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intheheartTitle: Dreaming
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Three of these are fantasies: he knows which one is real.
Date: 2029
Notes: none
He gets home from work and Summer is on the couch, her feet up on the seat and her back against the arm, frowning at something-- a medical journal, perhaps -- propped against her knees. Her head is bent, curling red wisps of hair escaping her bun to flutter around her neck and ears.
He comes up behind her and bends to kiss her there, at the nape of her neck, the place where she is most vulnerable. And she doesn't turn, doesn't object, because she knows he will protect her, will guard her back and keep the demons away.
Always.
--
He only wanted them to get along, at first. He only wanted his two best friends to find that friendship in each other. Summer needed friends so desperately, and Zack-- well, Zack primarily needed to remove his head from his ass, but he needed friends too, friends like Summer.
He imagined the three of them at a coffee shop, talking through the afternoon, going to see a movie, being friends. He'd never had a friend like either of them, and he wanted them both in his life, together.
And if he loved them, well. He could deal with that.
--
He gets home from work, and Zack pushes him forward, out of the way, when he stops in the frame. He can't really blame him; they've both had a horrifically long day and all they want to do is collapse into bed together.
He takes his coat off and hangs it in the closet, then goes into the living room to find Zack sprawled out on the couch, face down, asleep. He prods him, gets only a snore; sighs heavily, and puts a blanket over his lover. He'll take care of Zack, no matter how exasperating he can be.
Always.
--
The matchmaking came later, during the hectic days of the Dacre case. He saw Zack and Summer clinging together, saw the anxious way Zack hovered over her and the way she turned to him for protection. All the things they both needed, right in each other. It was perfect, the pair of them. Just perfect.
And yes, he loved them, but he'd resigned himself long ago to not having either of them. They'd be happy, so happy with each other, and all he'd ever wanted for either of them was that happiness. He'd do all he could to ensure it.
--
He gets home from work and Summer is on the couch, Zack sprawled in her lap. They're watching Jeopardy; judging from Zack's face Summer is winning. She almost always wins Jeopardy, with her astonishing memory for trivia. Zack, with his talent for words, is the Wheel of Fortune champion. And he, product of the most normal upbringing among them, beats them at Family Feud.
He's usually home on time for game show night. But they move over and make room for him anyway, Summer's head on his shoulder, Zack's hand in his. They all make room for each other.
Always.
--
Then Zack damn near floated into his office with an enormously stupid look on his face, and he felt his insides clench even before he announced that Summer had accepted his proposal.
He managed to smile through it, managed to say all the right things somehow. But as soon as Zack was gone he bent over and put his forehead on the desk, biting his lip to keep from weeping.
He was losing them. He loved them so much, they were so happy, and he was losing them, and the worst thing of all was that he'd made it happen.
--
He gets home from work and there's no one anywhere, just an empty apartment. No one to touch or take care of, no one to protect or cover with a blanket.
He loves them, and he knows he should be happy that they're happy. He is, in some ways. But it's too close, they're too close. Everything he wants is closer than it's ever been, and yet so far away it might be on the moon.
He closes the door behind him, and walks past the couch without looking. He knows it'll be empty. He knows it's just him.
Always.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Three of these are fantasies: he knows which one is real.
Date: 2029
Notes: none
He gets home from work and Summer is on the couch, her feet up on the seat and her back against the arm, frowning at something-- a medical journal, perhaps -- propped against her knees. Her head is bent, curling red wisps of hair escaping her bun to flutter around her neck and ears.
He comes up behind her and bends to kiss her there, at the nape of her neck, the place where she is most vulnerable. And she doesn't turn, doesn't object, because she knows he will protect her, will guard her back and keep the demons away.
Always.
--
He only wanted them to get along, at first. He only wanted his two best friends to find that friendship in each other. Summer needed friends so desperately, and Zack-- well, Zack primarily needed to remove his head from his ass, but he needed friends too, friends like Summer.
He imagined the three of them at a coffee shop, talking through the afternoon, going to see a movie, being friends. He'd never had a friend like either of them, and he wanted them both in his life, together.
And if he loved them, well. He could deal with that.
--
He gets home from work, and Zack pushes him forward, out of the way, when he stops in the frame. He can't really blame him; they've both had a horrifically long day and all they want to do is collapse into bed together.
He takes his coat off and hangs it in the closet, then goes into the living room to find Zack sprawled out on the couch, face down, asleep. He prods him, gets only a snore; sighs heavily, and puts a blanket over his lover. He'll take care of Zack, no matter how exasperating he can be.
Always.
--
The matchmaking came later, during the hectic days of the Dacre case. He saw Zack and Summer clinging together, saw the anxious way Zack hovered over her and the way she turned to him for protection. All the things they both needed, right in each other. It was perfect, the pair of them. Just perfect.
And yes, he loved them, but he'd resigned himself long ago to not having either of them. They'd be happy, so happy with each other, and all he'd ever wanted for either of them was that happiness. He'd do all he could to ensure it.
--
He gets home from work and Summer is on the couch, Zack sprawled in her lap. They're watching Jeopardy; judging from Zack's face Summer is winning. She almost always wins Jeopardy, with her astonishing memory for trivia. Zack, with his talent for words, is the Wheel of Fortune champion. And he, product of the most normal upbringing among them, beats them at Family Feud.
He's usually home on time for game show night. But they move over and make room for him anyway, Summer's head on his shoulder, Zack's hand in his. They all make room for each other.
Always.
--
Then Zack damn near floated into his office with an enormously stupid look on his face, and he felt his insides clench even before he announced that Summer had accepted his proposal.
He managed to smile through it, managed to say all the right things somehow. But as soon as Zack was gone he bent over and put his forehead on the desk, biting his lip to keep from weeping.
He was losing them. He loved them so much, they were so happy, and he was losing them, and the worst thing of all was that he'd made it happen.
--
He gets home from work and there's no one anywhere, just an empty apartment. No one to touch or take care of, no one to protect or cover with a blanket.
He loves them, and he knows he should be happy that they're happy. He is, in some ways. But it's too close, they're too close. Everything he wants is closer than it's ever been, and yet so far away it might be on the moon.
He closes the door behind him, and walks past the couch without looking. He knows it'll be empty. He knows it's just him.
Always.
