Thursday: Storms

[thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com]

Hello All, I’m thesmallhobbit your host for this week and today's theme is Storms – which can be either literal or emotional

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
If your prompt or fill contains anything that can be a trigger for the reader, please add a warning for that to give the reader the chance to decide if they want to read or not.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Robin Hood (BBC), Guy of Gisborne, storm clouds are gathering
+ Spooks (MI5),  Lucas North, emotional breakdown
+ Any, Any/Any, thunderbolt and lightening, very, very frightening (Queen)

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2016 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.


tag=storms

Comments

[thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com]

Robin Hood (BBC), Guy of Gisborne, storm clouds are gathering

[thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com]

Spooks (MI5), Lucas North, emotional breakdown

Fill: + Jo

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Lucas isn't Adam, could never be Adam, would never want to try to replace him. But he's the only one around when Jo stops, stares at her computer for a moment. She's utterly still but for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. And then she slides inexorably out of her chair, like a puppet with her strings cut, and hides under her desk, arms curled around her knees, panting and shaking.

Lucas sits down on the floor next to her desk, not close enough to be in her personal space. He's seen the way she starts, the way she sees ghosts out of the corners of her eyes. He doesn't know what happened to her, and he won't ask.

He checks his cell phone. How smart the things have become in the last eight years since he owned one.

"Bit of storm outside," he says. "Hope you brought an umbrella."

Jo's eyes are bright with unshed tears. She nods shakily and tries to smile. It comes out all wrong. "Bit of a storm in here, too."

They sit in companionable silence, Lucas idly checking his emails, Jo breathing and breathing and breathing. He waits to see if she will whip into a hurricane or settle into an English summer rain.

Finally, when her breathing subsides, Lucas heaves himself to his feet. "Tea?" he asks.

"Please," she says.

And with that, the clouds break.

[thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com]

Any, Any/Any, thunderbolt and lightening, very, very frightening (Queen)

Small Fill, Father Ted

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

"...Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening ME-"

"NOEL!" Ted roared- er, interrupted politely. "That's enough Queen for now, thanks. Dougal's skittish when it comes to lightning storms on Craggy Island, you know."

The wardrobe made a noise of agreement.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, perfect storm

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Legends of Tomorrow, Kendra Saunders/Sara Lance,

I'm a wanderess
I'm a one night stand
Don't belong to no city
Don't belong to no man
I'm the violence in the pouring rain
I'm a hurricane

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman (comics), any Batkid/any,

Blow, wind! Come, wrack!
At least we’ll die with harness on our back.

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

The Flash (TV), Barry Allen/Mark Mardon, makes for stormy weather

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Bruce Wayne/Harley Quinn, coming back to her all damp and smelling like a storm

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Justice League Cartoon, Shayera Hol(/Bruce Wayne), do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

[aivix.livejournal.com]

Any, any,
I was born in a thunderstorm
I grew up overnight
I played alone
I'm playing on my own
I survived
(Sia, "Alive")

Fill 1/2: SGA, pre Ronon/Lorne

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

One of the things Ronon missed most while he was on the run (besides home and safety and real food and bed) was painting. He could recite poetry to himself, had made up more poems while he was lying in the dark, waiting for the Wraith to stumble into one of his vicious traps. Sometimes he’d perched in trees and narrated their approaches in a lyrical fashion, watching dispassionately as one of them triggered the switch and its life was snuffed out.

Along it walks, footsteps in the leaves, murder on its mind and death in one sleeve, and -

Painting wasn’t something he could carry on the run with him.

When he first wandered around Atlantis on his own and stumbled across the stained-glass windows, he was entranced by their colors, hues and shades he’d never seen before. He itched for the inks and brushes of home, a good piece of linen so he could capture them and keep them forever. As a soldier he’d rarely had the time to paint; painting wasn’t a necessary skill for a Satedan warrior (but poetry, especially drunken poetry, was always welcome). He didn’t expect Atlantis to be any different. It had soldiers and scientists, but no artists. The only picture John had in his quarters was of a musician. He didn’t have any pictures for the sake of pictures.

So Ronon trained and practiced and went through the gate with John and Teyla and Rodney and slowly became one of their team, and whenever he had the chance, he slipped away and looked at the stained glass windows, imagined bathing in each and every one of their colors until he was camouflaged in rainbow.

His grandfather had taught him the most important things in life - combat, hunting, surviving.

