Title: Never
Fandom: UC: UnderCover/Highlander
Pairing: Cody/everybody else
Author: TheWriter
Rating: R
Warnings: extreme speculation, insinuated rape, s&m
Implied slash. That means homoerotic
elements (read: gay sex ahead). Go no further if this
squicks you. Remember, Caveat Lector - Reader Beware!
Summary: Cody's a bit drunk, and begins to share about
the nature of his relationships
Spoilers: Cody has issues with communication
Disclaimers: Dont own them, if I did, they would be
far more abused, and quite a bit more interesting.
Yes, this is part of a Highlander crossover series, thanks for
asking.
Feedback: Begging, pleading, whimpering and drooling.
Please make me a happy woman...
_________________________________________________
It was about 13 years ago now. Now as in... about
another three minutes. I don't think I was as drunk
then, as I am at this moment. But certainly a few
hours later, I certainly was.
Her name was Amber. Amber Jane Franke. And her death
was long, slow, and painful. Her murderers got out of
prison in only a few years. They now walk the street
freely. She is still in the ground.
Her hair was brown curls. I remember them clearly,
because they were frizzy, and when I ran my fingers
through them, they smoothed down for a few moments.
She was not clever, or smart. But she was beautiful,
and we had been together since we were old enough to
crawl. And I had proposed to her only four weeks
previous.
I swore to God, then, at her graveside, that I would
never love another woman. Never again. And I have been
true to my words.
I went on with my life. M.I.T., F.B.I, U.C. It runs
like a dyslexic trying to read the alphabet, but I did
my family, and all who needed me, proud. But none of
those people discovered how I learned to deal. They
all thought that I hid behind my humour, the classic
tragic clown. But no, that's just what I use to hide
sexual frustration.
And what do I have to be frustrated about you may ask,
Sexually, as it were... well, I'm glad you asked.
Love, you see, is still far beyond my reach. Sex, on
the other hand, is plentiful.
Communication, though... Let me explain.
I'll start with an easy one: Alex.
Beautiful, intelligent... complete alcoholic ever since
we put Carlos away. I found her one night, alone, and
locked out of her apartment. She was so drunk she
couldn't stand. It was the night before the judge
handed out the sentence to put her lover away for
thirty years.
She called me Bobby, and I didn't argue.
We never talked about it.
And at least once a week, she cries herself to sleep
in my arms.
Jake is a bit tougher. Literally.
When he is UC, he cant always just come out of his
shell and go home to the girl, or the guy next door.
He's too close to those he hunts. That aggression,
well... it has to go somewhere, and unfortunately, its
normal highway leads to my ass.
We never talk about it.
And I always take the next day off, just to heal up.
Frank was a bit of a surprise, and an accident.
He became the floorshow in a rather interesting act in
a club that I was dragged to by a friend of mine from
outside of work.
I learned his secrets that night, and my friends. It
was an accident, and sometimes, those happen. But I
can be nothing if not discreet. He comes to me now,
instead of the club. I'm not usually the dominant
type, but I understand his need, as well as I
understand the others.
We don't talk about it.
And all I can think of is how much Frank would
appreciate Jake, if he were caught in the right mood.
And at least Frank wouldn't have to miss work the next
day, as long as he let Jake in on his secrets.
Monica is another story entirely.
We work together, alone most of the time... far too
much. And we both know that a sexual relationship
would confuse, and potentially damage the work
environment. That said, five weeks ago, I met this
*fabulous* woman online.
We never talk about it.
But it certainly gets me mentally prepared, and more
than physically prepared, to deal with the other
three. And I am quite sure her husband isn't
complaining either.
So yes, sexual frustration is my name. Not for want of
action, but for lack of communication, love...
affection. If they aren't careful, I will begin to bug
their cornflakes. Just to be closer.
But I'll never talk about it.
Not to anyone but her. Her tombstone never tells me
that I'm wrong.
