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fellowshippers2004-03-11 09:58 pm
jcole.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-11 09:58 pm
Ficlet: SA/EW, G.
Title: Of Softball & Coffee
Author: Jamie Cole
Pairing: Sean A./Elijah
Rating: G/PG
Disclaimer: Don’t know or own. This is just a product of my over-active imagination.
Summary/Notes: Lately, my muses have been urging me to write a domestic!ficlet. This is the result. Sean and Elijah and domestic-ness with just a dash of angst. Will eventually be put up on my very small web page here. Cross-posted to my journal, fellow_shippers, and astinwood. Apologies to those who see this more than once.
Of Softball & Coffee
There were thin layers of dirt underneath Sean’s fingernails and as he sat in the rickety wooden stands that edged the softball field, he picked at them, using his too long thumbnail to scrape the dirt away. It was a subconscious action, apparently, because he wasn’t staring at his hands as he did it. No, he was staring out at the field in front of him, at the girls in the red uniforms that were making their way from the dugout to various spots around the diamond.
Ali, with the white plastic ‘9’ shiny and bright on her shirt, was the short stop for the team, and Sean watched her as she made her way to her position. She looked up at the stands as she moved, waved at him, and he smiled at the gesture, separating his hands long enough so that he could wave back, before he let them fall to his lap again.
He took a deep breath when she turned away from him and shook head back and forth, just slightly, trying to clear it. An unseen breeze ruffled his hair and tickled the skin of his ears and neck. He rolled his shoulders, feeling tense muscles loosen, and then he leaned backwards some so that he could rest his elbows on the empty bench behind him.
In that moment, if anyone had been looking at him, he thought, studying him or taking a picture of him to put in some gossip rag, he’d have looked just like any other actor-father watching his eight-year-old daughter play in her softball game.
Someone would have to get pretty close to him to be able to tell that the aura of calm relaxation he was exuding was just an act, a sham. No one would get that close to him, though. No one would get to look into his eyes. Especially since, like any other good actor, he was wearing sunglasses.
He shouldn’t have been feeling as… unsettled as he was, he thought. It shouldn’t have been as hard for him to let Elijah go that morning as it had been. The other man had just been heading out to another day of meetings, after all: managers, PR, publicity. The usual.
Sean had told himself time and time again that week that really, he should be grateful for the meetings, because they were a reason for Elijah not to be in New York, for him to instead be out on the West Coast, in LA, with Sean.
It was hard to be grateful, though, when it was Elijah’s last full day, and the younger man was disentangling himself from Sean’s arms at 9:30 in the morning, with no intention of (or opportunity for) returning before supper.
Oh so hard.
"I’d stay here if I could," Elijah had said as he’d sat on the edge of the bed, patting the pillow next to Sean’s head, then his head itself, his fingers burying themselves in Sean’s hair. His touch had been soft, matching his tone of voice. "Right here."
"I know," Sean had replied, trying to sound as unresigned as possible, which unfortunately, wasn’t very. Elijah had blinked at him sadly, then had leaned over to kiss him, and then he’d been gone, leaving Sean alone in the bed.
It had been hard not to feel resentful when he’d still been able to feel the residual warmth of Elijah’s body in the blankets and sheets. And it was one of *those* days apparently, because even at this later point in the day, after seven hours had passed on by, he was still aching to feel the younger man’s body next to him again.
He was still feeling disgruntled.
He was feeling annoyed, too, but mostly that was because he didn’t have any (true) right to be. Not when Elijah was doing the things he needed to do to further his career. Not when he was reaping the benefits of all of his—and his family’s—hard work. When he was riding high on a wave of success.
Sean had his own life to live, too, after all. His own meetings, his own acting jobs. He had Ali and the baby, Christine, parent-teacher conferences, softball games… A life that was entirely (mostly) separate from Elijah’s. A life that he knew Elijah felt as if he lived on the outskirts of.
He didn’t have a right to feel annoyed, or possessive, or unsettled, but he wanted to. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.
He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back just for a moment so that he could take in a deep breath or two of the fresh spring air, so that he could let it soothe him. Then he heard the sound of a bat connecting with a ball and he opened his eyes and lifted his head just in time to see Ali scoop the ball up and toss it to her teammate at first, getting the runner out.
He stood up, clapping as loudly as he could, beaming with pride, but then the next play was underway, so he sat down on his bench again. Alone.
Except, suddenly, he wasn’t. Because there, at the bottom of the stands, was Elijah.
The younger man was staring up at him, a smile on his face, and two iced Starbucks drinks in his hands.