And painting.

After his grandfather passed, taken by The Second Childhood, Ronon had been shuffled into a home for children in similar circumstances, destined for the military. Grandfather had been a soldier, so Ronon was proud to have the chance to serve and continue his Grandfather’s proud and honorable lineage. He’d fought, he’d trained, he’d practiced, he’d survived. For years. He’d come into the world with paint and blood on his hands, grown from the little boy with the triple-barreled shotgun to the man with the sword and gun and Specialist rank beside his name, and he’d survived a culling.

The others in his platoon thought he loved Melena because she was a doctor, smart and kind and beautiful. He loved her because she was a good woman, through and through. He adored her because she, too, had colors in her heart. He’d first met her not at the annual military banquet (she the daughter of a general, he standing guard beside the buffet table) where everyone thought they’d met, but at a small shop tucked in an alley just off Market Square that sold the best and brightest inks in the city, the finest brushes. She hadn’t been quite able to reach a certain shade of blue, and he’d fetched it for her, and they’d spent almost the entire day talking about their favorite places in the city, the ones they found most beautiful, the ones they wanted to paint if they had the time.

But the city was gone, and she was gone, and the lovely, jewel-tone inks were all gone, and all Ronon had left was fighting alongside John Sheppard and killing the Wraith.

Until one day, when the mess hall was crowded, and everyone had to double up with everyone else, away from their usual mealtime companions, and Ronon found himself crowded at a table with a bunch of young marines and Major Lorne, John’s second-in-command. The marines were engaged in a spirited conversation about something related to the bizarre Earth habit of staring at boxes, and Lorne, who looked exhausted, had his head down and was picking slowly at his food, writing on his napkin. Ronon wondered how important it was, that he had to write it down while he was eating.

[aivix.livejournal.com]

Any Stargate, Any, "We have a decision to make: keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away or start learning how to live within the rain." -Glenn Pemberton

Fill 1/2: SGA/Dollhouse/SG-1 (blink and you miss it First Monday)

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Jack sat at the back of the courtroom, watching John Sheppard work his Dollhouse magic on the United States Supreme Court.

“We have a decision to make,” Sheppard said. “Keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away, or start learning how to live within the rain. We currently do not possess the technical capability to combat the Wraith on a regular basis, let alone guarantee assurance of defeating them. We do, however, have the beginnings of an alliance, and also the ability to neutralize the Wraith threat and gain new, technologically advanced allies in the process. The viability of this neutralizing technology hinges on a simple thing: logic.”

Jack winced. Sheppard almost sounded condescending. Jack waited for one of the justices to interrupt, tell him off, but they were listening, taking notes.

Sheppard continued, smooth and poised. “This Court has already decided that being born on a planet other than Earth does not negate one’s personhood. This Court has already decided that having a brain and heartbeat and flesh and bones and DNA is not a requirement for personhood, at least in the area of political campaign finance contributions and First Amendment exercise of Freedom of Religion. This Court has already decided that being born in a computer program and overlaid in an existing biological organism does not negate one’s personhood.”

Sheppard paused for a moment, looking each justice in the eye, reminding them who and what he was, a former Dollhouse active, a person.

“It would be a perfectly logical step to extend the definition of personhood to a sentient being born somewhere other than Earth, a being that can feel pain, that forms families, that can also feel love and joy and disappointment. If it’s illegal to vivisect a dog for science experimentation, then it’s obviously illegal - and frankly immoral - to vivisect a living Wraith for the same purposes.”

Jack had never heard Sheppard sound so calm and measured, but then he’d also never seen Sheppard in a three-piece suit and a bowtie. He remembered the Mind Stamp on that one snowy planet, where he’d been stripped of his memories, turned into a slave. The Mind Stamp had been weak technology compared to the Dollhouse, and he’d kept most of himself, his personality and his habits, his demeanor. He couldn’t imagine being completely erased. He remembered Daniel’s struggle when he’d been forcefully imprinted with all the minds of the survivors of an alien life boat.

Jack had never fully trusted the Tok’ra, because they’d screwed him over more than once (and in a really big way), but he supposed of there were Tok’ra, there could easily be some kind of Wraith equivalent.

Justice Novelli interrupted Sheppard. “Counselor, why is this issue even before us? The war against the Wraith is a military issue, and we have no jurisdiction over questions of military command.”

