Newbie and FIC: Tan Lines
Jul. 25th, 2005 12:16 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
moosemeister.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mash_slashHello!
I must apologize for lurking for ever so long. I usually post on ff.net, but I find it to be rather... barren, as of late. So, having finally kicked my ass into gear and figured out livejournal (technopeasant *points to self*), I shall post a little ficlet that I wrote a little while ago. I don't know if I ought to repost my old ff.net stuff here, or if that would bother people for whatever reason. Either way, please let me know what you think!
Here's to de-lurking!
Title: Tan Lines
Rating:PG
Pairing:Hawkeye/BJ ... ish
Summary: "His face was still smooth, like she remembered, surprised as she was to see an odd tan line across his upper lip..."
Disclaimer: Not mine
Note: A short piece... implied slash. Angsty. Hollow. Post-war. Sad. Obligatory reunion scene. Tell me what you think. Cheers. Moosemaster
Tan Lines
In the very airfield itself, he picked her up and swung her around, screaming, then did the same to his little girl, who shrieked along with him. Peg couldn’t help but falter in her grip of his waist when she wrapped her arms around a belly that was suddenly that much less than it used to be, sending a sickening swoop through her stomach as though she had been racing down steps expecting one more, losing her balance upon stepping on air. His face was still smooth, though, like she remembered, surprised as she was to see an odd tan line across his upper lip, the fact that she noticed being more of an oddity than the discoloration itself.
The first day, there were showers of kisses, feather light in public so as to not scandalize, deep and devouring behind closed doors. The skin of the tan line was rough with slight stubble, yet paler than the rest of his face, new and naked, and waxy-strange under her lips.
The second day, they played catch-up, but not too much, for when she asked about the tan line and why he had shaved off the mustache that she remembered from the photos - it was rather sexy, darling- he decided to unpack and make dinner and play with Erin and maybe mow the lawn, too.
It was odd how how things had magically resumed apace by the third day. Odder still was the fourth, where B.J. refused to answer the phone or reply to letters. By the second week, the tan line had disappeared, and two unopened envelopes were tossed out with the old newspapers. Peg still didn’t know why he hadn’t waited until he reached home to shave.
The first year passed, and there was a reunion. B.J. grew back his mustache for the occasion, though he was reluctant to attend. From behind a potted plant, Peg watched as people told him he hadn’t changed a bit. She watched as a man in the later stages of balding snubbed him. Still with the repulsive mustache, Hunnicutt? She watched as a fellow with curly blond hair shook B.J.’s hand amiably, introducing himself. At this, her husband turned away uncomfortably, eyes scanning the room.
Most interesting was the person who sidled up to B.J. as he sat by the bar, waiting for his drink. From behind, he stretched his salt-and-pepper head over B.J.’s shoulder, one hand splayed lightly across the small of B.J.’s back, his chest to B.J.’s shoulders. Beej, he whispered in his ear.
Her husband said hello, but shook his head and hunched over. The other man swiveled the barstool so that they faced each other. B.J. rubbed a hand over his face.
Fingertips tracing the line of his cheekbone, coming to rest on the curve of his jaw, the other man, with the back of one elegant finger, smoothed the ruffled mustache. I still think it’s cheesy, he said with a smile, but I did miss it.
I shaved it you know, said B.J., jerking his head, shaking himself loose of the caress. He clenched his fists. Peg strained her ears.
You’re an asshole, replied the other man, straightening up.
B.J. shook his head again. Even on the plane, knowing I was gonna see my family again... I couldn’t look in the mirror with that damn thing on.
The other man laughed, and Peg flinched.
Hawk, he rasped, Hawk, it itched.
The other man walked away, and Peg’s insides shivered.
Hawk, it itches.
END
Enjoy!
~Moose
I must apologize for lurking for ever so long. I usually post on ff.net, but I find it to be rather... barren, as of late. So, having finally kicked my ass into gear and figured out livejournal (technopeasant *points to self*), I shall post a little ficlet that I wrote a little while ago. I don't know if I ought to repost my old ff.net stuff here, or if that would bother people for whatever reason. Either way, please let me know what you think!
Here's to de-lurking!
Title: Tan Lines
Rating:PG
Pairing:Hawkeye/BJ ... ish
Summary: "His face was still smooth, like she remembered, surprised as she was to see an odd tan line across his upper lip..."
Disclaimer: Not mine
Note: A short piece... implied slash. Angsty. Hollow. Post-war. Sad. Obligatory reunion scene. Tell me what you think. Cheers. Moosemaster
Tan Lines
In the very airfield itself, he picked her up and swung her around, screaming, then did the same to his little girl, who shrieked along with him. Peg couldn’t help but falter in her grip of his waist when she wrapped her arms around a belly that was suddenly that much less than it used to be, sending a sickening swoop through her stomach as though she had been racing down steps expecting one more, losing her balance upon stepping on air. His face was still smooth, though, like she remembered, surprised as she was to see an odd tan line across his upper lip, the fact that she noticed being more of an oddity than the discoloration itself.
The first day, there were showers of kisses, feather light in public so as to not scandalize, deep and devouring behind closed doors. The skin of the tan line was rough with slight stubble, yet paler than the rest of his face, new and naked, and waxy-strange under her lips.
The second day, they played catch-up, but not too much, for when she asked about the tan line and why he had shaved off the mustache that she remembered from the photos - it was rather sexy, darling- he decided to unpack and make dinner and play with Erin and maybe mow the lawn, too.
It was odd how how things had magically resumed apace by the third day. Odder still was the fourth, where B.J. refused to answer the phone or reply to letters. By the second week, the tan line had disappeared, and two unopened envelopes were tossed out with the old newspapers. Peg still didn’t know why he hadn’t waited until he reached home to shave.
The first year passed, and there was a reunion. B.J. grew back his mustache for the occasion, though he was reluctant to attend. From behind a potted plant, Peg watched as people told him he hadn’t changed a bit. She watched as a man in the later stages of balding snubbed him. Still with the repulsive mustache, Hunnicutt? She watched as a fellow with curly blond hair shook B.J.’s hand amiably, introducing himself. At this, her husband turned away uncomfortably, eyes scanning the room.
Most interesting was the person who sidled up to B.J. as he sat by the bar, waiting for his drink. From behind, he stretched his salt-and-pepper head over B.J.’s shoulder, one hand splayed lightly across the small of B.J.’s back, his chest to B.J.’s shoulders. Beej, he whispered in his ear.
Her husband said hello, but shook his head and hunched over. The other man swiveled the barstool so that they faced each other. B.J. rubbed a hand over his face.
Fingertips tracing the line of his cheekbone, coming to rest on the curve of his jaw, the other man, with the back of one elegant finger, smoothed the ruffled mustache. I still think it’s cheesy, he said with a smile, but I did miss it.
I shaved it you know, said B.J., jerking his head, shaking himself loose of the caress. He clenched his fists. Peg strained her ears.
You’re an asshole, replied the other man, straightening up.
B.J. shook his head again. Even on the plane, knowing I was gonna see my family again... I couldn’t look in the mirror with that damn thing on.
The other man laughed, and Peg flinched.
Hawk, he rasped, Hawk, it itched.
The other man walked away, and Peg’s insides shivered.
Hawk, it itches.
END
Enjoy!
~Moose
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