comment_fic | Wednesday | Forgive and Forget

Wednesday | Forgive and Forget

Now that we’ve had our share of pet peeves it’s time to Forgive and Forget

Is your character holding a grudge? Now the time to have them let it go. Give forgiveness or let them receive it. Or give them Amnesia whatever floats your boat.

But remember:

No more than 5 prompts in a row, and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If one of your prompts is answered, you can prompt again.

No spoilers in your prompts for at least one week after publication/air date. If there are spoilers in your story, you must warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.

And use the correct formatting. Examples:

Being Human, Goerge/Mitchell, After a full moon George feels guilty and Mitchell helps him forgive himself

Marvel, Deadpool/author's choice, It's all in the past....right?

Being Human/Torchwood, Jack/Mitchell, “Did you forget me so soon?”

[theme tag = "ForgiveForget"]

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EEP. Beautiful, and a little bit heartbreaking...

thank you!

I'm so glad you like it!

Title: Morning After
Pairing: Roy/Tim
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst and mentions of Roy's past drug use.
A/N: This was clearly a bid for me to fix this (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/88513.html?thread=20080065#t20080065). I'm working on it. I promise. There'll be at least two more parts if I find the right prompts. :D

Morning After

The first thing Roy became aware of as he came awake was that he had a headache. It was that tight kind of throbbing headache that meant he had spent the previous night feeling far more emotional than he was accustomed to. It was the kind of headache that meant he would probably have cried a little if he wasn't a grown man with a kid and a house.

It was, as far as headaches went, not a good kind to wake up to.

The second thing Roy noticed as he woke was Tim. Tim was lying, face down, half on top of Roy. One of his legs was tucked between Roy's and his arm was slung possessively over Roy's middle. His face was tucked into Roy neck and each exhalation ghosted lightly across Roy's stubbled jaw.

This position was not unusual in and of itself. He and Tim usually slept like this. There were slight variations in the state of dress and exact limb placement, but this was generally how Roy woke up when Tim didn't beat him out of bed in the morning.

What made the whole situation so noteworthy was the fact that Tim was angry with him. Furious even. He had been all night.

When Tim was angry, Tim didn't stick around. Tim didn't fight. He didn't yell, he didn't shout, he rarely ever even raised his voice. He tried to reasonably state his case and when that didn't get him what he wanted he got angry and shut down.

Tim didn't like being angry. He didn't like to talk about why he was feeling angry. Tim liked to think.

When Tim was angry, Tim left. He went away. For days at a time.

Roy wasn't exactly sure where Tim went when he left. He didn't call Roy, he didn't even send him a text message or leave a post-it scrawled with crayon on the fridge. He just left. He would walk out the door and head to the Manor, or to his apartment or to one of the various safe houses he had god knows where and Roy wouldn't hear a word from him until Tim was good and ready to come back. Then Tim would just walk back into Roy's life like nothing at all had happened between them.

The thing that bothered Roy the most when Tim left wasn't where he was or who he was with or why he left at all. It was what, exactly, Tim was doing that worried Roy.

Roy understood Tim, frighteningly well. He knew how hard it was for Tim to trust and open up. He knew how hard it was for Tim to be in a relationship at all. Roy knew how difficult it was to lay feelings out for another person when past experience dictated that the person was only going leave or betray that trust. Roy had been in Tim's shoes dozens of times over the years.

The worst part was that Roy knew what he would have done at Tim's age and in Tim's position when he walked out his lover's door.

Part II

Roy would have gone off and gotten high. Only, Tim didn't get high. Drugs didn't interest Tim outside of what they meant for organized and disorganized crime in the world. There was no allure for him.

When Tim Drake was upset, he worked.

He didn't just work, either. He overworked.

He overworked and under ate and pushed himself much harder than he strictly should and in their line of work that was just as dangerous as a pissed off dealer or a dirty needle in the arm.

It scared the hell out of Roy. Tim would go off and do god knew what to god knew who and Roy could only sit at home and wait for him to come back and worry that he wouldn't.

Not just because Tim couldn't come back, either, but because he didn't want to anymore.

