cruiscin_lan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-04-11 04:16 am
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-04-11 04:16 am
Fic: Spring (Verb, Intransitive)
Title: Spring (Verb, Intransitive)
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Rating: PG-13 (one f-bomb)
Word Count: 686
Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of Heroes or its characters
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for the end of Vol. 3
Summary: She realizes there's no reason to be afraid of him any longer; he's taken what he wanted from her already, right?
A/N: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sylaire_chall prompt "Spring."
Spring. To jump suddenly. Spring, as in he springs up on her in the dark hallway or she springs backward with recognition.
She hadn't seen him since the Primatech fire - a fire he'd caused, a fire that killed her biological mother and destroyed her life as she knew it. Hatred wasn't a strong enough word for the way she felt about him.
And so when she sees him, she startles at first, like a frightened mare. And, like a frightened mare, she bucks and she shudders and stamps her feet, trying to hold her ground and shake him off. She realizes there's no reason to be afraid of him any longer; he's taken what he wanted from her already, right? Might as well have some fun.
When she touches him, she expects the places where skin meets skin to burn and blister. When she kisses him, she thinks his lips taste bitter, like poison. When she makes love to him, she always calls it something else in her head.
Spring. To pay for, especially as a treat. Spring, as in he never offers to spring for dinner.
They don't go on dates, they don't go out for dinner or movies. Those are things that ordinary people do to distract themselves from one another in the name of spending time together. But these two, they're beyond that - beyond the petty displays of affection, beyond the pretense of romance.
Instead, she arrives at his apartment unannounced, and when he's there he drops what he's doing to tear off her clothes violently, pinning her against the wall as he presses his mouth to hers. When he's not there she breaks in, lies in wait like a lioness, ready to pounce the moment she hears the key click in the door. She springs on him before he's even gotten through the threshold.
Spring. To originate or arise from. Spring, as in tears spring from her eyes, unwanted and unwarranted.
In fact, they keeping springing forth with no signs of stopping. She had always reveled in her inability to be hurt, but that extends to the merely physical. A broken heart is a broken heart is a broken heart, and it aches with a sharp, throbbing pain that she's never felt before.
They didn't have a relationship. She couldn't call him friend or boyfriend or even fuck-buddy, as all these monikers implied that they had something that they didn't. What they lacked was some sort of context, a context in which they'd make sense together. But her family wasn't ready for that. The world wasn't ready for that. They weren't ready for that. So he decided for the two of them that it had to end.
She couldn't name the feeling she'd had for him until he'd taken it all away, and now, when it was too late, what would be the point?
Spring. To present or propose unexpectedly.
He's repentant now, all sorrow and sadness, when he tells her what a fool he's been, what a mistake it was to let her go. As he hands her the roses (which she accepts, though reluctantly) she sees the outline of a jewelry box in the pocket of his pants. She cannot help but smile, but her smile is tainted. She'd hated him for so long, and so strongly - it came back easily enough with time.
He asks her, he begs her, he pleads with her to take him back, not caring what the passerby think as they rubberneck, just for a moment, before they hurry back to their prosaic lives.
It's a cruel delight, turning him down in public like this, and she knows she's being especially petty and awful to him, but she doesn't care. He's taken what he wants from her already, right?
As she walks away her ponytail bounces behind her, and she revels in her new and improved imperviousness. Once again, thanks to him, she can feel no pain.
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Rating: PG-13 (one f-bomb)
Word Count: 686
Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of Heroes or its characters
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for the end of Vol. 3
Summary: She realizes there's no reason to be afraid of him any longer; he's taken what he wanted from her already, right?
A/N: Written for the
sylaire_chall prompt "Spring."Spring. To jump suddenly. Spring, as in he springs up on her in the dark hallway or she springs backward with recognition.
She hadn't seen him since the Primatech fire - a fire he'd caused, a fire that killed her biological mother and destroyed her life as she knew it. Hatred wasn't a strong enough word for the way she felt about him.
And so when she sees him, she startles at first, like a frightened mare. And, like a frightened mare, she bucks and she shudders and stamps her feet, trying to hold her ground and shake him off. She realizes there's no reason to be afraid of him any longer; he's taken what he wanted from her already, right? Might as well have some fun.
When she touches him, she expects the places where skin meets skin to burn and blister. When she kisses him, she thinks his lips taste bitter, like poison. When she makes love to him, she always calls it something else in her head.
Spring. To pay for, especially as a treat. Spring, as in he never offers to spring for dinner.
They don't go on dates, they don't go out for dinner or movies. Those are things that ordinary people do to distract themselves from one another in the name of spending time together. But these two, they're beyond that - beyond the petty displays of affection, beyond the pretense of romance.
Instead, she arrives at his apartment unannounced, and when he's there he drops what he's doing to tear off her clothes violently, pinning her against the wall as he presses his mouth to hers. When he's not there she breaks in, lies in wait like a lioness, ready to pounce the moment she hears the key click in the door. She springs on him before he's even gotten through the threshold.
Spring. To originate or arise from. Spring, as in tears spring from her eyes, unwanted and unwarranted.
In fact, they keeping springing forth with no signs of stopping. She had always reveled in her inability to be hurt, but that extends to the merely physical. A broken heart is a broken heart is a broken heart, and it aches with a sharp, throbbing pain that she's never felt before.
They didn't have a relationship. She couldn't call him friend or boyfriend or even fuck-buddy, as all these monikers implied that they had something that they didn't. What they lacked was some sort of context, a context in which they'd make sense together. But her family wasn't ready for that. The world wasn't ready for that. They weren't ready for that. So he decided for the two of them that it had to end.
She couldn't name the feeling she'd had for him until he'd taken it all away, and now, when it was too late, what would be the point?
Spring. To present or propose unexpectedly.
He's repentant now, all sorrow and sadness, when he tells her what a fool he's been, what a mistake it was to let her go. As he hands her the roses (which she accepts, though reluctantly) she sees the outline of a jewelry box in the pocket of his pants. She cannot help but smile, but her smile is tainted. She'd hated him for so long, and so strongly - it came back easily enough with time.
He asks her, he begs her, he pleads with her to take him back, not caring what the passerby think as they rubberneck, just for a moment, before they hurry back to their prosaic lives.
It's a cruel delight, turning him down in public like this, and she knows she's being especially petty and awful to him, but she doesn't care. He's taken what he wants from her already, right?
As she walks away her ponytail bounces behind her, and she revels in her new and improved imperviousness. Once again, thanks to him, she can feel no pain.
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At least this time I have a pretty reasonable excuse!
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*firefly/serenity quote of the day*
Mal: Do you have time to do my hair?
Inara: Out!
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Does Inara perhaps have time to do my hair? Because hers is really pretty.
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I loved the definitions as segues into the different scenes! Such an awesomely creative use of a prompt!
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Don't worry, I'll still respect you in the morning.
Glad you liked it, and I'm even gladder that you gave a new pairing a chance. :)
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Thanks! I tried something a little new this time.
i read it and liked it even though i am squicked out by the prospect of sylar/claire on the show.
I think it would be the sort of thing that's so wrong that it's awesome. But I really don't mind who gets paired with who on the show, just so long as they stop killing my favorite characters...
i am a sucker for linguistics, so i ventured out of my comfort zone :)
I'm glad that you did, linguistics or not! It can be tough reading different pairings and characters, and I'm so happy that you at least gave it a chance.
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