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| [ You Can't Have Everything] by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) penknifeMidnighter/Apollo. Pre-Authority sweet first time. "I don't think we actually need to eat," Midnighter points out.
"Well, eventually. Probably. Don't you think?"
"Fuck if I know. Want to stop eating and find out?"
"Maybe," Apollo says, and then shakes his head. "All right, no."
Midnighter puts the peanut butter down and climbs to his feet. "Let's go ruin somebody's night."
It's a pretty dead night, but they find a pack of teenagers trying to jimmy open the back door of a pawn shop with a crowbar. When Apollo tells them to go home, one of them tries to pull a gun. On the way back to the warehouse, Midnighter grumbles about the blood on his gloves. | |
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| [ A Distant Utopia] by shriftApollo/Midnighter. Beautifully written Midnighter POV. "I can't believe you didn't know," Apollo said later, lying on his side with his head propped on his hand. His hair was getting long. Midnighter reached out and brushed free a few green blades of grass.
Apollo's heat warmed him along one side of his body, and it made him think about polarity. "You weren't exactly scribbling 'Mr. The Midnighter' on your classified file folders."
Apollo snorted. "Bastard."
"I didn't know," Midnighter said quietly. "They didn't need that part of me."
Apollo kissed his neck and rested his hand over Midnighter's primary heart. "You'll get it back." | |
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| [ Memories] by rhyoApollo/Midnighter. Contemplative little story. Apollo was sprawled on the lounge, his large body draped across most of it, dressed in sweatpants and a ripped-sleeve t-shirt. He wasn't asleep, exactly, but his eyes were half-closed, his attention focused somewhere else, beyond the room, beyond visibility -- and wherever it was, it wasn't pleasant.
Jenny stepped into the room. "Isn't your worse half still down with Jack, negotiating clean up?"
He started and then tilted his head back to look at her as she rounded the platform and sat down at the other end of the lounge, lifting her feet up and putting them across his legs. "Mmm," he said, stretching and pulling himself back, mentally, from wherever he'd been. "Think so." He waved a hand toward the large window on the hull wall, where yellow lights drifted fluidly in a black-blue background, like small suns in a thick dark sea. "I'm just... watching." | |
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| Fantasy Guys by smirnoffmuleApollo/Midnighter. A contemplative first-time fic. Sometimes, when they lay like this, and Apollo was flung out asleep beside him with the cavalier carelessness of a cocker spaniel, Midnighter tried to guess his lover's name. He'd never come up with anything that satisfied him, though, no name in the English language or out of it that could sum up Apollo. He was too beautiful for something mundane, like David or Peter or Steve, but too down to earth for something fancy like Rhett or Brett or Fabio. Nothing was quite right, but Midnighter had the feeling if he ever found out, it would be something as effortlessly perfect as the rest of him, neither boring nor fancy, neither grand nor mundane. Something which shortened with an easy affection, and something with a special kind of grace.
He supposed it was kind of ironic that the relationship that had lasted, the one that was for keeps - The One, indeed - was with a guy whose name he didn't even know. It made a nasty kind of sense, and added to his uneasy suspicion that there was some kind of divine power in the universe, and what's more, to quote Jenny Sparks, that divine power was most definitely taking the piss. | |
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| Steaming by 3janeApollo/Midnighter, reference to Jenny/Shen. Lyrical and unguarded. Jenny watches because she can. Passion snow outside. White shimmer of fire. Drift of smoke and magic off the Doctor. Apollo and Midnighter, still kissing.
On a different night, the Doctor had spent nearly an hour stroking her scalp, tracing the destroyed places that his first miracle had reassembled. He'd watched her through huge eyes, then apparently decided that she wasn't going to hurt him. Took his glasses off and set them aside, pressed his lips once, gently, to her temple. Then curled himself up in her lap and gone to sleep.
She rocked him now a little, and quietly cursed a universe that had turned an already damaged boy into a magician. He would be -- what, now? twenty-three? Too young. In some other universe, there had to be a version of him
//happily//
curled up with his Playstation and cigarettes, completely unresponsible for the world's continued existence. Where Jenny Sparks didn't need to seethe jealousy at the only two people in the world still in love, or to cradle a sobbing redhead in her lap while outside the liquid parts of eros cracked open and began steaming. | |
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| Safe by Posthuman Jean Apollo/Midnighter. Lovely first-time fic, pre-Authority. "My point is, I have all this knowledge in my head and absolutely no memory of how it got there. For instance, I knew you were speaking Lady Macbeth's lines, but I can't say how I knew. And other things, too - I can remember advice my father gave me, but I couldn't tell you the slightest thing about my relationship with him, or if I even liked the guy. Facts, information, knowledge, my head's full of it, but it's like everything personal has been erased. I remember everything about our training, but before that - I don't remember what my name was, or where I used to live, or how many relationships I've been in, or even what my sexuality was."
"And now?"
"Now I'm single, homeless, and my name's Midnighter, I guess."
"And ...?"
"And that's none of your goddamned business." | |
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| The Waiting Room by Andraste Apollo/Midnighter. Haunting and speculative. "Oh, I guess I gotta go," the guy said, standing up. One more smile as a parting gift. "Hope we both pass. Maybe I'll see you on the other side."
After that, the memory ends.
Midnighter has a lot of regrets about that scene. Sometimes he's sorry that he didn't run after Apollo and warn him that all the shit he was about to go through might be worse than dying of leukemia. Sometimes he's sorry he didn't turn around and walk away himself before they could judge his HIV curable and start cutting him open. He's always sorry he didn't manage to say a single intelligent thing in the entire conversation.
Most of all, though, he's sorry that they never exchanged names. Now he'll never know who either of them used to be. | |
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| Conspicuous Consumption by diva_lachesisApollo/Midnighter. Short and sweet. Set in Apollo and Midnighter's retirement, before their recruitment by Jenny Sparks. “We need stuff,” Apollo announced, hands on his hips, and looking nothing less than he had just stated his intention to save the world, again.
Midnighter glanced up from the newspaper he had spread out on the hardwood floor of their living room. He took in the fervent gleam in Apollo’s eyes, the hair tousled by the breeze coming through the open window and figured Apollo was just bored.
“We have a bed,” Midnighter said and turned his attention back to the paper. “And a stool-slash-plant stand. And a plant.”
Apollo glared at him. The thriving fern rustled a few fronds. Midnighter was convinced that plant grew toward Apollo. | |
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