Thursday: On Vacation

[neshel.livejournal.com]

My last day... *pout* I shall have to come up with some crazy themes and do this again!

Today's theme is On Vacation.

After yesterday's insanity, our characters really need a break. What do they do to get away from their normal lives?

Please think about our wonderful codemonkeys and use the correct format (the second is for crossovers).

Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Fandom1/Fandom2, Pairing, Prompt

Firefly, River, Building sand-castles on the beach
Torchwood/Heroes, Jack/Ianto/Gabriel, A broken stopwatch spoils half their vacation plans

Please remember not to post more than 5 prompts in a row and more than 3 prompts per fandom. If one or more of your prompts are answered, you can prompt again later in the day.

If you don't see anything you like, you can always Adopt a Lonely Prompt.

Comments

[mariana-oconnor.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, not a Prince out here

just like

[flash-indie.livejournal.com]

There’s a no-man’s land between Camelot and Avalon, where magic breathes beneath the forest floor, between the ruins of broken kingdoms and the bones of dead knights. A place that Uther likens to the worst of the world instead of the best, and they’re sent out in hopes of civilising the barren land, the wilderness, and Merlin breathes the air like it breathes him, warms his throat and chest as knights’ set up camp, hunt and Arthur wanders, wonders.

“It’s different,” Arthur says, head tilted and eyes curious. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Merlin shrugs offhand, but it is, the Earth strange and unfamiliar beneath his feet, and when Arthur looks at him again, his eyes are drunk, his posture loose and unkempt and Merlin has to resist the urge to touch him, to pull his hair or palm his skin.

There’s something here, there, that Merlin can’t think, can’t feel in any way that’s tangible, but it spreads throughout his limbs like new blood, like rebirth and birth and it must be magic, because Merlin feels younger and older than he ever has and Arthur is miles of unwandered skin. He thinks of crossing it all, of tracing spine and the bones of his back and his chest. He thinks of exploration instead of pillaging, of gain instead of treason.

“You’re not a prince out here,” Merlin says, voice and hands somehow apart from himself when he starts pulling off Arthur’s armour for the evening. Arthur, forehead furrowed and voice languid, says, “I’m a prince everywhere.”

Arthur kisses with an air of entitlement, all teeth and lips, like Merlin’s the lucky one and later, with Arthur dosing, bare back facing towards the heavens, hair flayed across the forest floor and breath soft against Merlin’s shoulder, he thinks that maybe he is.