Another BJ ficlet thingy
Sep. 7th, 2005 06:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
exsequarThis is something I wrote a few months ago, but I didn't have many people on my flist then, and I'm really proud of it... so I want to share. It's basically a fairy-tale version of the BJ storyline, though only through 308. I think that's where I was up to watching when I wrote this. I could extend it, I suppose, but the end of S5 isn't really conducive to a nice fairy tale ending. So it stands like this. Do let me know what you think :)
A Boy and a Man
Once there was a boy-who-wanted-to-be-a-man and a man-who-wanted-to-be-young-forever. We'll call them boy and man, respectively, for that was the reality and not the dream. One day, the boy went searching for adventure in the form of other boys. Or other men. And our man saw him, young and perfect in the yellow light of a street lamp, and something went click and nothing was ever the same.
The man took the boy back to his apartment and taught him a few things, including that nothing is quite as hot as a naked man pouring water over his head. The boy held out his innocence, his naivete, and his virginity for the man to take, and take he did. The man locked them in a little box in his heart, and the key was to be forever his, though he didn't know this at the time.
The man was, of course, in denial. He refused to admit that this boy was anything special, anything more than just another trick. But how many tricks did he fuck until 6 AM? He told the boy to see him in his dreams, but he didn't realize that the boy would have those dreams while sleeping next to him. And the boy, who was a persistent little son-of-a-homophobic-bastard, kept coming back and coming back, until the man couldn't resist any more, despite himself.
Then fate, circumstance, and inadvertent love conspired to bring them under the same roof. The man was still in denial, but slowly, inexorably their connection grew. The man and the boy became THEM. And the man made an effort, let some of his walls down for the first time – and the boy got hurt. Not by him, but by the bigoted world and one person in particular. And it seemed everything was broken and lost forever. He wore that bloody scarf always, an endless reminder of guilt and regret and shattered sunshine.
Once again, the man's roof became their roof. Initially, the man kept him there out of guilt and need to make up for that guilt somehow, but at some point they became something pure and real. They made an arrangement that was a relationship and wasn't. It was beautiful, in its own fucked up way. But the boy, still just a boy for all he had gone through, wanted love and romance and a handsome prince to sweep him off his feet. The man didn't believe in romance. Flowers and picnics weren't his thing. And so the boy slipped through his fingers, stolen by soulful brown eyes and a violin bow that flowed like silk and a promise.
But the boy learned that there is something more important than romance, and that's trust, and promises kept. So the fiddler fell off the roof and the boy returned to dreaming of that man, who still had the boy's innocence locked in that little box, forever his. The boy decided to stand up for what he wanted and so the pair, that most unlikely pair, was reunited in a tangle of sweat and kisses and exquisite relief, for this was how it was meant to be. And so they became partners, inexplicable and confusing, but connected for all that, by a little key and a box.
A Boy and a Man
Once there was a boy-who-wanted-to-be-a-man and a man-who-wanted-to-be-young-forever. We'll call them boy and man, respectively, for that was the reality and not the dream. One day, the boy went searching for adventure in the form of other boys. Or other men. And our man saw him, young and perfect in the yellow light of a street lamp, and something went click and nothing was ever the same.
The man took the boy back to his apartment and taught him a few things, including that nothing is quite as hot as a naked man pouring water over his head. The boy held out his innocence, his naivete, and his virginity for the man to take, and take he did. The man locked them in a little box in his heart, and the key was to be forever his, though he didn't know this at the time.
The man was, of course, in denial. He refused to admit that this boy was anything special, anything more than just another trick. But how many tricks did he fuck until 6 AM? He told the boy to see him in his dreams, but he didn't realize that the boy would have those dreams while sleeping next to him. And the boy, who was a persistent little son-of-a-homophobic-bastard, kept coming back and coming back, until the man couldn't resist any more, despite himself.
Then fate, circumstance, and inadvertent love conspired to bring them under the same roof. The man was still in denial, but slowly, inexorably their connection grew. The man and the boy became THEM. And the man made an effort, let some of his walls down for the first time – and the boy got hurt. Not by him, but by the bigoted world and one person in particular. And it seemed everything was broken and lost forever. He wore that bloody scarf always, an endless reminder of guilt and regret and shattered sunshine.
Once again, the man's roof became their roof. Initially, the man kept him there out of guilt and need to make up for that guilt somehow, but at some point they became something pure and real. They made an arrangement that was a relationship and wasn't. It was beautiful, in its own fucked up way. But the boy, still just a boy for all he had gone through, wanted love and romance and a handsome prince to sweep him off his feet. The man didn't believe in romance. Flowers and picnics weren't his thing. And so the boy slipped through his fingers, stolen by soulful brown eyes and a violin bow that flowed like silk and a promise.
But the boy learned that there is something more important than romance, and that's trust, and promises kept. So the fiddler fell off the roof and the boy returned to dreaming of that man, who still had the boy's innocence locked in that little box, forever his. The boy decided to stand up for what he wanted and so the pair, that most unlikely pair, was reunited in a tangle of sweat and kisses and exquisite relief, for this was how it was meant to be. And so they became partners, inexplicable and confusing, but connected for all that, by a little key and a box.
