odd ficlet
Feb. 20th, 2006 07:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoney321Am still sick stop. Sick of Gatorade and tea stop. Writing in telegram form is lame full stop.
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winterlive had a birthday, and a request, and I dropped the ball on posting, so I'm doing so today. Ewan/Hayden, general adult themes, shortish, Hayden's POV.
He had quit drinking, was trying to stop smoking. Sometimes he’d punish me by staying away if I lit up after a rehearsal. I didn’t have his strength, and was still young enough to think I could quit at any time. Most times he’d laugh and joke to keep a distance between us when there were others close-by. We were close, he would say, but Hayden’s just a good kid, he’d follow.
I was the inexperienced one, the one who hadn’t learned discretion. It hurt me, cut me deeply to think I was just a way for him to pass the time. His dirty little secret. But still, I never turned him away when he came to me. I didn’t know how.
Odd hours of the day, in between takes, during late night shooting sessions when George and his crew would watch the dailies over and over again - that was when he’d slip into my trailer. Always mine, never his. Mine was in the back of the lot - George wanted my trailer surrounded with trees to keep the fans and their cameras away. I didn’t care - I got to blast my music loud, walk around in my briefs, my smoke hanging from my lip, and be away from my family, my agents, everyone.
He tried to quit smoking. There were times he would come to me after I had finished a few, kissing me roughly, deeply, tasting the lingering smoke on my tongue, nuzzle behind my ear, lip the curls on my head that I always tried to slick down. Sometimes when he left he would pull my tee-shirt on and leave his behind. Once I caught him pretending to wipe his forehead on the sleeve, but I saw him breathe me in. It helped.
Sometimes we would just sit, not speaking for long stretches of time, happy to be comfortable with long silences for a change. Sometimes he would come at me with such need and ferocity I had to choke back a sob as I came. He liked me on all fours - said it made my height easier to manage. I didn’t care how he took me, just as long as he did. Hands gripping my hair, pulling it tight off my skull, pushing himself into me, his voice rising in a strangled tenor, then always, always soft kisses along my jaw, along my temple, his thumb across my lower lip.
He would hold me and soothe me and kiss me until I came down from my high and smiled, relaxed at his touch. He’d flash his famous grin, pop up on his feet, and start dressing immediately. He never stayed long - couldn’t risk it.
Some nights I woke up in a sweat, clutching the sheets, never knowing if I had called his name out loud. Some nights I lay in bed, his forgotten shirt tucked inside my pillowcase, one hand thrown over my head, eyes staring at nothing. Always I woke up alone.
....
That may suck. I have no idea today, which is why I'm waiting to post more PotC until my head isn't in a fog. (some of you may have missed Saturday's post, btw.)
Happy birthday toannakovsky, and while I don't believe she reads my journal, I do enjoy the hell out of her writing. Fabulous writer, she is. Also, happy birthday to the very funny and snarky grifyn, who probably doesn't want to acknowledge today, but I am always glad to read her funny posts about life, her job and UberKid. I hope today is a peaceful one, G.
winterlive had a birthday, and a request, and I dropped the ball on posting, so I'm doing so today. Ewan/Hayden, general adult themes, shortish, Hayden's POV.He had quit drinking, was trying to stop smoking. Sometimes he’d punish me by staying away if I lit up after a rehearsal. I didn’t have his strength, and was still young enough to think I could quit at any time. Most times he’d laugh and joke to keep a distance between us when there were others close-by. We were close, he would say, but Hayden’s just a good kid, he’d follow.
I was the inexperienced one, the one who hadn’t learned discretion. It hurt me, cut me deeply to think I was just a way for him to pass the time. His dirty little secret. But still, I never turned him away when he came to me. I didn’t know how.
Odd hours of the day, in between takes, during late night shooting sessions when George and his crew would watch the dailies over and over again - that was when he’d slip into my trailer. Always mine, never his. Mine was in the back of the lot - George wanted my trailer surrounded with trees to keep the fans and their cameras away. I didn’t care - I got to blast my music loud, walk around in my briefs, my smoke hanging from my lip, and be away from my family, my agents, everyone.
