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giddygeekMe and Lea were just playing a game where I quoted her pieces of my old stories with the names changed so that everything was Pete/Patrick? Which worked surprisingly well for popslash--or at least the one story I did, my first popslash story--and was hilarious in old X-Files fic.
However.
Dear X-Files fandom,
I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I'm 54 stories of sorry, although I seem to remember that some of them didn't suck that hard, mostly because there were very kind beta-people willing to help me a LOT, but still. I wrote 54 stories between the ages of 16 and 19, and I'm reaaaaaally sorry. *grins*
Love,
Someone who is totally not acknowledging her old AKA, because woah.
Dear everyone else,
Have a gem of search/replace goodness from my early popslash days! Just, you know. Bear in mind: THIS WAS A LONG TIME AGO. Like, 7 years, seriously. I had not yet achieved my current levels of awesome!
...
Well, okay, so not much has changed, whatever, shut up.
Patrick said, "This is not just a hug," but completely without his permission, his arms held a little more tightly. Then, when Pete laughed and pressed harder, fitting himself more tightly into Patrick's arms, he opened his eyes.
Pete was smiling at him.
"Maybe not, but it doesn't have to really be anything else," he said. "If you don't want it to be."
And Patrick bit his lip, studied dark eyes and golden skin, the fierce white smile. There was something there, something more honest and real than he'd ever seen in Pete before--
And he'd thought Pete was obvious but apparently he'd been an enigma all along.
So he gathered his courage as he'd done a hundred thousand times since the day he'd signed up to sing with this guy, with his friends. Took the kind of plunge he wouldn't have been able to take all those years ago, or today even, if Pete hadn't decided to show him this for whatever crazy Pete-reason existed.
"And if I did?" he asked, very quietly because it was kind of. Soul-baring. To say something like that to Pete, who was watching him with warmth, extraordinary patience; things Patrick'd never expected to see in Pete and therefore hadn't believed existed.
Apparently, a lot more things existed than Patrick had imagined.
"If you do, I do." Pete' smile widened. "But if you do and I do then I don't know what you've been waiting for, Patrick, and I suggest you knock it off with the whole denial thing. Just kiss me before someone comes looking for us and interrupts this magic moment."
"I think I do. Want to kiss you," Patrick said, and it sounded like a revelation, which he guessed it kind of wasn't. Then he bit his lip again, looked around quickly because it was an automatic habit now, and he leaned forward. Brushed his bitten lip across Pete' curved one in a hesitant, glancing kiss, and was pretty sure he felt the wall that braced him shake, tremble, collapse.
But somehow, he was still standing. And when he pulled away, the wall was still cool against his back.
Pete leaned against him and laughed, a breezily demented sound. "You're such a Romeo," he said, mockery, affection. Patrick had to smile a little, but he pressed against Pete harder, to kiss him again, to cast his slick tongue into Pete' mouth and tangle with him briefly, wetly, before slipping free. Barely a longer kiss than the first, just a little more intense, and the room didn't shake. Patrick still felt changed though, on a fundamental level.
Pete seemed just the same.
"Again," he said. "One more kiss to seal the deal."
"I sealed it on my end with the first one, Pete." Part of his new change was apparently the ability to just reach out, to touch Pete's hair, to smile and be confident with it. His hand slipped around, fingers trailing through the short, soft hair at the back of Pete' neck as his head tilted forward and he sighed, obviously enjoying the touch. For a moment, they stood like that in the sunlit lounge, quiet and restful.
And then Pete cleared his throat.
"I feel rested," he declared abruptly. Brightly. Normal Pete, but when Patrick met his gaze, there were deep secrets there, deep certainty. Normal, but in an all new way. "Gonna go see if Justin wants to dance with me again," he said. "I'll see you later. Tonight." And he slid against Patrick's groin, the movement full of heat and meaning, before he slipped away.
Patrick watched him go, smiling. Thinking about all the time he'd erroneously spent assuming that Pete was open, his every desire obvious, and about all the time he'd spent assuming that he'd never want to waltz backwards in public. And that later, he'd be the one Pete asked to dance, and he'd agree.
Knowing that, best of all, their dance would not be for the crowd.
Come on, stop laughing. No, seriously, stop laughing. You know that was awesome. \o/
However.
Dear X-Files fandom,
I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I'm 54 stories of sorry, although I seem to remember that some of them didn't suck that hard, mostly because there were very kind beta-people willing to help me a LOT, but still. I wrote 54 stories between the ages of 16 and 19, and I'm reaaaaaally sorry. *grins*
Love,
Someone who is totally not acknowledging her old AKA, because woah.
