Mini Fic Monday #9 - Love is...doing the right thing.

Last night I killed them.

This morning I'm digging their grave. 

Michael and Davis wanted to bury Tom right away, but they tell me I threatened them with the gun, and I am sorry for that.  I guess I got a little lost there for a minute.  All I can remember is the softness of his hair beneath my fingers, the scratch of the stubble on his chin against my palm, the plea in his eyes as he begged me to do it, and the adoration on his face when I lifted the gun. 

After that everything goes a fuzzy grey color, apart from the softness of his hair beneath my fingers-I blocked out the stickiness of some of the strands, I knew it was there and why it was there, but I didn't need my mind to draw a picture.  When you put a bullet in someone's head, you kind of know there's gonna be a little mess.

We'd promised each other that if it ever came down to it, we would do the right thing.  "Because love is..." he'd always say and I'd finish, "doing the right thing."  Not that it was ever going to happen to us, not us.  We were too savvy.  We knew the best places to hide, the best places to forage, the best places to camp.  It would never happen to us.  Arrogant much?

They didn't usually come up this far, they preferred to stick to the highly populated areas, waiting for any survivors to make a run for it.  But there were five of them last night who had decided to do a little hunting up on the ridge, about a mile from our camp and they must have followed the smell of the fire.

Pandemonium broke out in our little camp as the first zombie stumbled towards us.  There were nine of us and five of them, but all it takes is one little scratch and the infection spreads through you in a matter of hours.  The guns were going off all around me, I grabbed for mine and popped one of the bastards right between the eyes.  But then I froze, and so did Tom beside me.  There he was. 


I ignored the hanging flesh, the blood matted hair, the ingrained dirt covering him from head to foot, the lips curled back like a growling animal.  All I saw was wavy corn-colored strands blowing in his beautiful green eyes, the slouch of his shoulders when I asked him to clean his room, the sleep-warm first smile of the morning.  I must have moved towards him, what mother wouldn't?  But Tom hit me square in the back of the legs and took me down, and I heard Davis shouting something out to Michael.  That's when Tyler made his move, driven only by the lust for blood and bone.  And that's when I raised my gun, just as he sank his teeth into his father's shoulder.


I watch as Michael, Davis and Andrew, the three remaining men in our group, lower both bodies into the ground.  One so small compared to the other, but the same eyes staring up at me from each face.


Last night I killed my son and my husband.  This morning I buried them.  Why?

Because I loved them, and love is....doing the right thing.

THE END

Mini Fic Monday #8 - Before the Dawn

Milo yawned and stretched, his back popping like a firecracker as his vertebrae realigned.  He winced at the high-pitched singing of his calf muscles, hell let’s face it, every Goddamn muscle was singing, and settled down on his bed.  After he’d managed to coax his body into a comfortable position, he yawned again, wide and loud into the silence of the room as his mind drifted to the events that led him here.

He’d known he shouldn’t have gone out tonight, but he’d been wired and needed to blow off some steam. That’s how he’d found himself at Spider, the new Goth club on 22^nd.  Not that he’d looked out of place; he hadn’t. Dressed in his tight black jeans, a ripped, black T-shirt strategically two sizes too small, and his long leather overcoat.  To top it all off, he had painted thick black liner around his ice blue eyes and smoothed jell through his dark hair, artfully picking out strands here and there to give him a rough and ready look.  He’d looked amazing when he’d left the apartment, and he’d known it.

The club had been humming when he’d arrived and it hadn’t been long before he’d been held against a muscled chest on the dance floor.  The guy was hot, all sinewy muscles and soulful brown eyes, the studs on his T-shirt leaving sparks of pain and desire where they’d touched Milo’s lean torso. His length had pressed into Milo’s belly as their hips moved to the thrumming beat and he’d grabbed Milo’s face and brought their lips together, his tongue insistent and needy in Milo’s mouth.

Knowing he had time, not much but enough, Milo had grabbed the hunk’s hand and guided him through the sea of writhing bodies and out the exit door, ignoring the alarm that sounded as he door opened.  In a dark corner of the alley, Milo had kissed, licked and bitten every piece of skin he exposed until the man was a quivering mass of want and need, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the brick wall he’d been pinned against.  Milo had prepared him roughly and without much decorum, each needing the other rightthefucknow, before slipping his sheathed length past the rim and into the dark heat beyond in one swift movement.

The music from the club had pounded inside Milo’s head with every thrust into the whimpering man beneath him.  His fingers had gripped tightly to lean hips, hard enough to break the skin with his nails.  Judging by the helpless mewling coming from his conquest, the man wasn’t bothered by the roughness of their coupling, in fact he pushed back onto Milo’s cock in a punishing rhythm.

