(no subject)
These are five separate drabbles that I wrote for fanfic100 but I've fused to one for easier reading =) I'm not 100% sold on the whole 'Five Things Meme' but it just worked out this way.
Title: What We Could Have Been [or Five Celeberations Never Had]
Author: mijmeraar
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG13
Summary: All those things time stole. AU.
when free men shall stand [independence]
“Don’t you wanna get drunk, del Mar?”
Ennis is tending to the horse feed and the horses and the cow feed and the milking. He’s bashing out the rugs and polishing up the saddles and picking up all the empty bottles Jack has polished off. He turns to his lover, annoyed, and half heartedly throws a bottle at him for affect.
“In case it’s blurry, Twist, we got work to do.”
“It’s a goddamn holiday, del Mar,” Jack mocks, “No fool works on a holiday.”
“It’s not a fuckin’ holiday. Just so’s to be a drunken slob and do nothin’.”
“So take it, then!”
“We ain’t exactly rollin’ in it, Jack, we gotta keep up,” Ennis pushes past, their shoulders bumping, making his way back up to the house, taking the porch steps two at a time. Jack follows, not moving so aptly, into the kitchen and right up against Ennis who stands by the sink. Chest to back and groin to arse; Jack rolling his hips and kneading Ennis’ neck with a warm mouth.
“Just wanna celebrate, Ennis,” Jack all but begs, wrapping his arms around Ennis, the feeling familiar, warm, home.
“There’s a time n place.”
Jack laughs, “Like a national fuckin’ holiday?”
“Like t’night.”
“Promise?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
Jack lets go, lets Ennis walk out, because it’s not forever, because Ennis will never leave him.
+
on this day [birthday]
“Wake up old man,” Jack purrs, his voice tickling at Ennis’ navel, slowly moving down, slowly, slowly slowly, “Wake up or there’ll be no birthday surprises,”
Ennis stirs, hair strewn across the pillow, bare from head to toe. A gentle hand reaches out, second nature, cups Jack’s face, thumb stroking at his cheek. Ennis peels his eyes open, wiping at them with the other hand, groaning around his discontent, “Time is it?”
“Comin’ onto 6 I’d reckon. Hey,” Jack pokes gentle fingers into Ennis’s side, coercing his lover to look to him, coercing blue eyes to finally meet his own, “Happy birthday,”
Ennis’ mouth quirks up to one side and Jack figures that’s about everything.
“Whatta you doin’ down there?” Ennis says, as if he’s only just noticed, though his dick is telling other stories.
“Wishin’ you a happy birthday,” Jack replies, his own smile wide and sincere, “Not every day I get to treat you.”
“What are we, couple a goddamn teenagers? Get up here,” Ennis pulls Jack up to his level, pushing him flat on his back, climbing over. Jack’s still all smiles, writhing around like he can’t keep still, like keeping still is about the last thing on his mind.
“Just who’s birthday is it, friend? I’m s’posed to be treating you,”
With hidden ferocity in his eyes, the kind only Jack’s allowed to see, Ennis moves in and takes his mouth whole and fills Jack with lust, need, love, “You already have.”
+
for your blessings all [thanksgiving]
“Fuckin’ potato? Best you could do?”
“I ain’t the one who forgot to get the Turkey.”
“And, and what? You couldn’t get a side of beef while you was in town? Fuckin’ slice of ham? We’re stuck with potato?”
Jack slops the rest of the meal on Ennis’ plate, some splattering onto his best shirt, Jack having noticed, “And beans and sprouts. Dig in.”
Ennis grumbles, jabbing his fork into his food, muttering to himself about Thanksgiving and what a man should eat on Thanksgiving and weren’t the two of them men?
“Fuckin’ potato.”
“Don’t fuckin’ start with me, del Mar, I ain’t fighting you today. Not today.”
“Why not today?”