“The court does have jurisdiction over questions of human rights for a prisoner of war,” Sheppard responded promptly.

“Are you saying this Wraith, this Todd, is the equivalent of a Taliban fighter at Guantanamo Bay?”


“Yes, Your Honor.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows, looking thoughtful.

[aivix.livejournal.com]

The Martian, Mark Watney/Beth Johannsen/Chris Beck, Mark's first snow storm back on Earth.

[aivix.livejournal.com]

Stargate: Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay,
In the fallout now
It's hard to feel like we can turn around
With the damage done
It's hard to see how far we've come
(NEEDTOBREATHE, "Hurricane" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxqgDkt4wBs))

[aivix.livejournal.com]

Any, any, "It's fucking monsooning out there!"

Mini Fill; X-Men First Class, Raven and Alex, Erik

[sasha-b.livejournal.com]

"It's fucking - "

"If you say 'monsooning' one more time, Alex."

"It's just, I'm not used to this."

"New England is a wet place. Why are you surprised? Besides, it's spring. That's the way it is, here."

"Get me some tea, and maybe I'll get used to it. Check that. Tea with some whiskey."

"You're not 18, Alex. I think not."

"Your brother's not here. He won't miss it. Look at the size of this liquor cabinet, Raven! It's not like he'll miss a few ounces."

"But I'm here, and I would miss those few, even if Charles didn't notice."

...

"Stupid Erik and his stupid powers."

"We're lucky he can't read minds, too."

"Charles would have been nicer about it."

"You obviously know nothing about him. If I tried to take his books when we were younger, he'd take weeks to exact the perfect revenge. I'm not chancing that again."

"But you can just change shape and - "

CLICK

"...did they just lock us in?"

"...like I said. Weeks."

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Batman Comics, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, This tornado loves you, what will make you believe me?

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

How to Get Away with Murder, Connor Walsh/Oliver Hampton,
I walk out in stormy weather
Hold my words, keep us together

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Batman Comics, Dick Grayson + or/ Damian Wayne, during a thunderstorm Damian crawls in bed with Dick and pretends it's more for Dick's sake than his own.

filled - Damian + Dick

[oh-mcgee.livejournal.com]

He's never liked thunderstorms. Grandfather called it a weakness, Talia ignored it altogether, turned her nose down at him when he'd stand in the door to her room, shaking for reasons he couldn't understand. He wasn't afraid -- he's not afraid of anything. It was never an option. But it's difficult to tell that to his body when the noise cracks around him and shakes the windows.

It's illogical and irrational and Damian hates it, hates that the only way he can find peace is to hide under the covers like some simpering child. When the lightning flashes again, lighting up the entire room, Damian suddenly remembers that Grayson is home this weekend.

Grayson, who always lights up whenever he sees him like Damian doesn't have enough blood on his hands to paint the entire city red. Grayson, who buys anything Damian says to him like a damn gullible fool. Damian counts between lightning strikes and after the last one, he jumps out of his bed and runs down the hallway to Dick's room.

"Hey Damian," Dick says when Damian slips into his room. He's already in bed under the covers and the only light in the room is from Dick's phone, some brightly colored game he's playing. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Damian says, trying to still the trembling in his shoulders even despite the darkness. "I only thought I should check on you. I know how delicate you can be, Grayson."

He tries to keep his voice calm, tries to keep his usual, casual disdain up, but he knows he must sound off, he's still trembling so hard his voice is shaking.

"I used to hate storms, you know," Dick says when Damian sits down on the edge of the bed. He doesn't need to be close, not really. Just being in the same as room with someone else helps. Dick helps the most, for some reason. "Especially when I moved in here. The windows are so old they'd just rattle when the thunder boomed and sometimes the tree limbs would scratch across the windows. Man, it was creepy."

"How did you make it stop?" Damian asks, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Grew out of it," Dick says. "Some people don't though."

Damian cringes and tightens up when another bolt of lightning flashes in the window and when the thunder cracks he doesn't think, just buries himself under the covers and hides his face in the pillow, curling into himself.

When the windows stop rattles and he feels like he can breathe again, he lets his eyes back open and realizes that Dick's arm is wrapped around him, can feel his breath on the back of his neck.

"What are you --"

"Hush," Dick says. "You need this."

"I don't need --" Anything. Needing things, people, its only another sign of weakness.