It was hard, so hard, to keep a relationship going. It was hard at the best of times under the best of circumstances with the best of people. It was between two people of the same age with no kids or capes or crazy parents involved. He and Tim didn't have any of those things going for them.

Roy had to admit that the odds were stacked against them.

Roy knew how easy it was to stop trying to be with people. He knew how much it hurt to be with someone who let you down or hurt you time and time again and he knew how simple it was to just pretend that person wasn't a part of your life anymore because it was too hard to try to keep them in it. It scared Roy because he knew that once Tim closed that door it wasn't very likely that he would ever open it again and Roy would lose him for good.

Tim wasn't the type to let himself get burned twice. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

He had to let Tim go on those nights because he knew that if he kept Tim there, if he shouted and begged and prodded until Tim communicated with him that Tim would certainly leave, and for good. If he pushed too hard it might break the tenuous thing the had together and that small tenuous thing was one of the best things in Roy's life right now and he couldn't risk losing it.

But last night Roy couldn't help himself.

The more often Tim did this, the more often he left, the more and more sure Roy became that one day Tim would just walk out that door and never come back.

Roy's throat tightened at the thought and he felt his arm reflexively come around Tim, pulling him close. Tim made a soft humming noise in the back of his throat and snuggled in closer, pressing his face to the side of Roy's neck. He sighed softly in his sleep and the air gusted along Roy's throat in a comforting way.

Roy felt Tim coming awake in his arms and he stilled. He shut his eyes and tried to relax his muscles and even out his breathing as he feigned sleep. He lay there waiting for Tim to come fully awake and remember what had happened between the two of them the night before.

It didn't take long.

A few seconds after Tim blinked open his eyes, his lashes brushing lightly against Roy's jaw, he went rigid in Roy's arms. Roy felt Tim's head tilt back as he looked up at Roy's ostensibly sleeping face. Then Tim sighed, long and deep before slipping out of bed and pulling on his clothes.

He didn't say a word or even try to wake Roy. He just dressed and grabbed his things from the night stand. Tim walked out of their bedroom and down the hall. Roy heard the front door shut, dimly from the other side of the house. Roy just lay there in his empty bed and let Tim leave.

What else could he do?

And I repeat I hate it when the boys fight. And why couldn't a good night's sleep work wonders for Tim? He should have woke up and made breakfast and the two would have an open heart to heart. Ooohhh that's what really going on. Tim decided to go and pick up a dozen of Roy's favorite bagels and pick up his favorite blend of coffee as a apology. Right?

I wouldn't say I was baiting you per say, it was more like encouraging a good story further. It was the prompts fault really it was!

You need more prompts huh? Okay today's prompt is memories. I left one Roy/Tim, but I don't know if it would work to continue this.

hmmm "goes to leave another prompt"

Dean was bent over the hood of the Impala, an old blanket protecting the paint from any incidental scratches.

His breath came in breathy gasps as he cursed the man behind him.

“Dammit, Eliot, would you hurry up.”

“Quit yur bitchin’.” I’m goin’ as fast as I can. I have to get it all.” He flipped Dean’s shirt tail out of the way. “Always such a pushy bitch.”

“It’s your fault I’m standing here with my ass in the air.”

“It was my fault last night, too, but I didn’t hear ya bitchin’ about that.” Eliot growled. “’Sides, said I’s sorry.”

“Yeah, well last night you were drillin’ my ass, but not with a load of rock salt!”

With a groan, Dean lowered his head to his forearms, missing the smirk on Eliot’s face as he took the bottle of peroxide out of the first aid kit.

Lol! Brilliant, I can't stop giggling :D

Sorry about the late reply.

This is lovely! Poor Dean, the guy needs a hug!

That's fine!

Thanks for that hun. I think he does too!

Thank you. I got this picture of them just starting to hunt together & Eliot shooting Dean by mistake during a salt & burn.

Hubby asked me what I was giggling at...said I must be reading smut...didn't realize I was writing it.

He stands on the edge and watch as the whole world burns. Dean has long ago shut out the screaming, numb with the enormity of it all, blind to the flames that eat dry scrubland and broken cities alike. The sky is red, bleeding, clouds darkened with the smoke and still Dean watches, casts his eyes over the burning orange lights on the horizon, wonders vaguely about the sea.