“Fucking Thanksgivin’ that’s why not today. We’re s’posed to be thankful, you sonofabitch, not moanin’ ‘cause we ain’t got meat. We’re s’posed to be thankful we’re not fuckin’ starving or dying or … or alone. We’re both of us getting round in the middles, it won’t hurt worth a damn.”
Jack’s ire hits hard, the silence ringing like church bells, buzzing in their ears and in their hearts. Ennis mutters, “Speak for yourself,” but shovels some food into his mouth anyway, finishes his meal without a word.
That night, post coital, they’re tangled up together with their skin sticky and throats dry. Ennis brushes deft fingers up along Jack’s inner thigh, down, up again; climbing the crevices and valleys of his body to wrap tight around his neck. He pulls Jack in so that his lips pitter patter against Jack’s ear, like the rain on desert ground, “I don’t need no holiday, Jack, I’m thankful every goddamn day.”
+
although it's been said, many times, many ways [christmas]
Ennis eyes the parcel with concern, turning it over, then over, then over again; as if it might sprout two heads and try to bite him like a viper, “We said we wasn’t going to get anything this year, no money to spend.”
“Don’t be such an old stick, Ennis, just open it up,” Jack nudges a knee with a knee, jostling and jutting out, as if there’s ants in his pants or butterflies in his gut. Ennis turns it again and eyes it over, brown paper and brown twine. Nothing flash. All Ennis.
“No, I aint gonna … I didn’t …”
Jack rolls his eyes and clasps his hands around Ennis’ own, thrusting the present forward so it nudges, inviting, at his chest, “I didn’t spend no money, del Mar. Just open the goddamn thing and you won’t have to get me nothin’. Go on.”
Ennis huffs, annoyed but defeated, resting the parcel on his knee and pulling at the string with clumsy fingers. He’s shaky, and he’ll blame the arthritis if Jack tries to catch him on it, his heart hammering like a beast as the presents unwrapped.
It’s a horse shoe.
Jack laughs, “’S the one Missy lost. Thought you might like to hang it on the door for good luck.”
Ennis sighs, “Sonofabitch,” tackles Jack until their both rolling around on the deck, Jack crowing out with laughter, Ennis throwing punches and trying to miss. Their cuss words cease when their mouths meet and they stumble inside, high on eggnog and fairy lights and the sweet, sweet smell of hope in the air.
They unwrap each other, Christmas bringing them everything they wished for.
+
old aches, new stakes [new years]
There’s five minutes to go and the stars are in full force. Jack and Ennis are side by side on the deck, their knees brushing, touching, longing. Jack turns to talk to Ennis, who keeps looking on up at the sky.
“What’s your wish?” he asks, the words grazing against his throat, the hope binding around his heart, pulling, pushing, gripping. Ennis doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, just keeps on staring. Four minutes to go.
“Come on Ennis, amuse me,” Jack kicks out a foot so their boots connect, “What’s your wish? Your dream? It’s a new year, you gotta do that shit on new year.”
Ennis turns his head, “I donno, Jack, what’s yours?”
Three minutes.
“I … I donno. More money, a different place, another horse.”
“That ain’t wishes. Dreams.”
“What is?”
Ennis thinks about it, turns back to the stars, and peers at them with heavy lidded eyes, as if they’re telling him a story. He says, at last, “Real change. A change for good.”
Two minutes.
“Money ain’t good?”
“Sure money’s good. Money gets you nice things. Good things wear out.”
Jack laughs, “Like you, old man?”
“’N you, rodeo clown.”
“So what’s good then?” Jack asks, staring at his lover til his eyes burn, like looking away might be the last thing he ever does. Ennis folds his hands behinds his head and leans back, letting out a sigh, a sound of relief.
One minute.
“Guess that all depends on who you are, right?”
“Guess so.”
“Guess some people don’t need nothin’, some people got whatever they want, some people already got theirs.”
