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Entry tags:
TDIR: Summer
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Stephen/Will
Warnings: Incest
Rating: PG
Summary: Will's grown up an awful lot, it seems.
Will certainly has grown up, Stephen thinks, regarding him critically as he plays football with James. He's grown out of any plumpness he had and his face is no longer quite so plain, his dark hair wilder now and falling into his face with a bit more spirit. That was, maybe, what Will was lacking. He was always so serious, different, not quite a normal little brother in some ways. Stephen grins a little and leans against the wall, waiting to be noticed, waiting to see the flood of recognition and joy he's gotten so used to seeing on Will's face whenever he comes home on leave.
It's more than Will's face that has changed, he realises, giving him a critical once over. Of course, he's taller -- again; he seems to have grown at least five inches every time Stephen sees him again. A beanstalk, almost. Now he's tall and almost-lanky, a little more filled out than last time. Strong enough to, with a decent tackle, steal the ball from James and move towards the makeshift goal.
And then he sees Stephen, and the ball is forgotten.
"Steve!" he calls joyfully, and in a minute he's scrambling over the wall and embracing him, arms wrapping tight around him in a familiar squeezing hug. They're almost the same height now, though, and Will's voice has deepened a touch more than he'd've imagined, remembering that boy's soprano that soared so beautiful on the high notes.
"Will," he says, fierce gladness slinking into his voice. He's surprised to admit it to himself, as he pulls back to hold Will at arm's length and look him over again, that Will looks good. The grin on his face fits there, and it makes Stephen wants to do things not entirely brotherly. He shakes the thought away. "How're you, mate?"
"Better now that you're here," he says. James comes up behind him, having rescued the ball from a patch of nettles. Stephen looks him over as well, trying to feel the same spark of interest, so that maybe it's just normal, after being so long away. But James remains just James, grinning, a little chubbier than Will and by now even a touch shorter.
"Good to see you, Steve," he says, with not quite Will's warmth, and Stephen leans forward to hug him, with a touch more reserve.
---
"What do you think, then? I haven't changed it too much?"
Stephen sprawls out over the bed that was once his, nibbling at something absently and eyeing the changes Will has brought to the room. Nothing drastic: a few posters, a repaint, one or two of the models changed or rearranged. His brother seems almost anxious, though, as if it matters, as if it really, really means something. "It's your room, Will."
"Still," Will says, looking aside a bit and biting his lip. He still looks good, the sun coming through the skylight hitting his face in a way that makes him look a little older, and a little less ordinary. He sighs softly. "I wanted to keep it so it's a room you'd like. Just... because."
"A way of keeping a bit of me around?"
Will smiles. "Yeah, kinda like that."
He sits up, stretching out his long legs and yawning softly. "It's perfect, Will. You know you can do anything you want to this room, though. I won't be coming back here even when I do leave the navy."
"When will you leave the navy?"
There's an old anxiousness in Will's face, still. Stephen wonders if it's quite normal for his brother to be so eager to see him at home for good, but then, Will always did adore him. And he can't deny that he'd like to spend more time with Will -- and that he's been thinking rather too much for comfort about this new, grown up, familiar stranger Will.
"I don't know," he says, to keep those thoughts at bay, at least while Will is sitting right there.
"I miss you."
It does something to him, hearing that. It makes something twist tight and uncomfortable in his stomach. Regret, for staying away so long, for never being there for his little brother. Regret, for not seeing him grow up. Regret, because some days, he didn't think of Will, but only of the fun he was having, and he is suddenly, painfully aware that he has probably always been on Will's mind, all the time he was gone. And guilt, because he didn't write often enough, and because now he's here he isn't being the big brother he ought to be. He sighs softly and reaches up to ruffle Will's hair, easy, familiar, brotherly. "I missed you too, mate."
---
There have been times, today, when Stephen has thought about reaching out and drawing Will close and just kissing him. They've been alone all day -- a bike ride right out miles away from anywhere, followed by fishing, or at least, some semblance of fishing that didn't involve catching anything and mostly involved sitting in the warm sun and talking about anything, everything, and whatever falls in between. Nobody would've seen him, and he has had a feeling, sometimes, that it's just what Will wants, too.
He shakes his head slightly to push away the feeling, stretching his legs out to catch more of the sun that comes down, surprisingly warm even for this time of the year. Will is talking, quietly, aimlessly, about nothing in particular, and he half listens, and half watches a bee tumble lazily out of a flower and fly off buzzing gently.
"Steve?"
"Hmm?"
Will's eyes are serious, when he looks up, and so he makes an effort to stir himself, pushing up and supporting himself on one arm. He cocks his head slightly, raises an eyebrow, waits. "I can tell you anything, right?"
"Anything," he says, wondering what it could be, and squashing the silly desperate hope that Will has been feeling as he feels, lately. "Is something wrong?"
"No..." Will says, slowly, sighing softly. "Not exactly."
He waits. It really is a lovely afternoon, and the sun is just warm enough to be comfortable without forcing the world into the thick, sticky humidity that he hates most of all. He can still hear a bee buzzing, close by, and nearer, louder, the sound of Will's breathing. He's sure that Will's sure he can hear his heart beating, from the look on Will's face, but he can't. Not yet, not without moving closer.
"So what is it?" he asks, when he's getting a little tired of waiting.
Will swallows hard, and edges closer. The expression on his face would make Stephen believe it's the hardest thing he's ever done, but he's not sure of that, somehow. When Will's lips gently brush his, he brings his hand up to lay it gently over Will's heart.
