Distinct (PG-13)
Jun. 21st, 2008 08:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deelaundryHAPPY BIRTHDAY, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xaipw! I think you'll recognize who's playing the OMC here...
Posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
housefic
Title: Distinct
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: Wilson/OMC, past Wilson/Amber
Rating: PG-13
Words: 678
Summary: Wilson hadn't been looking for anything.
Notes: Written for Sauty for her birthday. Spoilers through episode 4-16, “Wilson's Heart.” Thanks tonightdog_barks and phinnia for beta.
Wilson hadn’t been looking for anything when he walked in the bar. In truth, he’d been looking for nothing – oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. What he found was a six-foot tall stranger with hazel eyes, thick dark hair, and a lazy drawl Wilson couldn’t help commenting on.
“It’s because I’ve had a few,” the guy said. “Time starts to pass slower when I’ve had a few.” The stretch was long and slow, and accented every damn muscle under the guy’s tight black shirt.
Wilson wasn’t looking. Really he wasn’t. His sexuality didn’t run that way, never had, no matter what his bastard ex-friend had liked to imply. It was just – the guy had an easy smile, an easy manner, a warmth on first meeting that Wilson hadn’t encountered in a long time.
It wasn’t hard to talk to him, no bear traps to spring, no spiked pits to fall into. Easy.
“Lost my girlfriend a month ago,” the guy – Tom – said nonchalantly about twenty minutes after they’d met, and Wilson stopped breathing for a long scary moment. Amber had been dead three weeks.
“Swallow an olive?” Tom asked, and thumped him on the back.
“No,” Wilson choked out (strong thump). “I just lost my girlfriend, too.”
Tom snorted and turned back to his bourbon. “Wonder if it was the same guy.”
I wonder, Wilson thought, and then realized he’d misinterpreted. “She left you for someone else?”
“Caught her cheating.” Tom thumped his empty glass on the bar and grabbed a napkin instead. The napkin began to fall in long white curls to the floor. “Kicked her out. Don’t know why I was surprised, why I’m still surprised. I mean, when we got together two years ago, Julie cheated on her husband to be with me. Why’d I think I’d be different?”
Two years ago, Julie had cheated on her husband. Wilson started to laugh.
“You’re a cold-hearted bastard,” Tom grumbled and turned toward the bartender.
“No, no,” Wilson protested. “I’m just – Were you dating Julie Wilson?”
“Engaged to her. Yes.” Tom’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing into slits. “How do you know her?”
Wilson smiled and waved the bartender over. “Gave her her last name. Let’s have another round.”
It should have been awkward after that, Wilson would think later, but it wasn’t. Wilson had been upset by his divorce from Julie, but he hadn’t been enough in love to fight for her. Sitting with the guy who “stole” her ended up to be just like sitting with a guy who had mutual acquaintances. Wilson told stories from before, and Tom told stories from after, and before long they were laughing.
Before too long after that, they were leaning against each other, and Wilson was thinking how nice Tom’s teeth were, and Tom’s thumb had dipped a fraction below the waistband of Wilson’s slacks.
Amber had been dead three weeks. Three long, lonely weeks. Wilson didn’t want to replace her; he couldn’t even imagine anyone replacing her. She was unique in his heart, and anything that resembled her in any way was a pale imitation.
Not a damn thing about Tom reminded Wilson of Amber. Not in the bar, not in the cab, not in the king-sized bed in the hotel room they rented for the night. Tom didn’t smell like her, didn’t kiss like her, didn’t feel like her, and Wilson let himself be lost in the differences.
“First time with a man?” Tom asked after, as Wilson ran his hand up and down Tom’s hairy calf.
“That obvious?” Wilson asked.
“Just wondered. Next time you can top.”
“No,” Wilson insisted. No topping; not different enough. “I’ll try sucking your dick, though.”
Tom flipped off the light without asking Wilson and turned his back, taking most of the bedspread with him. “In the morning,” he said.
