Fic: i want to live and die in a small apartment
GOOD GOD, HOW LONG DID IT TAKE ME TO GET THIS DONE. This is why I shouldn't post WsIP, seriously. Also, pirateygoodness is an awesome cheerleader. I was pretty convinced that this whole storyline didn't make sense outside of my head (maybe I still think that, whatever), but I wanted to get this off my chest. ANYWAY ENOUGH OF MY BABBLING, GET WHAT YOU CAME FOR:
we can live in sin if you really want to
Van and Ash, implied Zac/Van/Ash - AU HSM RPF
3 of 3
Evening comes early that Sunday. The heat burns off with the light, so by the time the sun has set, the air is Santa Monica cool. Van emerges from her shower freshly-scrubbed and smelling like summer, she imagines she can smell the ocean in the disappearing steam. She crosses the hall in a towel and tip-toes into the bedroom where she's sure Zac is already asleep. Van pulls on underwear and a discarded shirt of Zac's, and without actively deciding to do so, Van lifts the collar to her nose and inhales. She smells sunblock and gasoline and pomade, everything Zac is made of.
Quiet as a mouse, Van climbs into bed. It makes no difference; Zac is out like a light, he doesn't even stir when Van settles against him. She has to lift his heavy arm to pull it around her shoulders, but her eyes are closed the instant she lays her head on his chest. Beneath her cheek, Van feels the steady thumping of Zac's heart. She listens until the sound lulls her to sleep.
It can't be more than minutes when Van wakes again. She looks immediately up at Zac to see if whatever it was woke him as well. His eyes remain closed and his breathing slow, oblivious as ever.
Van turns her cloudy head towards the door and where she's certain Ash is on the other side; in the living room, alone and lonely. Van doesn't hesitate before pulling herself to her feet and moving toward that sound.
What Van heard, turns out, was Ash making herself at home. The couch Ash has been crashing on these last few weeks is little more than a love seat; Ash must be tired of sleeping with her knees bent up. Ash had pulled up the coffee table to the edge of the sofa and a smattering of Zac's vinyl collection, precariously stacked, had fallen noisily to the floor. Ash is spreading her blanket over the new bed she's made for herself when she sees Van watching from the hallway.
“None of them broke,” Ash assures Van in an exaggerated whisper. “I checked.”
Van gives a dismissal wave and joins Ash in front of the flickering television. It's cozy and Van leans on one elbow away from Ash so there's at least some space between them. “You couldn't sleep?”
“I kept waking up,” Ash admits. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.”
Ash looks away then. Even in the weak light of The Late Show, Van can see a million emotions warring on Ash's face. “I'll be out of your hair soon,” Ash promises quietly. “As soon as I'm back on my feet.”
“Ash--”
“I'm not going to mooch off you guys forever.”
“Would you stop that?” Van grabs hold of Ash's elbow and tugs. “No one's kicking you out, you can stay as long as you want.”
Ash looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn't. Van knows-somewhere real deep down, she knows-that things can't keep on like this. Ash and her and Zac in this tiny apartment; she's seen Three's Company, she knows how it goes. Something's got to give. But Van likes that she has her two best friends in one place, under the same roof. She loves that they're never more than a few feet away from her, that she can reach out and touch them if she ever wanted to. So, now, she does. Van leans over and wraps Ash in a hug so tight, Van feels her own shoulders pop.
“You stay as long as you want,” Van repeats. She feels Ash turn her face into the crook of Van's neck, and Ash's lips ghost across Van's throat when Ash murmurs a thank you. Then Van remembers that this, this, is why she she has to keep some space between them. It's become necessary. Van pulls back and feels Ash hold on just a second too long, and something inside Van tightens. She feels it coil inside her like a spring, all repressed tension waiting to explode. It's moments like these that Van catches herself wondering what it would have been like if she'd met Ash first. What it could have meant for them.