A weakness his grandfather and mother were never able to wring out of him, apparently, because when he finally relaxes, Damian realizes how much he does need this. The trembling in his shoulders and legs calms as soon as he concentrates on the feeling of Dick's arm draped over him, heavy and strong, the warm, sticky breath on the back of his neck, Dick's knees pressed into the back of his.

"You're okay, Damian," Dick says. "You're just fine."

He's wrong, of course, but for the moment Damian is inclined to let himself believe it.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Marvel Comics, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane's chasing us all underground

[alba17.livejournal.com]

MCU, pre-serum Steve/Bucky, caught in the rain at Coney Island

[shanachie-quill.livejournal.com]

The day had started out so well.

Bucky had convinced Steve to go with him to Coney Island for the day. To spend one more day with him before he shipped out for Basic. Steve hadn’t wanted to spend the money at first, but Bucky had convinced him that soon the newly sworn in private would be able to send money home not just to his parents, but also to Steve. The smaller man had finally been worn down. Or to be more accurate, Bucky had dragged him onto the train and not given him a choice.

That was about the last thing that had gone according to plan.

Steve had gotten into a fight--because it was Steve and he always got into a fight--not long after they arrived at Coney Island. Bucky hadn’t even bothered waiting to find out why Steve was fighting, he’d just waded in and started throwing punches to protect his friend.

The glare Steve bestowed on him when he hauled the smaller man out of the melee was almost worth it. Still watching the others run from them made most of it better.

Steve spent the walk to the Cyclone explaining how if Bucky had just waited five more minutes, he’d have had them on the ropes. Bucky just laughed in response, ruffling his friend’s hair.

The Cyclone was the next disaster.

Bucky had done some fast talking to get Steve onto the Cyclone. As it climbed towards the first hill, Steve’s expression turned to one Bucky recognized from all the times Steve was ill. “Don’t you dare,” Bucky told him.

“I don’t feel so good,” Steve told him.

“Just hang on, Stevie. Ride’ll be over in a minute.” Bucky shifted in his seat, hoping his friend didn’t throw up while they were still on board.

Steve managed to hold out for the entire ride, but as soon as they stepped off, he leaned over, and threw up everything he’d eaten that day. Bucky winced at the miserable face he turned upwards when he finished.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologized.

Steve groaned in reply. “I wanna go home, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded, helping Steve up. “Let’s go.”

That was when the last disaster struck.

Just as they were making their way to the end of the boardwalk, the skies opened up, dumping what felt like half the Atlantic on top of them. Within seconds, Steve was shivering and coughing. Bucky shucked off his jacket and draped it over the smaller man, despite it already being soaked. It would offer Steve some protection until they reached the train.

Bucky sighed as he stared down at Steve once they were on the train. His friend was huddled inside the dark haired man’s jacket, shivering from being wet and getting sick. A bruise was already forming around one eye. He peered up at Bucky as the train jerked, signaling they were on their way home. “Buck.”

“Don’t say anything. I’m sorry.”

“The rain wasn’t your fault.”

“Neither was the fight.”

“The roller coaster on the other hand…”

The two friends looked at each other and grinned. “Not the best plan?” Bucky offered.

“Not your worst either,” Steve told him. “‘M gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, punk.”

“Jerk.”

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Any, Any,

Speed of lightning, roar of thunder
Fighting all who rob and plunder

Avengers, "Sing a Song"

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

The humming had grown progressively louder as Tony worked. It wasn't exactly annoying, more distracting as Bruce tried to place the song Tony seemed enamored with today.

"All right, I'll ask. What is that?" Bruce asked.

Tony gave him a goggle-eyed look. "You don't recognize it?"

"Should I?"

"I could understand Rogers not knowing it," Tony went on as if Bruce hadn't spoken. "But this is a classic." He cleared his throat and sang out loud, "'Speed of lightning, roar of thunder, fighting all who rob and plunder'." As he sang, he rotated his hands in encouragement.

Bruce shrugged.

"'Underdog, Underdog!'" Tony belted out, his voice rising dramatically.

"Ah." Bruce smiled. Faintly. Still having no idea what Tony was singing. Opera? In English? Probably not.

Tony shook his head. "It's a classic cartoon of the sixties. Well, the theme song. It's the story of Lovable Shoeshine, who becomes the superhero, Underdog, when needed." He hesitated, that certain light appearing in his eyes. "Shares a lot of the same traits as Rogers, now that I think about it." His giggle was decidedly wicked and Tony turned back to his keyboard. "'Merica, Merica!'"

