It's cute and fluffy. This is so not my writing. I think someone else's
muse took over my brain for a while. Anyway, not to worry, I'm sure that
happens all the time. Onward!
Warnings: Let's get through this quickly, so that I can get back to my writing. This desperately needs to be written. So be warned, it contains slash. If you don't know what that is, try yaoi/shounen-ai. Still confused? Go ask someone what it means. I think that's it. I own some stuff, but not everything. You're a smart public. You can figure out what belongs to me and what doesn't. If my fellow WK fans see or wish to see someone specific in this, be my guest. Whomever you see, chances are he's OOC. They can be whomever you, my public, wish them to be. Originally, they were nameless, faceless characters, and to me they may remain so forever. It is only in this archive because I think this fits certain characters in Weiss. Oh, before you ask, I messed with some hair lengths, too. These guys are hotter with long hair. Now, mes cheris, I give you my story.
Untitled
The two huddled together for warmth--and maybe something more--in the dark room. It was late at night, slowly turning to the wee hours of the morning. The witching hour had passed. The two on the couch remained awake.
Lips meet softly, sweetly. Time to try to sleep again, though they know after hours of failed attempts they cannot.
"Good night."
"Good night, love." Both voices are drowsy with lack of sleep.
They curl up, the taller spooning his companion against himself. His chin rests on the dark head, his own longer hair pulled back into some semblance of order. The shorter makes a contented noise deep in his throat. Eyelids flutter shut over midnight-blue eyes. Minutes later they open once more, as the boy turns to face his comrade.
"It's no use. I can't sleep tonight."
Young fingers reach sleepily up to comb through dark hair. "Why not?"
"You know why," he replies. He butts his head into the other's chest, catlike.
"Nightmares or insomnia?" he questions.
"Both, I suppose." The reply meets his ears by way of his chest, as his friend's lips move against a light cotton pajama top suited for colder nights than this one. A small, thin hand crawls up to toy with his hair, loosing the rubber band. The hand pauses on his cheek and neck, feeling the temperature there. "You're warm."
"Always am," he smiles.
The boy's brow furrows. "No, really warm. Hot."
"Of course I'm hot. Why else would I have a cute little thing like you with me right now?"
"No, you goose," the boy continues, bestowing one of his rare smiles on the other, "Temperature. I think you have a temperature." He proceeds to remove the other's shirt, meeting little protest. The unwanted item of clothing is discarded on the floor, and the smaller boy goes back to snuggling against his friend's chest.
The taller boy taps him on the nose. "Now I feel underdressed."
Obligingly, he shrugs out of his shirt. The older gasps softly.
"Beautiful," he says in reply to the inquiring glance. He hugs the smaller one, pulling him closer than the latter usually allows.
He squirms a little, and the arms loosen. His head comes to rest on the other's shoulder. Fingers trace his sides, too insistent to tickle and not enough to be anything else. One hand stops just between the last two ribs on the left side, the other at the same place on the right.
"What's this, love?" Fingers gently prod the scars, stark white even on the light skin.
He lowers his eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing." He leans up to claim a quick kiss from the older boy's lips.
He smiles, laughingly stating, "Nice try, but I'm not that easily distracted, sweetie." He pecks him on the nose, then asks again, "What's this, love?" He pokes him in the sides.
He sighs, bringing a hand down to rest on each of his friend's. "This," he presses the left one, "is a gunshot. Just a pellet pistol, no one aimed to kill," he adds, at the worried look on the other's face. Strange, his friend already knew people had shot at him... "And this one," he presses on the right, "is just a simple knife wound. It's old, it's healed, it doesn't matter anymore." The first kisses him chastely.
"It does matter. You were hurt."
"But now I'm not. Now I'm happy. Because," he murmurs sleepily, quoting, "I've got you, and you've got me, and that's why."
The taller boy raises his arms to encircle his friend's waist once again. He slips into sleep just like that, to the lullaby of the dark- haired boy's deep, steady, even breathing.
Meep. That's rather out of the ordinary for me, isn't it? So much sap... Oh, and that quote is from Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck. We had to read the play and watch the movie in English class. Blame my teacher for making me think of it.