Not knowing what else to do, Sean started to stand again, so that he could make his way down to where Elijah was, but Elijah had already started climbing his way up, stepping on one bench, then the next, until he was standing just in front of Sean.
"Hey," Elijah said, his voice edged with laughter. As if it really was that simple that he should be standing there, just like that. Leaping from his own life, to Sean’s.
Like maybe he didn’t feel so much on the outskirts after all.
"Elijah," Sean said. He felt his voice catch and he swallowed reflexively.
Then Elijah was moving again, sitting down next to him—a discreet distance away—and handing him one of the drinks. Sean just kept staring at him, his lips slightly parted.
"What are you doing here?" he finally asked.
He took his sunglasses off and hooked them on the collar of his shirt.
"You had meetings all day today," he continued as he looked at his watch. "Aren’t you supposed to be having coffee with Linda from publicity right about now?"
Elijah shrugged, a corner of his mouth quirking up. "I decided that I’d rather have coffee with you."
Sean opened his mouth—to say something, he wasn’t sure what—but apparently Elijah wasn’t done talking, because he said, "No. Seriously. I called up Linda and asked her if there was any reason we couldn’t do our meeting over the phone tomorrow, while I’m flying back. I told her that I had somewhere pretty important to be." His almost-smile became full-blown. "Not that it would have mattered if she’d said ‘no’, because I was already here, parked in that lot over there. I never would have made it back to her office in time."
Sean knew that he was smiling helplessly in that moment, glowing; there was too much emotion pounding through him for him to be doing anything else. He reached over and rested his hand on Elijah’s thigh, squeezing it tightly.
Elijah just looked at him for a long moment, complete understanding reflected in his eyes, before he nodded once and turned towards the field. A moment later, Sean turned back to the game, too, otherwise not moving a muscle.
He kept his hand right where it was.
Until Ali caught a fly ball, that is—the third out of the inning—and Elijah leapt to his feet, yelling congratulations and encouragement as loudly as he could. Sean was just a beat behind him, yelling just as loudly, but when they sat down again, together this time, they were closer than before.
Author: Jamie Cole
Pairing: Sean A./Elijah
Rating: G/PG
Disclaimer: Don’t know or own. This is just a product of my over-active imagination.
Summary/Notes: Lately, my muses have been urging me to write a domestic!ficlet. This is the result. Sean and Elijah and domestic-ness with just a dash of angst. Will eventually be put up on my very small web page here. Cross-posted to my journal, fellow_shippers, and astinwood. Apologies to those who see this more than once.
Of Softball & Coffee
There were thin layers of dirt underneath Sean’s fingernails and as he sat in the rickety wooden stands that edged the softball field, he picked at them, using his too long thumbnail to scrape the dirt away. It was a subconscious action, apparently, because he wasn’t staring at his hands as he did it. No, he was staring out at the field in front of him, at the girls in the red uniforms that were making their way from the dugout to various spots around the diamond.
Ali, with the white plastic ‘9’ shiny and bright on her shirt, was the short stop for the team, and Sean watched her as she made her way to her position. She looked up at the stands as she moved, waved at him, and he smiled at the gesture, separating his hands long enough so that he could wave back, before he let them fall to his lap again.
He took a deep breath when she turned away from him and shook head back and forth, just slightly, trying to clear it. An unseen breeze ruffled his hair and tickled the skin of his ears and neck. He rolled his shoulders, feeling tense muscles loosen, and then he leaned backwards some so that he could rest his elbows on the empty bench behind him.
In that moment, if anyone had been looking at him, he thought, studying him or taking a picture of him to put in some gossip rag, he’d have looked just like any other actor-father watching his eight-year-old daughter play in her softball game.
Someone would have to get pretty close to him to be able to tell that the aura of calm relaxation he was exuding was just an act, a sham. No one would get that close to him, though. No one would get to look into his eyes. Especially since, like any other good actor, he was wearing sunglasses.
He shouldn’t have been feeling as… unsettled as he was, he thought. It shouldn’t have been as hard for him to let Elijah go that morning as it had been. The other man had just been heading out to another day of meetings, after all: managers, PR, publicity. The usual.
Sean had told himself time and time again that week that really, he should be grateful for the meetings, because they were a reason for Elijah not to be in New York, for him to instead be out on the West Coast, in LA, with Sean.
It was hard to be grateful, though, when it was Elijah’s last full day, and the younger man was disentangling himself from Sean’s arms at 9:30 in the morning, with no intention of (or opportunity for) returning before supper.
Oh so hard.
"I’d stay here if I could," Elijah had said as he’d sat on the edge of the bed, patting the pillow next to Sean’s head, then his head itself, his fingers burying themselves in Sean’s hair. His touch had been soft, matching his tone of voice. "Right here."
