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Jan. 20th, 2009 11:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kohakumostly for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
momotastic because she asked for dreams and a bathtub, but also a little for silme711 who really did not want to read ANY of it but then could not help it. Sorry, baby.
This is crack, mostly. Even though I don't even do crack. The hell?
Angel wakes, abruptly and with a name slipping from his lips. He sits up and tries to remember, but there is just this feeling that somebody should be there with him, and he touches the sheets next to him, but they are cold. He lies down again, and falls back asleep easily.
He visits Lindsey the next day, but somehow he only looms. He notices their height difference then, as if that was new, and simply growls out a warning before leaving again. Lindsey does not say a word, but he can see the question in his eyes before Angel closes the door. He drives home, feeling off kilter.
***
He walks through the front door and immediately senses that he is not alone. There is sound coming from within the house, and he follows it. He hangs his coat in the hallway, makes his way through the living room and then turns when nobody is there. He checks the quiet kitchen, before turning and going upstairs. Someone is humming, and he turns towards the sound. He finally finds the bedroom and when he opens the door, he sees Lindsey. Angel must have made a sound, because Lindsey turns and pauses, hands resting on a neat stack of towels next to a heap of unfolded ones. Before Angel can say anything, Lindsey smiles.
“You're home,” he says.
Angel jolts awake. He sits in his bed for a moment, contemplating trying to fall back asleep for a few seconds before he remembers the dream. And Lindsey folding the damn laundry.
“You think thinking about household chores makes you insane?”
“What? Angel, what are you on about.”
Wesley is annoyed, he can tell.
“If you were dreaming about them?”
“I'd say you're probably overworked then. Or trying to fix things during the night. Subconsciously.”
Like that helped. Fixing things. As if things needed fixing. Which they do. Maybe.
***
The next dream he knows is a dream, because he comes back into the house and Lindsey is sitting in the living room, reading, a glass tumbler of whiskey next to him on the small table. Angel walks over and downs it.
“Hey. Get your own,” Lindsey says without heat.
He doesn't really look up from his book, and Angel watches him. His hair got slightly too long again, one lock falling across his forehead. He is wearing one of his business shirts, top two buttons undone and tie gone, the sleeves rolled up until under his elbows. He is reading a novel, resting his head on his right hand while holding the book with his left. Angel just stays. He watches the rise and fall of Lindsey's chest.
“You're hovering, Angel,” Lindsey says.
He jumps a little at that, and Lindsey looks up at him.
“Do you want dinner? It would be your turn to cook, but I trade you doing the dishes.”
“Yeah. That would be...” He doesn't finish the sentence, because this is all a dream, right. Lindsey is not here and he is not laughing a little under his breath and rolling his eyes and then putting the book away, placing it over the armrest of the chair so he won't lose the page he is on.
“Alright, big guy,” Lindsey says and gets up. “Do you want to eat with me? Or just...”
And Lindsey does not even say it, as if he knows that that's the way Angel prefers it. He only turns and looks at Angel, waiting, as if they did that every night. Angel swallows hard and hopes he won't wake.
“Eating with you sounds great.”
***
Angel is jittery. He knows he is, he knows the others can tell, so he sulks and tries to stay away so he won't have to answer questions. It's worse on days where he sees Lindsey, actual Lindsey, in his lawyer suit and with that hair and fake smile. He smiles differently, it never quite reaches his eyes, and he tenses when Angel comes in. It is much worse then, and he waits for the lines to blur, waits for Lindsey to look up at him and smile a tiny smile, one that barely lifts the corners of his mouth but lights his eyes nevertheless.
***
“How was your day,” Angel asks.
Lindsey pulls a face. “Let's not talk about it. One of these days, I'm going to pack my things and leave.”
“Customers?”
“Clients, they are called clients, but that doesn't make them any easier to bear. Your day?”
Angel shakes his head.
“I was waiting for it to be over so I could go to bed and sleep.”
There is some truth in that, and Lindsey laughs again.
“Before we do, game of chess?”
“I'll win again.” Angel says, but he really is thinking about something else now.
“Yes, you will, but that's not why I'm still playing,” Lindsey says.
They play three games, and Lindsey holds up well enough.
“Rematch,” Lindsey asks but Angel shakes his head.
“Need to eat something now.”
Lindsey nods and walks into the kitchen. Angel can hear the microwave's ping and Lindsey comes back in with a mug.
“You know, you could always...” Lindsey does not finish the sentence but cocks his head to the side and Angel wakes, gasping for air for some bizarre reason, maybe because he is mirroring the soap opera fakeness of his dreams.
***
“Your hair is real short. Will you let it grow out again?”
Lindsey stares at him. Angel freezes.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh. Never mind.”
“Are you losing your mind, Angel?”
