Original series: Prophecy Boys. 99-Voice. Blue Eyes and a Deep Voice
Title: Blue Eyes and a Deep Voice
Author: sumthinlikhuman
Disclaimer: I own Hector and Jonas, even if they don't believe me. They're just silly little boys anyway.
Theme: 99-Voice
Pairing: Hector Selman/Jonas Clements, unestablished
Fandom: Prophecy Boys, original series
Rating: G
When Hector had come to speak at their school, he’d brought cds and cassettes of his speeches to give to anybody who wanted one. Jonas had stepped up to the table with a shy smile, and had begun picking through the things Hector had brought.
Hector was a tall man of nineteen at the time. He had short brown hair that he had buzzed in the back and on the sides, leaving a messy mop to hang into his eyes and just brush the ‘v’ where his neck became his head. His eyes were blue. Jonas had smiled a bit wider at him, not really looking at the things set out on the table.
“So,” Hector had begun. He had a clean, clear voice that was deep and pleasant. “What’s your name?”
Jonas had told him his name, his smile shy again and a faint warmth in his cheeks. Hector had smiled warmly. He had very small teeth, like he ground them in his sleep or something. They were bright against the dark carmine of his lips.
“Do you like it at this school?”
“It’s okay,” Jonas had said with a shrug. Hector had chuckled softly, leaning against the table. He picked up a baseball cap sitting there, and plopped it onto Jonas’s head; Jonas had giggled softly, taking it off. “I don’t like hats.”
“You’ll get sunburnt though, with summer coming up.” Jonas had just shrugged, running the bill through his fingers.
“I feel like I’m hiding.” Hector had nodded, his face pensive and understanding. Jonas wondered if he really did understand. He grabbed one of the cds, and threw his head as though he were trying to get hair out of his eyes. “Are these any good?”
“I won’t tote my skills as a motivational speaker,” Hector muttered, grinning his straight, small-toothed grin, “but it’s certainly something to listen to when all your heavy metal punk rock gets boring.”
Jonas listened to Hector’s cd whenever he was in the hospital for one of his treatments, or because he’d had another bout of illness. After his final diagnosis, he’d noticed that a lot of kids in the wing recognized Hector’s speeches. He wondered if they knew Hector’s speeches because they’d heard them, or because Jonas just liked to play it that often.
He’d been surprised, one afternoon at a routine checkup when he’d been listening to one of Hector’s speeches, to hear that clean, clear voice from his doorway.
“No heavy metal punk rock? I think I’m honored.”
Hector had seemed like a dream, stepping in and smiling that straight, small-toothed grin. He’d sat at Jonas’s bedside, and skipped the cd ahead to the next speech. With a sigh, he met Jonas’s eyes; he gestured to the stereo absently.
“This one’s better.”
“What’re you doing here?” Hector had smiled a little, leaning back with his hands on the back of the chair, humming under his breath.
“Visiting. I was here for my final surgery. I like to pop in. I heard the doctors talking to you earlier, thought I’d say ‘hi’.” He looked at Jonas with a knowing eye. “So . . .”
“So what?”
“Did the cd help?” Jonas smiled shyly, feeling that warmth in the cheeks. He’d suspected Hector had wanted to ask something else, but had fallen short of actually asking it. “That bad, huh?”
“Oh, no. It’s very good at putting me to sleep.” Hector took on a wounded expression, then started laughing. His laugh was deep and pleasant, like his voice. Jonas found himself smiling, laughing a little as well.
After a while, their mirth cooled, and Hector just smiled at Jonas for a moment, before asking, “How old are you now?”
“Sixteen.”
“I’m going to be nineteen in a couple of months.” Hector smiled a little. “It’ll be a seventh year after the surgery, you know?”
“I hadn’t.” Hector nodded, staring at his hands. They were very quiet, listening to his recording speak quietly to them of the importance of being truthful and forthright throughout your life, cancer or no cancer.
Hector spoke very quietly when he next opened his mouth: “How much longer do you have?”
“My mom should be here any minute,” Jonas answered banally. Hector snorted softly, looking up at Jonas with a small smile. Jonas knew he was actually blushing now, staring at those blue eyes and listening to the slightly grainy mimic of Hector’s voice.
Hector turned off the stereo at the end of the speech, and they just sat there in the relative silence of Jonas’s room.
He said, “I have three hundred days left now.”
“Any plans for those three hundred days?” Hector asked gently. Jonas nodded, shrugged, picked at his jeans.
“A couple.”
“Like what?” Jonas ducked his head. Hector was practically a stranger, after all, and it felt a little strange to be talking about stuff like this with somebody he only knew the bare voice of.
“I wanna grow up a bit.”
“Big goal.”
“I wanna go sky diving, and learn to surf, and go to my prom. I wanna-.”
His mother walked in, smiling and already asking how his visit had been. She stared, stunned, at Hector, who stood and smiled.
“You must be Jonas’s mother then,” Hector began. And then he was his charming, charismatic self, explaining that he was a motivational speaker, and he’d stopped in to see how Jonas was when he’d heard him listening to his cd.
He left with a handshake to Jonas’s mother, and a sly smile and wave to Jonas. Jonas smiled shyly, blushed, waved back after he had turned the corner of the door jamb. His mother cocked a brow at him.
“He’s cute,” she murmured appraisingly. Jonas rolled his eyes, but kept blushing.
“C’mon, mom. I gotta get home and finish my homework.”
He left the cd in the stereo, contented to think of Hector’s real voice rather than the recording. Maybe some other patient would fall for a clear, clean bass voice from his cd, but he’d have the real thing for the next three hundred days.
