mayqueen517 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mayqueen517) wrote2011-03-07 12:30 am
mayqueen517) wrote2011-03-07 12:30 am
Entry tags:
Fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seratonation: Awake My Soul (Tom Conrad/Sean Van Vleet)
So! seratonation won fic from me in the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
qldfloodauction and such, and she asked for something in the Keys 'verse. (You can read/find the other fics by clicking here)
I hope you enjoy this!
Without further ado:
Title: Awake My Soul
Pairing: Tom Conrad/Sean Van Vleet
Rating: PG-15ish
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1745
::Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. TITLE IS FROM THE MUMFORD & SONS SONG OF THE SAME NAME THAT I MAINLINED WHILE WRITING THIS::
Summary: He doesn't think about the pictures of the doors that are in a folder under his bed. He doesn't think about telling Sean of all the times he's felt like there was something more to it. He tries not to think of Sean at all.
It smells like rain in his room. It's the only thing that Tom can think when he goes to bed. He yawns and it smells like a thunderstorm, like there are clouds gathering and the air's crackling with energy. He lays there for a few minutes, before getting up and padding over to Sean's room, looking through the cracked door.
Sean's sitting at his keyboard, ghosting his fingers over the keys. Tom watches him through the door for a few minutes, trying to think of some way to break the silence, to ask Sean why the hell it smells like rain in his room. Instead, Tom leans against the doorframe, watching Sean scrub his hands through his hair as he gets up.
Tom meets his eyes briefly before he walks back to his own room, flopping down on the bed, the scent of a thunderstorm around him.
He doesn't think about the pictures of the doors that are in a folder under his bed. He doesn't think about telling Sean of all the times he's felt like there was something more to it. He tries not to think of Sean at all.
"Are you okay, Tom?" Sean asks him the next morning. He's got dried drool clinging to the corner of his mouth, flaky and normal, like nothing's changed since the week before. But Tom can't stop thinking about keys and doors and when Sean takes a step towards him, reaching out to touch his arm, Tom shrugs him off.
"Yeah, no, it's fine, Sean," he says, offering up a smile that feels more like a grimace as he grabs his camera. Tom isn't sure why he's so intent on avoiding Sean, like Sean is the problem, and not the fact that Tom's bedroom smells like a fucking thunderstorm and he can remember what Sean's mouth feels like. Which is fucked up because Tom's pretty sure he hasn't kissed Sean.
He thinks back to what Sean told him, about the keys and the different lives and knowing him before they'd ever met. He remembers when they met, being struck by his eyes and the grin that Sean had been unable to stop. He shoves his feet into his flip-flops, opening the door and closing his eyes for just a moment at the melodic clanking of the keys against the door. He cradles his camera close, wishing he'd pulled a coat on before leaving the apartment.
Tom wonders if Sean ever feels like this, like everything around you in dissonance, or like something isn't right. Tom holds his camera closer, looking at the display for a moment before he turns left. He walks through the neighborhoods, stepping around people going about their day. He remembers door hunting, he remembers Nick and Ryan unable to stop laughing when he'd told them.
When Tom stops to take a picture of some kid and his Mom, his eyes are immediately caught by a door. It's not even a special door, but the knocker on it is some ornate key. It reminds Tom of all the keys that Sean has hanging above their door, the way that Sean smiles when they're hit and they clank together. Sean explained it, explained that he's had different lives with those keys and they all have some version of Tom in them. Tom keeps staring at the door, not caring that people are having to step around him.
Tom sighs finally, taking a half-hearted picture of it, unable to stop himself. He takes a few steps closer, taking another picture of the knocker and of the door itself before he turns around and walks back home.
Radiohead's playing through the apartment when he walks back through the door, loud and comforting in a strange way as Tom kicks his flip-flops off. He holds onto his camera, debating with himself for a minute or two before he sighs. Holding it still, he pads across to Sean's door, knocking a couple of times.
"Yeah?" Sean asks through the door and over the music. Tom pushes the door open before he sits down beside Sean on the floor. They sit in silence as the cd finishes, pulling the room into a warm silence. Tom bites the inside of his bottom lip, ignoring the sharp pull as he pulls his knees up, leaning back against the wall. Carefully, he tugs the strap of his camera from around his neck, setting it down beside him on the floor.
"Tom?" Sean says, looking over at him with clear blue eyes. They remind Tom of the sky after rain, which in turn reminds him about his room smelling like a thunderstorm, and that in turn reminds him about the feel and taste of Sean's lips.