I might be, Angel thinks, but he growls at Lindsey, giving him his best glare.
“Seriously, my hair?”
Angel nods.
“What is wrong with you?”
When he comes closer, Lindsey flinches ever so slightly, closing his eyes for a split second too long and it's all that Angel needs to back off. When Lindsey looks at him again, he seems surprised, but he doesn't say a thing. Angel is grateful for that.
***
“Are you afraid of me?”
“What? No.” Lindsey looks at him, pausing in mid-motion, the pot of coffee hovering over his mug, not yet pouring.
“Yeah, I just.” He shrugs, and he knows he is still dreaming, because Lindsey's hair is longer and he looks at Angel, open and with a patience Angel knows the real Lindsey does not have. He sighs then.
“This isn't working,” he says. Lindsey pours the coffee next to the cup, jumping up and cursing.
**
“We need to talk,” Angel says, walking into Lindsey's office.
Lindsey stands up, too quickly for it to be casual, but still slow enough so he doesn't look as if fleeing.
“We don't,” he says, keeping his back to the wall and moving away from Angel, trying to round the room and get the door in closer reach.
“Yes, we do.”
Angel can see the reluctance, and he closes the door. Lindsey seems thrown by this, he only stares, one eye brow raised.
“Come on, I'm not going to...” Angel motions with his hand and damn, even he himself does not know what he means by it. Lindsey takes one step closer, towards him or the door, Angel is not sure.
“What do you want, Angel?” Lindsey clearly is not in the mood for talk.
“Do you dream about me?”
“What?”
Angel takes a step backwards.
“No,” Lindsey finally says quietly, “Go.”
***
He knows he will find Lindsey in the bathroom, and he really does not want to go in there. He opens the door nevertheless, expecting rose pedals and mountains of foam and candles, but he only finds Lindsey sitting in the tub, hair wet, and looking at Angel wide eyed before recovering.
“Wanna come in,” he asks and grins. Angel shakes his head and Lindsey huffs and almost pouts. “At least wash my back then.” And Angel complies.
***
The phone rings and Angel picks it up before anyone else can.
“Hello?”
“Did you send me fucking flowers?!”
“Lindsey?”
“No, the tooth fairy. Did you?”
“Uh.” Angel tries to think fast. “No.”
There is a pause on the line and Angel almost thinks Lindsey has hung up. He would break out in a cold sweat if he could.
“Are they poisonous?”
“No!”
There is some rustling of leaves against leaves. Angel just knows Lindsey is rearranging the roses in the vase that came along with them.
“Is there a poisonous spider hidden in there or something?”
“What? No, they're just flowers.”
“You sent me flowers.”
Angel does not know what to say to that, so he stays quiet and listens to Lindsey breathe.
“They are kinda...”
“Yeah?”
“Scary, actually.” Lindsey laughs low. “No, they are...”
Angel grins.
“So,” he says.
“Yeah. Have to go to a meeting. See you around, I guess.”
Lindsey hangs up, and Angel can't help but smile a little. He's really curious about the dreams he'll have now.
momotastic because she asked for dreams and a bathtub, but also a little for silme711 who really did not want to read ANY of it but then could not help it. Sorry, baby.This is crack, mostly. Even though I don't even do crack. The hell?
Angel wakes, abruptly and with a name slipping from his lips. He sits up and tries to remember, but there is just this feeling that somebody should be there with him, and he touches the sheets next to him, but they are cold. He lies down again, and falls back asleep easily.
He visits Lindsey the next day, but somehow he only looms. He notices their height difference then, as if that was new, and simply growls out a warning before leaving again. Lindsey does not say a word, but he can see the question in his eyes before Angel closes the door. He drives home, feeling off kilter.
***
He walks through the front door and immediately senses that he is not alone. There is sound coming from within the house, and he follows it. He hangs his coat in the hallway, makes his way through the living room and then turns when nobody is there. He checks the quiet kitchen, before turning and going upstairs. Someone is humming, and he turns towards the sound. He finally finds the bedroom and when he opens the door, he sees Lindsey. Angel must have made a sound, because Lindsey turns and pauses, hands resting on a neat stack of towels next to a heap of unfolded ones. Before Angel can say anything, Lindsey smiles.
“You're home,” he says.
Angel jolts awake. He sits in his bed for a moment, contemplating trying to fall back asleep for a few seconds before he remembers the dream. And Lindsey folding the damn laundry.
“You think thinking about household chores makes you insane?”
“What? Angel, what are you on about.”
Wesley is annoyed, he can tell.
“If you were dreaming about them?”
“I'd say you're probably overworked then. Or trying to fix things during the night. Subconsciously.”
Like that helped. Fixing things. As if things needed fixing. Which they do. Maybe.