Maybe she should feel guilty about all this, about the way she thinks about Ash sometimes. Maybe Van shouldn't be feeling the way she does when she looks at her boyfriend, if Van's looking a her best friend. It should probably feel like some sort of infidelity (there are some days when it definitely does), but that same part of Van that knows her life can't stay this way hopes those feelings will take her in the direction of all three of them, someday.
Johnny Carson is saying goodnight when Ash speaks again. “Hey.”
Van lifts her eyebrows in answer, too drowsy to respond with actual words.
“You're falling asleep.”
“No, I'm awake.”
“Barely,” Ash smiles a little, the tiniest quirk of her lips. She pulls an extra couch cushion out from behind her back and lays it across her lap like an invitation. She says, “Here.”
Van reaches around her head to pull her hair to one side before reclining and resting her head on Ash's lap. Van's eyes slip shut almost immediately and she hears herself sigh, suddenly exhausted. Idly, Ash is sliding her fingers through Van's hair, combing lazily through curls. It's a remarkably simple gesture, sure, but Van takes incredible comfort in it. She thinks she could lay here just like this long after the television fills with snowy static and the sun rises on their little corner of the world.
“You know,” Van's mumbling. Sleep is fast approaching, she's lingering on the edge of it. “I don't want you to go anywhere.”
“No?” Ash asks, and even through the haze of impending slumber, Van can hear the note of indulgence in Ash's voice.
“No,” Van echoes. She throws an arm across Ash's crossed legs and blindly finds Ash's free hand. Van laces their fingers easily. “You should just stay here with us.” She says us, because whatever Van wants, it absolutely includes Zac, too.
“I can't do that.”
“Sure, you can,” Van says dubiously. As if it's the most obvious thing in the world, as if it were that simple. Van opens her eyes to see Ash looking right down at her. As soon as their eyes lock, though, Ash looks away. She focuses instead on something in the dark in front of her. Whatever it is, Van can't see, it's telling Ash what she needs to know.
“Doesn't quite work that way,” Ash tells her. Something in Ash's voice is monumentally, resignedly sad and it makes Van ache in the deepest part of her. Van wants so much to say something to assuage Ash's fears, whatever they are, to erase any doubt. Because, if there's one thing Van's certain of, that way--together--is the only way Van knows how to work, how to function at all.
“Just, like, humor me.” Ash looks back down at Van, finally, and waits to hear more. “You'd want to, right? Stay, I mean. If you could.”
Ash exhales loudly and lifts both hands to her tired eyes, rubbing at them with the heels of her palms. After long moments, she answers, “I don't know what I want anymore, Van. I have no idea.”
Van sits up then, she doesn't see why she should stay down now that Ash wedged her own hands under the backs of her knees, like she needs a reminder to keep them to herself. Then Van says, surprised to hear the throaty whisper her voice has become, “You have some idea what you want.”
Ash shakes her head, “You can't always get what you want, though. Not when--”
Ash doesn't finish her sentence, just lets it trail of there, but Van hears the end of it as if Ash had spoken it out loud: Not when it already belongs to someone else. Van reaches for her, puts her arm on Ash's shoulder and her hand on Ash's neck. Ash shrugs her off almost immediately. Van doesn't blame her. Much.
“It's late,” Ash says. “You should get back to bed.” Van recognizes it for what it is, a dismissal; You should get back to Zac.
“Yeah,” Van conceded. “Okay.” She rises then and bids Ash goodnight, and Van doesn't miss the flash of disappointment on Ash's face. All the way down the hall, Van feels Ash's eyes on her retreating back.
In her bed, Zac is still fast asleep. Van climbs in and curls against him, arm across his back and mouth against his shoulder. She listens to him breathing, feels the expansion of air in his lungs under her arm. Van feels closer to him than anyone and when Zac, even in sleep, pulls an arm out from under him to wrap around Van, she feels such tremendous affection for him. She feels it bloom in her chest where her heart is, can't imagine ever not feeling this way about him. Van thinks then that she could feel this way about Ash, that maybe Van does and she's only started to realize it now. Maybe Van needs Ash in a different, just-as-deep, way.