He tried to quit smoking. There were times he would come to me after I had finished a few, kissing me roughly, deeply, tasting the lingering smoke on my tongue, nuzzle behind my ear, lip the curls on my head that I always tried to slick down. Sometimes when he left he would pull my tee-shirt on and leave his behind. Once I caught him pretending to wipe his forehead on the sleeve, but I saw him breathe me in. It helped.
Sometimes we would just sit, not speaking for long stretches of time, happy to be comfortable with long silences for a change. Sometimes he would come at me with such need and ferocity I had to choke back a sob as I came. He liked me on all fours - said it made my height easier to manage. I didn’t care how he took me, just as long as he did. Hands gripping my hair, pulling it tight off my skull, pushing himself into me, his voice rising in a strangled tenor, then always, always soft kisses along my jaw, along my temple, his thumb across my lower lip.
He would hold me and soothe me and kiss me until I came down from my high and smiled, relaxed at his touch. He’d flash his famous grin, pop up on his feet, and start dressing immediately. He never stayed long - couldn’t risk it.
Some nights I woke up in a sweat, clutching the sheets, never knowing if I had called his name out loud. Some nights I lay in bed, his forgotten shirt tucked inside my pillowcase, one hand thrown over my head, eyes staring at nothing. Always I woke up alone.
....
That may suck. I have no idea today, which is why I'm waiting to post more PotC until my head isn't in a fog. (some of you may have missed Saturday's post, btw.)
Happy birthday to
annakovsky, and while I don't believe she reads my journal, I do enjoy the hell out of her writing. Fabulous writer, she is. Also, happy birthday to the very funny and snarky grifyn, who probably doesn't want to acknowledge today, but I am always glad to read her funny posts about life, her job and UberKid. I hope today is a peaceful one, G.
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Date: 2006-02-20 05:57 am (UTC)*cuddles you*
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Date: 2006-02-20 05:58 am (UTC)Mmmm, good and salty soup.
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Date: 2006-02-20 05:59 am (UTC)Hope you feel better very soon, my sweet!
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Date: 2006-02-20 06:18 am (UTC)Love you, glad you are well, thanks for reading. *lysols you down to keep you healthy*
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Date: 2006-02-20 06:57 am (UTC)(omg, but new chapter? Whee! Must have missed it. *scampers*)
missyou.
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Date: 2006-02-20 07:16 am (UTC)Am feeling better today than yesterday, which is good. Emailing you...
*wraps self in plastic and cuddles*
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Date: 2006-02-20 07:37 am (UTC):*
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Date: 2006-02-20 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 07:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 08:10 am (UTC)The ficlet is so sweet and poignant. I love your Hayden/Ewan, as you know. I don't know how you manage to write anything while you're feeling bad. I'd be curled up on the couch watching TV (if the kids let me, that is).
We're getting ready for our trip to Florida on Thursday. I thought of you this morning when I was grocery shopping. Did you know there's a breakfast cereal for Pirates of the Caribbean? It has Captain Jack Sparrow on the front -- startled me quite a bit when I was rolling my cart down the aisle, to see his lovely eyes looking out at me. The cereal appears to be like Cocoa Puffs with "pirate shapes" marshmallows in it. Hee!
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Date: 2006-02-20 08:21 am (UTC)Thanks for the thoughts on E/H. I was restless last night, and finished it up - it feels disjointed to me, but... *shrugs*
(And I've determined it's the flu - achey joints, fever, listless... Mr. S was a superstar this weekend and took care of everything so I could just flop and roll about. But he left super early this morning, so it's time for me to straighten my spine and get on with things. This week is the TAKS test - do they have that up north? The standardized testing? I friggin' hate G. Bush. More on that topic later...)
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Date: 2006-02-20 08:22 am (UTC)But awww to your pretty icon. You make the loveliest ones around.