***
The next dream he knows is a dream, because he comes back into the house and Lindsey is sitting in the living room, reading, a glass tumbler of whiskey next to him on the small table. Angel walks over and downs it.
“Hey. Get your own,” Lindsey says without heat.
He doesn't really look up from his book, and Angel watches him. His hair got slightly too long again, one lock falling across his forehead. He is wearing one of his business shirts, top two buttons undone and tie gone, the sleeves rolled up until under his elbows. He is reading a novel, resting his head on his right hand while holding the book with his left. Angel just stays. He watches the rise and fall of Lindsey's chest.
“You're hovering, Angel,” Lindsey says.
He jumps a little at that, and Lindsey looks up at him.
“Do you want dinner? It would be your turn to cook, but I trade you doing the dishes.”
“Yeah. That would be...” He doesn't finish the sentence, because this is all a dream, right. Lindsey is not here and he is not laughing a little under his breath and rolling his eyes and then putting the book away, placing it over the armrest of the chair so he won't lose the page he is on.
“Alright, big guy,” Lindsey says and gets up. “Do you want to eat with me? Or just...”
And Lindsey does not even say it, as if he knows that that's the way Angel prefers it. He only turns and looks at Angel, waiting, as if they did that every night. Angel swallows hard and hopes he won't wake.
“Eating with you sounds great.”
***
Angel is jittery. He knows he is, he knows the others can tell, so he sulks and tries to stay away so he won't have to answer questions. It's worse on days where he sees Lindsey, actual Lindsey, in his lawyer suit and with that hair and fake smile. He smiles differently, it never quite reaches his eyes, and he tenses when Angel comes in. It is much worse then, and he waits for the lines to blur, waits for Lindsey to look up at him and smile a tiny smile, one that barely lifts the corners of his mouth but lights his eyes nevertheless.
***
“How was your day,” Angel asks.
Lindsey pulls a face. “Let's not talk about it. One of these days, I'm going to pack my things and leave.”
“Customers?”
“Clients, they are called clients, but that doesn't make them any easier to bear. Your day?”
Angel shakes his head.
“I was waiting for it to be over so I could go to bed and sleep.”
There is some truth in that, and Lindsey laughs again.
“Before we do, game of chess?”
“I'll win again.” Angel says, but he really is thinking about something else now.
“Yes, you will, but that's not why I'm still playing,” Lindsey says.
They play three games, and Lindsey holds up well enough.
“Rematch,” Lindsey asks but Angel shakes his head.
“Need to eat something now.”
Lindsey nods and walks into the kitchen. Angel can hear the microwave's ping and Lindsey comes back in with a mug.
“You know, you could always...” Lindsey does not finish the sentence but cocks his head to the side and Angel wakes, gasping for air for some bizarre reason, maybe because he is mirroring the soap opera fakeness of his dreams.
***
“Your hair is real short. Will you let it grow out again?”
Lindsey stares at him. Angel freezes.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh. Never mind.”
“Are you losing your mind, Angel?”
I might be, Angel thinks, but he growls at Lindsey, giving him his best glare.
“Seriously, my hair?”
Angel nods.
“What is wrong with you?”
When he comes closer, Lindsey flinches ever so slightly, closing his eyes for a split second too long and it's all that Angel needs to back off. When Lindsey looks at him again, he seems surprised, but he doesn't say a thing. Angel is grateful for that.
***
“Are you afraid of me?”
“What? No.” Lindsey looks at him, pausing in mid-motion, the pot of coffee hovering over his mug, not yet pouring.
“Yeah, I just.” He shrugs, and he knows he is still dreaming, because Lindsey's hair is longer and he looks at Angel, open and with a patience Angel knows the real Lindsey does not have. He sighs then.
“This isn't working,” he says. Lindsey pours the coffee next to the cup, jumping up and cursing.
**
“We need to talk,” Angel says, walking into Lindsey's office.
Lindsey stands up, too quickly for it to be casual, but still slow enough so he doesn't look as if fleeing.
“We don't,” he says, keeping his back to the wall and moving away from Angel, trying to round the room and get the door in closer reach.
“Yes, we do.”
Angel can see the reluctance, and he closes the door. Lindsey seems thrown by this, he only stares, one eye brow raised.
“Come on, I'm not going to...” Angel motions with his hand and damn, even he himself does not know what he means by it. Lindsey takes one step closer, towards him or the door, Angel is not sure.
“What do you want, Angel?” Lindsey clearly is not in the mood for talk.
“Do you dream about me?”
“What?”
Angel takes a step backwards.
“No,” Lindsey finally says quietly, “Go.”
***
He knows he will find Lindsey in the bathroom, and he really does not want to go in there. He opens the door nevertheless, expecting rose pedals and mountains of foam and candles, but he only finds Lindsey sitting in the tub, hair wet, and looking at Angel wide eyed before recovering.