Dear everyone else,
Have a gem of search/replace goodness from my early popslash days! Just, you know. Bear in mind: THIS WAS A LONG TIME AGO. Like, 7 years, seriously. I had not yet achieved my current levels of awesome!
...
Well, okay, so not much has changed, whatever, shut up.
Patrick said, "This is not just a hug," but completely without his permission, his arms held a little more tightly. Then, when Pete laughed and pressed harder, fitting himself more tightly into Patrick's arms, he opened his eyes.
Pete was smiling at him.
"Maybe not, but it doesn't have to really be anything else," he said. "If you don't want it to be."
And Patrick bit his lip, studied dark eyes and golden skin, the fierce white smile. There was something there, something more honest and real than he'd ever seen in Pete before--
And he'd thought Pete was obvious but apparently he'd been an enigma all along.
So he gathered his courage as he'd done a hundred thousand times since the day he'd signed up to sing with this guy, with his friends. Took the kind of plunge he wouldn't have been able to take all those years ago, or today even, if Pete hadn't decided to show him this for whatever crazy Pete-reason existed.
"And if I did?" he asked, very quietly because it was kind of. Soul-baring. To say something like that to Pete, who was watching him with warmth, extraordinary patience; things Patrick'd never expected to see in Pete and therefore hadn't believed existed.
Apparently, a lot more things existed than Patrick had imagined.
"If you do, I do." Pete' smile widened. "But if you do and I do then I don't know what you've been waiting for, Patrick, and I suggest you knock it off with the whole denial thing. Just kiss me before someone comes looking for us and interrupts this magic moment."
"I think I do. Want to kiss you," Patrick said, and it sounded like a revelation, which he guessed it kind of wasn't. Then he bit his lip again, looked around quickly because it was an automatic habit now, and he leaned forward. Brushed his bitten lip across Pete' curved one in a hesitant, glancing kiss, and was pretty sure he felt the wall that braced him shake, tremble, collapse.
But somehow, he was still standing. And when he pulled away, the wall was still cool against his back.
Pete leaned against him and laughed, a breezily demented sound. "You're such a Romeo," he said, mockery, affection. Patrick had to smile a little, but he pressed against Pete harder, to kiss him again, to cast his slick tongue into Pete' mouth and tangle with him briefly, wetly, before slipping free. Barely a longer kiss than the first, just a little more intense, and the room didn't shake. Patrick still felt changed though, on a fundamental level.
Pete seemed just the same.
"Again," he said. "One more kiss to seal the deal."
"I sealed it on my end with the first one, Pete." Part of his new change was apparently the ability to just reach out, to touch Pete's hair, to smile and be confident with it. His hand slipped around, fingers trailing through the short, soft hair at the back of Pete' neck as his head tilted forward and he sighed, obviously enjoying the touch. For a moment, they stood like that in the sunlit lounge, quiet and restful.
And then Pete cleared his throat.
"I feel rested," he declared abruptly. Brightly. Normal Pete, but when Patrick met his gaze, there were deep secrets there, deep certainty. Normal, but in an all new way. "Gonna go see if Justin wants to dance with me again," he said. "I'll see you later. Tonight." And he slid against Patrick's groin, the movement full of heat and meaning, before he slipped away.
Patrick watched him go, smiling. Thinking about all the time he'd erroneously spent assuming that Pete was open, his every desire obvious, and about all the time he'd spent assuming that he'd never want to waltz backwards in public. And that later, he'd be the one Pete asked to dance, and he'd agree.
Knowing that, best of all, their dance would not be for the crowd.
Come on, stop laughing. No, seriously, stop laughing. You know that was awesome. \o/
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Date: 2008-06-19 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 01:07 am (UTC)I'm totally picturing Justin backing slowly away and out of the room during that dance-off.
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Date: 2008-06-19 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 12:49 am (UTC)♥♥♥♥♥
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Date: 2008-06-19 12:48 am (UTC)(I was skimming and thought that was X-Files at first, and it was hard to process! I was judging your characterization a little bit!)
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Date: 2008-06-19 12:51 am (UTC)But you could still totally be judging my Mulder/Scully characterization a little bit. Not gonna lie, pretty horrid stuff sometimes. *grins*
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Date: 2008-06-19 12:50 am (UTC)Wow, look at you busting out "erroneously" AND "his every desire obvious" in the SAME SENTENCE.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 12:53 am (UTC)