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slashthedrabble2007-03-09 11:37 pm
lostakasha.livejournal.com) wrote in slashthedrabble2007-03-09 11:37 pm
Entry tags:
Bones: Booth/Hodgins, PG for the forgotten prompt
Title: The Left Banque
Author: Lostakasha
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Booth/Hodgins
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400
Disclaimer: None of it’s mine. Not the boys, not the song.
Summary: Jack plays the piano. Who knew?
The Left Banque
Something familiar in the minor chord change and he recognizes the song. It’s not the way he’d ever heard it or at least he doesn’t think so. Memory doesn’t serve up a sad, hazy dirge, not that melancholy.
And when I see the sign that points one way
The light I used to pass by every day
He prods for it, pushes his hand between Hodgins’ shoulder blades as he plays, but he won’t give it up. Won’t sing it, won’t discuss it.
Just walk away Renée
You won’t see me follow you back home…
“Quit it,” he warns, head bent, small hands reaching notes the way Booth’s elegant, perfect fingers never could. Funereal neo-jazz fills the room instead of a pop song written before either of them were born.
Hodgins reminds Booth of that comic strip character at the piano, curved over the keys, oblivious. That, he remembers.
“C’mon, Linus, what the hell is that?”
The empty sidewalks on my block are not the same
You’re not to blame
Copper chimes hung near the open windows ring as the wind picks up; bruised cloudbanks swell in the west and there will be rain, thick and sudden. Particles charge and the air is suddenly heavy and fragrant and now it’s not about the title or the words but what Booth hears. How he hears it; how the melody tightens his heart, slows it down.
From deep inside the fear
I chose to hide
When Booth sits on the cherry bench it’s because he can’t stand there and listen. He needs to be closer to each note as it rises and floats and expires. He hasn’t allowed himself to be this close to Hodgins since it became clear to him that his thing with Angela wasn’t a thing at all but something else. Something he’d been too damned scared to go after when he’d been handed the chance on a fucking silver platter that he couldn’t see for the shine on his badge and his gun and his God.
From deep inside the tears
I'm forced to cry
Shadows fall across the worn plank floor as the last chord pulses and drifts and he can’t bear to have the forgotten theme end, not like this, not yet, and he says so.
“Please…”
Hodgins acquiesces, and the song begins again.
Just walk away Renée
You won’t see me follow you back home…
Author: Lostakasha
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Booth/Hodgins
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400
Disclaimer: None of it’s mine. Not the boys, not the song.
Summary: Jack plays the piano. Who knew?
The Left Banque
Something familiar in the minor chord change and he recognizes the song. It’s not the way he’d ever heard it or at least he doesn’t think so. Memory doesn’t serve up a sad, hazy dirge, not that melancholy.
And when I see the sign that points one way
The light I used to pass by every day
He prods for it, pushes his hand between Hodgins’ shoulder blades as he plays, but he won’t give it up. Won’t sing it, won’t discuss it.
Just walk away Renée
You won’t see me follow you back home…
“Quit it,” he warns, head bent, small hands reaching notes the way Booth’s elegant, perfect fingers never could. Funereal neo-jazz fills the room instead of a pop song written before either of them were born.
Hodgins reminds Booth of that comic strip character at the piano, curved over the keys, oblivious. That, he remembers.
“C’mon, Linus, what the hell is that?”
The empty sidewalks on my block are not the same
You’re not to blame
Copper chimes hung near the open windows ring as the wind picks up; bruised cloudbanks swell in the west and there will be rain, thick and sudden. Particles charge and the air is suddenly heavy and fragrant and now it’s not about the title or the words but what Booth hears. How he hears it; how the melody tightens his heart, slows it down.
From deep inside the fear
I chose to hide
When Booth sits on the cherry bench it’s because he can’t stand there and listen. He needs to be closer to each note as it rises and floats and expires. He hasn’t allowed himself to be this close to Hodgins since it became clear to him that his thing with Angela wasn’t a thing at all but something else. Something he’d been too damned scared to go after when he’d been handed the chance on a fucking silver platter that he couldn’t see for the shine on his badge and his gun and his God.
From deep inside the tears
I'm forced to cry
Shadows fall across the worn plank floor as the last chord pulses and drifts and he can’t bear to have the forgotten theme end, not like this, not yet, and he says so.
“Please…”
Hodgins acquiesces, and the song begins again.
Just walk away Renée
You won’t see me follow you back home…
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Totally love the idea of Jack playing the piano.
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So nice, baby.
**adores**
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;)
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