"Stream", Peter/Neal, PG-13
Mar. 17th, 2012 12:09 pm![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coffeethyme4meTitle: Stream
Author:coffeethyme4me
Pairing: Peter/Neal, (P/E/N)
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: walking along the riverside byelrhiarhodan.
Words: 350
Warnings: None.
The water ran between the trees, in and out of shafts of sunlight, dim in the late afternoon. The insects were starting to come out – the little skimmers floating on the water, the small fish coming up for a taste.
Neal walked slowly, like he might walk through a museum. Except, of course, that he was in hiking boots and jeans. He touched tree trunks, and it was like he was touching them for the first time – like the feel of the brush in his hand, the art that was possible.
All he could hear was the evening coming on, the sound of birds in the tall branches, the soft lick of cool water over rock, against the loamy dirt, the roots of trees.
His own footfalls.
And behind him, Peter’s.
Neal smiled, not turning, still walking, letting Peter catch up. He heard the man’s breath and felt the shift of ions that signaled his physical presence.
“You found me,” Neal said, still smiling, watching where he was stepping.
“Small farm,” Peter said by way of explanation. It was Peter’s family’s farm, their sprawling acreage. Neal knew Peter had it memorized, like his wife’s palm. Like Neal’s secrets.
They walked a little farther, breathing in the dusk.
“You bring a flashlight?” Peter asked him. The night would fall fast here, no city lights to keep it at bay.
Neal shrugged. “Nope.” Then he said, “I have you, don’t I?” To lead me back, he didn’t say.
He didn’t need to.
Peter reached out and took his hand.
They walked like that, silent, connected, their fingers linking in wordless agreement. Together, they followed the shallow brook.
The only reason to head back would be their empty stomachs. The only reason to stop would be to kiss, Neal’s back pressed to a tree. But they both knew where that would go: fumbling in the dark, bare asses getting bit by mosquitoes, getting grilled by El upon their return.
So they just walked. They walked between the trees, hand in hand.
No tracker to keep Neal by Peter’s side. No desire to run away.
Author:
coffeethyme4mePairing: Peter/Neal, (P/E/N)
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: walking along the riverside by
elrhiarhodan.Words: 350
Warnings: None.
The water ran between the trees, in and out of shafts of sunlight, dim in the late afternoon. The insects were starting to come out – the little skimmers floating on the water, the small fish coming up for a taste.
Neal walked slowly, like he might walk through a museum. Except, of course, that he was in hiking boots and jeans. He touched tree trunks, and it was like he was touching them for the first time – like the feel of the brush in his hand, the art that was possible.
All he could hear was the evening coming on, the sound of birds in the tall branches, the soft lick of cool water over rock, against the loamy dirt, the roots of trees.
His own footfalls.
And behind him, Peter’s.
Neal smiled, not turning, still walking, letting Peter catch up. He heard the man’s breath and felt the shift of ions that signaled his physical presence.
“You found me,” Neal said, still smiling, watching where he was stepping.
“Small farm,” Peter said by way of explanation. It was Peter’s family’s farm, their sprawling acreage. Neal knew Peter had it memorized, like his wife’s palm. Like Neal’s secrets.
They walked a little farther, breathing in the dusk.
“You bring a flashlight?” Peter asked him. The night would fall fast here, no city lights to keep it at bay.
Neal shrugged. “Nope.” Then he said, “I have you, don’t I?” To lead me back, he didn’t say.
He didn’t need to.
Peter reached out and took his hand.
They walked like that, silent, connected, their fingers linking in wordless agreement. Together, they followed the shallow brook.
The only reason to head back would be their empty stomachs. The only reason to stop would be to kiss, Neal’s back pressed to a tree. But they both knew where that would go: fumbling in the dark, bare asses getting bit by mosquitoes, getting grilled by El upon their return.
So they just walked. They walked between the trees, hand in hand.
No tracker to keep Neal by Peter’s side. No desire to run away.
