writings for Heather's request
fic: lean
'verse: nik/will, i guess
word count: 873
So, I don't know if anyone knows the backstory of Will and Alex. They are twins. I don't know if they're monozygotic or dizygotic, but, you know what, let's just assume they're not identical. They're pretty different in my head. They're about thirteen in this story. Cool?
Enjoy, lovelies.
“Just, pull it out.” She’s very still against him, her long-thin-bony hip and shoulder and wrist working harder to stay still than they ever have to to move.
“I can’t. It’s all swollen around the front bit, I can’t hold onto it.” Alex got the top of her ear pierced a couple of weeks ago as an anti-celebration of the start of their second term at high school. Their little cousins had been using her as a mode of transportation for hours that night, until she escaped and tugged him into the bathroom, closed the door, and made a pain face as she pointed at the side of her head.
She sighs, squeaks a little bit when he presses in just enough to hook his nail under the ridge of the stud.
“Sorry!” He can feel the breath panting out of her; her side isn’t still anymore, which, relief, but the panting is really freaking him out. “Sorry. I’ve just got to - ”
“Yeah.” The muscles in her neck twitch in preparation for a nod (the side of Will’s hand is resting there for stabilisation, so he feels it) and his mouth makes a shape that’s nearly smile when that’s as far as the instinct goes.
He clicks the butterfly off, and goes for the hard love, sticking plaster method, and blood pools in the space the stud vacates.
She hisses, finishes the sound with the second half of a fuck, squish-leans against Will and pants a little more. “Thanks.”
“S’cool.” He puts the stud on the corner of the vanity, watches blood leach off it and into the tiny puddle someone left when they washed their hands and reached past that corner for the hand towel. Alex leans in and grabs the stud to stir, so the blood makes a sort-of square swirly pattern, and they both lean closer for better seeing.
“Make sure you spray that ear extra often now.” Their Mum wanders into their room, drying her hands on a tea towel with maroon cups and saucers on it.
“Uh huh.” Alex smiles when she says it, though, so it’s not so much teenage attitude as I-already-thought-of-that.
“It hurts more when you get it done again.” She’s not lingering, but, it almost feels like she is. Will turns another page of the book on photography his grandmother nagged his grandfather into buying for his birthday instead of the traditional cash-in-card he’s pretty sure he’s gotten from them since birth. Possibly pre-birth.
Alex laughs. “I know, Mum. I was with you when you got your second holes re-done, remember? You poked at it and moaned for like, twelve shops before I conned you into shouting ice cream so you’d quit it.”
And their mum laughs, disagrees, and then gives in. She wonders, again, as she heads back to the kitchen, if they’re ever going to come to her and tell her they want separate rooms. The spare room’s been on standby since their eight birthday, but they just haven’t asked.
“Is it normal that they still have the same room? They don’t even have a duct tape line to bifurcate.” She feeds the tea towel over the handle of the oven door and makes it straight, before picking up her milo and facing her husband.
“They’re fine.”
“Where’s your proof?” He looks up at her and thinks about his answer, not because it’ll stop her nagging, although, that’s a nice by-product, but because she’s concerned.
“They bitch and moan about anything and everything. They eat meals and snacks. They fight over who talks loudest in their sleep and record Will’s ‘epic farts’. I think they’re fine.”
She nods, he nods, and they both go back to their beverages. She eventually hoists herself onto the chair next to his and marks spelling mistakes in his students’ worksheets while he tidily comments on the content.
“Should we ask for separate rooms?” Alex has been perched at the edge of his bed for a while, long enough to have crossed her ankles and then slowly bent her top knee and slid her foot up until it was almost at the top of her thigh.
“That looks really weird. You’re so friggin’ bony.” He’s come out of his book to be immediately confronted with the tight stretch of skin across her patella (a knee bone will never again just be a knee bone; human bio was the first science module he actually enjoyed) and, it’s kind of all he can concentrate on for a second.
“Shut it, bone-boy. Our legs are like, exactly the same. Only yours are hairier, so.”
“No. We shouldn’t. Or, I don’t want to.” He tests out the idea that she might want to have a room that isn’t theirs, and feels kind of confused, but - nope, not hurt. “Do you?”
She shrugs, slides her foot down, swaps them over. “Nah. It’s just. Are we weird? We’re supposed, to like, hate each other or something?”
He shuffles his knee to the side so it nudges just above her butt. “We don’t hate each other. There’s no point trying to.” It’s good logic, and closes the issue for him, so Alex nods, smiles, grabs her Elmo nightie and heads for the shower.
