(no subject)
Title: Faith
Author: mina_kat9
Theme/Set: CI: 23, Faith
Rating: R or NC 17, depending on your tastes
Claim (+ additional character(s)): Alex Eames (w/ other)
Warning: n/a
Summary: Hopes for the future. (Note, I'm taking a decidedly AU approach for this claim. So don't freak. Or, do, 'cause it's pretty freaky, really.)
She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. She’d been carrying the thing around for weeks, passing it from one jacket pocket to another. It was small, not terribly expensive, and wholly useless in a city he knew better even than she did. Still, it was for him, from her, and that had to count for something. She would give it to him for their wedding-a simple gift to show him that she thought of him when they weren’t together and wanted him to think of her.
He held the silver case out to her, flipping it open to show the needle moving inside, and asked her how she’d known he would get lost. She couldn’t tell him because she didn’t know. It was meant as a celebration that they’d found each other at all, nothing more. She hadn’t known he was carrying it.
This was a place she’d only been to once. The sky was different and the air smelled like nothing she’d ever known. Shutters had to be closed at night so he could wake without cursing-and she without laughing at him. This place was her hope for the future, her hope that he could truly find his way to her.
They wandered the island together for almost a week before finding it. The building wasn’t perfect; it would need a lot of work if not total replacement. The location was good, just far enough off the beaten path to be cool but not so far as to be invisible. The business that was there still had some legs and the locals knew it well.
She watched him talk to the owner. Tired of running the business but not ready to shut it down, he was willing to listen. And Jimmy could talk. Within an hour they’d come to an understanding. Within two they’d become friends. One more hour and she thought she might have to fight for her marriage, the way they were going on. Through it all she sat and listened, her hand on his leg and her head on his shoulder.
She had ideas, ones she knew were good, but they could wait. When the deal was done they would sit together, maybe in bed with a bottle of wine, and talk about what could be done. She knew she wanted to tend bar; she liked doing that. She knew she wanted a space for dancing, even if only to a juke box. If they were going to be there sixteen or more hours a day in the beginning they needed some way to be together.
And she wanted it to be fun. A place that people came and stayed, like the pub in London. A place that people called theirs. Someplace tourists might find and swear they would return to next year and actually do it. She wanted to build something with him that would last.
After almost four hours of discussion, he noticed she was flagging and put an arm around her. Softly, for her ears only he asked, “What do you think, baby? Can we do this?” She kissed him and nodded. Now wasn’t the moment to say they could do anything if they worked together. Now wasn’t the time to tell him she would do anything he wanted. Now was about this place and this choice. And she firmly believed this was the place. They could make this work.
He pulled her in for a tight kiss. The owner watched them with a grin and she closed her eyes, blushing, which made no sense at all.
Papers had to be signed and plans made, all of which took up much of the next two weeks. Sixteen hour days were the short ones as they found a contractor, bought new equipment, and continued their exploration of the markets and importers on the island. No one expected him to take any shit, but it always amused her when they came up against her. She was more of a hard ass about some things than he was.
Late at night they fell into bed, usually after a brief stop in each other’s arms. Sex became this thing they managed. More often it was sweetness, a connection, rather than the complex game of domination they liked to play. Every so often she would wake him and he would come, pounding on the bed and bucking into her mouth. Those days always seemed to be the best ones.
Finally one day, almost three weeks in, they came home to find the package she’d given up hope on. She’d ordered it the night they found the location, thanking God for the internet. He had boxes of his own to carry in, samples from a fisherman that they had to cook up and sample that night. After hiding the box under their bed, she came down to help him cook. She was learning to do more than make omelets, but not much. Every day she lobbied to bring one of the chefs down from New York, every day he teased she was going to have to learn someday.
Fish cooked and eaten, dishes left to the morning, they crawled into bed. He held her closely and gave her the opening she needed. He told her the previous owner had offered to leave the nautical brick-a-brac that decorated the place, most of it half rotten. She kissed him gently and pulled away, shaking her head.
She leaned far over the side of the tall bed, her ass high enough in the air that he couldn’t help but slap it sharply while she fished for the box. When she was upright again she gave him a look and then handed the box to him. She was terrified he wouldn’t like it, that somehow it wouldn’t go over well. Her luck was awful that way.
He sat staring at the aged bronze wheel for a very long time in silence, and then put a hand out to her. Taking his hand, she let him pull her close and put her head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but his fingers traced the points on the rose in much the way hers traveled the scars on his torso. After a while he set the box on the bedside table and turned to her with a smile.
“We can do this, baby. We will do this.”
For the first time in a month, she felt herself relax completely and she let out a breath she only half knew she’d been holding. She nodded and hugged him tightly. It was the first time he’d said that to her since they’d gotten there. The first time he’d come out and said it on his own.
He kissed her hair and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, baby, for not letting me get lost forever.”
She nodded again, unable to reply, and hugged him back. This man in her arms was her husband and she loved him. And together they would never get lost.