Jack stares on, lips curling into a grin, and when a firework pops and crackles overhead he lunges over to his lover and kisses him unabashed, “Guess so, Ennis. Guess so.”
Title: What We Could Have Been [or Five Celeberations Never Had]
Author: mijmeraar
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG13
Summary: All those things time stole. AU.
when free men shall stand [independence]
“Don’t you wanna get drunk, del Mar?”
Ennis is tending to the horse feed and the horses and the cow feed and the milking. He’s bashing out the rugs and polishing up the saddles and picking up all the empty bottles Jack has polished off. He turns to his lover, annoyed, and half heartedly throws a bottle at him for affect.
“In case it’s blurry, Twist, we got work to do.”
“It’s a goddamn holiday, del Mar,” Jack mocks, “No fool works on a holiday.”
“It’s not a fuckin’ holiday. Just so’s to be a drunken slob and do nothin’.”
“So take it, then!”
“We ain’t exactly rollin’ in it, Jack, we gotta keep up,” Ennis pushes past, their shoulders bumping, making his way back up to the house, taking the porch steps two at a time. Jack follows, not moving so aptly, into the kitchen and right up against Ennis who stands by the sink. Chest to back and groin to arse; Jack rolling his hips and kneading Ennis’ neck with a warm mouth.
“Just wanna celebrate, Ennis,” Jack all but begs, wrapping his arms around Ennis, the feeling familiar, warm, home.
“There’s a time n place.”
Jack laughs, “Like a national fuckin’ holiday?”
“Like t’night.”
“Promise?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
Jack lets go, lets Ennis walk out, because it’s not forever, because Ennis will never leave him.
+
on this day [birthday]
“Wake up old man,” Jack purrs, his voice tickling at Ennis’ navel, slowly moving down, slowly, slowly slowly, “Wake up or there’ll be no birthday surprises,”
Ennis stirs, hair strewn across the pillow, bare from head to toe. A gentle hand reaches out, second nature, cups Jack’s face, thumb stroking at his cheek. Ennis peels his eyes open, wiping at them with the other hand, groaning around his discontent, “Time is it?”
“Comin’ onto 6 I’d reckon. Hey,” Jack pokes gentle fingers into Ennis’s side, coercing his lover to look to him, coercing blue eyes to finally meet his own, “Happy birthday,”
Ennis’ mouth quirks up to one side and Jack figures that’s about everything.
“Whatta you doin’ down there?” Ennis says, as if he’s only just noticed, though his dick is telling other stories.
“Wishin’ you a happy birthday,” Jack replies, his own smile wide and sincere, “Not every day I get to treat you.”
“What are we, couple a goddamn teenagers? Get up here,” Ennis pulls Jack up to his level, pushing him flat on his back, climbing over. Jack’s still all smiles, writhing around like he can’t keep still, like keeping still is about the last thing on his mind.
“Just who’s birthday is it, friend? I’m s’posed to be treating you,”
With hidden ferocity in his eyes, the kind only Jack’s allowed to see, Ennis moves in and takes his mouth whole and fills Jack with lust, need, love, “You already have.”
+
for your blessings all [thanksgiving]
“Fuckin’ potato? Best you could do?”
“I ain’t the one who forgot to get the Turkey.”
“And, and what? You couldn’t get a side of beef while you was in town? Fuckin’ slice of ham? We’re stuck with potato?”
Jack slops the rest of the meal on Ennis’ plate, some splattering onto his best shirt, Jack having noticed, “And beans and sprouts. Dig in.”
Ennis grumbles, jabbing his fork into his food, muttering to himself about Thanksgiving and what a man should eat on Thanksgiving and weren’t the two of them men?
“Fuckin’ potato.”
“Don’t fuckin’ start with me, del Mar, I ain’t fighting you today. Not today.”
“Why not today?”
“Fucking Thanksgivin’ that’s why not today. We’re s’posed to be thankful, you sonofabitch, not moanin’ ‘cause we ain’t got meat. We’re s’posed to be thankful we’re not fuckin’ starving or dying or … or alone. We’re both of us getting round in the middles, it won’t hurt worth a damn.”