'verse: nik/will, i guess
word count: 873
So, I don't know if anyone knows the backstory of Will and Alex. They are twins. I don't know if they're monozygotic or dizygotic, but, you know what, let's just assume they're not identical. They're pretty different in my head. They're about thirteen in this story. Cool?
Enjoy, lovelies.
“Just, pull it out.” She’s very still against him, her long-thin-bony hip and shoulder and wrist working harder to stay still than they ever have to to move.
“I can’t. It’s all swollen around the front bit, I can’t hold onto it.” Alex got the top of her ear pierced a couple of weeks ago as an anti-celebration of the start of their second term at high school. Their little cousins had been using her as a mode of transportation for hours that night, until she escaped and tugged him into the bathroom, closed the door, and made a pain face as she pointed at the side of her head.
She sighs, squeaks a little bit when he presses in just enough to hook his nail under the ridge of the stud.
“Sorry!” He can feel the breath panting out of her; her side isn’t still anymore, which, relief, but the panting is really freaking him out. “Sorry. I’ve just got to - ”
“Yeah.” The muscles in her neck twitch in preparation for a nod (the side of Will’s hand is resting there for stabilisation, so he feels it) and his mouth makes a shape that’s nearly smile when that’s as far as the instinct goes.
He clicks the butterfly off, and goes for the hard love, sticking plaster method, and blood pools in the space the stud vacates.
She hisses, finishes the sound with the second half of a fuck, squish-leans against Will and pants a little more. “Thanks.”
“S’cool.” He puts the stud on the corner of the vanity, watches blood leach off it and into the tiny puddle someone left when they washed their hands and reached past that corner for the hand towel. Alex leans in and grabs the stud to stir, so the blood makes a sort-of square swirly pattern, and they both lean closer for better seeing.
“Make sure you spray that ear extra often now.” Their Mum wanders into their room, drying her hands on a tea towel with maroon cups and saucers on it.
“Uh huh.” Alex smiles when she says it, though, so it’s not so much teenage attitude as I-already-thought-of-that.
“It hurts more when you get it done again.” She’s not lingering, but, it almost feels like she is. Will turns another page of the book on photography his grandmother nagged his grandfather into buying for his birthday instead of the traditional cash-in-card he’s pretty sure he’s gotten from them since birth. Possibly pre-birth.
Alex laughs. “I know, Mum. I was with you when you got your second holes re-done, remember? You poked at it and moaned for like, twelve shops before I conned you into shouting ice cream so you’d quit it.”
And their mum laughs, disagrees, and then gives in. She wonders, again, as she heads back to the kitchen, if they’re ever going to come to her and tell her they want separate rooms. The spare room’s been on standby since their eight birthday, but they just haven’t asked.
“Is it normal that they still have the same room? They don’t even have a duct tape line to bifurcate.” She feeds the tea towel over the handle of the oven door and makes it straight, before picking up her milo and facing her husband.
“They’re fine.”
“Where’s your proof?” He looks up at her and thinks about his answer, not because it’ll stop her nagging, although, that’s a nice by-product, but because she’s concerned.
“They bitch and moan about anything and everything. They eat meals and snacks. They fight over who talks loudest in their sleep and record Will’s ‘epic farts’. I think they’re fine.”
She nods, he nods, and they both go back to their beverages. She eventually hoists herself onto the chair next to his and marks spelling mistakes in his students’ worksheets while he tidily comments on the content.
“Should we ask for separate rooms?” Alex has been perched at the edge of his bed for a while, long enough to have crossed her ankles and then slowly bent her top knee and slid her foot up until it was almost at the top of her thigh.
“That looks really weird. You’re so friggin’ bony.” He’s come out of his book to be immediately confronted with the tight stretch of skin across her patella (a knee bone will never again just be a knee bone; human bio was the first science module he actually enjoyed) and, it’s kind of all he can concentrate on for a second.
“Shut it, bone-boy. Our legs are like, exactly the same. Only yours are hairier, so.”
“No. We shouldn’t. Or, I don’t want to.” He tests out the idea that she might want to have a room that isn’t theirs, and feels kind of confused, but - nope, not hurt. “Do you?”
She shrugs, slides her foot down, swaps them over. “Nah. It’s just. Are we weird? We’re supposed, to like, hate each other or something?”
He shuffles his knee to the side so it nudges just above her butt. “We don’t hate each other. There’s no point trying to.” It’s good logic, and closes the issue for him, so Alex nods, smiles, grabs her Elmo nightie and heads for the shower.