Geena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
geena) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2012-07-14 03:46 pm
geena) wrote in rainbowfic2012-07-14 03:46 pm
Alice Blue 5
Author: geena
Color: Alice Blue 5. if I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense
Supplies and Styles: Eraser, brush (tetralogy), oils, nubs (for Wait for Second), miniature collection, reimaging
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1227
Story: Polyfaceted (Index~Timeline); the title of this story is Privilege of the Aristocracy.
Summary: I don't... look, I don't know. Matt and Michael and Johnny are involved. Then I wrote ten drabbles, which are loosely related and contain a tiny plot. Then I wrote the worst summary known to man, and here we are. Good? Good. (Also, for the record, in the last section Johnny is dead wrong, this is just fact.)
Notes: Trigger warnings for mentions of past domestic abuse. This takes place in 2009-2010, and is part of the OT3 AU.
***
“Michael.”
“Nothing! It’s fine! I’ll-- I’ll be right out!”
Matt sighs, trying the knob once again. “Michael, please. Open the door.”
“One sec!”
“Damn it, Michael! I know you’re not fine, now open the door and come out here to talk.”
Suddenly, Michael is before him, hovering in the doorway with an intense look in his eyes. “Matt. Please. Not now. Later, maybe, later we can talk about this, but I just-- I can’t.”
“Oh.” He resists the urge to brush a hand along Michael’s jaw. “Okay. I’ll... be out here.”
He turns toward the bed, mind racing.
***
“He’s hurting, Johnny! Don’t you even care?”
Johnny inhales sharply, narrowing his eyes. “Don' ya fuckin' dare think I don' care. I know how miserable it's makin' him, but ya pushin' him's only makin' it worse."
Matt sighs, sinking onto the bed. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I can’t watch him suffer like this.”
Sitting beside him, Johnny reaches for his hand. “Jus' gotta be patient. He’ll tell us when he’s ready. ‘Til then, patience.”
Matt closes his eyes, leaning his head against Johnny’s shoulder. “I hate this.”
“Me too, tesoro. Me too.”
***
“Wait,” Matt says slowly, watching Michael whirl about the room and narrowly miss knocking a silver framed photo off the shelf. “Wait, are you drunk?”
Michael chuckles, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s for you to know and me to find out.”
“Oh god.” Rubbing a hand across his face, Matt mentally curses Johnny for staying late at the office. “Okay, come on. We’re going upstairs.” He strides across the room to grip Michael’s biceps and guide him from the room.
“You’re so nice,” Michael breathes, head lolling. “You’re like a nice, gentle leprechaun.”
“...I hate you. And stop singing ‘Evita’.”
***
“Matt’s jus' worried.” Johnny leans against the doorframe, eyes scanning the room as he watches Michael pace back and forth.
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s fine. I’m fine.” The slight tremor in Michael’s hand betrays him.
“Mmm. Doesn’ seem like fine. But, well.” Johnny shrugs, holding up his hands. “I won’ push ya. I’ll make sure Matt doesn’ either. You’ll tell us when ya wanna.”
Michael swallows hard, stilling. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“That’s a lie, but that’s okay. We’ll be here when you’re ready.” A brief pause. “We love ya. Nothin’ll change that.”
Slowly, mechanically, Michael nods.
***
“Call it,” Johnny announces, just as the coin hits its zenith.
“Heads.”
They wait with bated breath until-- “Ha! Tails, ya lose.”
“Damn it.” Matt snatches the coin from Johnny’s hand, peering at it as he slowly turns it over and over. “You cheated.”
“In a coin toss?”
“Somehow, you cheated.”
Johnny smirks. “You're such a fuckin' sore loser. Now move, I won the coin toss and I get ta go first. You’re in the way.”
“You smug, arrogant--”
“Anytime, boys,” Michael cuts in, glaring from where he’s sprawled on the bed. “Anytime one of you wants to fuck me...”
***
“Because that scumbag Aaron could only do two things; be an alcoholic and use you for a punching bag.”
Time stops.
“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Matt asks, eerily calm.
Charles pales. “I--”
Michael is shaking, breathing unevenly. He rises to unsteady feet, his voice breaking as he gasps, “Excuse me, I need--” He flees without finishing the thought.
“His ex,” Johnny begins through clenched teeth, “was abusive, then?”
Seeking help from his wife and finding none, Charles nods.
“That son of a bitch.”
Matt isn't sure who he fears more at the moment, Johnny or himself.
***
They’ve been sitting comfortably on the couch, legs entwined, flopped against one another while they watch a movie. It’s cozy and painfully domestic, and none of them would dare want to be anywhere else.