Bruce decided he wanted a few continents between him and Tony when Steve heard this one.

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Stargate Multiverse, Any, caught offworld in a severe storm

Fill 1/3: nerd!John AU, Ghost Riders in the Sky

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

“The last time this happened,” Teldy said, “you, John, and Lorne were on Atlantis, playing Yippie-Ki-Yay with the Genii.”

“Mostly John and Lorne,” Rodney said. He and John were fiddling with the inertial dampeners to make sure the puddle jumper didn’t blow away. Lorne had managed to land it beneath a rock outcropping that was sheltering them from the worst of the storm - howling wind, lashing rain, and thunder and lightning that had everyone but John flinching at the sound of it.

Ronon peered out the front window of the jumper. This kind of storm would have been the death of him when he was alone and a Runner. It was the reason he’d always fled from a planet at the first hint of bad weather.

“How long will the storm last?” Ronon sat back down on the bench between Teyla and Teldy.

“No clue,” Rodney said. “But the jumper shouldn’t blow away. Or get washed away.”

“What if Elizabeth tries to send a team after us?”

“Luckily the wormholes are only one-way,” Rodney said, “so once a stable wormhole is established, we can radio through, let her know not to send a team through and that we won’t return until we can open a wormhole their direction without bringing Noah’s flood with us.”

“Noah?” Teyla asked.

“Never mind,” Rodney said, waving a hand dismissively. “The important thing to do is make sure a transmission will get through when Elizabeth dials in. I’m going to make some adjustment to the comm systems, boost the signal a little.”

He climbed out of the cockpit and wandered into the back, started opening control panels. John went to help him.

“So...now what?” Ronon asked.

Lorne said, “I have a pack of cards.” He felt his pockets, came up with a pack of playing cards that every soldier seemed to carry.

Teyla looked dubious. “I am not very skilled at Earther card games.”

“Neither am I,” Ronon said. “We could play some other games, though.”

Rodney poked his head out of the back. “I could use an extra pair of hands here.”

“You have John,” Lorne called back.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “An extra, extra pair of hands.”

And that was how all of them ended up in the back, handing around screwdrivers and wrenches and alligator clips. Ronon had somehow become the desk, holding Rodney’s laptop while he poked around on it. Teyla was arched awkwardly, holding alligator clips to control panels. Lorne and John were having the rapid conversation, John signing, Lorne speaking.

Thunder crashed outside.

Teyla flinched.

The clips slipped.

The entire jumper went dark, except for the blue glow from Rodney’s laptop.

“I am very sorry,” Teyla began.

John, Ronon realized, could not speak in the dark.

Rodney sighed. “It’s fine. Let me just -”

Lorne and Teldy came up with little handheld flashlights. Teldy aimed one at Teyla’s hands, the other at the control panel. Rodney directed John to take over for Teyla, who kept flinching under the noise of the storm, and then Lorne had to hold a flashlight in his teeth so John could see him signing, and after being crowded uncomfortably close for fifteen minutes, the light came back on.

“There,” Rodney said. “Signal boosted. I’ll power down all but necessary life support systems and we can wait till we’re overdue for check-in.”

Teldy looked at her watch. “That’s not for another four hours.”

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, taking refuge in a deserted building during a storm

Not a fill (yet)

[shanachie-quill.livejournal.com]

Can I do Bucky/Ariana for this?

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers,

You'd rather be wrapped up
In the arms of the storm
Chasing down the demons

Fill. MCU, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes.

[aivix.livejournal.com]

Night was the worst, having to close his eyes and lay still and be... vulnerable.

Even with Steve a solid presence at his back, a shield between him and the door that was the only entrance or exit, he struggled: nightmares were waiting for him and his body fought against sleep, knowing what would follow.

And after he managed to see himself to sleep, there was always the promise that he would soon wake, gripped by the final vestiges of something he could never verbalize.

“Shhh, it's all right, Buck.”

“Can't.”

“You can. I'm here... I'm here, it's safe.”

Phantom hands closed around his biceps, pushed him back, held him down; his throat closed up, terror rising in his veins.

”I'm... Steve...”

“Breathe. Feel how I'm breathing? Copy it.”