"I took a picture of a door today," he says finally, thinking about the folder and the other doors. Sean blinks a few times, mouth forming a silent 'oh', as he nods finally.
"Okay," Sean says carefully. Tom makes a face, screwing his mouth up before he stands. He walks into his room, ignoring the scent of wet ground and trees, like he's been in the fucking forest while it rains. Getting on his hands and knees, he drags the folder out. It's an old folder, the kind that he remembers from school and shit, the kind that used to get ripped within a week.
He carries it back into Sean's room, handing the folder over before he sits back down on the floor. The wood bites into his ankle as he uncrosses his legs, trying to get comfortable.
"Those are all the doors I've taken pictures of. I dreamed about every single one of them, dude. And...I haven't dreamed about one for, like, two years now, okay? And suddenly my fucking room smells like a fucking thunderstorm and I'm in the forest or whatever, and then I took a picture of another fucking door," Tom says, voice raising at the end and he's dimly aware that he sounds angry instead of mildly freaked out. He sighs, pushing his hair back from his face as Sean thumbs through the folder.
"Would you say something already, Van Vleet?" Tom says sharply, pulling his knees back up and hooking his arms around them as Sean takes in a careful breath.
"The second time I went through a door, I almost drowned. When I woke up, you were there. We were soaked and you took me home and took care of me. In that...door, you painted. You let me live with you and when we started sleeping together, you started painting me. I spent three years with you there, before I had to leave," Sean says. He's been staring down at a dark green door, the knob old and brass, polished and Tom remembers feeling calm at the color.
"Why'd you leave?"
"Wasn't right."
"Why wasn't it right?" Tom presses, reaching out to touch Sean's knee, needing some contact to reassure himself that Sean wasn't going to step through a door then and there or whatever.
"It didn't feel right. It never felt right, even though I've been with and around every single version of you, I think, and it's never felt right," Sean says, pausing as he looks over at Tom. Tom sighs roughly, annoyed and frustrated and something about it makes Sean smile slowly, like it's a secret.
"You never argued with me. I think...I think that's why it was never right. I dunno, the first time I went through a door, I knew it wasn't right, but I didn't know how to leave," Sean says as Tom nods, still annoyed as he shrugs.
"What was the longest you stayed in one place?" Tom asks, stretching his legs out as Sean does the same, thinking carefully. Tom watches him tilt his head back, propping it against the wall before he inhales and exhales slowly, like he's fortifying himself.
"The second time. Well, and this one, now. It's...Whenever I would go through a door, when I would leave, I would always find another key or something in my pockets. Or it would appear at some point. When I bumped into you that first day, I'd just come through. I'd just left another version of you, is the thing," Sean says, sitting up and shifting to face Tom, eyes intense as he continues, "Tom, when I came through to this...reality or world or whatever, there wasn't another key."
Tom blinks, feeling something slide across his chest as he looks at the folder of pictures in Sean's lap.
"Oh," Tom says simply. Sean laughs softly, repeating him as Tom reaches out and touches the photo that Sean had been focused on. He thinks about the way he could feel the warmth of Sean's skin under his fingertips, the scrape of stubble against his lips. Tom looks up at Sean, seeing Sean watching him with a smile and a glint of something in his eyes.
"Sean," Tom says softly, unable to think of anything else as he leans forward, pressing their lips together quickly. It makes the memory, only the hint of one, flare in the back of his mind. He thinks, for a moment, that he can smell paint and turpentine and sweat and the only thing he can taste is Sean.
Sean shifts the pictures off of his lap, leaning in and kissing him again, taking his time and Tom can't stop himself from reaching up and cradling Sean's face for a moment. It's familiar and foreign, all at once and not at all as Sean's tongue tangles with his own.
Tom pulls back enough, breathing softly and feeling Sean's ghosting over his chin. Tom closes his eyes, laughing softly, once in a soft huff of it.
"What?" Sean says, lips pressing against Tom's once, and then again, lightly.
"I know what you taste like," Tom replies, making Sean laugh. Tom opens his eyes, grinning because he can't help himself. Sean's eyes are bright and Tom can remember seeing him like this in a different place, the forest around them and Sean pressed against at tree, laughing happily as it rained around them.