"I know," Sean had replied, trying to sound as unresigned as possible, which unfortunately, wasn’t very. Elijah had blinked at him sadly, then had leaned over to kiss him, and then he’d been gone, leaving Sean alone in the bed.
It had been hard not to feel resentful when he’d still been able to feel the residual warmth of Elijah’s body in the blankets and sheets. And it was one of *those* days apparently, because even at this later point in the day, after seven hours had passed on by, he was still aching to feel the younger man’s body next to him again.
He was still feeling disgruntled.
He was feeling annoyed, too, but mostly that was because he didn’t have any (true) right to be. Not when Elijah was doing the things he needed to do to further his career. Not when he was reaping the benefits of all of his—and his family’s—hard work. When he was riding high on a wave of success.
Sean had his own life to live, too, after all. His own meetings, his own acting jobs. He had Ali and the baby, Christine, parent-teacher conferences, softball games… A life that was entirely (mostly) separate from Elijah’s. A life that he knew Elijah felt as if he lived on the outskirts of.
He didn’t have a right to feel annoyed, or possessive, or unsettled, but he wanted to. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.
He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back just for a moment so that he could take in a deep breath or two of the fresh spring air, so that he could let it soothe him. Then he heard the sound of a bat connecting with a ball and he opened his eyes and lifted his head just in time to see Ali scoop the ball up and toss it to her teammate at first, getting the runner out.
He stood up, clapping as loudly as he could, beaming with pride, but then the next play was underway, so he sat down on his bench again. Alone.
Except, suddenly, he wasn’t. Because there, at the bottom of the stands, was Elijah.
The younger man was staring up at him, a smile on his face, and two iced Starbucks drinks in his hands.
Not knowing what else to do, Sean started to stand again, so that he could make his way down to where Elijah was, but Elijah had already started climbing his way up, stepping on one bench, then the next, until he was standing just in front of Sean.
"Hey," Elijah said, his voice edged with laughter. As if it really was that simple that he should be standing there, just like that. Leaping from his own life, to Sean’s.
Like maybe he didn’t feel so much on the outskirts after all.
"Elijah," Sean said. He felt his voice catch and he swallowed reflexively.
Then Elijah was moving again, sitting down next to him—a discreet distance away—and handing him one of the drinks. Sean just kept staring at him, his lips slightly parted.
"What are you doing here?" he finally asked.
He took his sunglasses off and hooked them on the collar of his shirt.
"You had meetings all day today," he continued as he looked at his watch. "Aren’t you supposed to be having coffee with Linda from publicity right about now?"
Elijah shrugged, a corner of his mouth quirking up. "I decided that I’d rather have coffee with you."
Sean opened his mouth—to say something, he wasn’t sure what—but apparently Elijah wasn’t done talking, because he said, "No. Seriously. I called up Linda and asked her if there was any reason we couldn’t do our meeting over the phone tomorrow, while I’m flying back. I told her that I had somewhere pretty important to be." His almost-smile became full-blown. "Not that it would have mattered if she’d said ‘no’, because I was already here, parked in that lot over there. I never would have made it back to her office in time."
Sean knew that he was smiling helplessly in that moment, glowing; there was too much emotion pounding through him for him to be doing anything else. He reached over and rested his hand on Elijah’s thigh, squeezing it tightly.
Elijah just looked at him for a long moment, complete understanding reflected in his eyes, before he nodded once and turned towards the field. A moment later, Sean turned back to the game, too, otherwise not moving a muscle.
He kept his hand right where it was.
Until Ali caught a fly ball, that is—the third out of the inning—and Elijah leapt to his feet, yelling congratulations and encouragement as loudly as he could. Sean was just a beat behind him, yelling just as loudly, but when they sat down again, together this time, they were closer than before.
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If the muses had their say, I'd definately be writing more often. Unfortunately, though, school and work are forcing themselves to be heard, too. *sigh*
Hopefully it won't be *too* long before I have time to sit down again, though.
Also, thanks for the rec!
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This pairing is kind of a new thing for me, but this is really nice. *Really* nice. xx
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I was a fan, but not a *huge* fan of this pairing until I read Beizy's 'When the World Stopped.' That story made me fall hook, line, and sinker. I'm still pretty new at writing it (and lotrips as a whole) so I'm always glad to hear that people like it.
Thanks again!
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Always like to welcome new (and very good) writers in to the fandom!
Will look out for more stuff from you xx
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And Yay! for warm fuzzies. That's what I was going for. :)
*huggles back*
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just wonderful! <3
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