Title: Hell on Earth
Author: Meagan-bird
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU (alternate universe). Say that Frank Redbear died before he could push the Harvester forward. Well, what then? Press on, children, press on! I need lots of reviews to make sure I'm doing this right.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fic you see before you and the citizens of St. Cecilia. Can't sue me, I'm makin' no money! HAH! COTC and whatnot belong to Stephen King and all those people.
Gabe woke around 5:30 am.
Her eyes slowly drifted halfway open; she idly stretched her neck, then her shoulders, listening to the creaks of her old mattress as she did so. Before even glancing at the clock Gabe had an idea of how early it was, so instead of getting out of bed (or even opening her eyes fully) she mumbled something softly under her breath and rolled over, intent on burying her face in the pillow and going back to sleep. Instead, she hit cool smooth skin, and it took her a good five seconds to realize she had her nose pressed against Micah's bare chest.
"Holy shit --" Gabe shot to a sitting position, nearly forgetting to pull a blanket with her as she did so. She glanced wildly around the room and tried to get her bearings while Micah lazily opened his eyes with a smile.
"Good morning," he said, and yawned grandly.
"What the hell am I doing --" Gabe stopped suddenly, remembering how she hadn't gone home the night before, and suddenly it all clicked. "Oh, God. Oh... oh God." She paused a moment to peek under her sheets as if maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed, but it only confirmed her fears. "Oh, FUCK!"
"Something wrong, archangel?" Micah was regarding her with a dark-eyed gaze, propped up languidly on his elbows.
"Don't call me that!" Gabe snapped, and he surprised her by immediately looking hurt; she sank down to her back again, staring at the cheap plastered hotel ceiling. "Fuck," she said again, more quietly this time. Micah hesitated, rolling to his side, then slowly inched closer and placed a gentle hand on her bare shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he asked earnestly. Gabe refused to let herself look at him.
"I'm a good girl, I'm a proper girl," she whispered. Micah paused in confusion.
"What?"
"Oh, so first you're seductive corn hottie, then after you've been in my pants you're Mr. After-Morning Understanding?" She finally snapped her eyes to him and gave him the coldest glare she could manage. "That's not fair! You have to be a big dumb jerk so I can hate you for sleeping with me and then leave all mad!" Micah looked perplexed at first, but after a moment he smiled gently and inched a little closer.
"Did you have a nice time?" he asked delicately, and dipped his head to her shoulder before she could answer. Gabe bit down hard on her lower lip as she felt him slowly nuzzle his nose against her skin.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she mumbled, half to herself. "Why do I let these things happen --" She began to pull away, dragging the sheets with her (as she was not planning on waltzing around naked in front of those dark eyes), but Micah grabbed her firmly by the arm and tugged her back in bed with surprising strength.
"Acting like a pleasant human being doesn't seem to affect you much," he said, his voice low but not very threatening, "so if I have to be harsh with you, I will. I'd like you to stay with me for a while." Gabe's eyes narrowed; she straightened, hiked up her sheets a little, and swung a leg over the edge of the bed as she started to leave again. Micah's hand, still wrapped tightly around her forearm, gave a healthy tug and sent her flying back into him. Before Gabe could even open her mouth to protest his was there, stopping all her words and making her muscles melt into submission. A moment went by before she pulled back slightly and broke the kiss.
"You're a jerk," she said huskily, but it didn't sound all that convincing.
"Must you be so difficult?" Micah asked with a small smile, and pulled her close again with less than a struggle.
Jeremy trotted down the stairs briskly, a small concerned frown on his face. He'd been searching the second floor for nearly fifteen minutes now, and unless Gabe was playing some twisted game of hide and seek, she wasn't there. There was a group of teenagers feeding the younger children in his kitchen, and he headed towards them with new hope.
"Has anybody seen Gabe this morning?" he asked quickly, glancing from face to face of the familiar children. Children he could trust.
"I haven't seen her since last night," said a girl spoon-feeding old Cheerio's to a squirmy four-year-old. She paused as the baby took a bite, then looked up at him with unspoken fear. "Do you think they might've --"
"No," Jeremy snapped immediately, and whirled away from her, not even wanting to let the thought cross his mind. "Gabe's smart, she can take care of herself. She's probably just -- I'll check next door."
Micah had been waiting for instructions from Him all morning, but it was nearly 7:00 am now and He had yet to speak up. It wasn't exactly a tragedy, either, as Micah wasn't entirely fond of disembodied voices piping up when Gabe had her tongue in his mouth.