“Matt,” Michael begins.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
Matt snorts, shifting Johnny’s arm around him. “I do too and the answer’s no.”
“Just a little?”
“No.”
“You won’t even feel--”
“No, Michael,” Matt stresses. “You are not plucking my eyebrows and that’s final.”
Huffing, Michael crosses his arms over his chest and sinks into the cushions. “Fine. Neandertal.”
***
“I’m helping you.”
Johnny snorts. “No, you’re not.”
“I am. You think I don’t want to get this guy too? That I don’t want to-- to rip him apart and watch him bleed for what he did to Michael?” Matt inhales sharply, willing his blood pressure to lower.
Looking up, Johnny’s eyes soften as he tells him, “I know. I feel it too. But we’re too close, it’d be too easy ta trace. And I’m not lettin' you get drawn into somethin' like this.”
“Fine,” Matt says after a moment. “Then I’ll help find him.”
“Okay. Come here.”
***
“It won' work,” Johnny tells him kindly. “Sorry, babe.”
“Well, yeah, not if you're going to be defeatist about it.” Michael crosses his arms, slumping against the couch with a pout.
Johnny smiles gently, rubbing his back. “Not defeatist. Realist. Matt doesn' wan' kids. Never has, never will. Somethin' I accepted when I committed ta him.” He hesitates. “Somethin' ya've gotta accept too, if ya wanna be with us.”
“But--”
“Sorry.”
Michael sighs. After a moment he grudgingly says, “Fine. But then we're stealing my nieces and nephews every chance we have.”
“Deal,” Johnny agrees, kissing him.
***
“She's fucking impossible, Johnny,” Matt's saying as Michael enters the kitchen. “One more phone call and I'm going on a murder spree. That's not a threat, that's a promise.”
“Who?”
“His mother,” Johnny offers over his shoulder. He turns back to Matt, adding, “Fair 'nough. But at least ya don' haveta deal with my ma. Ya wanna see impossible--”
“I know, I know.”
There's a brief pause as the other two glance over. Michael shifts, turning his head between them before blurting, “My mother's dead.”
Silence.
“Awkward,” Matt softly sing-songs, breaking the sudden tension.
Michael laughs despite himself.
***
“Hey, Matt--”
“One second, let me finish this.”
Michael nods, stepping into the office. As he waits, he peers around the room, leaning over to watch Matt work. After a few minutes, he asks, “What's schistosomiasis?”
“Michael!” Matt shouts, slamming his laptop shut. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What? I--”
“I'm doing charts. You can't just read-- this is confidential-- do you have any idea how much trouble I could-- what the fuck?”
Michael blanches. “I didn't--”
“Save it. Just get out. Get out right now, I don't even want to look at you.”
***
“'cause you're wrong!” Johnny yells, face red.
“I'm not blind, Johnny, I can see what's right in front of my eyes! You're just too stubborn to swallow the fact that you have no idea what you're talking about!”
“Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me? You're bein' an idiot!”
“An idiot?” Michael shrieks. “Well you can just shove it because there's no way on earth that Fred Astaire is more talented than Gene Kelly.”
“Astaire outclasses an' outranks him in every way!”
“This,” Matt announces, “is by far the gayest argument that you two have ever had. Just so you know.”
***
geenaColor: Alice Blue 5. if I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense
Supplies and Styles: Eraser, brush (tetralogy), oils, nubs (for Wait for Second), miniature collection, reimaging
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1227
Story: Polyfaceted (Index~Timeline); the title of this story is Privilege of the Aristocracy.
Summary: I don't... look, I don't know. Matt and Michael and Johnny are involved. Then I wrote ten drabbles, which are loosely related and contain a tiny plot. Then I wrote the worst summary known to man, and here we are. Good? Good. (Also, for the record, in the last section Johnny is dead wrong, this is just fact.)
Notes: Trigger warnings for mentions of past domestic abuse. This takes place in 2009-2010, and is part of the OT3 AU.
***
“Michael.”
“Nothing! It’s fine! I’ll-- I’ll be right out!”
Matt sighs, trying the knob once again. “Michael, please. Open the door.”
“One sec!”
“Damn it, Michael! I know you’re not fine, now open the door and come out here to talk.”
Suddenly, Michael is before him, hovering in the doorway with an intense look in his eyes. “Matt. Please. Not now. Later, maybe, later we can talk about this, but I just-- I can’t.”
“Oh.” He resists the urge to brush a hand along Michael’s jaw. “Okay. I’ll... be out here.”
He turns toward the bed, mind racing.
***
“He’s hurting, Johnny! Don’t you even care?”