“Wanna come in,” he asks and grins. Angel shakes his head and Lindsey huffs and almost pouts. “At least wash my back then.” And Angel complies.
***
The phone rings and Angel picks it up before anyone else can.
“Hello?”
“Did you send me fucking flowers?!”
“Lindsey?”
“No, the tooth fairy. Did you?”
“Uh.” Angel tries to think fast. “No.”
There is a pause on the line and Angel almost thinks Lindsey has hung up. He would break out in a cold sweat if he could.
“Are they poisonous?”
“No!”
There is some rustling of leaves against leaves. Angel just knows Lindsey is rearranging the roses in the vase that came along with them.
“Is there a poisonous spider hidden in there or something?”
“What? No, they're just flowers.”
“You sent me flowers.”
Angel does not know what to say to that, so he stays quiet and listens to Lindsey breathe.
“They are kinda...”
“Yeah?”
“Scary, actually.” Lindsey laughs low. “No, they are...”
Angel grins.
“So,” he says.
“Yeah. Have to go to a meeting. See you around, I guess.”
Lindsey hangs up, and Angel can't help but smile a little. He's really curious about the dreams he'll have now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 10:51 pm (UTC)It's pretty good!
But, oh, dearest - you're spiralling into the Whedon-slashverse, I should have seen that coming, there's no way back now... *smirk*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 10:52 pm (UTC)I'm a bit embarrassed by it because it is such utter crack, but then again, Whedonverse, heh.
And yes. Thanks for the mighty shove in that direction. *winks*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:16 pm (UTC)Also? You need to write more about that.
I still love Lindsey folding clothes. And the picture of him reading. And the roses! OMG THE ROSES KILLED ME!
Seriously, I screamed an NO WAY at my screen as soon as I figured that that was NOT a dream ;o)
ILU!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:23 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked the roses. ;) And the rest of it, too. Hee!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:24 pm (UTC)And no, that big, brooding sap isn't listening to anyone.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:26 pm (UTC)Ehem.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:30 pm (UTC)virginityhonor.no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:40 pm (UTC)virginityhonor thing? Uh. He, um. It's not really about dreams anyway. Just ask the other vampire why Linds smells like being already claimed.Ehem. I'm going to hide now.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 07:39 am (UTC)Although I must admit that I had to laugh at Angel's attempt to think fast: "Um...No." Heeeeeeeee!!!!!!!
Thanks so much for posting this at
(GAH! Sorry about repeated edits but it's Stupid a.m. here...!)
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 11:20 am (UTC)I really enjoyed writing them in that domestic dream setting, so that last scene is my favorite, because the lines blurr a little, and hee. :)
I think I better edit my entry at the comm since no one thinks it is crack. ;)
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 08:00 am (UTC)I love that the details and dialog of the dream sequences were skewed just enough to throw Angel off balance... that he's mortified and intrigued at the same time because it's...you know...LINDSEY...*g*...that he's so freaked out he even asks Wes to weigh in (in a wonderful cameo)...
Terrific last scene...the awkward and funny conversation was absolutely perfect!!!...*laughs*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:39 am (UTC)Thank you so so much! I'm really glad you liked this, and that it worked for you. I'm positively gleeful right now :)
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:08 am (UTC)You made me like Angel/Lindsey. :-o
I really, really like it. And it's not crack. It's just enough dream-y and unreal-y for the dreams and the reactions during the day are very realistic. I thought the balance was great.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:31 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 11:29 am (UTC)As everyone said - not cracky! But very very funny nevertheless, and I can see Angel there - the awkwardness, the daydreaming, the sulking... the voices are great!
And "Did you send me fucking flowers?!" had me crack up. *gigglefit*
Thanks for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 12:38 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it, and yes, that's my favorite line in the whole story, I'm really glad it works. ;)
I really need to change my entry at
Thank you for your comment! <3
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 08:45 pm (UTC)Thanks for posting it over at
I'm a sap for the schmoop, and the dream domesticity was so cute and contrasted so well with the reality.
Ha Ha! "Did you send me fucking flowers?!" was fantastic , and just perfect for Lindsey!
A sequel perhaps?
*smooches* xxx
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:19 pm (UTC)I'm already doing my best to make her write more ;o)
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:36 pm (UTC)That's my favorite line, actually, heh.
Naw, sequel is possible, as I enjoyed writing this A LOT. I just need to come up with an excuse for them to be all domestic again...
*huggles* xxx
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-29 09:55 am (UTC)That was really really great! *loves*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 03:08 am (UTC)And yes, poor Lindsey. Angel really threw him already with that comment about his hair, and then the flowers! Sent to the office!