Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

More from this crazy PdM thing that I’m still finding my way with.

April 2, 2018

10:27 a.m.

LLAP:

CP: Oh wow. That’s beautiful.

LLAP: You’re missing the critical point. It’s April second.

CP: You took this today?

LLAP: Just now.

CP: Well, it’s still really beautiful.

LLAP: In January this would be beautiful. In April it’s just cruel.

LLAP:

CP: Brrr. Poor cherry blossoms.

LLAP: Yeah. And not just them. Everyone over 12 has a worn, bitter, duped expression.

CP: and under 12?

LLAP: A snow day by any other name…

Sentences Sunday

From the epilogue for my sp00qy fic ‘phantom’, called November.

November 12

8:37 p.m. GMT

MH: Mummy wants to know if that article on neural network theory was yours. She says the use of non-linear thresholds for perceptron aggregation was ‘elegant’.

AS: Aunt Elinor shouldn’t spread such conspiracies.

MH: Asking me is hardly spreading conspiracies. Shall I tell her you can neither confirm nor deny?

AS: I’m not you. Fine. Tell her thank you.

MH: Sherlock says this new alias is the worst one yet, and I have to agree.

AS: He would. And you haven’t cottoned on yet, have you?

MH: I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.

AS: Well, with another alias or two it will be more apparent. Tell Sherlock congratulations on the latest. I saw the writeup in the Times.

MH: I am not a carrier pigeon.

AS: And yet you started this text with a message.

MH: Mummy doesn’t text. Sherlock, on the other hand prefers it to all other means of communication.

AS: Fine. I’ll tell him myself.

MH: And how is the agent? It seems the breach was more confined than we first feared.

AS: Recovering. As to the rest, I can neither confirm nor deny.

MH: Very well, cousin. Shall we expect you for dinner on the 4th? Mummy is apparently going to some trouble just on the rumor we might all attend.

Q rubs his eyes under his glasses and then looks around his flat. Ada is curled up with him on the sofa, but it still feels quiet and bit lonely.

AS: Maybe. Baring a mission pulling me in.

MH: I’ll let her know.

Sentences Sunday

From Cleaving, now that I’m back on track…

“Can I have chocolate chips in mine too?” Nathan asked, climbing up on a bar stool so he could watch Chris cook. “And whipped cream? In a face like at Disneyland?”

“Do you want ears like Mickey or a pointy head like Gustafer?” Chris asked, a scoop of batter poised over the griddle.

Nathan cocked his head, mulling over that decision. Chris grinned at Zach as he waited.

“Mickey,” Nathan finally said. Chris poured the batter out in the traditional shape and went searching for the extra-large spatula.

Zach got the rest of their breakfast out of the fridge — orange juice and milk and the chicken breakfast sausages that would likely be their only protein in this carb fest — and he froze.

“You okay?” Chris asked, noticing Zach’s abrupt lack of activity.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to set everything on the counter. He grabbed a pan to heat the sausages and glanced at the clock. “I was just thinking, we should do something special today. Something that we can only do when we have all day free and we get up really early.”

“Like what?” Chris flipped the over-sized pancake. Zach really didn’t want to blurt it out without talking to Chris in private, because once the idea was planted in Nathan’s head, backing out would be just about impossible. He gave the pancake a meaningful look and then raised his eyebrows at Chris…

…who looked totally confused.

“I don’t know,” Zach tried. “Let’s find a happy place, full of fantasy and adventure and new frontiers.”

Chris looked at him quizzically.

“And, um, visions of tomorrow,” he continued, trying to remember the names of all the parts of the park after only a half cup of coffee. “And maybe see some pirates? Caribbean ones?”

“Oh!” Chris said, eyes wide with understanding. “You want,” and he motioned to the pancake with the spatula before flipping it onto a plate. He quickly made a face using banana slices, chocolate chips and whipped cream as Nathan watched with rapt attention. “You sure? It’ll be crowded.”

Zach shrugged, glancing at Nathan who was thankfully barely listening as he poured his syrup. “The annual passes expire this month, and we’ve barely used them. And if we hurry we can get there by opening and be done with the critical rides by noon. Then we can just sit in New Orleans Square and eat beignets as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, you love it. And so does Nathan.”

