A/N: Okay, well. Here goes another story - but this one will be better not only because the chapters are shorter, not only because it doesn't really have an all-encompassing plot, not only because I can write a chapter in whatever my mood is at the moment, but because it can bea completed story at any given point. Yay for one-shot drabble collections!
That's what this is. Every chapter is going to be an isolated scene occuring at one point during the timeline of Spot and Race's relationship.
WARNINGS: The usual vices, nonlinear timeline, occaisional fluff or angst, lots of slashiness, moodswings.
So enjoy, and please review, because I really like this story.
Central Park was beautiful in the snow. Central Park was beautiful in the moonlight. Central Park in the moonlit snow was indescribable. That beautiful moon seemed larger than ever – it was full tonight, like some pale mirror of the snow below. One or two stars could be seen despite the city lights – Polaris, or maybe the pinpricks of light were all that remained of Mars or Venus. The soft blanket of snow glistened – yang, to the yin of the velvety black sky.
All of this beauty was lost however, on the couple standing by a park bench near the frozen lake. They were too involved in the play of the pale light over shadowed skin, the mystical curls of foggy breath, the words traced by blueish lips. Nature's beauty was comprised solely by each other, not by any feat of geography or weather.
From a distance the couple looked like reverse images. One was thin and pale, and it was his mouth that did the talking, while his cerulean eyes slid away from his companion to stare awkwardly at the trampled snow. His hair flopped over his eyes, but his head never flipped it back into place like normal, and so it stayed over his face,obscuring his expression with shadow and blond hairs.
The other man was shorter, stockier, and blatantly Italian – not only did he posses the thick, brown hair, and pouting mouth, but his dark eyes gazed intently at the slender man, unwilling to look away. Only once did those eyes flick anywhere else, just a momentary glance at the velvet box the first man was hesitantly withdrawing from the pocket of his black pea coat.
The pale man paused for a second then, drawing his eyes up to the tiny box clutched in his gloved hand. Then he cracked the lid and tentatively offered it to his friend, his eyes rising ever higher, until finally, they restedon the face of his companion.
The treasure in the box winked and shone in the shivery moonlight, matching the wavery voice of the Italian man as his lips released one simple word.
Then he was pulling off his glove with his teeth, and the glove dropped unheeded into the snow, as the slender man slipped the ring onto the newly born hand. The box dropped too, its fall cushioned by the pristine snow.
The kiss that followed was as soft and pure as the snow on which the couple stood, but it lacked the bitter cold of winter's freeze. Instead the two pairs of lips delicately, lovingly, silently sent up whorls of steamy breath into the empty night air, where they mingled together, mirroring the bodies beneath them.
And the beauty of that perfect night in Central Park passed unnoticed.
A/N: So I like it. I hope you do too. Please stick around, because I think the next chapter is probably my favorite of the ones I've written so far.
Cheers,
Rama
