lonetread: (strange)
[personal profile] lonetread
A/N: Two more ficlets written for [livejournal.com profile] writing_game . These are set in the same universe as He Who Fights Monsters. If you haven't read that and intend to, you should do that first. Spoilers follow. And angst. Lots of angst.


A/N: 100 words. Written 9/1/10; the prompts were "kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye" and "perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved".

---

He’d stood when El had left the cellar. Now, leaning against a wall, he stared at a particularly long gouge in the wall opposite.

(The wall was cold. He stood up straight, instead.)

He tried not to think about how El’s eyes were shining, or about how, almost certainly, she was upstairs calming Satchmo (because he could always sense it).

He felt it when the moon rose, his nerves jangling.

For a second, he stood stock-still, motionless.

And then he doubled over. Trying not to think about much of anything, because it hurt too much when it was ripped away.



A/N: 282 words. Written 9/4-5/10 for the prompt "miserable".

---

“You know, Neal, I have a phone. Next time you have a hunch, you can call.”

“The look on your face was worth the trip.” He grinned.

“Well, you can’t stay much longer. Not a good night.” Neal opened his mouth to convince Peter that, actually, it was, but before he could say a word, Peter cut him off. “It’s really not.”

He looked from the serious expression on Peter’s face, to Elizabeth, and back to Peter, before he remembered. “Oh,” he said. “God, I forgot. I’ll go.”

He managed one step backwards towards the door before Elizabeth said, “Actually, Peter, if you don’t mind, Satch and I could use the company. But it’s up to you.”

Peter shrugged a shoulder and looked at Neal. “Want to stay?”

***

The unnatural quiet had become screams, the screams had become howls. The howls were less frequent, now, quieted into thumping and scratching and other strange sounds Neal didn’t care to think too hard about. Satchmo had stopped barking, and was sitting next to the couch letting Neal scratch him behind the ears. Elizabeth had almost been able to keep from crying.

“How do you handle it?” Neal couldn’t help asking her. She looked miserable, and he couldn’t imagine what Peter felt.

She shrugged. “Peter doesn’t really talk about it. He’s gotten… used to it, I think. More than I am. Probably more than I’ll ever be. I guess I hold onto that. And I know he’ll be Peter again tomorrow morning.”

Neal nodded, moving over on the couch to be closer to her, close enough to put an arm around her. She cried into Satchmo’s fur, and he prayed for moonrise to come early.



A/N: I wrote another little bit that follows the second fic above that I've been calling Part 3 of 2. I don't think it fits well enough to get a permanent place in that fic, but if you'd like to read it it's here (61 words).

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Justin

October 2010

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