He doesn't know how many survived, other countries, other people, maybe they escaped the flames. There's still time for him, roads that have burned already, black now, leading away from the destruction, but Dean doesn't want any of it now. It's over, and he is done.

"Hey." Sam's voice is cracked, a broken whisper that he shouldn't be able to hear over the crackle of the flames. But he knows that voice, it haunts his nightmares and all his waking dreams now, and he turns as surely as if Sam had grabbed him. He's smaller somehow, deflated, shoulders slumped and crooked, and in his mind’s eye Dean still sees the awkward teenager with his books and his sulking.

Maybe if Dad had been stricter, or if Mum hadn't died...

Sam can't even look at the fire, keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, on his hands, not looking at Dean, or the sky or the world he's destroyed. Dean wants to shake him, to haul him around and force him to look, to see what he has done, but his hands just settle on Sam's shoulders, rub in response to the shaking, soothe him the only way that Dean knows how.

"I'm sorry." Sam's face is streaked with tears when he finally looks Dean in the eye, broken and exhausted. Dean just shakes his head, scrubs at the cut on Sam's cheek because it seems that even Lucifer himself still bleeds. He can't blame Sam, because this is bigger than them, bigger than all of them, and Sam just wasn't strong enough. It's broken them, and Dean wishes he could have protected Sam, curled his body around his brother’s like he could when they were kids, fought off the whole damn world with just his fists. But he didn't, couldn't, and that wasn't Sam's fault at all.

The flames bounce off the Impala's paintwork, and Dean catches sight of himself reflected in her glass, turns away from the empty stare that colours his eyes and motions for Sam to climb in. The roads before them are blacked from the smoke, the world around them filled with shadows and smouldering wastelands, but Sam's asleep in the passenger seat and the Impala's purring away beneath him, and Dean wonders if it was always meant to end like this.

When he thinks back, he knows it was a bad idea. But at the time he couldn't resist.

For months he'd tried. But everytime he thought he had it, Eliot would turn, flash a shit-eating grin, and shake his head.

But that didn't deter him. Hardison was determined to catch Eliot unaware. He didn't know where the obsession came from, but for some reason he just wanted to sneak up on Eliot. Maybe just to prove to himself, and Eliot, that he could.

Why this day was different from all the rest, Alec will never know. Maybe Eliot was so focused on chopping the vegetables for his morning omelet that he didn't notice Alec sneaking up on him. Maybe his mind was a million miles away wondering if Sophie was coming back, something that had been on all their minds constantly since Tara arrived. Maybe it was none of those things.

The one thing Alec was certain of is that it was one of the most frightening moment of his life.

Because none of the scenarios that had played out in Hardison's head ended with him pinned against the stove, knife blade to his throat, Eliot's eyes wild and unfocused as he pressed just hard enough to cause Alec to bleed. However, as scared as he was, nothing scared him more than the look in Eliot's eyes, and the terse apology, and subsequent disappearing act that occured once Eliot realized what he'd done.

Yeah, when he thinks back, it wasn't his brightest idea.

But following Eliot home, barging into his apartment, and kissing him until he was breathless? Allowing Eliot to map his body with his hands, soothing him with lips and tongue when Eliot's shaking hand ghosted over the small cut on Alec's neck? Reassuring him that everything was okay with words of comfort and love as Eliot shook through his orgasm?

Well, that was definitely the most brilliant idea of all.

-END-

Awesome! There's not enough Mary fic around, so it's always nice to see her get some love.

This is more or less exactly what I had in mind for this prompt - Mary, her family, and her deal with Azazel - and you nailed it. :) I like that idea in the last two sentences: they've all done the exact same thing for the sake of family, so they think there's nothing to forgive, even if she wants it. (And...LOL, yeah, for a family of monster hunters, the Winchesters sure make a lot of deals with demons.)

Thanks for the fic! :)

Ah! I thought the Haitian might be involved in this prompt. I didn't expect Noah/Haitian, though. XD

That's always one of the thorny parts of memory-wiping, isn't it? Whether removing memories of someone also removes your connection with them. I like that you pointed out the other side of it, too: even when you share the same memories, they're not necessarily cherished the same way.

Thanks for the fic!