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Date: 2006-02-20 08:40 am (UTC)Poor you. Take lots of Tylenol, my dear girl. ::pet pet pet pet::
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Date: 2006-02-20 08:42 am (UTC)That ficlet was great! I love your Ewan/Hayden. It's probably my fave RPS pairing, and I have few. So yay on you! Loved the vice theme, and there was a real poignancy there, mixed with incredible hotness. You do that so well. *awes you*
I want you better! Taking the Alka Seltzer cold? Snuggling the kitties? *pets you*
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Date: 2006-02-20 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 08:53 am (UTC)I want me better, too! Alka Seltzer is soooo my friend. You know what isn't? TheraFlu. Ewww. Tastes gross and didn't do a darn thing. Mr S is gone and I have to be a grownup and in charge now and I want to curl up with kitties and sleeeeeeeep. (They're all over me because I'm feverish. Mmmm, warm mommy!)
*Kathleen Turners you*
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Date: 2006-02-20 10:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 10:43 am (UTC)FLU is horrible! One day the government is going to get off its collective butt and make it possible for everyone who wants one to get the flu shot. I wanted to get one but they were giving it only to those who were especially vulnerable, which of course I think is right.
Yep, we have standardized testing starting in third grade so Evan will get slammed with it next year. It's called MCAS here. I HATE IT. I will gladly hear any rant you want to put out and share with you my own. If Evan wasn't such a sociable little guy we would have given more weight to homeschooling a couple of years ago, and one of the big considerations in favor of it was no MCAS for homeschoolers.
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Date: 2006-02-20 11:17 am (UTC)I feel weird writing these two - it's been a while since I've tried.
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Date: 2006-02-20 11:23 am (UTC)I didn't get a flu shot this year, because LAST year I did, and STILL got the flu. A mild version, sure, but - heh. Normally I just don't get sick. My body is WEAK! *fires self*
Third grade is Morgan's year: she's starting them tomorrow. Reading and math comprehension. 3rd year is one of the biggies. The boy's year is writing - a HUGE hurdle for us. He physically cannot spell letters with any regular legibility. We've been getting him tested for dysgraphia, something that's common for boys with ADHD - 40% of them have it. There's nothing you can do about it, either.
Since our school is a Blue Robbon school, meaning, 98% of children in the school have a high success rate, they really push excellence with the tests. That's not to say that they are teaching to the test, something I abhor, but they really want all of the kids to excel. It's been a huge source of frustration for us, as he just CANNOT write. I've been teaching him how to type, and it's so much easier for him to get his thoughts out - his papers have been coming back with higher marks.
I petitioned for him to be able to take the test on a computer, instead of a blue book and pencil. And GOT IT. WHew. Tomorrow's breakfast will be far less stressful for him, knowing he won't be fighting the physical act of drawing letters and can get to the point of it, you know?
Jeez, I'm rambly...
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Date: 2006-02-20 01:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 05:31 pm (UTC)The stress these tests place on the kids is unbelievable. It breaks my heart to hear the stories about it, and to know that it will be Evan's turn next year. You'd think they were taking entrance exams to law school.
Something a friend of mine tells the kids in the CCD class she leads (Catholic version of Sunday School?) is that these tests are meant to measure the quality of the *school*, not the individual child. The kids in her class come to her petrified about the MCAS, asking if she'll help them pray for them to pass -- the very thought makes me speechless, I'm so upset on their behalf. So that's one thing she tells them to help them relax.
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Date: 2006-02-22 07:30 pm (UTC)stoney, i don't know how, but you make me care so much for poor little hayden. oh. oh, hayden, sweetie, i'm sorry he won't do like he should, he's an absolute wastrel, you deserve better. oh my hart.
this is precisely wot i wanted for my birthday, my darling. asscone.
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Date: 2006-02-22 07:32 pm (UTC)hayden is broken and shy and has an inner steel and I want to make a dick joke, but that is inappropriate because he wants him so badly. Because he's Ewan fucking McGregor.
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Date: 2006-02-22 07:35 pm (UTC)