Johnny inhales sharply, narrowing his eyes. “Don' ya fuckin' dare think I don' care. I know how miserable it's makin' him, but ya pushin' him's only makin' it worse."
Matt sighs, sinking onto the bed. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I can’t watch him suffer like this.”
Sitting beside him, Johnny reaches for his hand. “Jus' gotta be patient. He’ll tell us when he’s ready. ‘Til then, patience.”
Matt closes his eyes, leaning his head against Johnny’s shoulder. “I hate this.”
“Me too, tesoro. Me too.”
***
“Wait,” Matt says slowly, watching Michael whirl about the room and narrowly miss knocking a silver framed photo off the shelf. “Wait, are you drunk?”
Michael chuckles, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s for you to know and me to find out.”
“Oh god.” Rubbing a hand across his face, Matt mentally curses Johnny for staying late at the office. “Okay, come on. We’re going upstairs.” He strides across the room to grip Michael’s biceps and guide him from the room.
“You’re so nice,” Michael breathes, head lolling. “You’re like a nice, gentle leprechaun.”
“...I hate you. And stop singing ‘Evita’.”
***
“Matt’s jus' worried.” Johnny leans against the doorframe, eyes scanning the room as he watches Michael pace back and forth.
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s fine. I’m fine.” The slight tremor in Michael’s hand betrays him.
“Mmm. Doesn’ seem like fine. But, well.” Johnny shrugs, holding up his hands. “I won’ push ya. I’ll make sure Matt doesn’ either. You’ll tell us when ya wanna.”
Michael swallows hard, stilling. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“That’s a lie, but that’s okay. We’ll be here when you’re ready.” A brief pause. “We love ya. Nothin’ll change that.”
Slowly, mechanically, Michael nods.
***
“Call it,” Johnny announces, just as the coin hits its zenith.
“Heads.”
They wait with bated breath until-- “Ha! Tails, ya lose.”
“Damn it.” Matt snatches the coin from Johnny’s hand, peering at it as he slowly turns it over and over. “You cheated.”
“In a coin toss?”
“Somehow, you cheated.”
Johnny smirks. “You're such a fuckin' sore loser. Now move, I won the coin toss and I get ta go first. You’re in the way.”
“You smug, arrogant--”
“Anytime, boys,” Michael cuts in, glaring from where he’s sprawled on the bed. “Anytime one of you wants to fuck me...”
***
“Because that scumbag Aaron could only do two things; be an alcoholic and use you for a punching bag.”
Time stops.
“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Matt asks, eerily calm.
Charles pales. “I--”
Michael is shaking, breathing unevenly. He rises to unsteady feet, his voice breaking as he gasps, “Excuse me, I need--” He flees without finishing the thought.
“His ex,” Johnny begins through clenched teeth, “was abusive, then?”
Seeking help from his wife and finding none, Charles nods.
“That son of a bitch.”
Matt isn't sure who he fears more at the moment, Johnny or himself.
***
They’ve been sitting comfortably on the couch, legs entwined, flopped against one another while they watch a movie. It’s cozy and painfully domestic, and none of them would dare want to be anywhere else.
“Matt,” Michael begins.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
Matt snorts, shifting Johnny’s arm around him. “I do too and the answer’s no.”
“Just a little?”
“No.”
“You won’t even feel--”
“No, Michael,” Matt stresses. “You are not plucking my eyebrows and that’s final.”
Huffing, Michael crosses his arms over his chest and sinks into the cushions. “Fine. Neandertal.”
***
“I’m helping you.”
Johnny snorts. “No, you’re not.”
“I am. You think I don’t want to get this guy too? That I don’t want to-- to rip him apart and watch him bleed for what he did to Michael?” Matt inhales sharply, willing his blood pressure to lower.
Looking up, Johnny’s eyes soften as he tells him, “I know. I feel it too. But we’re too close, it’d be too easy ta trace. And I’m not lettin' you get drawn into somethin' like this.”
“Fine,” Matt says after a moment. “Then I’ll help find him.”
“Okay. Come here.”
***
“It won' work,” Johnny tells him kindly. “Sorry, babe.”
“Well, yeah, not if you're going to be defeatist about it.” Michael crosses his arms, slumping against the couch with a pout.
Johnny smiles gently, rubbing his back. “Not defeatist. Realist. Matt doesn' wan' kids. Never has, never will. Somethin' I accepted when I committed ta him.” He hesitates. “Somethin' ya've gotta accept too, if ya wanna be with us.”
“But--”
“Sorry.”
Michael sighs. After a moment he grudgingly says, “Fine. But then we're stealing my nieces and nephews every chance we have.”