“And you?”

“I love being there with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Nathan asked through a mouthful of pancake.

Chris raised his eyebrows at Zach, and when he nodded said, ”Daddy thinks maybe we should go to Disneyland today, but I don’t think you like it there.”

“I like it!” Nathan cried, fork frozen midair with his next bite of pancake. “I like it a lot. Oh! Can I wear my Jedi robes and try to fight Darth Vader?”

“Sure,” Zach said. “And I can dress up like Mr. Spock.”

“Daddy! That’s Star Trek, not Star Wars.”

“Oh right. I always get those two confused.”

Writer’s Meme

Copy and paste part of a WIP and then tag 10 of your friends.

I was tagged by @rabidchild67. Thanks BB!

I’ve been crap at writing lately, but as it turns out I was trapped in the car for several hours today and so I, too, have words! From the epilogue that never ends, and is at 9k words and counting:

It was a quiet drive to the pizza parlor, Zach driving while Chris texted their contact at Vista. Nathan roused himself finally when they got home.

“We should bring her dvds,” Nathan said through a mouthful of pizza. “There was a player in her T.V. She’s too little to read books by herself, but she’d like Gustafer videos.”

“We can’t get those in stores, buddy,” Chris said. “And we don’t have time to order them online.”

“She can borrow mine,” Nathan answered, taking another bite. Chris turned to Zach and raised an eyebrow, making Zach grin.

“That’s…very generous of you,” Zach said. “We can wrap them up in the morning before we go.”

“She needs a stuffy, too,” Nathan asserted. “She should have one of hers, but I could give her my extra Build-A-Bear. I don’t really like that purple one much. It’s too squishy. But her arms a smaller, so it will fit her better.”

Zach swallowed, and Chris cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You know, Nathan,” Chris said quietly. “We might not see her again after tomorrow. I’m… I’m very proud that you want to help her, but we might not be able to get your things back if you loan them to her.”

Nathan furrowed his brow.

“It’s okay,” Zach reassured. “We can order you new copies of the videos, and I’m sure Auntie Katie will be thrilled to take you to Build-A-Bear again. These are good ideas. You’re a good boy.”

“But… we might not see her again?”

“We’ll see her tomorrow,” Zach assured him. “And then we’ll… see. There are other people who want her in their family, too.”

“But, not even for a play date?”

Chris caught Zach’s eye before answering, “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay? Let’s be happy we get to see her tomorrow, and try to make that as fun as possible. And tonight too. What should we do tonight that’s fun? There’s still an hour or two before bedtime.”

The evening moved on to games and bathtime and bedtime. Once Nathan was down, Chris and Zach opened some wine and talked more about the visit, pulled together their documentation from Vista, and got confirmation from their adoption assistant that he’d be there by one. Chris was reserved through the conversation. Not unenthusiastic; he made it clear that he wanted to go for it, accept Mira if they were offered her. But he was strangely reticent. Or maybe just tired.

They turned in early, but Zach woke at 2:30 to find the other side of the bed empty and cold.

I’ll tag @ao3-brihna, @drgrlfriend, @lesbianchrispine, @multifandom-madnesss, @psychoticpterodactyl16, @rycolfan, @television-and-tea, @trekbedtimestories, @seepunkrun, and @suedescripture.

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday on Monday

ato-the-bean:

From Cleaving:

Zach closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, shifting slightly to get a jet positioned between his shoulder-blades and tangling his legs with Chris’. He felt Chris’ legs shift as he stretched, and then something icy cold touched his hand. He smiled, taking the glass of Prosecco, opening his eyes as he felt Chris lean back.

“How many times have we actually done this?” Chris asked, reaching back to turn off the water.

Zach hadn’t realized how loud the rushing water had been until the sound was gone. The air almost shifted as the prevalent sounds became the much softer hum of the jets and atmospheric groove of the music.

“Done what? Relaxed?”

“No.” Chris took a sip, thinking. “Just, our entire friendship, before we got together, I always thought of you as this really sensual guy.”

“Hedonistic, you mean.”

