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slashthedrabble Dec. 17th, 2004 03:36 pm)
wackinessensues.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Dec. 17th, 2004 03:36 pm)Making his way down the stairs is harder than it should be. The slightest breeze of early-morning air knocks him off balance on legs too weary. The jet rumbles gently as the pilot urges them out the door by revving the engine. He stumbles to the side, ignoring Spike’s laugh behind him. Heavy bootfalls pushing him forward, trying to institute a rush where none is left. Angel’s head is groggy in the worst way, a swim of alcohol and grief. The night sky seems to chase him, blurred stars that he knows should be still dance like comets through a meteor shower, leaving orange tracers in their wake.
A hand at his back sends chills over his skin, making it crawl, beg, scream for the touch to stay there, lingering. And then it’s gone, followed by a pained laugh and shouts to hurry. Ten steps never felt so like a pyramid to the sky, the prince descending on the land at long last.
Angel vows to never board a plane again, certainly not with Spike. Alone he may have been able to sleep the trip away, ignore the roiling pain that gripped his stomach the second they hit altitudes high enough to pop your ears. Alone he might have just popped in a movie and sipped at a calming whiskey. Alone he might have had a proper cry, in private, not the sort that comes when you can’t help but take comfort in whoever is closest. Of course alone is only a dream, Spike is always there now.
Spike on his knees saying it was more comfortable than the chairs. Spike at the mini-fridge twisting the tops off tequila bottles as fast as his hands could move. Spike spouting poetry at the sight of the world below. Spike letting him forget that they had failed their mission, lost the girl. Spike forcing reminisces down his throat like liquor and family blood. Spike asking for distraction, offering to make his own. Spike performing the slowest of stripteases, expecting Angel to stop him, begging him to not.
When his feet finally hit the tarmac Angel can’t help but look at the grinning fool behind him, inappropriately content when they should be mourning. The smile is contagious, just as his need had been earlier. Angel can’t help but smile at his favorite mistake, even as he curses himself for making it yet again.
A hand at his back sends chills over his skin, making it crawl, beg, scream for the touch to stay there, lingering. And then it’s gone, followed by a pained laugh and shouts to hurry. Ten steps never felt so like a pyramid to the sky, the prince descending on the land at long last.
Angel vows to never board a plane again, certainly not with Spike. Alone he may have been able to sleep the trip away, ignore the roiling pain that gripped his stomach the second they hit altitudes high enough to pop your ears. Alone he might have just popped in a movie and sipped at a calming whiskey. Alone he might have had a proper cry, in private, not the sort that comes when you can’t help but take comfort in whoever is closest. Of course alone is only a dream, Spike is always there now.
Spike on his knees saying it was more comfortable than the chairs. Spike at the mini-fridge twisting the tops off tequila bottles as fast as his hands could move. Spike spouting poetry at the sight of the world below. Spike letting him forget that they had failed their mission, lost the girl. Spike forcing reminisces down his throat like liquor and family blood. Spike asking for distraction, offering to make his own. Spike performing the slowest of stripteases, expecting Angel to stop him, begging him to not.
When his feet finally hit the tarmac Angel can’t help but look at the grinning fool behind him, inappropriately content when they should be mourning. The smile is contagious, just as his need had been earlier. Angel can’t help but smile at his favorite mistake, even as he curses himself for making it yet again.
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Wonderful line from a wonderful drabble.
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*prod prod*
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Kisses back!
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Beautiful lines, beautifully painful ficlet. Loved it, truly.
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I'm so glad I haven't lost my melancholy mojo, this one was quite well received. Glad you liked it!
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I agree on a whole site for the plane ride though. I always want to write buckets of fic for the times where they are alone and you could form so many different scenarios with them. Obsession is fun.
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Thanks for the feedback, this has definitely become one of my favorite drabbles.
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midnight
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Angel can't help but smile at his favorite mistake, even as he curses himself for making it yet again.
...was just perfect and made me smile, but this:
Spike forcing reminisces down his throat like liquor and family blood. Spike asking for distraction, offering to make his own. Spike performing the slowest of stripteases, expecting Angel to stop him, begging him to not.
...just got me where it hurts, made me feel for the both of them. Spike especially, but also Angel, because even though those lines focus on Spike, they somehow get across Angel's pain and need for what Spike's offering, also.
Loved this.
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