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Entry tags:
TDIR: Boys
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Will has never felt less like an Old One. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
over_look. The Welsh word used, Sais, means Englishman; it's often used in canon by Welsh people to Will, as a tease or a taunt.
It should bring it all back to Will. The memories that Bran has lost but he retains, the things they did, all the serious and horrible and ancient gravity of it. Instead, Will has never felt more like a normal human boy. Bran lounges beside him on the grass as he perches on a rock -- his expression as serious and noble and thoughtful of that as a king on his throne.
Which makes sense, really.
But Will isn't really thinking about that. He's thinking about how he'd like to touch Bran, how he'd like to run his fingers through the pale hair, how he'd like to kiss him, hold him, be held. He feels clumsy and a little tongue-tied and happy.
"You're staring at me again," Bran says, with just a hint of the old mocking smile. Will grins ruefully, caught -- realising that there's no keeping anything from a boy like Bran anyway. He shrugs.
"I was daydreaming."
"Not staring into space?"
Will shakes his head -- the words on the tip of his tongue. He has never felt less like an Old One than at this very moment; caught between two actions and completely unsure of which is right or wrong, or whether either concept applies in this situation. Bran grins, getting to his feet.
"You keep thinking about what you want to say," he says, "while I race you down."
Will gets to his feet as well. He grins back at Bran, in an easy boyish camaraderie that he never thought he'd have again. "I'll beat you easily."
"Not a chance, Sais."
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Will has never felt less like an Old One. For
over_look. The Welsh word used, Sais, means Englishman; it's often used in canon by Welsh people to Will, as a tease or a taunt.It should bring it all back to Will. The memories that Bran has lost but he retains, the things they did, all the serious and horrible and ancient gravity of it. Instead, Will has never felt more like a normal human boy. Bran lounges beside him on the grass as he perches on a rock -- his expression as serious and noble and thoughtful of that as a king on his throne.
Which makes sense, really.
But Will isn't really thinking about that. He's thinking about how he'd like to touch Bran, how he'd like to run his fingers through the pale hair, how he'd like to kiss him, hold him, be held. He feels clumsy and a little tongue-tied and happy.
"You're staring at me again," Bran says, with just a hint of the old mocking smile. Will grins ruefully, caught -- realising that there's no keeping anything from a boy like Bran anyway. He shrugs.
"I was daydreaming."
"Not staring into space?"
Will shakes his head -- the words on the tip of his tongue. He has never felt less like an Old One than at this very moment; caught between two actions and completely unsure of which is right or wrong, or whether either concept applies in this situation. Bran grins, getting to his feet.
"You keep thinking about what you want to say," he says, "while I race you down."
Will gets to his feet as well. He grins back at Bran, in an easy boyish camaraderie that he never thought he'd have again. "I'll beat you easily."
"Not a chance, Sais."
no subject
I also like how they're such boys.
no subject
I love writing them that way. :D