for Sprat: "Lures" (Wilby Wonderful)
Title: Lures
Recipient: sprat
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Author: misspamela
HUGE beta thanks go to brooklinegirl and kageygirl!
Lures
Dan never was a morning person. That is to say, he liked mornings just fine, as long as he didn't have to get up for them.
He loved opening his eyes a crack, seeing the sun, then rolling over to tangle himself in his cotton sheets and big, soft quilt. Sometimes he even tangled himself around his wife, their limbs entwining and neither of them quite awake.
Mornings had been the best part of their marriage. Things didn't start to go badly until lunchtime, and by bedtime they tried to avoid each other. Beds were dangerous ground unless they were both asleep.
Duck, on the other hand, barely slept in the bed they shared. Their bed was for falling on, for twisting their hands around the damp sheets, for creaking and groaning, and for hundreds of quick kisses before they left for work.
But when Dan woke up on Saturdays, Duck was always gone. He'd come back around eleven with fresh bagels and the paper and a big, shining grin on his face. Getting up to hot bagels and a quietly jubilant Duck wasn't anything to complain about, but Dan sometimes missed his mornings.
One morning, when Dan opened his eyes, he noticed that that sky was pink, not gold, and he shivered deeper into the blankets. Something else was registering, pushing in at the edges of his mind.
Coffee. Fresh coffee.
He rolled over to find Duck sitting at the edge of the bed holding a silver travel mug with steam rising gently from the top. He was wearing a dark green Henley with a quilted plaid button-down shirt over it. He smiled, his eyes crinkling gently.
"Want to go for a ride?" he asked.
"Um," Dan scrubbed his eyes with his hand, "Sure."
He took the coffee and gulped down two quick swallows. He could feel the caffeine rushing to his brain, like it was carried by the steam instead of in his bloodstream.
Stumbling to the dresser, he found some jeans and a worn brown sweater to throw over his t-shirt. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see. Come on." Duck jingled the truck keys gently in his hand
They walked outside and Dan shivered as the cold, damp air hit his face and ears. Duck noticed and grinned. "I love September." Their shoes crunched loudly on the damp, pebbly rocks on their way to the truck. Dan took another sip of his coffee, enjoying the heat of the mug in his hands.
Duck drove them out past the Watch, to a part of the island that Dan hadn't noticed before. There was a small jetty, covered in smooth, almost perfectly round grey stones of varying sizes. Duck pulled over on the side of the road, into a soft, sandy area that had obviously been used a lot, judging from all the tire tracks.
Rummaging under a tarp in the back of the truck, Duck pulled out a tackle box, two camp chairs, and two fishing poles. "You ever bait a hook?" he asked, handing one of the poles to Dan.
"Not since I was seven," Dan said. His dad used to take him out sometimes when they stayed at Lac Mephremagog. Dan never really got the hang of fishing, but he always liked going out on the boat and talking to his dad about stupid things, like movies and gum flavors and which were the best kinds of rain boots.
They walked out to the end of the jetty and sat on one of the larger rocks. It wasn't as uncomfortable as Dan thought it would be. Duck opened the box and took out a jar filled with some kind of dried bugs. Dan shuddered.
"First one's on me." Duck winked at him. "But next time, you're touching the worms."
"Is this where you go in the morning?" Dan asked.
"Yep." Duck skillfully baited the hook and checked the line. He handed it to Dan. "Do you remember how to cast?"
"I think so." Dan flicked his wrist back, then forward, and plunked the hook in at a respectable distance from the shore.
"Not bad." Duck grinned at him and cast his line with a smooth snap.
Despite the damp cool of a mid-September morning, Dan could see why Duck liked this so much. The waves lapped gently against the stones, grey on grey, rivulets running down the cracks and back into the sea. Winging across the sky, a gull circled above and landed with an ungraceful squawk further down the coast.
After a few minutes, Dan glanced over at Duck, marveling at how relaxed he looked. Sometimes Dan was a little shocked at how little he really knew about Duck. Most days, his old life - his wife, the suicide attempt - was another world, and he couldn't remember what it was like not to have Duck. Other days, Dan would stare at Duck and think, what the hell am I doing with this stranger?
"I didn't think you were the fishing type," Dan blurted out.
Duck looked at him in a way that said, kindly and gently, of course, that he was a total moron. "I was raised on an island."
"Of course." Dan fidgeted in the chair and Duck reached out to touch his hand. "Why…why do you like it so much?" Dan asked.
"Because, when I'm out here I feel like I'm the only person in the world." Duck grinned.
Dan nodded in agreement. The only sounds he could hear were the muffled crash of waves, and the screeching of the gull, who was now fighting with another gull for the rights to a fast-food wrapper. The angle of the jetty was such that the cars on the access road were reduced to a dull hum of background noise and the occasional flash of silver. It was incredibly peaceful.
"Why did you bring me out here, then?" Dan shifted his eyes downward and the out to sea. He hated asking Duck to talk about this…whatever it was that they had. It was better to let good things stay as they were and not question it.
Duck gave him that look again, sad and amused and slightly annoyed. "Because," he said slowly, enunciating every word, "now I feel like we're the only people in the world."
"Oh." Dan could feel the grin spreading across his face.
"It's a good thing you're so pretty." Duck reached out and gently touched Dan's face. Dan shivered with happiness. "Because you're not that bright."
"You're just using me for my good looks?" Dan kissed Duck's fingers, one by one.
"I'm a leg man. What can I say?" Duck stared into his eyes, intense, a promise of more to come later.
"You know what?" Dan asked. He was breathing a little harder, his body thrumming happily.
"What?"
"I think we've fished enough."
Duck turned and cocked his head thoughtfully. "You know, I think you're right. Home?"
"Yeah," Dan reached out and skimmed his hand over the back of Duck's neck. "Home."