Author: sumthinlikhuman
Disclaimer: I own Hector and Jonas, even if they don't believe me. They're just silly little boys anyway.
Theme: 99-Voice
Pairing: Hector Selman/Jonas Clements, unestablished
Fandom: Prophecy Boys, original series
Rating: G
When Hector had come to speak at their school, he’d brought cds and cassettes of his speeches to give to anybody who wanted one. Jonas had stepped up to the table with a shy smile, and had begun picking through the things Hector had brought.
Hector was a tall man of nineteen at the time. He had short brown hair that he had buzzed in the back and on the sides, leaving a messy mop to hang into his eyes and just brush the ‘v’ where his neck became his head. His eyes were blue. Jonas had smiled a bit wider at him, not really looking at the things set out on the table.
“So,” Hector had begun. He had a clean, clear voice that was deep and pleasant. “What’s your name?”
Jonas had told him his name, his smile shy again and a faint warmth in his cheeks. Hector had smiled warmly. He had very small teeth, like he ground them in his sleep or something. They were bright against the dark carmine of his lips.
“Do you like it at this school?”
“It’s okay,” Jonas had said with a shrug. Hector had chuckled softly, leaning against the table. He picked up a baseball cap sitting there, and plopped it onto Jonas’s head; Jonas had giggled softly, taking it off. “I don’t like hats.”
“You’ll get sunburnt though, with summer coming up.” Jonas had just shrugged, running the bill through his fingers.
“I feel like I’m hiding.” Hector had nodded, his face pensive and understanding. Jonas wondered if he really did understand. He grabbed one of the cds, and threw his head as though he were trying to get hair out of his eyes. “Are these any good?”
“I won’t tote my skills as a motivational speaker,” Hector muttered, grinning his straight, small-toothed grin, “but it’s certainly something to listen to when all your heavy metal punk rock gets boring.”
Jonas listened to Hector’s cd whenever he was in the hospital for one of his treatments, or because he’d had another bout of illness. After his final diagnosis, he’d noticed that a lot of kids in the wing recognized Hector’s speeches. He wondered if they knew Hector’s speeches because they’d heard them, or because Jonas just liked to play it that often.
He’d been surprised, one afternoon at a routine checkup when he’d been listening to one of Hector’s speeches, to hear that clean, clear voice from his doorway.
“No heavy metal punk rock? I think I’m honored.”
Hector had seemed like a dream, stepping in and smiling that straight, small-toothed grin. He’d sat at Jonas’s bedside, and skipped the cd ahead to the next speech. With a sigh, he met Jonas’s eyes; he gestured to the stereo absently.
“This one’s better.”
“What’re you doing here?” Hector had smiled a little, leaning back with his hands on the back of the chair, humming under his breath.
“Visiting. I was here for my final surgery. I like to pop in. I heard the doctors talking to you earlier, thought I’d say ‘hi’.” He looked at Jonas with a knowing eye. “So . . .”
“So what?”
“Did the cd help?” Jonas smiled shyly, feeling that warmth in the cheeks. He’d suspected Hector had wanted to ask something else, but had fallen short of actually asking it. “That bad, huh?”
“Oh, no. It’s very good at putting me to sleep.” Hector took on a wounded expression, then started laughing. His laugh was deep and pleasant, like his voice. Jonas found himself smiling, laughing a little as well.
After a while, their mirth cooled, and Hector just smiled at Jonas for a moment, before asking, “How old are you now?”
“Sixteen.”
“I’m going to be nineteen in a couple of months.” Hector smiled a little. “It’ll be a seventh year after the surgery, you know?”
“I hadn’t.” Hector nodded, staring at his hands. They were very quiet, listening to his recording speak quietly to them of the importance of being truthful and forthright throughout your life, cancer or no cancer.
Hector spoke very quietly when he next opened his mouth: “How much longer do you have?”
“My mom should be here any minute,” Jonas answered banally. Hector snorted softly, looking up at Jonas with a small smile. Jonas knew he was actually blushing now, staring at those blue eyes and listening to the slightly grainy mimic of Hector’s voice.
Hector turned off the stereo at the end of the speech, and they just sat there in the relative silence of Jonas’s room.
He said, “I have three hundred days left now.”
“Any plans for those three hundred days?” Hector asked gently. Jonas nodded, shrugged, picked at his jeans.
“A couple.”
“Like what?” Jonas ducked his head. Hector was practically a stranger, after all, and it felt a little strange to be talking about stuff like this with somebody he only knew the bare voice of.
“I wanna grow up a bit.”
“Big goal.”
“I wanna go sky diving, and learn to surf, and go to my prom. I wanna-.”
His mother walked in, smiling and already asking how his visit had been. She stared, stunned, at Hector, who stood and smiled.
“You must be Jonas’s mother then,” Hector began. And then he was his charming, charismatic self, explaining that he was a motivational speaker, and he’d stopped in to see how Jonas was when he’d heard him listening to his cd.
He left with a handshake to Jonas’s mother, and a sly smile and wave to Jonas. Jonas smiled shyly, blushed, waved back after he had turned the corner of the door jamb. His mother cocked a brow at him.
“He’s cute,” she murmured appraisingly. Jonas rolled his eyes, but kept blushing.
“C’mon, mom. I gotta get home and finish my homework.”
He left the cd in the stereo, contented to think of Hector’s real voice rather than the recording. Maybe some other patient would fall for a clear, clean bass voice from his cd, but he’d have the real thing for the next three hundred days.