Um.
Let me explain.
No, there is too much. Let me sum up:
I KNOW I HAVE BEEN TOTALLY MIA. This is because my RL sort of exploded into Passover/new job/school deadlines/family whatsits/my brother coming to visit unexpectedly, AND I actually bothered to look at a calendar and realized OMGWTFBQQ ALL MY HP FEST FICS ARE DUE IN LIKE A WEEK. Except for the one that's due in like two weeks but has turned out to be RIDICULOUSLY long and I suddenly have no time and I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THIS SHIP I JUST GOT BUSY. Sometimes this happens, it is a fact of my existence. Nothing ever happens in manageable chunks it's ALWAYS ALL AT ONCE.
But I am going to be around again in like a day and I will finish girl!Neal and library!sex and all these other WC fics and post them and TO APOLOGIZE FOR ALL OF THIS, HERE'S 500 WORDS OF SAD MOZZ FIC THAT I WROTE FOR HOOSIERBITCH ONE TIME AND NEVER POSTED.
*Grovels*
Title Beautiful Things in Cages
Rating: PG
Pairing: Neal/Mozz (kind of)
Spoilers: Uh, no. Set immediately prior to the pilot.
Summary: Mozz has never been that kind of guy.
Mozzie presses his finger to the dirty glass--not, probably, the way Neal would like him to. If Neal had his way, Mozz would be leaning close to the partition, his hands splayed in a desperate plea, flat so Neal could match his pose from his side of the law.
But Mozz isn't like that.
Instead, he speaks calmly and clearly to the barrier between them, trying not to think about how many disgusting mouth breathers have blown hot air into it before. He speaks calmly and presses just his pinky finger against the glass, almost absently, almost like he doesn't notice.
But Neal (who knows everything) sees it. Neal sees it and even in that hideous orange uniform, with his hair too long and a beard starting to grow, he smiles and it is beautiful. Mozz's heart breaks for the thousandth time, looking at him--the same way it broke when he was seven and saw his first elephant, imprisoned within a circus pen barely big enough to hold it. The same way it broke when he was sixteen and watched the owner of the pawn shop take his mother's favorite necklace and lock it in his display.
Beautiful things shouldn't be kept in cages.
Neal is still smiling at him, and Mozz wants to withdraw his finger now. He feels--foolish, yes, but mostly watched, like someone is just behind him, waiting to point out this mistake. Mozzie is used to feeling watched (he feels eyes on him nearly every minute of nearly every day, judging prying eyes and the calculated plots behind them), but no scrutiny is ever quite the same as Neal's. He's this maelstrom of nervous energy, always has been, and it's just enough--the energy, the mind behind it--to make Mozz sure that he's never been very good at keeping secrets after all.
But (and this is the great problem, the greatest problem, with Neal): Mozz can't withdraw his finger. Because if he did Neal's smile would sink and crash, the path of the Titanic playing out across his features, and watching that happen is a different kind of heartbreak. So Mozz fills the tinny connection between them with a half-assed rant about the guy living below him and watches, waits.
When Neal, purposefully, playfully, presses his own pinky to the glass, Mozz feels his breath catch. For a minute, he wants to be the kind of guy Neal would mold him into, given half the chance; he wants to palm the glass and scream his longing. He wants to beg Neal to wait out his sentence, not to throw it all away for her, to give it three more months and then retire to the hovel Mozz calls home. Neal, of all people, could make it sing.
But Mozz isn't that kind of guy. He pulls his finger from the glass at last, bids Neal goodbye, and turns away before he can see the smile fade, before he can see them lead Neal back to the wrong side of the law.
No, there is too much. Let me sum up:
I KNOW I HAVE BEEN TOTALLY MIA. This is because my RL sort of exploded into Passover/new job/school deadlines/family whatsits/my brother coming to visit unexpectedly, AND I actually bothered to look at a calendar and realized OMGWTFBQQ ALL MY HP FEST FICS ARE DUE IN LIKE A WEEK. Except for the one that's due in like two weeks but has turned out to be RIDICULOUSLY long and I suddenly have no time and I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THIS SHIP I JUST GOT BUSY. Sometimes this happens, it is a fact of my existence. Nothing ever happens in manageable chunks it's ALWAYS ALL AT ONCE.
But I am going to be around again in like a day and I will finish girl!Neal and library!sex and all these other WC fics and post them and TO APOLOGIZE FOR ALL OF THIS, HERE'S 500 WORDS OF SAD MOZZ FIC THAT I WROTE FOR HOOSIERBITCH ONE TIME AND NEVER POSTED.
*Grovels*
Title Beautiful Things in Cages
Rating: PG
Pairing: Neal/Mozz (kind of)
Spoilers: Uh, no. Set immediately prior to the pilot.
Summary: Mozz has never been that kind of guy.
Mozzie presses his finger to the dirty glass--not, probably, the way Neal would like him to. If Neal had his way, Mozz would be leaning close to the partition, his hands splayed in a desperate plea, flat so Neal could match his pose from his side of the law.
But Mozz isn't like that.
Instead, he speaks calmly and clearly to the barrier between them, trying not to think about how many disgusting mouth breathers have blown hot air into it before. He speaks calmly and presses just his pinky finger against the glass, almost absently, almost like he doesn't notice.
But Neal (who knows everything) sees it. Neal sees it and even in that hideous orange uniform, with his hair too long and a beard starting to grow, he smiles and it is beautiful. Mozz's heart breaks for the thousandth time, looking at him--the same way it broke when he was seven and saw his first elephant, imprisoned within a circus pen barely big enough to hold it. The same way it broke when he was sixteen and watched the owner of the pawn shop take his mother's favorite necklace and lock it in his display.
Beautiful things shouldn't be kept in cages.
Neal is still smiling at him, and Mozz wants to withdraw his finger now. He feels--foolish, yes, but mostly watched, like someone is just behind him, waiting to point out this mistake. Mozzie is used to feeling watched (he feels eyes on him nearly every minute of nearly every day, judging prying eyes and the calculated plots behind them), but no scrutiny is ever quite the same as Neal's. He's this maelstrom of nervous energy, always has been, and it's just enough--the energy, the mind behind it--to make Mozz sure that he's never been very good at keeping secrets after all.
But (and this is the great problem, the greatest problem, with Neal): Mozz can't withdraw his finger. Because if he did Neal's smile would sink and crash, the path of the Titanic playing out across his features, and watching that happen is a different kind of heartbreak. So Mozz fills the tinny connection between them with a half-assed rant about the guy living below him and watches, waits.
When Neal, purposefully, playfully, presses his own pinky to the glass, Mozz feels his breath catch. For a minute, he wants to be the kind of guy Neal would mold him into, given half the chance; he wants to palm the glass and scream his longing. He wants to beg Neal to wait out his sentence, not to throw it all away for her, to give it three more months and then retire to the hovel Mozz calls home. Neal, of all people, could make it sing.
But Mozz isn't that kind of guy. He pulls his finger from the glass at last, bids Neal goodbye, and turns away before he can see the smile fade, before he can see them lead Neal back to the wrong side of the law.