(no subject)

[bluflamingo]

Tomorrow is my first day off since the 4th of October. I'd probably be more thrilled if I wasn't so completely exhausted. Also, my father is coming for the weekend, which may or may not go well, depending on too many factors to make it predictable.

In order to kind of ignore this fact, have a meme:

Pick a paragraph (or any passage less than 500 words) from any story I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

Please ask for something - I love talking about writing, and it's hard to talk about what you write when what you write is gay sci-fi porn based on a dead TV show and you don't want to actually say that part to the people you know off-line!

Comments

[scrollgirl]

The Year That Was:

Sheppard says, “I’m buying,” a couple of times, and, “So, there’s not…” and, finally, “You want to get out of here?”

Cam’s drunk just enough to say yes.

Sheppard’s apartment isn’t what he expects, another reminder that this isn’t the Sheppard he knew. Not that he could say why he doesn’t expect the high ceilings, the huge windows, the open plan rooms. There’s just something about Sheppard that’s always made Cam think he’d want walls around him, something to keep him safe when he’s on the ground.

“Home sweet home,” Sheppard says, mocking himself; shrugs out of his jacket, toes off his shoes, then comes back to where Cam’s still standing just inside the closed door and runs one hand up Cam’s arm until he reaches the short sleeve of his shirt. “This okay?”

Cam wants to say no, because it’s not, none of this is, because he’s pretending and it isn’t fair, and he doesn’t want to be. Except Sheppard’s familiar, and the dull, constant ache of homesickness isn’t quite so bad around him. Or maybe it’s worse, Cam can’t tell any more, but he knows he doesn’t want to leave. “Yeah,” he says, and lets Sheppard pull him in to kiss him, warm and slow and tasting of a beer he’s never drunk anywhere but here.

Cam knows all the stereotypes of closeted, military hook-ups, frantic, adrenalin-driven one-night stands, and he’s had his share of those. He knows how to look for people who want something a bit more as well, some kind of connection, however fleeting. It’s part of why he never tried with Sheppard, because Sheppard had all the connection he could handle with Atlantis, and there was none to spare for anyone else.

This Sheppard has plenty to spare, more than Cam feels entirely safe with, but it feels good and he already said yes, hasn’t changed his mind. They kiss for what feels like forever on Sheppard’s carefully made bed, curtains wide open, four floors up and away from anyone who might look in, and when it finally goes further, it’s no less easy and slow, coming like the one time Cam went gliding, a long-drawn out slide on warm air currents.

After, Sheppard drags the comforter up over both of them where they’re lying side by side, looking up at the dim shadow. Cam takes it as permission to stay, and falls asleep almost immediately, the first time he’s managed that since he got here.