Wilson yanked back his fair share of covers and flopped onto his stomach. The room smelled of sweat; the pillow smelled of nothing; Wilson fell into the best sleep he’d had since the last time he was on call.
xaipw! I think you'll recognize who's playing the OMC here... Posted to
houseficTitle: Distinct
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: Wilson/OMC, past Wilson/Amber
Rating: PG-13
Words: 678
Summary: Wilson hadn't been looking for anything.
Notes: Written for Sauty for her birthday. Spoilers through episode 4-16, “Wilson's Heart.” Thanks to
nightdog_barks and phinnia for beta.Wilson hadn’t been looking for anything when he walked in the bar. In truth, he’d been looking for nothing – oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. What he found was a six-foot tall stranger with hazel eyes, thick dark hair, and a lazy drawl Wilson couldn’t help commenting on.
“It’s because I’ve had a few,” the guy said. “Time starts to pass slower when I’ve had a few.” The stretch was long and slow, and accented every damn muscle under the guy’s tight black shirt.
Wilson wasn’t looking. Really he wasn’t. His sexuality didn’t run that way, never had, no matter what his bastard ex-friend had liked to imply. It was just – the guy had an easy smile, an easy manner, a warmth on first meeting that Wilson hadn’t encountered in a long time.
It wasn’t hard to talk to him, no bear traps to spring, no spiked pits to fall into. Easy.
“Lost my girlfriend a month ago,” the guy – Tom – said nonchalantly about twenty minutes after they’d met, and Wilson stopped breathing for a long scary moment. Amber had been dead three weeks.
“Swallow an olive?” Tom asked, and thumped him on the back.
“No,” Wilson choked out (strong thump). “I just lost my girlfriend, too.”
Tom snorted and turned back to his bourbon. “Wonder if it was the same guy.”
I wonder, Wilson thought, and then realized he’d misinterpreted. “She left you for someone else?”
“Caught her cheating.” Tom thumped his empty glass on the bar and grabbed a napkin instead. The napkin began to fall in long white curls to the floor. “Kicked her out. Don’t know why I was surprised, why I’m still surprised. I mean, when we got together two years ago, Julie cheated on her husband to be with me. Why’d I think I’d be different?”
Two years ago, Julie had cheated on her husband. Wilson started to laugh.
“You’re a cold-hearted bastard,” Tom grumbled and turned toward the bartender.
“No, no,” Wilson protested. “I’m just – Were you dating Julie Wilson?”
“Engaged to her. Yes.” Tom’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing into slits. “How do you know her?”
Wilson smiled and waved the bartender over. “Gave her her last name. Let’s have another round.”
It should have been awkward after that, Wilson would think later, but it wasn’t. Wilson had been upset by his divorce from Julie, but he hadn’t been enough in love to fight for her. Sitting with the guy who “stole” her ended up to be just like sitting with a guy who had mutual acquaintances. Wilson told stories from before, and Tom told stories from after, and before long they were laughing.
Before too long after that, they were leaning against each other, and Wilson was thinking how nice Tom’s teeth were, and Tom’s thumb had dipped a fraction below the waistband of Wilson’s slacks.
Amber had been dead three weeks. Three long, lonely weeks. Wilson didn’t want to replace her; he couldn’t even imagine anyone replacing her. She was unique in his heart, and anything that resembled her in any way was a pale imitation.
Not a damn thing about Tom reminded Wilson of Amber. Not in the bar, not in the cab, not in the king-sized bed in the hotel room they rented for the night. Tom didn’t smell like her, didn’t kiss like her, didn’t feel like her, and Wilson let himself be lost in the differences.
“First time with a man?” Tom asked after, as Wilson ran his hand up and down Tom’s hairy calf.
“That obvious?” Wilson asked.
“Just wondered. Next time you can top.”
“No,” Wilson insisted. No topping; not different enough. “I’ll try sucking your dick, though.”
Tom flipped off the light without asking Wilson and turned his back, taking most of the bedspread with him. “In the morning,” he said.
Wilson yanked back his fair share of covers and flopped onto his stomach. The room smelled of sweat; the pillow smelled of nothing; Wilson fell into the best sleep he’d had since the last time he was on call.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-22 10:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-22 03:39 pm (UTC)