Chris laughed. “No. I wasn’t going to say that. Just… enjoyed your senses. I mean, we’ve had great meals together, and great sex, and I know I can get pretty tactile at times—”

“You?”

Chris kicked at him, and Zach caught at his foot under the water with a laugh and held it, stroking Chris’ ankle with his thumb. Chris’ eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed against the tub again. “Hmmm. But we don’t seem to do this very often.”

Zach knew what he meant. “We’re dads,” he said simply. “With careers. We’re lucky if we stay awake through a movie on the sofa after Nathan’s gone to bed. And, in our defense, we do an almost embarrassing amount of snuggling on those nights.” And it didn’t always stay innocent. Zach thought back to a particular night when the mood shifted unexpectedly during a movie and Chris was suddenly needy and responsive and deliciously demanding, asking Zach to take him for the first time. A shiver ran through Zach. That had been ages ago: before they’d learned each others bodies. Before they’d gotten so bogged down in work they’d forgotten to enjoy them.

“We are dads,” Chris answered. “And that’s important. And so is the work, for as long as we can keep at it. But this is important, too. I don’t want to forget about this anymore,” he said, running a hand along Zach’s calf. “Even after the next three days are over.”

Six Sentence Sunday

Pinto de Mayo.

Chris was incognito at the farmer’s market when the call came in, startling him enough that he dropped his phone on the tomatoes before fumbling to answer.

“Hello,” he said as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, motioning to the woman by the vegetable scale that he’d buy the tomatoes he’d probably just bruised.

“Mr. Pine? This is Jacob Donavan down at Providence Saint Joseph Foundation. You gave me your direct number during the meeting last week in case we had questions about the benefit.”

“Oh, right. Hi,” Chris said, handing some cash over for his vegetables and then retreating from the crowds. “What can I do for you? Is everything going okay with the promotion? Donations coming in?”

“Well, yes. It’s been quite successful so far, and we still have a few days before we close the entry process and select a winner. But I’m afraid we may have to disqualify one of the donors.”

“Why’s that?” Chris asked, wandering under the shade of coral trees. It was a lovely day in Los Angeles: mid-spring at 72 degrees with a soft breeze coming from the ocean. It was hard to think about work — even charity work — when he was carrying a bag of fresh vegetables and the whole park was in bloom and the air smelled of blossoms and handmade pastries.

“It seems we’re the subject of a prank. Someone bought up 250,000
entries, but the payment information comes from a enterprise holding
company, and the name offered is clearly fake. I’m not sure that the
intentions of this fan are what we want to promote, despite the generous
donation. It could be some sort of stalker.”

Six Sentence Sunday

From Cleaving 8. Spoilery…

“Who hasn’t made it?” Zach asked. He could hear the murmur of voices and music in the next room, and excitement spiked through his gut like he was about to go on stage for the first time. He patted his pockets again to make sure the rings, envelope, and notecard with his vows hadn’t miraculously vanished during the drive.

Barbara looked down at the tablet in her hand. “Salada plus three,” she answered. “But they’ve texted to say they’re en route. The kids slowed them down.”

“Well, that happens. Chris and his family made it?”

Barbara smiled. “They’re in the Fern Room with Helen. She asked that I keep you and your family here and she’ll be joining you in a minute. Can I get you anything to drink while we wait? Water? Glass of wine?”

“Water please,” Margo said, taking Zach’s elbow again. “I need to be able to say my line nice and clearly.”

Zach squeezed his mom’s hand against his arm. Wine was tempting, but had a tendency to make him giddy when he was nervous. “Water for all of us, I think,”

Joe had slipped off to speak with the photographer and returned with Barbara, the waters, and a tray of flowers.

“Boutineers for the gentlemen,” Barbara said, “And this wrist corsage for you, Mrs. Quinto.”

Joe helped Zach pin his in place after fiddling with his own, and then they both helped with Nathan’s.

“Are we all straight?” Joe asked, turning to Margo.

“I wouldn’t be marrying Chris if I were straight,” Zach offered as he lined up for inspection.

“The flowers are straight,” Margo said with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m not going to speak for the rest.”