"What are we doing?" she gasped abruptly, suddenly using the hands she'd placed on his bare chest to push herself back. He frowned slightly and lifted a hand to brush a few errant strands of blonde hair from her eyes. They were blue, yes, but worried and tense -- and still that startling shade of blue. Days ago, he would've merely set her aside as a rebellious child needing to be tamed. Now she was something more... what, exactly, Micah wasn't sure, but definately something more. Part of His plan, he thought suddenly, and part of him cringed a little.
"We're kissing," Micah said with a touch of sarcasm. "Like this." He moved forward, trying to coax her lips to his, but the palms on his chest tensed again and pushed him back.
"No, Micah," Gabe snapped, then her voice softened. "What are we doing? Last night you were going to put me up like that cop on the cross, and now you're --" She trailed off, blushing slightly as she realized the fault was not his alone, and slowly crawled out of his lap to sit out of his reach on the other side of the bed. He watched her do so with disappointment. "And now we're fooling around like we're a couple of normal horny teenagers."
"We're teenagers," Micah pointed out coolly.
"But we're not normal." She stuck her head under the covers and emerged with the end of a blanket in her hand; with surprising grace, Gabe twisted out of the bed and wrapped herself in the thin cotton sheet without ever giving him a glimpse of skin. "This... situation we're in is in no way normal. And I can't stay here and do this when I know you're responsible for taking away everything I ever knew to be normal..." She shook her head and hurried to the dresser where her red shirt lay, haphazardly slung over the back and threatening to fall into the darkness behind it. Micah took hold of a velvety hotel blanket and quickly wrapped himself in it, getting to his feet to follow her.
"Gabrielle, stop." He came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder; she jerked away in surprise, bumping her knees hard into the dresser. Her shirt finally teetered over the edge and disappeared.
"Fuck," she cursed heatedly, bending over and groping behind the dresser with harsh, jerky movements. Feeling awkward for the first time in quite a while, Micah swallowed and dropped to a knee.
"I'm sorry, let me help --"
"No, I've got it, just back off!" Gabe shoved aside his fumbling hand and grasped her shirt, then whirled and headed for her jeans. He hesitated on the floor for a moment, his brows twisted in a small frown, then stood and followed her again.
Her mind was reeling, but there was no time to stop and think. Gabe knew very well that if she stayed there for much longer there'd be no helping her. She'd develop some sort of attachment to the murderous corn-worshipper, and that was unthinkable -- she had to get out while her one-night-stand was still only that.
"Where the hell are my boots?" she muttered under her breath, peering under the bed.
"Gabe." She paused, then slowly straightened; he was standing right behind her, and when he spoke again his voice was a pleasantly low rumble in her ear. "This did not happen by accident. He brought us together. He chose you."
"He chose me," Gabe said quietly, not trusting herself enough to turn around. There was a pause; slowly, she felt a hand creep up her arm and rest gently on her shoulder.
"I chose you," Micah whispered in a soft, husky voice, and lowered his mouth to her skin. Gabe inhaled sharply and tightened the deathgrip she had on her clothes.
"I have to go." She turned around and tried to dodge him, but he put his body square in her path and she bumped into Micah's chest. Gabe raised her eyes to his and immediately knew she'd made a mistake; his eyes were dark, but she could see those little flecks of green and gold in them, just like she'd seen outside the auditorium the other night. His eyes caught hers and held them, and Gabe again felt the desperate urge to get out of the hotel as fast as she could, fully clothed or not.
"If you're sure you're leaving," he murmured, his voice drifting, and then his lips twitched up into a sideways smirk as he held up her sheer black bra. "Then you might need this, huh?" All at once, the old indignation came back; Gabe felt the flare of anger rise in her chest and she fixed him with cold glare, snatching the bra from his hand as she stormed past him. His voice called after her. "What's the matter? I thought it was nice!"
"You're a fucking jerk," she yelled, aware that the Children could probably hear her on other floors and not really caring at all. Micah followed her to the hall.
"Isn't that what you wanted? You were determined to leave angry, so I thought I may as well play my part!" Gabe stopped at the stairwell; his voice was angry, yes, but she thought she detected an undertone of hurt too. Just as she considered turning to apologize, he spoke again, this time with a quiet cynicism. "It was pretty good, you know. I'm quite glad I had you before you turned 19. You know what happens when you turn 19, don't you, archangel?"
"If you ever come near me again, I'll fucking kill you," Gabe whispered, the words escaping her mouth before she even knew they were there. "And I won't need help from some shitty corn demon." Then she went forward, nearly tripping over her sheet as she stumbled down the stairs, her arms full of clothes and her eyes stinging with hot tears.