The compass
The Rose
Table Link
Author: mina_kat9
Theme/Set: CI: 23, Faith
Rating: R or NC 17, depending on your tastes
Claim (+ additional character(s)): Alex Eames (w/ other)
Warning: n/a
Summary: Hopes for the future. (Note, I'm taking a decidedly AU approach for this claim. So don't freak. Or, do, 'cause it's pretty freaky, really.)
She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. She’d been carrying the thing around for weeks, passing it from one jacket pocket to another. It was small, not terribly expensive, and wholly useless in a city he knew better even than she did. Still, it was for him, from her, and that had to count for something. She would give it to him for their wedding-a simple gift to show him that she thought of him when they weren’t together and wanted him to think of her.
He held the silver case out to her, flipping it open to show the needle moving inside, and asked her how she’d known he would get lost. She couldn’t tell him because she didn’t know. It was meant as a celebration that they’d found each other at all, nothing more. She hadn’t known he was carrying it.
This was a place she’d only been to once. The sky was different and the air smelled like nothing she’d ever known. Shutters had to be closed at night so he could wake without cursing-and she without laughing at him. This place was her hope for the future, her hope that he could truly find his way to her.
They wandered the island together for almost a week before finding it. The building wasn’t perfect; it would need a lot of work if not total replacement. The location was good, just far enough off the beaten path to be cool but not so far as to be invisible. The business that was there still had some legs and the locals knew it well.
She watched him talk to the owner. Tired of running the business but not ready to shut it down, he was willing to listen. And Jimmy could talk. Within an hour they’d come to an understanding. Within two they’d become friends. One more hour and she thought she might have to fight for her marriage, the way they were going on. Through it all she sat and listened, her hand on his leg and her head on his shoulder.
She had ideas, ones she knew were good, but they could wait. When the deal was done they would sit together, maybe in bed with a bottle of wine, and talk about what could be done. She knew she wanted to tend bar; she liked doing that. She knew she wanted a space for dancing, even if only to a juke box. If they were going to be there sixteen or more hours a day in the beginning they needed some way to be together.
And she wanted it to be fun. A place that people came and stayed, like the pub in London. A place that people called theirs. Someplace tourists might find and swear they would return to next year and actually do it. She wanted to build something with him that would last.
After almost four hours of discussion, he noticed she was flagging and put an arm around her. Softly, for her ears only he asked, “What do you think, baby? Can we do this?” She kissed him and nodded. Now wasn’t the moment to say they could do anything if they worked together. Now wasn’t the time to tell him she would do anything he wanted. Now was about this place and this choice. And she firmly believed this was the place. They could make this work.
He pulled her in for a tight kiss. The owner watched them with a grin and she closed her eyes, blushing, which made no sense at all.
Papers had to be signed and plans made, all of which took up much of the next two weeks. Sixteen hour days were the short ones as they found a contractor, bought new equipment, and continued their exploration of the markets and importers on the island. No one expected him to take any shit, but it always amused her when they came up against her. She was more of a hard ass about some things than he was.
Late at night they fell into bed, usually after a brief stop in each other’s arms. Sex became this thing they managed. More often it was sweetness, a connection, rather than the complex game of domination they liked to play. Every so often she would wake him and he would come, pounding on the bed and bucking into her mouth. Those days always seemed to be the best ones.
Finally one day, almost three weeks in, they came home to find the package she’d given up hope on. She’d ordered it the night they found the location, thanking God for the internet. He had boxes of his own to carry in, samples from a fisherman that they had to cook up and sample that night. After hiding the box under their bed, she came down to help him cook. She was learning to do more than make omelets, but not much. Every day she lobbied to bring one of the chefs down from New York, every day he teased she was going to have to learn someday.
Fish cooked and eaten, dishes left to the morning, they crawled into bed. He held her closely and gave her the opening she needed. He told her the previous owner had offered to leave the nautical brick-a-brac that decorated the place, most of it half rotten. She kissed him gently and pulled away, shaking her head.
She leaned far over the side of the tall bed, her ass high enough in the air that he couldn’t help but slap it sharply while she fished for the box. When she was upright again she gave him a look and then handed the box to him. She was terrified he wouldn’t like it, that somehow it wouldn’t go over well. Her luck was awful that way.
He sat staring at the aged bronze wheel for a very long time in silence, and then put a hand out to her. Taking his hand, she let him pull her close and put her head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but his fingers traced the points on the rose in much the way hers traveled the scars on his torso. After a while he set the box on the bedside table and turned to her with a smile.
“We can do this, baby. We will do this.”
For the first time in a month, she felt herself relax completely and she let out a breath she only half knew she’d been holding. She nodded and hugged him tightly. It was the first time he’d said that to her since they’d gotten there. The first time he’d come out and said it on his own.
He kissed her hair and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, baby, for not letting me get lost forever.”
She nodded again, unable to reply, and hugged him back. This man in her arms was her husband and she loved him. And together they would never get lost.
The compass
The Rose
Table Link