Fic: Six Years (Indy/Older!Shorty)
Hello. I'm TheSummoningDark. I'm a new convert to the faith, and I come bearing fic.
Title: Six Years
Rating PG
Pairing: Indy/Older!Shorty
Disclaimer: I don't own Indiana Jones, or anything relating to him. Sadly.
It's been six years. Six years, and a glimpse across a crowded barroom is all it takes to bring memories rushing back, make him a scared kid harbouring a secret crush again. He remembers picking pockets on the streets of Shanghai...learning to drive, speak English, handle a gun. Some memories don't need an external stimulus to come back. Every night he wakes from flashes of steaming jungles and black magic and the blood of Kali Ma.
He makes his way to the bar, moving through the crush of humanity with the ease of a lifetime's practice. All the time his eyes keep track of that unmistakable fedora. There's a woman hanging off his arm - some blonde, details don't really register. He looks good. Six years...there are new scars, the fedora is even more battered and in dire need of a clean, but the man himself is unchanged. Unchangeable.
The blonde is wittering about something inconsequential. He leans against the bar and waits to be noticed.It doesn't take long. Wary eyes scan the room constantly, and he doesn't miss the slight widening and expression of incredulous joy when they land on him.
"Shorty?"
He introduces himself as Chang Jian now, but he suspects that in this case he will never be free of the old nickname. So he grins and tips an imaginary hat and replies; "Doctor Jones."
His grin only widens as he's caught in a rib cracking bear-hug. He's still a clear head smaller, another reason he'll never escape from 'Shorty', but he doesn't care. It's been six long years, and Indy's holding on like he never means to let go, and there's a constant low litany in his ear of how are you, I missed you, and where the hell have you been, kid?
The blonde gives an indignant huff at being abandoned in favour of an old friend, and flounces off in the face of identical unapologetic grins sent her way.
Indy's finally released him, but the arm slung around his shoulders remains. Shorty endeavours with a questionable degree of success not to look like he's leaning contentedly into the older man's warm, solid side. It's difficult, mainly because he is.
He doesn't care though. Because the blonde's been summarily dismissed, and he's happy, and for the first time in six years he's back where he belongs.
Sequel ici.
Title: Six Years
Rating PG
Pairing: Indy/Older!Shorty
Disclaimer: I don't own Indiana Jones, or anything relating to him. Sadly.
It's been six years. Six years, and a glimpse across a crowded barroom is all it takes to bring memories rushing back, make him a scared kid harbouring a secret crush again. He remembers picking pockets on the streets of Shanghai...learning to drive, speak English, handle a gun. Some memories don't need an external stimulus to come back. Every night he wakes from flashes of steaming jungles and black magic and the blood of Kali Ma.
He makes his way to the bar, moving through the crush of humanity with the ease of a lifetime's practice. All the time his eyes keep track of that unmistakable fedora. There's a woman hanging off his arm - some blonde, details don't really register. He looks good. Six years...there are new scars, the fedora is even more battered and in dire need of a clean, but the man himself is unchanged. Unchangeable.
The blonde is wittering about something inconsequential. He leans against the bar and waits to be noticed.It doesn't take long. Wary eyes scan the room constantly, and he doesn't miss the slight widening and expression of incredulous joy when they land on him.
"Shorty?"
He introduces himself as Chang Jian now, but he suspects that in this case he will never be free of the old nickname. So he grins and tips an imaginary hat and replies; "Doctor Jones."
His grin only widens as he's caught in a rib cracking bear-hug. He's still a clear head smaller, another reason he'll never escape from 'Shorty', but he doesn't care. It's been six long years, and Indy's holding on like he never means to let go, and there's a constant low litany in his ear of how are you, I missed you, and where the hell have you been, kid?
The blonde gives an indignant huff at being abandoned in favour of an old friend, and flounces off in the face of identical unapologetic grins sent her way.
Indy's finally released him, but the arm slung around his shoulders remains. Shorty endeavours with a questionable degree of success not to look like he's leaning contentedly into the older man's warm, solid side. It's difficult, mainly because he is.
He doesn't care though. Because the blonde's been summarily dismissed, and he's happy, and for the first time in six years he's back where he belongs.
Sequel ici.