Author: Meagan-bird
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU (alternate universe). Say that Frank Redbear died before he could push the Harvester forward. Well, what then? Press on, children, press on! I need lots of reviews to make sure I'm doing this right.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fic you see before you and the citizens of St. Cecilia. Can't sue me, I'm makin' no money! HAH! COTC and whatnot belong to Stephen King and all those people.
Gabe woke around 5:30 am.
Her eyes slowly drifted halfway open; she idly stretched her neck, then her shoulders, listening to the creaks of her old mattress as she did so. Before even glancing at the clock Gabe had an idea of how early it was, so instead of getting out of bed (or even opening her eyes fully) she mumbled something softly under her breath and rolled over, intent on burying her face in the pillow and going back to sleep. Instead, she hit cool smooth skin, and it took her a good five seconds to realize she had her nose pressed against Micah's bare chest.
"Holy shit --" Gabe shot to a sitting position, nearly forgetting to pull a blanket with her as she did so. She glanced wildly around the room and tried to get her bearings while Micah lazily opened his eyes with a smile.
"Good morning," he said, and yawned grandly.
"What the hell am I doing --" Gabe stopped suddenly, remembering how she hadn't gone home the night before, and suddenly it all clicked. "Oh, God. Oh... oh God." She paused a moment to peek under her sheets as if maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed, but it only confirmed her fears. "Oh, FUCK!"
"Something wrong, archangel?" Micah was regarding her with a dark-eyed gaze, propped up languidly on his elbows.
"Don't call me that!" Gabe snapped, and he surprised her by immediately looking hurt; she sank down to her back again, staring at the cheap plastered hotel ceiling. "Fuck," she said again, more quietly this time. Micah hesitated, rolling to his side, then slowly inched closer and placed a gentle hand on her bare shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he asked earnestly. Gabe refused to let herself look at him.
"I'm a good girl, I'm a proper girl," she whispered. Micah paused in confusion.
"What?"
"Oh, so first you're seductive corn hottie, then after you've been in my pants you're Mr. After-Morning Understanding?" She finally snapped her eyes to him and gave him the coldest glare she could manage. "That's not fair! You have to be a big dumb jerk so I can hate you for sleeping with me and then leave all mad!" Micah looked perplexed at first, but after a moment he smiled gently and inched a little closer.
"Did you have a nice time?" he asked delicately, and dipped his head to her shoulder before she could answer. Gabe bit down hard on her lower lip as she felt him slowly nuzzle his nose against her skin.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she mumbled, half to herself. "Why do I let these things happen --" She began to pull away, dragging the sheets with her (as she was not planning on waltzing around naked in front of those dark eyes), but Micah grabbed her firmly by the arm and tugged her back in bed with surprising strength.
"Acting like a pleasant human being doesn't seem to affect you much," he said, his voice low but not very threatening, "so if I have to be harsh with you, I will. I'd like you to stay with me for a while." Gabe's eyes narrowed; she straightened, hiked up her sheets a little, and swung a leg over the edge of the bed as she started to leave again. Micah's hand, still wrapped tightly around her forearm, gave a healthy tug and sent her flying back into him. Before Gabe could even open her mouth to protest his was there, stopping all her words and making her muscles melt into submission. A moment went by before she pulled back slightly and broke the kiss.
"You're a jerk," she said huskily, but it didn't sound all that convincing.
"Must you be so difficult?" Micah asked with a small smile, and pulled her close again with less than a struggle.
Jeremy trotted down the stairs briskly, a small concerned frown on his face. He'd been searching the second floor for nearly fifteen minutes now, and unless Gabe was playing some twisted game of hide and seek, she wasn't there. There was a group of teenagers feeding the younger children in his kitchen, and he headed towards them with new hope.
"Has anybody seen Gabe this morning?" he asked quickly, glancing from face to face of the familiar children. Children he could trust.
"I haven't seen her since last night," said a girl spoon-feeding old Cheerio's to a squirmy four-year-old. She paused as the baby took a bite, then looked up at him with unspoken fear. "Do you think they might've --"
"No," Jeremy snapped immediately, and whirled away from her, not even wanting to let the thought cross his mind. "Gabe's smart, she can take care of herself. She's probably just -- I'll check next door."
Micah had been waiting for instructions from Him all morning, but it was nearly 7:00 am now and He had yet to speak up. It wasn't exactly a tragedy, either, as Micah wasn't entirely fond of disembodied voices piping up when Gabe had her tongue in his mouth.