When his climax rushed through him, lifting him high and then throwing him down onto the rocks while waves of ecstasy washed over him, time and again...Milo felt the familiar prickling up his spine. Shit!  He’d known he shouldn’t have left the apartment, but it was too late for regrets now.  Although he did feel a nuance of remorse for the man losing control in the intensity of his own orgasm, head bowed and hot reams of come spurting from his cock onto the ground.  It wasn’t often he found a partner with the size and stature to withstand a hard fucking the likes of which Milo handed out.  Oh well, there would be others.

He’d seen the man’s terror as he’d watched Milo shift before his very eyes into the monstrous wolf he had become so many times before.  Lost himself completely in the horror in the man’s gaze when he’d ripped his throat out and drunk hungrily from his spouting vein before clawing open his chest and taking the most precious of trophies.

Back in the here and now, Milo yawned again and stood, turning three times on the spot before sinking onto the mattress.  He wouldn’t shift back until the early morning rays crept through the window, and no doubt he would wake again before the dawn.  But he always made provisions to quell any hunger pangs he may need to satisfy.  His long tongue flicked out from his snout and he lapped at the slowly congealing blood around the man’s heart where it lay on the pillow beside him. Milo made it a rule to make only one kill per shift and so he always made sure he had a midnight snack.

Mini Fic Monday - #7 - Going Under

A little bit harder hitting than usual - but you gotta go where the muse takes you ....

#7 GOING UNDER

Alex lay on his bed, text book open and the end of his pen between his teeth.  He huffed out a sigh and threw the pen down on his notepad.  “I am never gonna get this Shakespeare crap,” he groaned.  “All these whys and wherefores and, ugh...I need a break.”  He looked over to where Tom was sitting at Alex's desk, an identical textbook open and pen moving frantically over the paper in front of him.  “Tom?”

“Hmm?” Tom briefly looked up and then back down at the page. 

Alex frowned.  Tom was his best friend.  Had been since his family had moved in across the street when the boys were both twelve.  Now they were in their senior year of high school and talking about which colleges to apply for.  But that wasn't what was worrying Alex.  There was something going on.  Over the last couple of months, Tom had become more and more withdrawn, and Alex didn't like it.  “Wanna take a break?  Play a little Guitar Hero?  You still owe me a rematch, dude.”

“Sure, I just wanna finish this,” Tom replied, not moving his attention from the page he was writing on.  “You set it up and I'll be done in five.”

“Are you gonna talk to me?” Alex said softly when Tom sat down on the end of the bed beside him ten minutes later.

“About what?” Tom gazed at the screen.

Switching off the T.V., Alex took the guitar from Tom's hands and put it on the floor.  He took Tom by the shoulders and turned him to face him, and studied his pale, heart-shaped face.  “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Tom replied.  “I will tell you, soon.  I promise.”  He stood up, so swiftly that Alex almost toppled off the bed.  “I gotta go, more college applications to fill out,” he grinned, turning towards the door.

“Tom, wait.” Alex reached out and put his hand over Tom's where it rested on the door handle.  “You're scaring me.  What's going on?”  He lifted his other hand without thinking and put it against Tom's cheek.  “Please talk to me.”

Tom's hazel eyes drifted shut and he leaned into Alex's touch.  “I don't want you to hate me.”

“Hate you?” Alex said incredulously.  “I could never hate you, Tom.  I—” Alex swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.  “You're really scaring me.”

“Don't be scared,” Tom said softly, bending his head and pressing their lips together, pulling back with a quiet snick.  “Shit, Al, I'm sorry—”

Alex's eyes widened as they stared at Tom in stunned silence for about three seconds before he curled his hand around his friend’s neck and pulled him down, slanting soft plump lips across Tom's wide mouth.  His moan was swallowed when that wide mouth parted beneath his and Tom kissed him as if the world was ending. He reveled in the feel of Tom's long fingers buried in his hair and the way Tom tilted his head so he could ravage his lips.  When oxygen became an issue, they broke apart, but not letting go, breathing in each other’s exhalations. 

“Tom?” Alex finally managed, his fingers still clasped around the nape of Tom's neck. 

“Please don't hate me,” Tom whispered, closing the bedroom door behind him and leaving Alex with his fingers pressed to his lips.

<><><><><><><<>> 

Had that really only been a week ago? Alex sat cross-legged on his bed and pulled at the tie around his neck, loosening the knot, and throwing it onto the chair beside his desk. Stupid tie had been trying to choke him all day.  He was grateful his Mom had not caused a fuss when he said he had a headache and wanted to go home. Although he’d felt the weight of her gaze on him until the front door had closed behind him. 

So here he was, sitting on his bed and wondering what the fuck he had been doing in a black suit on a bright sunny day, when he should've been shooting hoops with Tom in the back yard. 

What he'd been doing standing between his mother and father on a bright sunny day, when he should've been beating Tom at Guitar Hero. 

