Ficlet: ocean
Jan. 21st, 2009 08:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixTitle: Ocean
Pairing: VigBean
Rating: PG
Author: Alex
Warning: AU
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
seans_50 challenge.
Beta: the most excellent![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kimberlite.
Disclaimer: Utterly untrue.
Note: The idea behind this series of fics is that Sean and Viggo are members of a fictional ballet company in New York City beginning in the late 70s, a period when ballet was still a fairly popular cultural attraction. This way I can also stay true to their actual ages. It will generally be linear, and will range in rating from G to NC-17. Hope you enjoy.
Prompt: Ocean
*
The announcer’s voice echoed through the terminal, eerily calm, disembodied, like the voice from Logan’s Run. “Your attention, please. Flight 1733 to New York now boarding.”
“That’s me.” Sean stood, shifted his duffel bag from one shoulder to the other. He smiled down at his mother. “I’d better be off.”
Rita rose to her feet, neat and spruce in a twinset and pleated skirt. “I always knew you’d leave one day,” she said. She shook her head as she brushed imaginary dust from Sean’s jacket. “Always traveling, you were. You exhausted me from the minute you started walking.”
The chiding tone was as familiar as the affection behind it. “Good job I’m getting out of your hair, then,” Sean laughed. “I’ll write you every week, Mum.”
“Oh, go on with you – you will not.” She slapped gently at his arm, then became serious. “A postcard now and again will do it, love. Ring if you like. Reverse the charges.” Her eyes misted, then she straightened her back and nodded firmly. “All right, lad. Off you go. Give us a kiss.”
Sean kissed her, then clung to her tightly. “I’ll miss you, Mummy,” he whispered. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her light perfume, the scent of her Pears soap, as if to store it all up. He pulled away. “Give my love to Lorraine.”
“I will. Fly safe, son.”
“’Bye, Mum.” Sean turned and walked out onto the tarmac. He ascended the stairway, and at the doorway paused and turned. There she was, at the window, watching. She raised her hand.
Sean raised his in return, his vision blurring. Then he stepped into the great bird that would carry him across the ocean.
*
My table is here
Pairing: VigBean
Rating: PG
Author: Alex
Warning: AU
Written for the
seans_50 challenge.Beta: the most excellent
kimberlite.Disclaimer: Utterly untrue.
Note: The idea behind this series of fics is that Sean and Viggo are members of a fictional ballet company in New York City beginning in the late 70s, a period when ballet was still a fairly popular cultural attraction. This way I can also stay true to their actual ages. It will generally be linear, and will range in rating from G to NC-17. Hope you enjoy.
Prompt: Ocean
*
The announcer’s voice echoed through the terminal, eerily calm, disembodied, like the voice from Logan’s Run. “Your attention, please. Flight 1733 to New York now boarding.”
“That’s me.” Sean stood, shifted his duffel bag from one shoulder to the other. He smiled down at his mother. “I’d better be off.”
Rita rose to her feet, neat and spruce in a twinset and pleated skirt. “I always knew you’d leave one day,” she said. She shook her head as she brushed imaginary dust from Sean’s jacket. “Always traveling, you were. You exhausted me from the minute you started walking.”
The chiding tone was as familiar as the affection behind it. “Good job I’m getting out of your hair, then,” Sean laughed. “I’ll write you every week, Mum.”
“Oh, go on with you – you will not.” She slapped gently at his arm, then became serious. “A postcard now and again will do it, love. Ring if you like. Reverse the charges.” Her eyes misted, then she straightened her back and nodded firmly. “All right, lad. Off you go. Give us a kiss.”
Sean kissed her, then clung to her tightly. “I’ll miss you, Mummy,” he whispered. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her light perfume, the scent of her Pears soap, as if to store it all up. He pulled away. “Give my love to Lorraine.”
“I will. Fly safe, son.”
“’Bye, Mum.” Sean turned and walked out onto the tarmac. He ascended the stairway, and at the doorway paused and turned. There she was, at the window, watching. She raised her hand.
Sean raised his in return, his vision blurring. Then he stepped into the great bird that would carry him across the ocean.
*
My table is here