"What are we doing?" she gasped abruptly, suddenly using the hands she'd placed on his bare chest to push herself back. He frowned slightly and lifted a hand to brush a few errant strands of blonde hair from her eyes. They were blue, yes, but worried and tense -- and still that startling shade of blue. Days ago, he would've merely set her aside as a rebellious child needing to be tamed. Now she was something more... what, exactly, Micah wasn't sure, but definately something more. Part of His plan, he thought suddenly, and part of him cringed a little.
"We're kissing," Micah said with a touch of sarcasm. "Like this." He moved forward, trying to coax her lips to his, but the palms on his chest tensed again and pushed him back.
"No, Micah," Gabe snapped, then her voice softened. "What are we doing? Last night you were going to put me up like that cop on the cross, and now you're --" She trailed off, blushing slightly as she realized the fault was not his alone, and slowly crawled out of his lap to sit out of his reach on the other side of the bed. He watched her do so with disappointment. "And now we're fooling around like we're a couple of normal horny teenagers."
"We're teenagers," Micah pointed out coolly.
"But we're not normal." She stuck her head under the covers and emerged with the end of a blanket in her hand; with surprising grace, Gabe twisted out of the bed and wrapped herself in the thin cotton sheet without ever giving him a glimpse of skin. "This... situation we're in is in no way normal. And I can't stay here and do this when I know you're responsible for taking away everything I ever knew to be normal..." She shook her head and hurried to the dresser where her red shirt lay, haphazardly slung over the back and threatening to fall into the darkness behind it. Micah took hold of a velvety hotel blanket and quickly wrapped himself in it, getting to his feet to follow her.
"Gabrielle, stop." He came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder; she jerked away in surprise, bumping her knees hard into the dresser. Her shirt finally teetered over the edge and disappeared.
"Fuck," she cursed heatedly, bending over and groping behind the dresser with harsh, jerky movements. Feeling awkward for the first time in quite a while, Micah swallowed and dropped to a knee.
"I'm sorry, let me help --"
"No, I've got it, just back off!" Gabe shoved aside his fumbling hand and grasped her shirt, then whirled and headed for her jeans. He hesitated on the floor for a moment, his brows twisted in a small frown, then stood and followed her again.
Her mind was reeling, but there was no time to stop and think. Gabe knew very well that if she stayed there for much longer there'd be no helping her. She'd develop some sort of attachment to the murderous corn-worshipper, and that was unthinkable -- she had to get out while her one-night-stand was still only that.
"Where the hell are my boots?" she muttered under her breath, peering under the bed.
"Gabe." She paused, then slowly straightened; he was standing right behind her, and when he spoke again his voice was a pleasantly low rumble in her ear. "This did not happen by accident. He brought us together. He chose you."
"He chose me," Gabe said quietly, not trusting herself enough to turn around. There was a pause; slowly, she felt a hand creep up her arm and rest gently on her shoulder.
"I chose you," Micah whispered in a soft, husky voice, and lowered his mouth to her skin. Gabe inhaled sharply and tightened the deathgrip she had on her clothes.
"I have to go." She turned around and tried to dodge him, but he put his body square in her path and she bumped into Micah's chest. Gabe raised her eyes to his and immediately knew she'd made a mistake; his eyes were dark, but she could see those little flecks of green and gold in them, just like she'd seen outside the auditorium the other night. His eyes caught hers and held them, and Gabe again felt the desperate urge to get out of the hotel as fast as she could, fully clothed or not.
"If you're sure you're leaving," he murmured, his voice drifting, and then his lips twitched up into a sideways smirk as he held up her sheer black bra. "Then you might need this, huh?" All at once, the old indignation came back; Gabe felt the flare of anger rise in her chest and she fixed him with cold glare, snatching the bra from his hand as she stormed past him. His voice called after her. "What's the matter? I thought it was nice!"
"You're a fucking jerk," she yelled, aware that the Children could probably hear her on other floors and not really caring at all. Micah followed her to the hall.
"Isn't that what you wanted? You were determined to leave angry, so I thought I may as well play my part!" Gabe stopped at the stairwell; his voice was angry, yes, but she thought she detected an undertone of hurt too. Just as she considered turning to apologize, he spoke again, this time with a quiet cynicism. "It was pretty good, you know. I'm quite glad I had you before you turned 19. You know what happens when you turn 19, don't you, archangel?"
"If you ever come near me again, I'll fucking kill you," Gabe whispered, the words escaping her mouth before she even knew they were there. "And I won't need help from some shitty corn demon." Then she went forward, nearly tripping over her sheet as she stumbled down the stairs, her arms full of clothes and her eyes stinging with hot tears.