angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2004-08-31 04:04 am
angelgazing) wrote2004-08-31 04:04 am
whee soap cliche
I love Modest Mouse. Love!
I have a beginning! Finally! They say the third time is a charm, and they lie cause it's more like the 300th time is a charm, but whatever!
Ah, I feel the need to post it here for the beginning finally being done is such an accomplishment. :p
Harry stands on the beach with his jeans rolled up so that waves crash over bare feet. The middle of winter and it’s cold—not cold like Hogwarts in the winter, of course, but cold for California—but when Draco wakes to an empty bed at dawn he will always find Harry watching the horizon.
There are steps—carved into their life by eight months of repetitiveness—that they follow every morning.
Harry leaves the bed before Draco wakes, goes to let the waves of too cold ocean water slap his feet too early in the morning. Draco only has a second or two where all he can think is: oh, oh Merlin, this is it, isn’t it? But then he’ll breathe and the salt of the ocean is thick in the air, the crashing of waves is just that too loud, because Harry always opens the window first thing in the morning. The bed is just warm enough that Harry couldn’t have left it long ago.
Routine is something he lives for like maybe he never did before.
So that by the time he gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of trousers he is mostly sure that no one knows anything more than they did the day before.
He shivers in the early morning air, runs a hand through his hair as he pads barefoot into the kitchen to start coffee and stifles a yawn. But it isn’t until he sees—through the glass windows that make up the wall of their living room that faces the beach, Harry standing just close enough to the water that it slaps his feet as it surges forward—that he relaxes.
It isn’t until after he’s brushed his teeth, pulled on a jumper and is walking outside with a throw, two cups of coffee (one with too much milk and the other with too much sugar) and a pack of fags, that he really starts to wake up.
Draco puts his chin on Harry’s shoulder for lack of a free hand and then grins against his cheek. “It’s too bloody early to be out of bed, you wanker,” he whines playfully.
Laughing softly, Harry turns his head to kiss him just quickly. “Morning to you too, darling,” he replies, taking the blanket from Draco’s arm to spread across the sand, just out of reach of the waves.
They settle against each other with practiced ease. Shoulder to shoulder, each with their cup of coffee warming their hands, they watch the waves of the ocean almost come to meet them. Draco reaches around to dig into Harry’s left pocket where he keeps the lighter.
Harry makes jokes about Draco wearing trainers cause he doesn’t like the feel of sand beneath his feet.
And it’s just that easy. Sitting together with coffee and a shared cigarette watching as the horizon turns to blue.
Draco thinks about the hard parts of revenge.
So... sucky? (And, yes, I totally am going to go back over it with the spellcheck switched to UK English before I post it for real.)
I have a beginning! Finally! They say the third time is a charm, and they lie cause it's more like the 300th time is a charm, but whatever!
Ah, I feel the need to post it here for the beginning finally being done is such an accomplishment. :p
Harry stands on the beach with his jeans rolled up so that waves crash over bare feet. The middle of winter and it’s cold—not cold like Hogwarts in the winter, of course, but cold for California—but when Draco wakes to an empty bed at dawn he will always find Harry watching the horizon.
There are steps—carved into their life by eight months of repetitiveness—that they follow every morning.
Harry leaves the bed before Draco wakes, goes to let the waves of too cold ocean water slap his feet too early in the morning. Draco only has a second or two where all he can think is: oh, oh Merlin, this is it, isn’t it? But then he’ll breathe and the salt of the ocean is thick in the air, the crashing of waves is just that too loud, because Harry always opens the window first thing in the morning. The bed is just warm enough that Harry couldn’t have left it long ago.
Routine is something he lives for like maybe he never did before.
So that by the time he gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of trousers he is mostly sure that no one knows anything more than they did the day before.
He shivers in the early morning air, runs a hand through his hair as he pads barefoot into the kitchen to start coffee and stifles a yawn. But it isn’t until he sees—through the glass windows that make up the wall of their living room that faces the beach, Harry standing just close enough to the water that it slaps his feet as it surges forward—that he relaxes.
It isn’t until after he’s brushed his teeth, pulled on a jumper and is walking outside with a throw, two cups of coffee (one with too much milk and the other with too much sugar) and a pack of fags, that he really starts to wake up.
Draco puts his chin on Harry’s shoulder for lack of a free hand and then grins against his cheek. “It’s too bloody early to be out of bed, you wanker,” he whines playfully.
Laughing softly, Harry turns his head to kiss him just quickly. “Morning to you too, darling,” he replies, taking the blanket from Draco’s arm to spread across the sand, just out of reach of the waves.
They settle against each other with practiced ease. Shoulder to shoulder, each with their cup of coffee warming their hands, they watch the waves of the ocean almost come to meet them. Draco reaches around to dig into Harry’s left pocket where he keeps the lighter.
Harry makes jokes about Draco wearing trainers cause he doesn’t like the feel of sand beneath his feet.
And it’s just that easy. Sitting together with coffee and a shared cigarette watching as the horizon turns to blue.
Draco thinks about the hard parts of revenge.
So... sucky? (And, yes, I totally am going to go back over it with the spellcheck switched to UK English before I post it for real.)
no subject
UBER! Do you hear me? UBER!
I think its perfectly lovely even if I don't agree with the principles of Harry/Draco slash.
::grins::
no subject
::giggles::
I need a title! Cause I don't wanna name it Ocean Breathes Salty except for the fact that I completely and totally do.
no subject
Function: prefix
Definition: the highest or most extreme of its kind: ubernerd; to an extreme degree: ubercool; also spelled über-
Etymology: German über: over, beyond; related to English over
So bwah! Deal with that! I know waht the word means!
no subject
And yet, I still am without a title. :p