"I know," Sean says, laughing as he kisses Tom, bright and happy, as Tom pulls him into his lap. He kisses Sean easily, pressing closer and holding him tight, pushing the memory to the back of his mind as the scent of rain fills the room around them.
seratonation won fic from me in the qldfloodauction and such, and she asked for something in the Keys 'verse. (You can read/find the other fics by clicking here)I hope you enjoy this!
Without further ado:
Title: Awake My Soul
Pairing: Tom Conrad/Sean Van Vleet
Rating: PG-15ish
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1745
::Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. TITLE IS FROM THE MUMFORD & SONS SONG OF THE SAME NAME THAT I MAINLINED WHILE WRITING THIS::
Summary: He doesn't think about the pictures of the doors that are in a folder under his bed. He doesn't think about telling Sean of all the times he's felt like there was something more to it. He tries not to think of Sean at all.
It smells like rain in his room. It's the only thing that Tom can think when he goes to bed. He yawns and it smells like a thunderstorm, like there are clouds gathering and the air's crackling with energy. He lays there for a few minutes, before getting up and padding over to Sean's room, looking through the cracked door.
Sean's sitting at his keyboard, ghosting his fingers over the keys. Tom watches him through the door for a few minutes, trying to think of some way to break the silence, to ask Sean why the hell it smells like rain in his room. Instead, Tom leans against the doorframe, watching Sean scrub his hands through his hair as he gets up.
Tom meets his eyes briefly before he walks back to his own room, flopping down on the bed, the scent of a thunderstorm around him.
He doesn't think about the pictures of the doors that are in a folder under his bed. He doesn't think about telling Sean of all the times he's felt like there was something more to it. He tries not to think of Sean at all.
"Are you okay, Tom?" Sean asks him the next morning. He's got dried drool clinging to the corner of his mouth, flaky and normal, like nothing's changed since the week before. But Tom can't stop thinking about keys and doors and when Sean takes a step towards him, reaching out to touch his arm, Tom shrugs him off.
"Yeah, no, it's fine, Sean," he says, offering up a smile that feels more like a grimace as he grabs his camera. Tom isn't sure why he's so intent on avoiding Sean, like Sean is the problem, and not the fact that Tom's bedroom smells like a fucking thunderstorm and he can remember what Sean's mouth feels like. Which is fucked up because Tom's pretty sure he hasn't kissed Sean.
He thinks back to what Sean told him, about the keys and the different lives and knowing him before they'd ever met. He remembers when they met, being struck by his eyes and the grin that Sean had been unable to stop. He shoves his feet into his flip-flops, opening the door and closing his eyes for just a moment at the melodic clanking of the keys against the door. He cradles his camera close, wishing he'd pulled a coat on before leaving the apartment.
Tom wonders if Sean ever feels like this, like everything around you in dissonance, or like something isn't right. Tom holds his camera closer, looking at the display for a moment before he turns left. He walks through the neighborhoods, stepping around people going about their day. He remembers door hunting, he remembers Nick and Ryan unable to stop laughing when he'd told them.
When Tom stops to take a picture of some kid and his Mom, his eyes are immediately caught by a door. It's not even a special door, but the knocker on it is some ornate key. It reminds Tom of all the keys that Sean has hanging above their door, the way that Sean smiles when they're hit and they clank together. Sean explained it, explained that he's had different lives with those keys and they all have some version of Tom in them. Tom keeps staring at the door, not caring that people are having to step around him.
Tom sighs finally, taking a half-hearted picture of it, unable to stop himself. He takes a few steps closer, taking another picture of the knocker and of the door itself before he turns around and walks back home.
Radiohead's playing through the apartment when he walks back through the door, loud and comforting in a strange way as Tom kicks his flip-flops off. He holds onto his camera, debating with himself for a minute or two before he sighs. Holding it still, he pads across to Sean's door, knocking a couple of times.
"Yeah?" Sean asks through the door and over the music. Tom pushes the door open before he sits down beside Sean on the floor. They sit in silence as the cd finishes, pulling the room into a warm silence. Tom bites the inside of his bottom lip, ignoring the sharp pull as he pulls his knees up, leaning back against the wall. Carefully, he tugs the strap of his camera from around his neck, setting it down beside him on the floor.
"Tom?" Sean says, looking over at him with clear blue eyes. They remind Tom of the sky after rain, which in turn reminds him about his room smelling like a thunderstorm, and that in turn reminds him about the feel and taste of Sean's lips.