Recipient: sprat
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Author: misspamela
HUGE beta thanks go to brooklinegirl and kageygirl!
Lures
Dan never was a morning person. That is to say, he liked mornings just fine, as long as he didn't have to get up for them.
He loved opening his eyes a crack, seeing the sun, then rolling over to tangle himself in his cotton sheets and big, soft quilt. Sometimes he even tangled himself around his wife, their limbs entwining and neither of them quite awake.
Mornings had been the best part of their marriage. Things didn't start to go badly until lunchtime, and by bedtime they tried to avoid each other. Beds were dangerous ground unless they were both asleep.
Duck, on the other hand, barely slept in the bed they shared. Their bed was for falling on, for twisting their hands around the damp sheets, for creaking and groaning, and for hundreds of quick kisses before they left for work.
But when Dan woke up on Saturdays, Duck was always gone. He'd come back around eleven with fresh bagels and the paper and a big, shining grin on his face. Getting up to hot bagels and a quietly jubilant Duck wasn't anything to complain about, but Dan sometimes missed his mornings.
One morning, when Dan opened his eyes, he noticed that that sky was pink, not gold, and he shivered deeper into the blankets. Something else was registering, pushing in at the edges of his mind.
Coffee. Fresh coffee.
He rolled over to find Duck sitting at the edge of the bed holding a silver travel mug with steam rising gently from the top. He was wearing a dark green Henley with a quilted plaid button-down shirt over it. He smiled, his eyes crinkling gently.
"Want to go for a ride?" he asked.
"Um," Dan scrubbed his eyes with his hand, "Sure."
He took the coffee and gulped down two quick swallows. He could feel the caffeine rushing to his brain, like it was carried by the steam instead of in his bloodstream.
Stumbling to the dresser, he found some jeans and a worn brown sweater to throw over his t-shirt. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see. Come on." Duck jingled the truck keys gently in his hand
They walked outside and Dan shivered as the cold, damp air hit his face and ears. Duck noticed and grinned. "I love September." Their shoes crunched loudly on the damp, pebbly rocks on their way to the truck. Dan took another sip of his coffee, enjoying the heat of the mug in his hands.
Duck drove them out past the Watch, to a part of the island that Dan hadn't noticed before. There was a small jetty, covered in smooth, almost perfectly round grey stones of varying sizes. Duck pulled over on the side of the road, into a soft, sandy area that had obviously been used a lot, judging from all the tire tracks.
Rummaging under a tarp in the back of the truck, Duck pulled out a tackle box, two camp chairs, and two fishing poles. "You ever bait a hook?" he asked, handing one of the poles to Dan.
"Not since I was seven," Dan said. His dad used to take him out sometimes when they stayed at Lac Mephremagog. Dan never really got the hang of fishing, but he always liked going out on the boat and talking to his dad about stupid things, like movies and gum flavors and which were the best kinds of rain boots.
They walked out to the end of the jetty and sat on one of the larger rocks. It wasn't as uncomfortable as Dan thought it would be. Duck opened the box and took out a jar filled with some kind of dried bugs. Dan shuddered.
"First one's on me." Duck winked at him. "But next time, you're touching the worms."
"Is this where you go in the morning?" Dan asked.
"Yep." Duck skillfully baited the hook and checked the line. He handed it to Dan. "Do you remember how to cast?"
"I think so." Dan flicked his wrist back, then forward, and plunked the hook in at a respectable distance from the shore.
"Not bad." Duck grinned at him and cast his line with a smooth snap.
Despite the damp cool of a mid-September morning, Dan could see why Duck liked this so much. The waves lapped gently against the stones, grey on grey, rivulets running down the cracks and back into the sea. Winging across the sky, a gull circled above and landed with an ungraceful squawk further down the coast.
After a few minutes, Dan glanced over at Duck, marveling at how relaxed he looked. Sometimes Dan was a little shocked at how little he really knew about Duck. Most days, his old life - his wife, the suicide attempt - was another world, and he couldn't remember what it was like not to have Duck. Other days, Dan would stare at Duck and think, what the hell am I doing with this stranger?
"I didn't think you were the fishing type," Dan blurted out.
Duck looked at him in a way that said, kindly and gently, of course, that he was a total moron. "I was raised on an island."
"Of course." Dan fidgeted in the chair and Duck reached out to touch his hand. "Why…why do you like it so much?" Dan asked.
"Because, when I'm out here I feel like I'm the only person in the world." Duck grinned.
Dan nodded in agreement. The only sounds he could hear were the muffled crash of waves, and the screeching of the gull, who was now fighting with another gull for the rights to a fast-food wrapper. The angle of the jetty was such that the cars on the access road were reduced to a dull hum of background noise and the occasional flash of silver. It was incredibly peaceful.
"Why did you bring me out here, then?" Dan shifted his eyes downward and the out to sea. He hated asking Duck to talk about this…whatever it was that they had. It was better to let good things stay as they were and not question it.
Duck gave him that look again, sad and amused and slightly annoyed. "Because," he said slowly, enunciating every word, "now I feel like we're the only people in the world."
"Oh." Dan could feel the grin spreading across his face.
"It's a good thing you're so pretty." Duck reached out and gently touched Dan's face. Dan shivered with happiness. "Because you're not that bright."
"You're just using me for my good looks?" Dan kissed Duck's fingers, one by one.
"I'm a leg man. What can I say?" Duck stared into his eyes, intense, a promise of more to come later.
"You know what?" Dan asked. He was breathing a little harder, his body thrumming happily.
"What?"
"I think we've fished enough."
Duck turned and cocked his head thoughtfully. "You know, I think you're right. Home?"
"Yeah," Dan reached out and skimmed his hand over the back of Duck's neck. "Home."