He gasped and Steve leaned his head forward, not crowding but pressing close enough that Bucky could feel the gusts of Steve's breath against his neck. A hand stroked over his hip, only the pads of fingers, and a kiss landed at on his hairline; his heart rate slowed to baseline.

“That's it.”

Bucky nodded shakily. “Yeah,” he muttered, “Second time tonight.”

“Getting better.” Steve was proud: at one point, by this hour of the night, Bucky had often woken screaming for the fourth or fifth time. Now, the screaming was a thing of the past—the whimpers and the rhythmic clenching of teeth lingered—and he was down to waking up in general four or five times, rather than a dozen or more.

“I should go sleep on the sofa.”

With a soft, firm tone, Steve told him, “There is no chance in hell I'm letting you out of this bed,” before tightening his hold. “This bed is our bed.”

“You need...”

“I need you to stay here where I can make sure you'll get back to sleep.”

“Steve.”

“Not going to win this one, Buck. Just give in—you're where you're supposed to be and I'm where I want to be.”

Long ago, in the before, he might have made ha dirty joke or two about wanting to be places, but that time had past and now, sleep tugging him back down, Bucky rolled over and murmured, “I'm tired, Stevie.”

Steve kissed his forehead and murmured sadly, “I know. Sleep.”

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

Any, any, she ( or he) only cries when it rains

Fill: The Faculty - Casey Connor & Zeke Tyler

[prisca1960.livejournal.com]

It was supposed to be spring, the first warm days of the year. Instead of this, it was raining for days; it was grey outside, and cold, and dreary. Like his mood.

It was the 7th April and as every year, he did come here, right after breakfast. He was the only one who did still remember. Daniel Jason Tyler, 4-7-2007 - 11-3-2010, So small, so sweet, so soon.

His little brother, his mom's sunshine, his dad's golden boy. Zeke had always been the black sheep of the family, to wild, to rebellious, never willing to follow the rules. First he had tried to hate the baby but the moment Daniel looked at him with the big, brown eyes and the angelic smile he was fallen in love with him.

Zeke stared at the small, neglected grave. His parents hadn't come here for ages; they had started to move on after Daniel's death quickly. He was left behind in a much too big house, with a brother on the graveyard.

Tears were pricking in his eyes. Usually he wouldn't give in, he was strong, he had learned to fight. But together with the rain on his face, it seemed to be okay; at least for a moment he could allow himself to be weak, to mourn about all he had lost.

+++

He noticed the small figure when he turned around. Casey Connor. The school's geek, the most stubborn shit he had ever met. Since Mr. Furlong had asked him to help Zeke with chemistry ... ridiculous, as if he needed help with that ... Casey seemed to be on a mission; wildly resolved to make a straight-A-student out of him.

Threateningly he narrowed his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?"

The boy stayed unimpressed.
"Shouldn't you, too?"

"None of your business."

Casey kept quiet for a moment, looking at him with these piercing blue eyes until Zeke couldn't bear it any longer. Dizziness was creeping into his body, it was hard to keep breathing. The next he could remember were Casey's arm, holding him and his soft voice.

"C'mon, I'm gonna bring you home. You need some rest. Maybe a warm tea, you are shaking all over."

Like through a haze, he followed him to the old, grey Audi, Casey's ridiculous car and without any protest he dropped down onto the codriver's seat. Still not sure, what to feel, what to think.

"Why?"
Only a whisper.
"Why do you care?"

"Because ..."
For a split of a second Casey glanced at him, a slight smile on his face.
"... someone need to do that!"

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

Any, any m/m couple, cuddling on a rainy day

Fill: Breakfast with Scot - Eric McNally/Sam Miller - Rainy Day Blues

[lil-1337.livejournal.com]

"What brought that on?" Sam leaned into the gentle kiss on the back of his neck and sighed happily, shifting closer into Eric's embrace.

"I don't know." Sam could feel the smile as Eric kissed him again before shifting to rest his chin on Sam's shoulder. "Maybe the rain. I love the snow, it means ice and hockey, but rain is just..." he shrugged.

"Cold and wet?" Sam offered with a soft chuckle. "No sports related redeeming features?"

"Something like that."

Silently they watched the rain for another minute each lost in the moment and his own thoughts.

"Want to cuddle on the couch, order delivery and cuddle on the couch until it stops?"

"Yes." Sam turned and kissed Eric gently, taking his hand. "Even if it lasts all night."