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slashthedrabble Jan. 21st, 2005 11:17 pm)
shosen.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Jan. 21st, 2005 11:17 pm)Fandom: Star Trek: Enterprise
Pairing: Maclolm/Trip
It was a waste of fine liquor, but it was also an involuntary reaction, and so he didn't blame himself. He did, however, keep trying. He would pour two fingers of the amber liquid in the glass, raise it, but always, always, before he could take a sip, he would breathe in.
The scent of Kentucky bourbon. One that carried with it the memories of losing everything he'd come to love, and of finding it again. Memories of freezing cold, of vanishing oxygen, and fading consciousness. Memories of warm alcohol from a shared bottle, and smoke from an extinguished emergency candle. Memories of connecting, truly connecting, with another person for the first time in his life. A connection now lost, due to his own deficient personality.
Each and every time he would set the glass down. He would fight with the memories, trying to remember that he'd lost the connection only. That Trip was his friend still, and that was all he had ever been, ever would have been. But in the end the platitudes were useless, and he would raise the glass, only to pour the bourbon out and let the memories fade with the sorrow-filled scent, safely repressed.
Pairing: Maclolm/Trip
It was a waste of fine liquor, but it was also an involuntary reaction, and so he didn't blame himself. He did, however, keep trying. He would pour two fingers of the amber liquid in the glass, raise it, but always, always, before he could take a sip, he would breathe in.
The scent of Kentucky bourbon. One that carried with it the memories of losing everything he'd come to love, and of finding it again. Memories of freezing cold, of vanishing oxygen, and fading consciousness. Memories of warm alcohol from a shared bottle, and smoke from an extinguished emergency candle. Memories of connecting, truly connecting, with another person for the first time in his life. A connection now lost, due to his own deficient personality.
Each and every time he would set the glass down. He would fight with the memories, trying to remember that he'd lost the connection only. That Trip was his friend still, and that was all he had ever been, ever would have been. But in the end the platitudes were useless, and he would raise the glass, only to pour the bourbon out and let the memories fade with the sorrow-filled scent, safely repressed.
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