically stuck in the library all the time as well, but he can see the quiet affection in the ghost's eyes as he watches over at Mrs. Calligan, and recognizes the contentment in his afterlife.
--
Barry’s seen him before, back when he was still living. He’s usually strolling in or out of the gym right across from the library, exchanging hi-fives with equally muscular men and chugging down neon colored sports drinks. Their eyes have met once or twice, but Barry always just looks away, taking another drag of his cigarette and tried to look as aloof as possible.
But instead of the gym, Barry sees him making a detour into the library's parking lot, and stepping out of his car and making his way into the library, looking very out of his element as his head turned every which way, before spotting Barry, locking eyes with him.
Barry looks around, to see if there was something behind him that would warrant that much attention, but seeing nothing, turns back and points a finger at himself.
The guy nods, and if Barry’s amygdala still functioned after his sixteenth birthday when his father showed him how to ghost ride while shooting off fireworks on the car’s roof, he might have even found the deep stare and piercing eyes a little frightening. As it is, he merely nods and floats to an empty corner of the library, next to all the maps.
"What do you want?" Barry rasps.
The man grinned, revealing a row of shark-like teeth. “I'm Tus. Short for…well, Brutus. Took out the first part, because it was bad enough in middle school with constantly going to the principal’s office for stuff I didn’t even do.”
"That doesn't answer my quest--"
“I think you’re hot,” Tus confesses. Seeing Barry's practiced disapproving frown and crossed arms seemed to knock his confidence down a few rungs, and he shoves his hands in his jean pockets, looking away.
“Shouldn’t you be finding a nice, breathing person to settle down with? Be able to take home to meet your parents?”
“That’s the thing,” Tus mumbles sheepishly. “I kind of…scare everyone away. You don’t want to know how many blind dates have ran away screaming before I even got to the table or how many online dating sites have screened me out.” Tus shrugged, “I figured that I really couldn’t scare a ghost half to death if they’re, y’know…” he waves a hand around, “and you’re in the business of being terrifying and untouchable as well, figured we had at least that in common. Plus, you're hot, like I said.”
Barry’s trying very hard not to smile now. He’s got a reputation to maintain.
"This isn't going to work..."
"Oh."
“Unless I haunt you.”
Tus’ eyes widen slightly, “you really want to?”
Barry tries to play it off as being utterly nonchalant, trying not to vibrate in excitement of finally getting out of his silent prison - and the prospect of haunting a particularly gorgeous fleshie. “Don’t have much else to do here. My only stipulations are that you flip my books’ pages and we come back here every week to borrow at least 3 books.”
"Done. Hang on," Tus agrees immediately, as he fishes his hoodie for a particular scrap of paper and squints, trying to read the chicken scratch scribbled on it.
"What's your name?"
"Barry."
Tus flashes a quick smile up at Barry, before mumbling something low in Latin that Barry couldn’t quite catch. Inexplicably pulled towards Tus, Barry snaps right by the man's side, who’s looking way too excited for standing in the lobby of the library.
“How did you do that?” Barry asked, trying to test his boundaries, but feeling most comfortable right by Tus.
Tus shrugs. “Crazy grandma." And Barry nods and smiles slightly, knowing full well what that usually entails.
Tus' shark grin becomes back full force, before wilting, a confused look scrunching up his face. “Wait, how do I borrow a book?”