angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2008-03-26 09:52 pm
angelgazing) wrote2008-03-26 09:52 pm
Entry tags:
ficlet: the clouds were singing a song - eli stone - pg
title: The Clouds Were Singing a Song
rating: Pg
fandom: Eli Stone
summary: Lines are blurring even more for Eli, which is saying something.
notes: Thankies to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luzdeestrellas for the beta, as always. The commas have missed us, I think. And thanks to sleepismyfriend for listening to me flail.
The court house gossip mill is churning.
A lot. If it were a windmill instead, it could probably power Times Square.
---
Eli has a hard enough time telling the difference between what's right in front of him and what's in his head when he's wide awake. When it's edging on four in the morning, the tide comes in over lines drawn in the sand.
She smells like citrus, and her fingers are impossibly warm under the hem of his t-shirt. She tastes like pineapple lip gloss and sunshine, when she's backlit by the lights outside his bedroom window.
"Eli," she says, and doesn't look at him.
His eyes are heavy, when he cups her face in his hands, when the pad of his thumb sweeps across her cheekbone. Eli doesn't say her name. He doesn't inhale sharply. He doesn't even think about Hawaii or mismatched shoes or winning. What he says is, "there should be lines," because he knows it's true.
She laughs, and he can feel it all the way through him.
---
He wakes up with dawn streaming through his windows, alone, breathing hard.
Eli's pretty sure that there's a great injustice that apparently his aneurism isn't enough. Can't just have random musicals, no, no, of course not. Now his dreams are ganging up on him too.
He thinks about suffocating himself with his pillow, but ends up settling for a cold shower.
---
"Eli," Patti says, "I will say, it's definitely an improvement. But I can't believe I had to hear it from Susi Patrick. Don't you know the news would've made my day?"
---
Eli is not waiting for anything. He is doing a lot of work, and none of it is proofreading. He is hiding behind closed doors, books stacked high around him.
He thinks about building a fort.
---
The thing is, he kind of got used to people whispering about him. So he doesn't notice so much at first.
Except that after a little over two days of not waiting, he gets frustrated and gives up. Plus, he thinks someone is trying to be funny because every time he gets in the elevator, Somebody to Love is coming out of the speakers.
He just really wants coffee--and maybe a case. Mostly, it's the coffee thing, and it has nothing to do with not being able to get a good night of dreamless sleep.
The problem is--he steps out of the elevator and Maggie is standing there, hair pushed behind her ear and fingers of both hands wrapped around the handle of her briefcase. She smiling, but it falters when she sees him, and there's only so much Eli can do to not make it awkward, when everybody around them stops and all he can think about is pineapple lipgloss.
But everyone around them stops and listens so hard that they're vibrating in place.
It makes it hard for Eli to ignore all sorts of things. And the music gets louder.
---
Eli falls asleep on the sofa, and it doesn't help.
---
"Maggie," he says, and knows there's no good move here, when he doesn't know what he wants. But he's very, very clear on what is slightly unethical and what is just a Very Bad Idea when he works with his very recently ex-fiancé and for her father.
"Eli, hey," she replies, and he thinks it's pretty clear by the tightness of her mouth that she's not just now realizing the reach of the court house gossip, "sorry, I've gotta--"
"Yeah." Eli hopes he doesn't look as relieved as he feels. Or as confused.
---
Maggie smiles, but it's soft and kind, and sort of fuzzy around the edges. Her head is tilted toward the side, her eyes bright with listening, and Eli gives in, and leans forward, because he likes this dream more than he should.
---
"Patti," Eli says. He'd have hissed it if he was that talented and slightly less scared of her.
"Eli," Patti answers, handing him a cup of coffee. She's holding the handle so his fingers burn when he takes it from her. It's not because she's thoughtless. "I'm only going to tell you this once, because I am a little fond of you, from time to time."
"Patti," he says again, and this time he hopes it sounds like a warning.
"Grow up." Patti raises an eyebrow, and puts his messages down on the table. "This isn't highschool, even if she doesn't look like she's very far out of it."
---
She sits next to him, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. Her fingers wrap around Eli's knee, and her feet are tucked underneath her so she's leaning toward him, tilting his way. Eli's saying something, and he's sure it's brilliant and important, but he doesn't know what it is.
He's got his fingers pressed to the back of her neck, and the words don't really matter at all, next to the heat of her.
---
Then there's singing, and Eli starts to think that maybe, just maybe, there's a point to all of this.
---
"Maggie," he says, and this time when she walks away, he follows her. He's got very important things to say, and he mostly manages to do it without thinking of pineapple lipgloss, because he started singing in open court, in the middle of the trial, and they still don't look at him the way they do her.
He reminds himself of that.
She agrees, after, finally. But the song in the elevator doesn't change, even when they ride down together.
Eli closes his eyes against the beach, when she starts to hum along. Her knuckles brush against his, and it's completely by accident.