It occurs to Van that she could be the one to give, she could just give in. She remembers Ash all by herself in her makeshift bed. Van falls asleep thinking that there's enough space here for the three of them.
part one . part two . part three . primer
we can live in sin if you really want to
Van and Ash, implied Zac/Van/Ash - AU HSM RPF
3 of 3
Evening comes early that Sunday. The heat burns off with the light, so by the time the sun has set, the air is Santa Monica cool. Van emerges from her shower freshly-scrubbed and smelling like summer, she imagines she can smell the ocean in the disappearing steam. She crosses the hall in a towel and tip-toes into the bedroom where she's sure Zac is already asleep. Van pulls on underwear and a discarded shirt of Zac's, and without actively deciding to do so, Van lifts the collar to her nose and inhales. She smells sunblock and gasoline and pomade, everything Zac is made of.
Quiet as a mouse, Van climbs into bed. It makes no difference; Zac is out like a light, he doesn't even stir when Van settles against him. She has to lift his heavy arm to pull it around her shoulders, but her eyes are closed the instant she lays her head on his chest. Beneath her cheek, Van feels the steady thumping of Zac's heart. She listens until the sound lulls her to sleep.
It can't be more than minutes when Van wakes again. She looks immediately up at Zac to see if whatever it was woke him as well. His eyes remain closed and his breathing slow, oblivious as ever.
Van turns her cloudy head towards the door and where she's certain Ash is on the other side; in the living room, alone and lonely. Van doesn't hesitate before pulling herself to her feet and moving toward that sound.
What Van heard, turns out, was Ash making herself at home. The couch Ash has been crashing on these last few weeks is little more than a love seat; Ash must be tired of sleeping with her knees bent up. Ash had pulled up the coffee table to the edge of the sofa and a smattering of Zac's vinyl collection, precariously stacked, had fallen noisily to the floor. Ash is spreading her blanket over the new bed she's made for herself when she sees Van watching from the hallway.
“None of them broke,” Ash assures Van in an exaggerated whisper. “I checked.”
Van gives a dismissal wave and joins Ash in front of the flickering television. It's cozy and Van leans on one elbow away from Ash so there's at least some space between them. “You couldn't sleep?”
“I kept waking up,” Ash admits. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.”
Ash looks away then. Even in the weak light of The Late Show, Van can see a million emotions warring on Ash's face. “I'll be out of your hair soon,” Ash promises quietly. “As soon as I'm back on my feet.”
“Ash--”
“I'm not going to mooch off you guys forever.”
“Would you stop that?” Van grabs hold of Ash's elbow and tugs. “No one's kicking you out, you can stay as long as you want.”
Ash looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn't. Van knows-somewhere real deep down, she knows-that things can't keep on like this. Ash and her and Zac in this tiny apartment; she's seen Three's Company, she knows how it goes. Something's got to give. But Van likes that she has her two best friends in one place, under the same roof. She loves that they're never more than a few feet away from her, that she can reach out and touch them if she ever wanted to. So, now, she does. Van leans over and wraps Ash in a hug so tight, Van feels her own shoulders pop.
“You stay as long as you want,” Van repeats. She feels Ash turn her face into the crook of Van's neck, and Ash's lips ghost across Van's throat when Ash murmurs a thank you. Then Van remembers that this, this, is why she she has to keep some space between them. It's become necessary. Van pulls back and feels Ash hold on just a second too long, and something inside Van tightens. She feels it coil inside her like a spring, all repressed tension waiting to explode. It's moments like these that Van catches herself wondering what it would have been like if she'd met Ash first. What it could have meant for them.
Maybe she should feel guilty about all this, about the way she thinks about Ash sometimes. Maybe Van shouldn't be feeling the way she does when she looks at her boyfriend, if Van's looking a her best friend. It should probably feel like some sort of infidelity (there are some days when it definitely does), but that same part of Van that knows her life can't stay this way hopes those feelings will take her in the direction of all three of them, someday.