What he'd been doing listening to the scatter of earth upon highly polished wood on a bright sunny day, when he should've been listening to Tom complaining about his latest pimple.

Rubbing his hand across his eyes Alex sighed as he flopped back onto his pillows and turned onto his side.  His gaze rested on his desktop and he frowned at the folded sheet of paper sticking out of his Shakespeare textbook.  He reached out, pulled the paper from between the pages and his breath caught in his throat when he saw his name in Tom's looping scrawl.  Sitting up, he opened it with shaking fingers and began to read.

Alex,

Please don't hate me.  I've wanted to tell you so many times, but I never knew where to start or what to say.  You're the one who's good with words, not me.  Jeez, I practically let you do my talking for me until I was fifteen, lol. 

Something happened a couple of months ago, when I went to that concert with my cousin.  He ended up meeting a girl and ditching me, so I had to walk home, remember? I didn't realise They were behind me until They shoved me into the bushes.  They took what was left of my money and hit me, which is how I really got the bruises. I know I told you I fell over a couple of times on the walk home and I'm sorry I lied, but I couldn't tell you the truth.  Couldn't tell you the other things They did.  How They really hurt me. 

My grades are slipping and every college I've applied to has turned me down.  I've hidden the letters from my parents, but they're starting to get suspicious.  I can't tell them why I haven't been doing the course work, or why I haven't been able to maintain my grade point average.  That I've ruined all the hopes and dreams they had for me.

I’m drowning, Al and I don’t know what to do. I'm not sleeping, and when I do, I have terrible nightmares.  I know you’re worried and I want to tell you, but I just can't bring myself to say it.  To tell you how dirty I feel.  How worthless, how second hand.  Afraid that I'll tell you that I've always hoped that my first would be you. But I could never be good enough for you now. You're sitting on your bed right now and you've got that cute little crinkle above your nose you get when you're concentrating and I want to kiss you so bad I can hardly stand it. 

I love you.  I needed you to know that.  I think I've loved you practically from the first moment we met.  I just wish I could be brave enough to tell you, before....  Hopefully before I go tonight, I can pluck up the courage to kiss you, and hopefully you don't punch me in the face, although it would be a small price to pay to feel your lips on mine. 

I want you to know that it’s your face I'll carry with me wherever it is I'm going, and I know we'll see each other again.

I'm sorry, Al, so sorry. 

Please don't hate me. 

I love you.

Tom x

Alex stared down at the sheet of paper as the words blurred.  He hadn't cried when his Mom and Dad woke him up a week ago, tears in their eyes and shock on their faces.  Hadn't cried when they'd told him Tom had taken all of his mother’s sleeping pills.  Hadn't cried when they'd told him he would never see his stupid face again.  Hadn't cried when they'd told him Tom was dead.

But he cried now.  Fat, heavy tears that fell onto the paper and smudged the ink as he held the note to his face and sobbed for all he had lost.  For the best friend he'd ever had.  For not being able to go with him to that concert.  For not being able to protect him.  For not being there when he needed him most.  For not being able to say goodbye.  For not having the courage to tell Tom the one thing he had longed to tell him.

Alex's breath hitched in his throat as he curled into a ball on his bed, the paper held against his chest, over his beating heart.  In a voice thick with tears and grief, he said it now. 

“I love you, too.”

THE END

Mini Fic Monday - #6 - Today's the Day

MINI FIC MONDAY #6 - TODAY'S THE DAY

Tom watched him drive away in his car, the suspension groaning under the weight of the belongings he’d accumulated over the years.  The car’s brake lights shone red at the stop sign at the end of the street, and in a tiny corner of his heart he hoped the car would do a u-turn and he would come speeding back.  That he would jump out of the car and throw his arms around Tom and tell him that it was all a big mistake.  That he hadn’t meant it.  That he wanted to stay.  But he didn’t.  The car turned left and he was gone.

Sighing heavily, Tom sat down on the swing seat on the porch and ran a hand through his hair.  He was tired, bone weary, having spent the night awake, tossing and turning, knowing that today would be the last day he’d see those blue eyes look at him over the breakfast table.  It’s not that he hadn’t known it was coming.  They’d agreed everything and nothing had been left unsaid.  They knew that this was the right thing to do, make a clean break, just like tearing off a band aid he’d said.  Tom had tried to summon a smile in response to that, but his lips had just wobbled and threatened to reveal the broken mess he really was.  He knew that he had to retain some dignity.  Didn’t want him to leave with the memory of Tom sobbing desperately and begging him not to go.

Except the car was gone.  He was gone.  Now he could cry great hiccupping breaths that started deep in his chest and made their way up his throat before he could stop them.  Huge sobs that fell from his lips and echoed in the stillness around him.