“I sort of resent them for it now,” Zach groused, looking down at his
jacket lapel as a small laugh escaped. Oh god, he was not going to
get nervous giggles. That didn’t happen to him anymore. Ever.

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

He sat in one of the benches at the end of the room, thumbing through the book and occasionally using his phone to take pictures of Chris taking pictures. Because really, he loved the way Chris threw himself into photography. The way he craned his neck to look for different angles, crouching or stretching to frame the composition the way he wanted. He made his way across the floor slowly, doubling back once when he missed an ornately carved chair that looked almost like a throne. Finally, he reached Zach and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I love this place,” he whispered, cognizant of the students working nearby.

Zach rose and took his hand. “There’s one more thing I want to show you before we move on to CMU. Come over here.” He led Chris to the edge of a large semi-circular alcove. “Now stand right here, facing this way, and listen.”

Confusion was clear on Chris face as Zach backed away, moving across to the opposite wall. He kept watching Chris as leaned toward the wall and whispered Chris’ name. Chris startled.

“What’s happening?” was the whisper that came back to him. He grinned across the room to Chris, signalling he’d heard him.

“It’s a whisper room,” Zach answered. “For telling secrets from a distance.”

Chris smiled. “I love you,” he whispered back.

“That’s not a secret.”

Chris looked down for a second, chuckling, then answered, “Well, not to you.”

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

From Chapter 7 of Cleaving, which is now past 6k words and sneaking up on its close…

“Better use the thick socks,” Zach suggested. “We’ll be outside a bit. In fact, bring extras.”

Chris grabbed two pairs with a raised eyebrow. “You going to let me know what our itinerary is for the day?” Zach was glad to see Chris was dressing in layers, preparing for anything.

“Nope. It’s all a surprise.”

“But we are going to Carnegie Mellon.”

Zach smiled, pleased that Chris was so adamant about seeing his alma mater. “Yeah, we’ll get to CMU, but not until later this afternoon. There are a few things I want to show you in town, first. And you’ll want the good camera. There’s some great architecture. I’m going to have to bring a book or something, because you’re going to get all engrossed.”

Chris gave him a crinkle-eyed grin that made Zach’s heart skip a little. And made him smile in a way he knew looked a little goofy and a little shy. Which, considering what they’d been up to the last 12 hours, was patently ridiculous. Chris’ grin grew wider.

“Let’s get some food in you. You’re going to need stamina.” He started toward the door, but Chris stopped him as he passed with a hand on his hip, pulling him into an embrace and a sweet kiss that lasted long enough to make him sigh.

“I love you,” Chris whispered against his lips.

“Because I offered food?”

Chris snorted a laugh, and it felt good to have Zach’s teasing interpreted correctly, without the awkwardness or hurt feelings that had been coloring everything lately.

“No. Though if you tell me we can have the rest of the tiramisu for breakfast, I might love you even more.”

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday (NSFW)

More from Cleaving Chapter 7

“I regret nothing. Last night was fantastic. It felt so good to be with you again. If I blush around your mom for a few days, it’s all worth it.”

Zach couldn’t help but respond with a sweet kiss that turned inviting and then heated. And now when he moaned, Chris didn’t hold back at all. Fuck it felt absolutely decadent to have a day to themselves where they could just savor each other. And part of him wanted to take Chris apart right there, but then again, no need to hide behind locked doors.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go take a shower. There’s no drought, and no one to walk in on us.”

Chris didn’t even answer. He just smiled and grabbed the bottle of lube and walked — a little stiffly, Zach noted with a smile — naked across the hall, giving Zach a gorgeous view. He followed Chris, unable to keep his hands to himself, kissing him languidly as the water warmed. Once the room started filling with steam, they opened the glass door and moved under the water, rotating first so Zach was under the water, then Chris, and finally ending up with Zach pressed against the wall and Chris on his knees and fucking christ it was even better than last night. Chris had two fingers in him, and was swallowing him down with such enthusiasm he was repeatedly hitting the back of Chris’ throat. He was far too close to losing it, and that’s not what he wanted this morning.

“Come here,” he said too softly, tugging at Chris’ hair to make the mind-blowing mouth stop for just a second. Chris looked up, question in his eyes.

“I want you.”