Original fic: Year of Ghosts and Shadows
Jul. 9th, 2005 05:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardPeople occasionally wonder why the love lives of the Corinth High School band usually tend to either end train-wrecking magnificently, dance around through the whole school like rabbits on Viagra (usually, also eventually train-wrecking magnificently), or are non-existent, at least until it's realized that the least-likely couple in the universe have been climbing all over each other in the uniform storage room of the band room for the past six months. This, generally, is why.
He shoves Jason back against the wall, feels the thrill of illeganl alcohol in his veins run off and transmogrify into something else. He doesn't need to do this, doesn't need to, not when girls from Corinth and Ellensburg and Jesus, at least a dozen other schools are here, ready and eager and wanting. Easy to find someone to fuck Corinth's drum major; no need to turn towards Corinth's band president.
They were fighting, before. Kyle can't remember what about, but he can't look at the purpling bruise tracing its way across Jason's cheekbone without thinking about the vision his precog gifted him with. Jason, and a silver-chaed sword with a dragon set in the hilt, and a bright spray of blood that tastes like fire when he licks his lips. Phantom fire; he has to remidn himself it's not really there when Jason's gaze shifts to his mouth.
"It's this, isn't it," he says almost conversationally. He's had how many drinks, and his words aren't slurring at all. "What you've been thinking of."
Before Kyle can dispute the truth or the lie of this statement Jason drags a hand through his thick curls and pulls him forward, planting his mouth on Kyle's. He's all teeth and tongue, as always, tasting of the Jack Daniels he was throwing back earlier, with a faint wood and rubber aftertaste from his reeds and his mouthpiece.
"Jason," he gasps out, and for a second blood and ashes are thick on his tongue. He thinks he screams as his precog hits him, shoves him away from Jason and drops him blind and senseless of the ratty carpet of their hotel room.
Ice cold heat through his veins, arching up to strike at his unprotected eyes...
Fire raging unchecked across the glove and irrationally he thinks of Jason...
Pushing twisting pulling behind his shoulderblades as if a new set of limbs have decided to punch their way out of his skin...
Blood iron steel bones flame and somewhere in the distance a city is burning...
Hands on his shoulders and a woman's mouth like polished amber on his...
"Kyle, you're burning up. Are you sure -"
"The snake is coming back to eat its tail with a vengeance."
And a thousand more, shoving him ahead of them willy-nilly. "Kyle - oh God please -" arching against him, Jason or Fury or oh God Donna Niqui Del Silky a thousand faceless strangers at the fire burns like thunder. "The spirts black as thunder have come home to roost." Ashley, filckering from cat to man to cat again, and his claws did grooves in Kyle's shoulder.
"Kyle!" Jason's hands are hotter than any man's have a right to be, but the effect of them on his skin shocks him out of his trance like cold water.
He is sprawled on the floor of their hotel room, shaking like he'd just run the whole of the parade route. His vision blurs and then rights itself, but for a moment he is blind. Jason is kneeling besoide him, hands on his arms, and for some reason this makes Kyle want to laugh hysterically.
See, and the problem is, they're probably one of the most stable pairings in the town. It comes from knowing each other for years and being seniors and Jason being crazy and Kyle being calm. And whoever voted Jason band president was insane. INSANE, I tell you, because he scares the frosh and sophs to death.
He shoves Jason back against the wall, feels the thrill of illeganl alcohol in his veins run off and transmogrify into something else. He doesn't need to do this, doesn't need to, not when girls from Corinth and Ellensburg and Jesus, at least a dozen other schools are here, ready and eager and wanting. Easy to find someone to fuck Corinth's drum major; no need to turn towards Corinth's band president.
They were fighting, before. Kyle can't remember what about, but he can't look at the purpling bruise tracing its way across Jason's cheekbone without thinking about the vision his precog gifted him with. Jason, and a silver-chaed sword with a dragon set in the hilt, and a bright spray of blood that tastes like fire when he licks his lips. Phantom fire; he has to remidn himself it's not really there when Jason's gaze shifts to his mouth.
"It's this, isn't it," he says almost conversationally. He's had how many drinks, and his words aren't slurring at all. "What you've been thinking of."
Before Kyle can dispute the truth or the lie of this statement Jason drags a hand through his thick curls and pulls him forward, planting his mouth on Kyle's. He's all teeth and tongue, as always, tasting of the Jack Daniels he was throwing back earlier, with a faint wood and rubber aftertaste from his reeds and his mouthpiece.
"Jason," he gasps out, and for a second blood and ashes are thick on his tongue. He thinks he screams as his precog hits him, shoves him away from Jason and drops him blind and senseless of the ratty carpet of their hotel room.
Ice cold heat through his veins, arching up to strike at his unprotected eyes...
Fire raging unchecked across the glove and irrationally he thinks of Jason...
Pushing twisting pulling behind his shoulderblades as if a new set of limbs have decided to punch their way out of his skin...
Blood iron steel bones flame and somewhere in the distance a city is burning...
Hands on his shoulders and a woman's mouth like polished amber on his...
"Kyle, you're burning up. Are you sure -"
"The snake is coming back to eat its tail with a vengeance."
And a thousand more, shoving him ahead of them willy-nilly. "Kyle - oh God please -" arching against him, Jason or Fury or oh God Donna Niqui Del Silky a thousand faceless strangers at the fire burns like thunder. "The spirts black as thunder have come home to roost." Ashley, filckering from cat to man to cat again, and his claws did grooves in Kyle's shoulder.
"Kyle!" Jason's hands are hotter than any man's have a right to be, but the effect of them on his skin shocks him out of his trance like cold water.
He is sprawled on the floor of their hotel room, shaking like he'd just run the whole of the parade route. His vision blurs and then rights itself, but for a moment he is blind. Jason is kneeling besoide him, hands on his arms, and for some reason this makes Kyle want to laugh hysterically.
See, and the problem is, they're probably one of the most stable pairings in the town. It comes from knowing each other for years and being seniors and Jason being crazy and Kyle being calm. And whoever voted Jason band president was insane. INSANE, I tell you, because he scares the frosh and sophs to death.