“Deal,” Johnny agrees, kissing him.
***
“She's fucking impossible, Johnny,” Matt's saying as Michael enters the kitchen. “One more phone call and I'm going on a murder spree. That's not a threat, that's a promise.”
“Who?”
“His mother,” Johnny offers over his shoulder. He turns back to Matt, adding, “Fair 'nough. But at least ya don' haveta deal with my ma. Ya wanna see impossible--”
“I know, I know.”
There's a brief pause as the other two glance over. Michael shifts, turning his head between them before blurting, “My mother's dead.”
Silence.
“Awkward,” Matt softly sing-songs, breaking the sudden tension.
Michael laughs despite himself.
***
“Hey, Matt--”
“One second, let me finish this.”
Michael nods, stepping into the office. As he waits, he peers around the room, leaning over to watch Matt work. After a few minutes, he asks, “What's schistosomiasis?”
“Michael!” Matt shouts, slamming his laptop shut. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What? I--”
“I'm doing charts. You can't just read-- this is confidential-- do you have any idea how much trouble I could-- what the fuck?”
Michael blanches. “I didn't--”
“Save it. Just get out. Get out right now, I don't even want to look at you.”
***
“'cause you're wrong!” Johnny yells, face red.
“I'm not blind, Johnny, I can see what's right in front of my eyes! You're just too stubborn to swallow the fact that you have no idea what you're talking about!”
“Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me? You're bein' an idiot!”
“An idiot?” Michael shrieks. “Well you can just shove it because there's no way on earth that Fred Astaire is more talented than Gene Kelly.”
“Astaire outclasses an' outranks him in every way!”
“This,” Matt announces, “is by far the gayest argument that you two have ever had. Just so you know.”
***
no subject
“You’re like a nice, gentle leprechaun.”
Forever my favorite.
Godddd the coin toss. AMAZING.
Charles, you suck. Just. You suck.
MICHAEL NO PLUCKING EYEBROWS. That shit HURTS.
Matt, no. Just. No. Johnny would never, ever let you do something that could land you in prison.
Oh Matt, ending up with kids in the house frequently. At least they're not his!
Of all the ways to tell your partners, Michael...
MICHAEL. ROBERTSON. NO. YOU DO NOT VIOLATE DOCTOR-PATIENT CONFIDENTIALITY.
Hahahaha Matt is so, so right. SO right.
Awesome job!
no subject
I love how I apparently use 'leprechan' as an insult for three different people-- redhead Matt, midget Johnny, and Irish Liam. Way to be creative, self.
They would totally use a coin toss a good portion of the time, I just know it.
Charles doesn't entirely suck... okay, well, he does, but accidentally! He's being protective of his baby brother, and, I mean, rightly assumed that Johnny (and Matt, in this case) would already know. Blurting out something private like that in front of Alice, though...
NO EYEBROW PLUCKING. NONE. EVER. Oh, I bet Michael waxes his chest and is the type that is all, "BEAUTY IS PAINFUL, SUCK IT UP."
Matt wants to kill. KILL. I know that Johnny would never ever let him do anything that could land him in trouble, but, oh, god, he really wants to. Of course, I imagine the impotent rage Johnny feels over not getting to do the kill himself is a billion times worse.
They better give Matt advance warning. So he can go hide, or take up an extra shift or something. Though I bet he adores L and Augusto and Terri.
Michael probably has that bad habit of repeatedly referring to his parents in the present tense ("Oh, my mom loves that, my dad tells the best punny jokes, etc") and then is all surprised when everyone else is all, "They're dead?!?"
MATT IS SO RIGHT. ALMOST AS RIGHT AS MICHAEL IS.
no subject
Corlioni style.
With death and leprechauns and eyebrow plucking.
Does it come in easy spread form? I wish to place it on toast!
no subject
Man, if I could package this, I totally would.
no subject
It's awesome, though, these moments of their lives together. And loooool, that last one. Yeah, Johnny's wrong. Though Matt is the most right. XD
So does Nic end up adopting Lena in this AU?
no subject
Matt is definitely the most right. But seriously, can you imagine? "Singin' in he motherfucking Rain, Johnny!" "Puttin' on the goddamn Ritz, Michael, Puttin' on the Ritz!" "Debbie Reynolds!" "Ginger Rogers, are you stupid?!?"
Yeah, Lena ends up living with Nicoletta in this one. Just makes the most sense, really. But she's probably pretty close to her Uncle Johnny in this one.
no subject
That said, I love the little snippets, bits and pieces of a life together. Very nice!
(Johnny IS dead wrong. Gene Kelly is by far the best.)