I'm so glad you like it! I worried that it didn't make any sense.

Very nice. Poor Sammy, if only he hadn't said yes..*reads again*

*Snerk* Hilarious!

Thanks!

This is amazing - liked it so much!

I'm glad you like it!

Beautiful!

:) Glad you liked!

When he was twelve he’d stood by and watched as a mutant girl was killed in an ally. The perpetrators had gotten off with a slap on the wrist because no one had testified against them. John is pretty sure that event was the first of his many wrongs.

In America he joined up with Xavier’s school for the gifted and tried to act the part of a slightly disadvantaged but average teen boy. He’d even managed it for a while. Managed to lock away his rage at a world that viewed people like him as vermin, he even managed to ignore the atrocities done by humans. He felt sick when he thought of all he’d ignored and done wrong to be with Bobby and have a sense of normalcy.

After he left Xavier’s he started committing wrongs of another sort. He’s become everything he hated in human bigots and he’d felt good about it. He’d felt free and whatever guilt he felt was swept away in the feeling of power he got by seeing himself as being above humanity.

He only wishes he could have realized the truth about all the wrongs he’s done before he lay dying on a battlefield of his own making. He doubt’s anyone but Bobby will regret his death and he can only dream that Bobby will forgive all the wrongs he committed in his life and remember him as the boy that he’d once loved.

Another sad one. Once again I feel sympathy for John.
Thanks for writting.

"You're being irrational, Tim. He needed me a lot more than you did."

"I've heard the speech before. Bruce's son needed to be trained as Robin, and that's why I got cast out of the Bat-cave. It didn't occur to you even once that Gotham deserved a Robin who didn't need to be babysat like a wild dog."

"Are you getting it out of your system, Tim? Good. Damian's back with the League of Assassins now. You were right about him. And I...I need you back. I can't do this alone."

Tim crossed his arms and glared at Dick under the cowl. "I have a partner."

"And you criticize my choice in Robins. Jason isn't a partner. He's a lunatic."

"He's off the drugs now. He's sane. And he believes me. He respects me, unlike you. I earned that respect by beating him in our last fight." Tim nearly spat the next words out. "And I put a hell of a lot more faith in him right now than you."

"If this is still about finding Bruce, you two will - "

"We have a lot of evidence. We just haven't felt the need to show it to you. After all, you made it perfectly clear you thought I was insane. You had no problem using my friends to try to get me back to Gotham. That makes this my mission - not yours."

"Tim...I'm sorry if you felt I didn't respect you, but - "

"I don't care if you're sorry, Dick. I don't forgive you. Not yet." Tim turned to leave. "You know, it's ironic. You were so determined to become Batman. Well, congratulations - you are him. Just not in the way you wanted to be."

Tim walked out of the Batcave, and the parallels to his own exit did not escape Dick's mind as he watched him go.

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Page 9 of 12

Wednesday | Forgive and Forget

Re: go rest high on that mountain - gennish, PG

Re: go rest high on that mountain - gennish, PG

Comment Fic: Morning After; Roy/Tim; PG-13; Part 1/2

Re: Comment Fic: Morning After; Roy/Tim; PG-13; Part 2/2

Re: Comment Fic: Morning After; Roy/Tim; PG-13; Part 2/2

Supernatural/Leverage, Dean/Eliot, "I said I was sorry!"

Re: Supernatural/Leverage, Dean/Eliot, "I said I was sorry!"

no subject

no subject

Re: Supernatural/Leverage, Dean/Eliot, "I said I was sorry!"

Supernatural, Dean & Sam, forgiveness didn't mean forgetting everything

I went with Eliot/Hardison :-)

Re: the lament of Jocasta - Mary, gennish, PG

Re: Bennet/Haitian set in S1

Re: the lament of Jocasta - Mary, gennish, PG

Re: this is how it ends - gen, PG

no subject

no subject

Re: Supernatural, Dean & Sam, forgiveness didn't mean forgetting everything

Re: this is how it ends - gen, PG

Re: I went with Eliot/Hardison :-)

Re: I went with Eliot/Hardison :-)

Forgetting a Lifetime of Wrongs

Re: Forgetting a Lifetime of Wrongs

no subject