Holy car trouble! Also, a tiny fic.
Aug. 24th, 2010 10:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horizon_greeneWhen I went to start my car after work this evening, the battery was dead. It's not the first time I've had to call AAA from work, and it's generally a disaster. The parking garage is a maze that's impossible for an outsider to navigate, so I had the battery technician meet me outside of my office building. Except the technicians generally can't figure out my office complex either, so I had to run around calling out random landmarks and confusing the both of us before I was able to flag the guy down. Then, we couldn't even get into the parking garage, because the AAA van was 7ft tall and the parking garage clearance only 6'6". So he parked the van by a dumpster behind the building and lugged all his gear down the stairs, where he jumped my car finally. I drove us back up to the van, parked my own car next to the dumpster, and attempted to reassure my dad over the phone that all was under control as the AAA guy swapped out my dead battery for a new one and an epic monsoon swirled all around us.
While all this was going on, I wrote a tiny fic. A hooker!AU to supplement the as-yet-unfinished hooker!AU; I guess it's a sequel of sorts, and maybe it'll be integrated into the main story eventually, but for now, it is what it is. Just a short little something.
Barry Zito/Tim Lincecum. Rated R-ish. Unbetaed.
“What do you want?” Tim mumbles into Barry’s neck, over and over like it’s the only thing he’s capable of saying. Barry’s been fingering him for almost twenty minutes now, and he can feel the tremors in Tim’s legs where they’re pressed together, his hands curled into fists against Barry’s shoulders.
Tim’s eyes are closed, and Barry can see something black and glittery smeared close to the lashes, wiped off but not completely removed. He didn’t ask for that—the cleats, yes; the socks pulled up to Tim’s knees, yes; but not that—and he knows it’s left over from somewhere else. Someone else.
Barry feels momentarily sick. He knows what they’re doing—he knows what Tim is—but it was easier to ignore before, when it was just the two of them in a hotel room for days on end, blissfully insulated from reality. Now the outside world is creeping in; the evidence is right there on Tim’s face, plain to see, and Barry doesn’t like it—doesn’t like how territorial it makes him feel, how fiercely, irrationally protective he’s become.
“What do you want?” Tim asks again, voice hoarse and broken. His heart is beating like crazy against Barry’s chest—too fast, way too fucking fast, and Barry suspects he’s using again.
Even when Barry finally pushes inside, Tim humming nonsense against his ear, it doesn’t feel like an answer, doesn’t really seem like enough.
While all this was going on, I wrote a tiny fic. A hooker!AU to supplement the as-yet-unfinished hooker!AU; I guess it's a sequel of sorts, and maybe it'll be integrated into the main story eventually, but for now, it is what it is. Just a short little something.
Barry Zito/Tim Lincecum. Rated R-ish. Unbetaed.
“What do you want?” Tim mumbles into Barry’s neck, over and over like it’s the only thing he’s capable of saying. Barry’s been fingering him for almost twenty minutes now, and he can feel the tremors in Tim’s legs where they’re pressed together, his hands curled into fists against Barry’s shoulders.
Tim’s eyes are closed, and Barry can see something black and glittery smeared close to the lashes, wiped off but not completely removed. He didn’t ask for that—the cleats, yes; the socks pulled up to Tim’s knees, yes; but not that—and he knows it’s left over from somewhere else. Someone else.
Barry feels momentarily sick. He knows what they’re doing—he knows what Tim is—but it was easier to ignore before, when it was just the two of them in a hotel room for days on end, blissfully insulated from reality. Now the outside world is creeping in; the evidence is right there on Tim’s face, plain to see, and Barry doesn’t like it—doesn’t like how territorial it makes him feel, how fiercely, irrationally protective he’s become.
“What do you want?” Tim asks again, voice hoarse and broken. His heart is beating like crazy against Barry’s chest—too fast, way too fucking fast, and Barry suspects he’s using again.
Even when Barry finally pushes inside, Tim humming nonsense against his ear, it doesn’t feel like an answer, doesn’t really seem like enough.
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Date: 2010-08-25 05:38 am (UTC)The car is fine now: new battery, back in business, and I got to listen to the AAA guy tell all these stories about sunsets around the world. It wasn't the worst evening ever, really.
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Date: 2010-08-25 03:02 pm (UTC)By which I mean, of course I want to see more of this.
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Date: 2010-08-25 06:37 pm (UTC)With that said, there are some references to Little League in the AU, though nothing overtly creepy. Sorry ;)
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Date: 2010-08-25 06:56 pm (UTC)Nah, I didn't think it was creepy. I was just laughing :)
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Date: 2010-08-26 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-25 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 04:41 am (UTC)