Fandom: UC: UnderCover/Highlander
Pairing: Cody/everybody else
Author: TheWriter
Rating: R
Warnings: extreme speculation, insinuated rape, s&m
Implied slash. That means homoerotic
elements (read: gay sex ahead). Go no further if this
squicks you. Remember, Caveat Lector - Reader Beware!
Summary: Cody's a bit drunk, and begins to share about
the nature of his relationships
Spoilers: Cody has issues with communication
Disclaimers: Dont own them, if I did, they would be
far more abused, and quite a bit more interesting.
Yes, this is part of a Highlander crossover series, thanks for
asking.
Feedback: Begging, pleading, whimpering and drooling.
Please make me a happy woman...
_________________________________________________
It was about 13 years ago now. Now as in... about
another three minutes. I don't think I was as drunk
then, as I am at this moment. But certainly a few
hours later, I certainly was.
Her name was Amber. Amber Jane Franke. And her death
was long, slow, and painful. Her murderers got out of
prison in only a few years. They now walk the street
freely. She is still in the ground.
Her hair was brown curls. I remember them clearly,
because they were frizzy, and when I ran my fingers
through them, they smoothed down for a few moments.
She was not clever, or smart. But she was beautiful,
and we had been together since we were old enough to
crawl. And I had proposed to her only four weeks
previous.
I swore to God, then, at her graveside, that I would
never love another woman. Never again. And I have been
true to my words.
I went on with my life. M.I.T., F.B.I, U.C. It runs
like a dyslexic trying to read the alphabet, but I did
my family, and all who needed me, proud. But none of
those people discovered how I learned to deal. They
all thought that I hid behind my humour, the classic
tragic clown. But no, that's just what I use to hide
sexual frustration.
And what do I have to be frustrated about you may ask,
Sexually, as it were... well, I'm glad you asked.
Love, you see, is still far beyond my reach. Sex, on
the other hand, is plentiful.
Communication, though... Let me explain.
I'll start with an easy one: Alex.
Beautiful, intelligent... complete alcoholic ever since
we put Carlos away. I found her one night, alone, and
locked out of her apartment. She was so drunk she
couldn't stand. It was the night before the judge
handed out the sentence to put her lover away for
thirty years.
She called me Bobby, and I didn't argue.
We never talked about it.
And at least once a week, she cries herself to sleep
in my arms.
Jake is a bit tougher. Literally.
When he is UC, he cant always just come out of his
shell and go home to the girl, or the guy next door.
He's too close to those he hunts. That aggression,
well... it has to go somewhere, and unfortunately, its
normal highway leads to my ass.
We never talk about it.
And I always take the next day off, just to heal up.
Frank was a bit of a surprise, and an accident.
He became the floorshow in a rather interesting act in
a club that I was dragged to by a friend of mine from
outside of work.
I learned his secrets that night, and my friends. It
was an accident, and sometimes, those happen. But I
can be nothing if not discreet. He comes to me now,
instead of the club. I'm not usually the dominant
type, but I understand his need, as well as I
understand the others.
We don't talk about it.
And all I can think of is how much Frank would
appreciate Jake, if he were caught in the right mood.
And at least Frank wouldn't have to miss work the next
day, as long as he let Jake in on his secrets.
Monica is another story entirely.
We work together, alone most of the time... far too
much. And we both know that a sexual relationship
would confuse, and potentially damage the work
environment. That said, five weeks ago, I met this
*fabulous* woman online.
We never talk about it.
But it certainly gets me mentally prepared, and more
than physically prepared, to deal with the other
three. And I am quite sure her husband isn't
complaining either.
So yes, sexual frustration is my name. Not for want of
action, but for lack of communication, love...
affection. If they aren't careful, I will begin to bug
their cornflakes. Just to be closer.
But I'll never talk about it.
Not to anyone but her. Her tombstone never tells me
that I'm wrong.
