Burn

Dec. 10th, 2008 09:38 pm
aubreym: Ocean beach at sunset (Slashy)
I'm in a bad mood, the baby is (mostly) asleep on my lap, and my husband is passed out in bed after a day of partying while I baby-wrangled.  Yes, these three things are connected.  So, instead of a venting journal entry (be happy you were spared), I'm posting a fanfiction drabble.  Woo!

Title: Burn
Series: Lord of the Rings
Character/Pairing: Legolas/Elrohir 
Rating: G
Notes:  Written for [livejournal.com profile] 31_days  prompt December 5th 2008 “glorious eyes that smile and burn”

Though he would never admit it, Elrohir doubted the Quest would succeed.  If it failed, Legolas would fall as well, this he did not doubt.  Thus, when Halbarad and his Rangers rode to join Aragorn's company, Elrohir rode at their side.  He stood beside Legolas on the Paths of the Dead, on Pelennor Fields, as he faced the hordes in Mordor.  In the midst of blood and darkness and death, in the presence of evil, there was but one spot of brightness.  Even in the deepest dark, he saw Legolas eyes - glorious  eyes that smile and burn with vengeance, with promise.

aubreym: Ocean beach at sunset (Default)

The night was unlike San Francisco – the air was soft and slightly warm even after the sun had gone down and it brought everyone out into the streets and the clubs. The Castro was a scene – people watching and being watched. The Cafe was packed, the line at the bar five deep. Michael and Anthony took turns getting drinks, always from the dark haired lesbian in the cowgirl hat – she mixed them strongest. It only took a couple for Michael to forget any hesitation he might have had about being here. This was what he needed. The music so loud he couldn't think, the drinks strong enough to set up a buzzing in his brain, the press of bodies against him as they danced.

Even though there was barely room to move, Anthony danced like a man possessed, with others or alone, it didn’t matter. He danced until his shirt stuck to his body and his hair was damp with sweat. He glistened with it. He danced for hours, as the crowd swelled and shrank around him. He glowed, incandescent. Michael could not tear his eyes away, no matter whether he was dancing himself, or drinking and watching, it was Anthony who drew him. Finally Anthony looked up and caught his gaze from across the crowd. A wolfish grin crossed his lips and he tossed his hair out of his face. He made his way through the crowd to Michael’s side.

“Hey Red. What are you doing here all by yourself, clinging to the wall like this? You should be out making yourself available. You’re far better looking then anyone else here,” Anthony waved his hand, dismissing the whole club with the gesture. He tapped a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and offered it to Michael, who shook his head. Anthony shrugged, lit his own and took a deep drag. “Much better,” he said, tipping his head back exhaling the smoke in a huge cloud. “Now, what’s your deal, Michael-man? Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I’m tired,” Michael said, all that he would admit. He wasn't sure what might happen if he were to spend too much time dancing with Anthony.

Anthony reached out and grabbed Michael’s wrist, turning it over and glancing at his watch. He shook his head in disgust. “Tired already? It’s only 12:30. It’s far to early to be turning into a pumpkin.” He cocked his head and studied Michael carefully, considering. “Though your skin does seem to be taking on a rather orange tint. That’s never a good sign. Come with me, I have something that might help you,” he suggested. Taking Michael by the shoulder, he guided him through the crowd and into the bathroom.

The moment Anthony reached into his pocket, Michael knew what he was going to bring out. He had known it the minute he laid eyes on him that afternoon. Ant was on something. But for the first time curiosity outweighed dread. He wanted a vacation, from his life, from the sameness of it, from the loss of Peter, from himself. He wanted the freedom Anthony believed he had. He glanced up at Anthony, at the glow that seemed to surround him… and he wanted that. He wanted the energy bordering on madness. He was intrigued as Anthony pulled out a small ziplock baggie and opened it carefully, almost reverently. As though it held great treasure instead of plain white powder. It looked like sugar. Anthony poured out a bit and began making lines.

For the first time since they had reached the bathroom, maybe since he arrived in San Francisco, Anthony met Michael’s gaze. “This is for you.” His eyes glittered strangely and his face seemed too flushed. But in that second, Michael didn't care. Pushing aside the small voice that nagged at him to walk away right now, he closed his eyes and ducked his head. He didn't ask what it was. He didn't care. Even before he slipped the piece of straw into his right nostril, before he inhaled in one sniff, before his nose began to burn, Michael’s heart beat frantically against the cage of his ribs. He ignored it too, the fear. Because he would let go, drop down… join Anthony in his dance on the edge of the blade. What did it matter if they got cut, their blood would flow together. And maybe, if they were both lucky – they would emerge on the other side, stronger in their broken places.

At this thought a grin rose in him, he could feel it in his body. The warmth started in his stomach, spread through his chest and out to his lips. It felt good… right. It felt like nothing he'd experienced before. His heart was still pounding, but not in fear anymore. There wasn't anything to be afraid of; he could do anything.

Anthony caught his expression and mirrored it. “How you feeling?”

A rush of lightheadedness made Michael sway for a brief moment, but then the flush rolled through him like thunder and everything became ten times brighter. “Tired of doing the right thing all the time,” Michael said. “Tired of doing nothing because I’m afraid of making a mistake. I need experience.”