Johnny Carson is saying goodnight when Ash speaks again. “Hey.”
Van lifts her eyebrows in answer, too drowsy to respond with actual words.
“You're falling asleep.”
“No, I'm awake.”
“Barely,” Ash smiles a little, the tiniest quirk of her lips. She pulls an extra couch cushion out from behind her back and lays it across her lap like an invitation. She says, “Here.”
Van reaches around her head to pull her hair to one side before reclining and resting her head on Ash's lap. Van's eyes slip shut almost immediately and she hears herself sigh, suddenly exhausted. Idly, Ash is sliding her fingers through Van's hair, combing lazily through curls. It's a remarkably simple gesture, sure, but Van takes incredible comfort in it. She thinks she could lay here just like this long after the television fills with snowy static and the sun rises on their little corner of the world.
“You know,” Van's mumbling. Sleep is fast approaching, she's lingering on the edge of it. “I don't want you to go anywhere.”
“No?” Ash asks, and even through the haze of impending slumber, Van can hear the note of indulgence in Ash's voice.
“No,” Van echoes. She throws an arm across Ash's crossed legs and blindly finds Ash's free hand. Van laces their fingers easily. “You should just stay here with us.” She says us, because whatever Van wants, it absolutely includes Zac, too.
“I can't do that.”
“Sure, you can,” Van says dubiously. As if it's the most obvious thing in the world, as if it were that simple. Van opens her eyes to see Ash looking right down at her. As soon as their eyes lock, though, Ash looks away. She focuses instead on something in the dark in front of her. Whatever it is, Van can't see, it's telling Ash what she needs to know.
“Doesn't quite work that way,” Ash tells her. Something in Ash's voice is monumentally, resignedly sad and it makes Van ache in the deepest part of her. Van wants so much to say something to assuage Ash's fears, whatever they are, to erase any doubt. Because, if there's one thing Van's certain of, that way--together--is the only way Van knows how to work, how to function at all.
“Just, like, humor me.” Ash looks back down at Van, finally, and waits to hear more. “You'd want to, right? Stay, I mean. If you could.”
Ash exhales loudly and lifts both hands to her tired eyes, rubbing at them with the heels of her palms. After long moments, she answers, “I don't know what I want anymore, Van. I have no idea.”
Van sits up then, she doesn't see why she should stay down now that Ash wedged her own hands under the backs of her knees, like she needs a reminder to keep them to herself. Then Van says, surprised to hear the throaty whisper her voice has become, “You have some idea what you want.”
Ash shakes her head, “You can't always get what you want, though. Not when--”
Ash doesn't finish her sentence, just lets it trail of there, but Van hears the end of it as if Ash had spoken it out loud: Not when it already belongs to someone else. Van reaches for her, puts her arm on Ash's shoulder and her hand on Ash's neck. Ash shrugs her off almost immediately. Van doesn't blame her. Much.
“It's late,” Ash says. “You should get back to bed.” Van recognizes it for what it is, a dismissal; You should get back to Zac.
“Yeah,” Van conceded. “Okay.” She rises then and bids Ash goodnight, and Van doesn't miss the flash of disappointment on Ash's face. All the way down the hall, Van feels Ash's eyes on her retreating back.
In her bed, Zac is still fast asleep. Van climbs in and curls against him, arm across his back and mouth against his shoulder. She listens to him breathing, feels the expansion of air in his lungs under her arm. Van feels closer to him than anyone and when Zac, even in sleep, pulls an arm out from under him to wrap around Van, she feels such tremendous affection for him. She feels it bloom in her chest where her heart is, can't imagine ever not feeling this way about him. Van thinks then that she could feel this way about Ash, that maybe Van does and she's only started to realize it now. Maybe Van needs Ash in a different, just-as-deep, way.
It occurs to Van that she could be the one to give, she could just give in. She remembers Ash all by herself in her makeshift bed. Van falls asleep thinking that there's enough space here for the three of them.
part one . part two . part three . primer