Hmmm.maybe some good does come out of school...anyway, review please! I'll love you forever. Flame if that makes you happy. Whatever floats your boat, y'know..
Warnings: Let's get through this quickly, so that I can get back to my writing. This desperately needs to be written. So be warned, it contains slash. If you don't know what that is, try yaoi/shounen-ai. Still confused? Go ask someone what it means. I think that's it. I own some stuff, but not everything. You're a smart public. You can figure out what belongs to me and what doesn't. If my fellow WK fans see or wish to see someone specific in this, be my guest. Whomever you see, chances are he's OOC. They can be whomever you, my public, wish them to be. Originally, they were nameless, faceless characters, and to me they may remain so forever. It is only in this archive because I think this fits certain characters in Weiss. Oh, before you ask, I messed with some hair lengths, too. These guys are hotter with long hair. Now, mes cheris, I give you my story.
Untitled
The two huddled together for warmth--and maybe something more--in the dark room. It was late at night, slowly turning to the wee hours of the morning. The witching hour had passed. The two on the couch remained awake.
Lips meet softly, sweetly. Time to try to sleep again, though they know after hours of failed attempts they cannot.
"Good night."
"Good night, love." Both voices are drowsy with lack of sleep.
They curl up, the taller spooning his companion against himself. His chin rests on the dark head, his own longer hair pulled back into some semblance of order. The shorter makes a contented noise deep in his throat. Eyelids flutter shut over midnight-blue eyes. Minutes later they open once more, as the boy turns to face his comrade.
"It's no use. I can't sleep tonight."
Young fingers reach sleepily up to comb through dark hair. "Why not?"
"You know why," he replies. He butts his head into the other's chest, catlike.
"Nightmares or insomnia?" he questions.
"Both, I suppose." The reply meets his ears by way of his chest, as his friend's lips move against a light cotton pajama top suited for colder nights than this one. A small, thin hand crawls up to toy with his hair, loosing the rubber band. The hand pauses on his cheek and neck, feeling the temperature there. "You're warm."
"Always am," he smiles.
The boy's brow furrows. "No, really warm. Hot."
"Of course I'm hot. Why else would I have a cute little thing like you with me right now?"
"No, you goose," the boy continues, bestowing one of his rare smiles on the other, "Temperature. I think you have a temperature." He proceeds to remove the other's shirt, meeting little protest. The unwanted item of clothing is discarded on the floor, and the smaller boy goes back to snuggling against his friend's chest.
The taller boy taps him on the nose. "Now I feel underdressed."
Obligingly, he shrugs out of his shirt. The older gasps softly.
"Beautiful," he says in reply to the inquiring glance. He hugs the smaller one, pulling him closer than the latter usually allows.
He squirms a little, and the arms loosen. His head comes to rest on the other's shoulder. Fingers trace his sides, too insistent to tickle and not enough to be anything else. One hand stops just between the last two ribs on the left side, the other at the same place on the right.
"What's this, love?" Fingers gently prod the scars, stark white even on the light skin.
He lowers his eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing." He leans up to claim a quick kiss from the older boy's lips.
He smiles, laughingly stating, "Nice try, but I'm not that easily distracted, sweetie." He pecks him on the nose, then asks again, "What's this, love?" He pokes him in the sides.
He sighs, bringing a hand down to rest on each of his friend's. "This," he presses the left one, "is a gunshot. Just a pellet pistol, no one aimed to kill," he adds, at the worried look on the other's face. Strange, his friend already knew people had shot at him... "And this one," he presses on the right, "is just a simple knife wound. It's old, it's healed, it doesn't matter anymore." The first kisses him chastely.
"It does matter. You were hurt."
"But now I'm not. Now I'm happy. Because," he murmurs sleepily, quoting, "I've got you, and you've got me, and that's why."
The taller boy raises his arms to encircle his friend's waist once again. He slips into sleep just like that, to the lullaby of the dark- haired boy's deep, steady, even breathing.
Meep. That's rather out of the ordinary for me, isn't it? So much sap... Oh, and that quote is from Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck. We had to read the play and watch the movie in English class. Blame my teacher for making me think of it.
Hmmm.maybe some good does come out of school...anyway, review please! I'll love you forever. Flame if that makes you happy. Whatever floats your boat, y'know..