Anthony laughed. “Better to regret something you did, than something you didn’t do. Or so they say. Whoever ‘they’ are.” Anthony ran his hand over Michael’s bare head, sending sparks of energy through him, as though transmitted through their skin. “Well, my friend, you’ve come to the right place. Experience it is.”

When Anthony led Michael back from the bathroom and into the crowd, Michael was very nearly overwhelmed. The edges of everything were so clear, so sharp he felt as though he would cut himself if he touched anyone. The noise of the crowd, of the music washed over him, tugging at him. Anthony’s presence was a slight buffer, a comfort, a point of focus in the swirl of motion. And then they were in the midst of it and the music was flowing through him, bass thudding deep in his body, in his blood, in his heart and he moved with it, expressed it, sent it from him and into those around him and they took it in and sent it back to him, energy expanding and contracting until they were one throbbing organism moving in synch. And Anthony; over and above it all, Anthony. Flickering like a flame as he moved.

Tiredness had vanished, replaced with an endless supply of energy. Michael knew he could dance all night, dance until dawn and on through the day. The blood flowing through his veins beat in his ears, lust pooling in his groin, setting him on fire until he was certain he burned as brightly as Anthony. The rest of the crowd in the club faded, leaving only himself and Anthony together, yet separate, dancing fiercely. Bodies pressed against him and he moved with them, flowed into and around them, and still he only focused on Anthony. Hands moved over him, lips, legs and he responded though they were not Anthony’s hands, not Anthony’s lips, not Anthony’s legs. Anthony swayed before him, just out of reach, gaze glittering, smoldering, setting Michael to a slow burn. His eyes were darker than Michael had ever seen them, iris nearly swallowed by pupil. Black, they were, those eyes, deep and fathomless and he could lean forward, lean close, dive in and drown. Drown in the depths of those eyes that called him even through the noise of the club.

Still he moved, watching Anthony, suddenly finding himself mirroring his movements. They moved in tandem, gazes locked. Sweat poured down Michael’s face, dripping into his eyes and making them burn. Anthony tossed back his head, shaking his hair away from his face. The sweat shimmered on his skin, reflecting the light. Even from a distance, Michael could feel the heat radiating from Anthony’s body, bridging the gap between them. His own heat reached out to it, touched, became one as the energy flowed between them.

aubreym: Ocean beach at sunset (Default)
    Rolling back into San Francisco was more like coming home than home ever was.  Though Anthony usually loved L.A. - the sun and the scene, the energy he felt coming up though the sidewalks (as though any minute now you'd turn a corner and step into the life of fame and fortune) - lately the sun was covered by smog, the scene nothing more than pretty people looking pretty and the energy left him wrung out and hung over.  Exhausted.  Tinseltown lost its shine.  Not so San Francisco.

    The sun had just cleared the horizon as his tires hit the Bay Bridge and it set the City alight.  The TransAmerica Building, Coit Tower, even the Golden Gate Bridge, way off on his right.  Twin Peaks.  The Embarcadero buildings - even offices looked inviting with the sun winking off their windows.  The houses nestled into the hills shone.

    A long sigh escaped him, his shoulders dropped.  He had been gone too long.  Firmly he pushed all thought of why he'd come back into a corner of his mind.  Now was not the time.  It was enough just to be back.  It was too early to drop in on Michael.  The man was a morning person, but he didn't appreciate surprises, especially before coffee.  His welcome was precarious enough as it was.  Peter certainly wouldn't be happy to see him.  He didn't want to stack the deck any more against himself.  So Anthony kept driving. 

    Though the Presidio with the windows rolled down.  The air was sharp with the smell of Eucalyptus trees and fresh as it always was at dawn on a summer day.  Underneath a hint of dust - it would be hot later, unusual for the City.  It was in the dark of the trees that Anthony first saw the shadows.  Himself and Michael, walking through the park deep in conversation.  Discussing something important like art, or the meaning of life, or whether the hot bartender might be into guys.  They'd talked about everything.
   
    Through the Haight.  He caught sight of himself dragging Michael into yet another head shop.  Supposedly searching out the perfect glass bong, but secretly loving how wide Michael's eyes got.  Not in Kansas anymore.  Michael put up with it for only so long before tugging him away to Amoeba records where they'd look for the best deals on Zepplin or the Dead or Floyd.  Music that was appropriate for long nights of wine and weed.

    Through the Castro.  Shadows darting into bars, lingering in the window of Peets with steaming cups of coffee, just crossing the street to hit another store.  He and Michael were everywhere, steeped into the shadows of San Francisco.  He never should have left - and somehow, he never had.

Ficlet

Dec. 14th, 2007 11:13 pm
aubreym: Ocean beach at sunset (Default)
Title: Broken, Mended
Series: None
(Original Creation)
Character/Pairing: Anthony/Michael
Rating: G

Notes: Written for December 1st’s [livejournal.com profile] 31_days challenge "piece by piece by piece”

Colors swirl along the edge of his vision, sparking bright and sharp. He gulps a breath and struggles to smile. To relax. To keep it together. Fortunately, with the bass throbbing, strobes flashing, the heat, the dancing – no one seems to notice him hovering against the wall. He slides to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. Too much. It’s all too much. He can’t… can’t… Tears slide down his cheeks leaving cool trails and he shudders. Then, a hand on his shoulder, gentle.

“Come on, Ant.” Michael, calling him back, picking him up piece by piece by piece.

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