"I took a picture of a door today," he says finally, thinking about the folder and the other doors. Sean blinks a few times, mouth forming a silent 'oh', as he nods finally.
"Okay," Sean says carefully. Tom makes a face, screwing his mouth up before he stands. He walks into his room, ignoring the scent of wet ground and trees, like he's been in the fucking forest while it rains. Getting on his hands and knees, he drags the folder out. It's an old folder, the kind that he remembers from school and shit, the kind that used to get ripped within a week.
He carries it back into Sean's room, handing the folder over before he sits back down on the floor. The wood bites into his ankle as he uncrosses his legs, trying to get comfortable.
"Those are all the doors I've taken pictures of. I dreamed about every single one of them, dude. And...I haven't dreamed about one for, like, two years now, okay? And suddenly my fucking room smells like a fucking thunderstorm and I'm in the forest or whatever, and then I took a picture of another fucking door," Tom says, voice raising at the end and he's dimly aware that he sounds angry instead of mildly freaked out. He sighs, pushing his hair back from his face as Sean thumbs through the folder.
"Would you say something already, Van Vleet?" Tom says sharply, pulling his knees back up and hooking his arms around them as Sean takes in a careful breath.
"The second time I went through a door, I almost drowned. When I woke up, you were there. We were soaked and you took me home and took care of me. In that...door, you painted. You let me live with you and when we started sleeping together, you started painting me. I spent three years with you there, before I had to leave," Sean says. He's been staring down at a dark green door, the knob old and brass, polished and Tom remembers feeling calm at the color.
"Why'd you leave?"
"Wasn't right."
"Why wasn't it right?" Tom presses, reaching out to touch Sean's knee, needing some contact to reassure himself that Sean wasn't going to step through a door then and there or whatever.
"It didn't feel right. It never felt right, even though I've been with and around every single version of you, I think, and it's never felt right," Sean says, pausing as he looks over at Tom. Tom sighs roughly, annoyed and frustrated and something about it makes Sean smile slowly, like it's a secret.
"You never argued with me. I think...I think that's why it was never right. I dunno, the first time I went through a door, I knew it wasn't right, but I didn't know how to leave," Sean says as Tom nods, still annoyed as he shrugs.
"What was the longest you stayed in one place?" Tom asks, stretching his legs out as Sean does the same, thinking carefully. Tom watches him tilt his head back, propping it against the wall before he inhales and exhales slowly, like he's fortifying himself.
"The second time. Well, and this one, now. It's...Whenever I would go through a door, when I would leave, I would always find another key or something in my pockets. Or it would appear at some point. When I bumped into you that first day, I'd just come through. I'd just left another version of you, is the thing," Sean says, sitting up and shifting to face Tom, eyes intense as he continues, "Tom, when I came through to this...reality or world or whatever, there wasn't another key."
Tom blinks, feeling something slide across his chest as he looks at the folder of pictures in Sean's lap.
"Oh," Tom says simply. Sean laughs softly, repeating him as Tom reaches out and touches the photo that Sean had been focused on. He thinks about the way he could feel the warmth of Sean's skin under his fingertips, the scrape of stubble against his lips. Tom looks up at Sean, seeing Sean watching him with a smile and a glint of something in his eyes.
"Sean," Tom says softly, unable to think of anything else as he leans forward, pressing their lips together quickly. It makes the memory, only the hint of one, flare in the back of his mind. He thinks, for a moment, that he can smell paint and turpentine and sweat and the only thing he can taste is Sean.
Sean shifts the pictures off of his lap, leaning in and kissing him again, taking his time and Tom can't stop himself from reaching up and cradling Sean's face for a moment. It's familiar and foreign, all at once and not at all as Sean's tongue tangles with his own.
Tom pulls back enough, breathing softly and feeling Sean's ghosting over his chin. Tom closes his eyes, laughing softly, once in a soft huff of it.
"What?" Sean says, lips pressing against Tom's once, and then again, lightly.
"I know what you taste like," Tom replies, making Sean laugh. Tom opens his eyes, grinning because he can't help himself. Sean's eyes are bright and Tom can remember seeing him like this in a different place, the forest around them and Sean pressed against at tree, laughing happily as it rained around them.
"I know," Sean says, laughing as he kisses Tom, bright and happy, as Tom pulls him into his lap. He kisses Sean easily, pressing closer and holding him tight, pushing the memory to the back of his mind as the scent of rain fills the room around them.