The swing seat rocked slightly and strong arms enfolded him. Leaning into the familiar scent that meant comfort and safety, he held on tight.  “He’s gone,” he sobbed, leaving a snotty trail on the shirt as he rubbed his face against the cotton.  “I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

“Sssssh, it’s okay.  Hey, I’m still here,” the voice was rich and warm, the Texan drawl evident, even after all these years of living in LA.

Tom slowly lifted his head and looked up into deep green eyes.  Eyes that glittered with unshed tears of their own.  Eyes that he had been looking into for the last twenty years, although now there were a few more wrinkles around them and a whole lot more laughter lines.  “Thank, God.  Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  Tom rubbed at his face and snorted inelegantly.  “I must look like shit.”

Laughing, Ross leaned down to kiss the wide mouth, whose bottom lip still trembled slightly, tasting the salt of Tom’s tears as he tried to sooth away his loss, their loss.  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say shit…but if you snot anymore I may have to rethink.”  Standing up, he pulled Tom with him and urged him inside the house, closing the door firmly behind them.  “Besides,” he smiled, easing Tom down onto the sofa and cover the long, still muscled, body with his own.  “You’re allowed to cry and sob and look like shit today.  But you do know he’ll be back in six weeks with a bag full of dirty laundry and his hand held out for more cash?”

Tom chuckled, capturing Ross’s lips with his.  “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Always know the right thing to say to make everything better?”

Kiss-biting up the tanned column of Tom’s throat, Ross smiled against the warm skin.  “Years of practice, baby, years of practice.  Now, would you shut up so I can make you feel even better?”

“Yes, sir,” Tom snorted, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Ross’s strong shoulders, the sunlight streaming through the windows glinting off the gold of his wedding ring.  He let Ross sooth away his pain and bring the smile back to his face, although, as Ross said, he was allowed to cry, just for today.

Today was special.  Today was the day their baby left for college.

Mini Fic Monday - #5 - Time to Go

#5  TIME TO GO

Mike stood by the window, looking out across the field.  The sun had broken through the clouds and it cast an almost angelic glow upon the waving grass.  He wished he had his camera with him so he could capture the moment forever.

“Hey Mike,” he turned and watched Dean come into the room.  His heart missed a beat as it always did when he saw Dean.  Even after all this time, the mere sight of him still made his pulse quicken and his breath hitch in his throat.

“Hey yourself.”  Mike watched as Dean lowered himself into the chair, his eyes downcast. He knew this was hard for him, how could it not be?  But there was no other choice.  The decision had already been made – this was the only way this could end.

“I'm sorry I wigged out last night,” Dean's lips curved in a rueful smile, “You always did say I was the girl and I guess I've proved it in more ways than one over the last few weeks.”

“Dean—“

“This is so hard man, I wish you could just tell me what I'm supposed to say,” Dean ran his hand through his hair, hair that looked like it could do with a wash and Mike noted that he was still wearing yesterday's clothes.

“Dean, baby,” he moved towards the chair and reached out his hand to place it on Dean's shoulder, “you stink man, when was the last time you showered?”

Dean huffed out a dry laugh.

“Dean, we both know this is the best thing, the right thing,” Mike wanted to kiss him so badly but knew that he couldn't, not now.

Dean clasped his hands together, his hazel eyes filling with tears. “I know this is the right thing,” he said softly, “I know I have to let you go, that it doesn't matter what I want or need.  But I thought we were gonna make it you know?  That we were gonna be together forever.”

“Me too,” Mike whispered, “but we can't.....you know that, we both know that.”  Mike laid his cheek against the top of Dean's head.  Smiling softly as he felt Dean lean up into his touch. 

“You remember the first time you kissed me?”

Mike closed his eyes, letting Dean talk, knowing that he needed this....to remember the past....even though they both knew there was no future.  “I do.”

“You were so pissed at me for kidding around with Jack and you got all jealous and up in my face, do you remember?”

“I was not jealous—”

“You were too jealous and I will be forever grateful to Jack for being the one to force your hand,” he smiled, “well, your lips anyway, I think the hands came later.  I'd been waiting long enough for you to realise that I belonged to you.”

Mike just smiled, rubbing his cheek gently on Dean's hair.  “Come on baby, we can do this.”

Dean wiped futilely at the tears that ran down his face, but Mike watched him square his shoulders as he stood and moved towards him.  Oh God, Mike thought, This is really it isn't it?  We're really gonna do this. He squared his own shoulders as Dean took his hand in his and bent towards him, kissing him gently on his lips.  “I love you. Goodbye, Mike.” 

“I love you, too, Dean. See ya’” 

He watched Dean sit back onto the plastic chair, his shoulders shaking with his sobs.  Watched as the two sets of families, his and Dean's, filed slowly into the room, and the doctor followed them.  He looked down at himself in the bed – wishing he could feel Dean's fingers on his - watched as the machine that had been keeping him alive since the accident three weeks ago was turned off and it was time to go.