Jack’s ire hits hard, the silence ringing like church bells, buzzing in their ears and in their hearts. Ennis mutters, “Speak for yourself,” but shovels some food into his mouth anyway, finishes his meal without a word.
That night, post coital, they’re tangled up together with their skin sticky and throats dry. Ennis brushes deft fingers up along Jack’s inner thigh, down, up again; climbing the crevices and valleys of his body to wrap tight around his neck. He pulls Jack in so that his lips pitter patter against Jack’s ear, like the rain on desert ground, “I don’t need no holiday, Jack, I’m thankful every goddamn day.”
+
although it's been said, many times, many ways [christmas]
Ennis eyes the parcel with concern, turning it over, then over, then over again; as if it might sprout two heads and try to bite him like a viper, “We said we wasn’t going to get anything this year, no money to spend.”
“Don’t be such an old stick, Ennis, just open it up,” Jack nudges a knee with a knee, jostling and jutting out, as if there’s ants in his pants or butterflies in his gut. Ennis turns it again and eyes it over, brown paper and brown twine. Nothing flash. All Ennis.
“No, I aint gonna … I didn’t …”
Jack rolls his eyes and clasps his hands around Ennis’ own, thrusting the present forward so it nudges, inviting, at his chest, “I didn’t spend no money, del Mar. Just open the goddamn thing and you won’t have to get me nothin’. Go on.”
Ennis huffs, annoyed but defeated, resting the parcel on his knee and pulling at the string with clumsy fingers. He’s shaky, and he’ll blame the arthritis if Jack tries to catch him on it, his heart hammering like a beast as the presents unwrapped.
It’s a horse shoe.
Jack laughs, “’S the one Missy lost. Thought you might like to hang it on the door for good luck.”
Ennis sighs, “Sonofabitch,” tackles Jack until their both rolling around on the deck, Jack crowing out with laughter, Ennis throwing punches and trying to miss. Their cuss words cease when their mouths meet and they stumble inside, high on eggnog and fairy lights and the sweet, sweet smell of hope in the air.
They unwrap each other, Christmas bringing them everything they wished for.
+
old aches, new stakes [new years]
There’s five minutes to go and the stars are in full force. Jack and Ennis are side by side on the deck, their knees brushing, touching, longing. Jack turns to talk to Ennis, who keeps looking on up at the sky.
“What’s your wish?” he asks, the words grazing against his throat, the hope binding around his heart, pulling, pushing, gripping. Ennis doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, just keeps on staring. Four minutes to go.
“Come on Ennis, amuse me,” Jack kicks out a foot so their boots connect, “What’s your wish? Your dream? It’s a new year, you gotta do that shit on new year.”
Ennis turns his head, “I donno, Jack, what’s yours?”
Three minutes.
“I … I donno. More money, a different place, another horse.”
“That ain’t wishes. Dreams.”
“What is?”
Ennis thinks about it, turns back to the stars, and peers at them with heavy lidded eyes, as if they’re telling him a story. He says, at last, “Real change. A change for good.”
Two minutes.
“Money ain’t good?”
“Sure money’s good. Money gets you nice things. Good things wear out.”
Jack laughs, “Like you, old man?”
“’N you, rodeo clown.”
“So what’s good then?” Jack asks, staring at his lover til his eyes burn, like looking away might be the last thing he ever does. Ennis folds his hands behinds his head and leans back, letting out a sigh, a sound of relief.
One minute.
“Guess that all depends on who you are, right?”
“Guess so.”
“Guess some people don’t need nothin’, some people got whatever they want, some people already got theirs.”
Jack stares on, lips curling into a grin, and when a firework pops and crackles overhead he lunges over to his lover and kisses him unabashed, “Guess so, Ennis. Guess so.”