He thinks of windmills and energy.
rating: Pg
fandom: Eli Stone
summary: Lines are blurring even more for Eli, which is saying something.
notes: Thankies to
luzdeestrellas for the beta, as always. The commas have missed us, I think. And thanks to sleepismyfriend for listening to me flail.The court house gossip mill is churning.
A lot. If it were a windmill instead, it could probably power Times Square.
---
Eli has a hard enough time telling the difference between what's right in front of him and what's in his head when he's wide awake. When it's edging on four in the morning, the tide comes in over lines drawn in the sand.
She smells like citrus, and her fingers are impossibly warm under the hem of his t-shirt. She tastes like pineapple lip gloss and sunshine, when she's backlit by the lights outside his bedroom window.
"Eli," she says, and doesn't look at him.
His eyes are heavy, when he cups her face in his hands, when the pad of his thumb sweeps across her cheekbone. Eli doesn't say her name. He doesn't inhale sharply. He doesn't even think about Hawaii or mismatched shoes or winning. What he says is, "there should be lines," because he knows it's true.
She laughs, and he can feel it all the way through him.
---
He wakes up with dawn streaming through his windows, alone, breathing hard.
Eli's pretty sure that there's a great injustice that apparently his aneurism isn't enough. Can't just have random musicals, no, no, of course not. Now his dreams are ganging up on him too.
He thinks about suffocating himself with his pillow, but ends up settling for a cold shower.
---
"Eli," Patti says, "I will say, it's definitely an improvement. But I can't believe I had to hear it from Susi Patrick. Don't you know the news would've made my day?"
---
Eli is not waiting for anything. He is doing a lot of work, and none of it is proofreading. He is hiding behind closed doors, books stacked high around him.
He thinks about building a fort.
---
The thing is, he kind of got used to people whispering about him. So he doesn't notice so much at first.
Except that after a little over two days of not waiting, he gets frustrated and gives up. Plus, he thinks someone is trying to be funny because every time he gets in the elevator, Somebody to Love is coming out of the speakers.
He just really wants coffee--and maybe a case. Mostly, it's the coffee thing, and it has nothing to do with not being able to get a good night of dreamless sleep.
The problem is--he steps out of the elevator and Maggie is standing there, hair pushed behind her ear and fingers of both hands wrapped around the handle of her briefcase. She smiling, but it falters when she sees him, and there's only so much Eli can do to not make it awkward, when everybody around them stops and all he can think about is pineapple lipgloss.
But everyone around them stops and listens so hard that they're vibrating in place.
It makes it hard for Eli to ignore all sorts of things. And the music gets louder.
---
Eli falls asleep on the sofa, and it doesn't help.
---
"Maggie," he says, and knows there's no good move here, when he doesn't know what he wants. But he's very, very clear on what is slightly unethical and what is just a Very Bad Idea when he works with his very recently ex-fiancé and for her father.
"Eli, hey," she replies, and he thinks it's pretty clear by the tightness of her mouth that she's not just now realizing the reach of the court house gossip, "sorry, I've gotta--"
"Yeah." Eli hopes he doesn't look as relieved as he feels. Or as confused.
---
Maggie smiles, but it's soft and kind, and sort of fuzzy around the edges. Her head is tilted toward the side, her eyes bright with listening, and Eli gives in, and leans forward, because he likes this dream more than he should.
---
"Patti," Eli says. He'd have hissed it if he was that talented and slightly less scared of her.
"Eli," Patti answers, handing him a cup of coffee. She's holding the handle so his fingers burn when he takes it from her. It's not because she's thoughtless. "I'm only going to tell you this once, because I am a little fond of you, from time to time."
"Patti," he says again, and this time he hopes it sounds like a warning.
"Grow up." Patti raises an eyebrow, and puts his messages down on the table. "This isn't highschool, even if she doesn't look like she's very far out of it."
---
She sits next to him, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. Her fingers wrap around Eli's knee, and her feet are tucked underneath her so she's leaning toward him, tilting his way. Eli's saying something, and he's sure it's brilliant and important, but he doesn't know what it is.
He's got his fingers pressed to the back of her neck, and the words don't really matter at all, next to the heat of her.
---
Then there's singing, and Eli starts to think that maybe, just maybe, there's a point to all of this.
---
"Maggie," he says, and this time when she walks away, he follows her. He's got very important things to say, and he mostly manages to do it without thinking of pineapple lipgloss, because he started singing in open court, in the middle of the trial, and they still don't look at him the way they do her.
He reminds himself of that.
She agrees, after, finally. But the song in the elevator doesn't change, even when they ride down together.
Eli closes his eyes against the beach, when she starts to hum along. Her knuckles brush against his, and it's completely by accident.
He thinks of windmills and energy.
no subject
I don't know if I really like the stream of consciousness thing you were doing. I think I get what you were going for, but it wasn't entirely successful.
Sequel!
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I sure do listen to you flail a lot. Yup. Sure do. ::grins::
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lol I love them too, so I'm glad that I managed to get it to be, well, them. :D