"Beating awfully fast," he comments, and then kisses Will again, because somehow, it feels okay, and somehow, he doesn't feel like some perverted lecher of a big brother. He feels like he's come home, like he should never leave, a feeling he's never felt before.
Pairing: Stephen/Will
Warnings: Incest
Rating: PG
Summary: Will's grown up an awful lot, it seems.
Will certainly has grown up, Stephen thinks, regarding him critically as he plays football with James. He's grown out of any plumpness he had and his face is no longer quite so plain, his dark hair wilder now and falling into his face with a bit more spirit. That was, maybe, what Will was lacking. He was always so serious, different, not quite a normal little brother in some ways. Stephen grins a little and leans against the wall, waiting to be noticed, waiting to see the flood of recognition and joy he's gotten so used to seeing on Will's face whenever he comes home on leave.
It's more than Will's face that has changed, he realises, giving him a critical once over. Of course, he's taller -- again; he seems to have grown at least five inches every time Stephen sees him again. A beanstalk, almost. Now he's tall and almost-lanky, a little more filled out than last time. Strong enough to, with a decent tackle, steal the ball from James and move towards the makeshift goal.
And then he sees Stephen, and the ball is forgotten.
"Steve!" he calls joyfully, and in a minute he's scrambling over the wall and embracing him, arms wrapping tight around him in a familiar squeezing hug. They're almost the same height now, though, and Will's voice has deepened a touch more than he'd've imagined, remembering that boy's soprano that soared so beautiful on the high notes.
"Will," he says, fierce gladness slinking into his voice. He's surprised to admit it to himself, as he pulls back to hold Will at arm's length and look him over again, that Will looks good. The grin on his face fits there, and it makes Stephen wants to do things not entirely brotherly. He shakes the thought away. "How're you, mate?"
"Better now that you're here," he says. James comes up behind him, having rescued the ball from a patch of nettles. Stephen looks him over as well, trying to feel the same spark of interest, so that maybe it's just normal, after being so long away. But James remains just James, grinning, a little chubbier than Will and by now even a touch shorter.
"Good to see you, Steve," he says, with not quite Will's warmth, and Stephen leans forward to hug him, with a touch more reserve.
"What do you think, then? I haven't changed it too much?"
Stephen sprawls out over the bed that was once his, nibbling at something absently and eyeing the changes Will has brought to the room. Nothing drastic: a few posters, a repaint, one or two of the models changed or rearranged. His brother seems almost anxious, though, as if it matters, as if it really, really means something. "It's your room, Will."
"Still," Will says, looking aside a bit and biting his lip. He still looks good, the sun coming through the skylight hitting his face in a way that makes him look a little older, and a little less ordinary. He sighs softly. "I wanted to keep it so it's a room you'd like. Just... because."
"A way of keeping a bit of me around?"
Will smiles. "Yeah, kinda like that."
He sits up, stretching out his long legs and yawning softly. "It's perfect, Will. You know you can do anything you want to this room, though. I won't be coming back here even when I do leave the navy."
"When will you leave the navy?"
There's an old anxiousness in Will's face, still. Stephen wonders if it's quite normal for his brother to be so eager to see him at home for good, but then, Will always did adore him. And he can't deny that he'd like to spend more time with Will -- and that he's been thinking rather too much for comfort about this new, grown up, familiar stranger Will.
"I don't know," he says, to keep those thoughts at bay, at least while Will is sitting right there.
"I miss you."
It does something to him, hearing that. It makes something twist tight and uncomfortable in his stomach. Regret, for staying away so long, for never being there for his little brother. Regret, for not seeing him grow up. Regret, because some days, he didn't think of Will, but only of the fun he was having, and he is suddenly, painfully aware that he has probably always been on Will's mind, all the time he was gone. And guilt, because he didn't write often enough, and because now he's here he isn't being the big brother he ought to be. He sighs softly and reaches up to ruffle Will's hair, easy, familiar, brotherly. "I missed you too, mate."
There have been times, today, when Stephen has thought about reaching out and drawing Will close and just kissing him. They've been alone all day -- a bike ride right out miles away from anywhere, followed by fishing, or at least, some semblance of fishing that didn't involve catching anything and mostly involved sitting in the warm sun and talking about anything, everything, and whatever falls in between. Nobody would've seen him, and he has had a feeling, sometimes, that it's just what Will wants, too.
He shakes his head slightly to push away the feeling, stretching his legs out to catch more of the sun that comes down, surprisingly warm even for this time of the year. Will is talking, quietly, aimlessly, about nothing in particular, and he half listens, and half watches a bee tumble lazily out of a flower and fly off buzzing gently.
"Steve?"
"Hmm?"
Will's eyes are serious, when he looks up, and so he makes an effort to stir himself, pushing up and supporting himself on one arm. He cocks his head slightly, raises an eyebrow, waits. "I can tell you anything, right?"
"Anything," he says, wondering what it could be, and squashing the silly desperate hope that Will has been feeling as he feels, lately. "Is something wrong?"
"No..." Will says, slowly, sighing softly. "Not exactly."
He waits. It really is a lovely afternoon, and the sun is just warm enough to be comfortable without forcing the world into the thick, sticky humidity that he hates most of all. He can still hear a bee buzzing, close by, and nearer, louder, the sound of Will's breathing. He's sure that Will's sure he can hear his heart beating, from the look on Will's face, but he can't. Not yet, not without moving closer.
"So what is it?" he asks, when he's getting a little tired of waiting.
Will swallows hard, and edges closer. The expression on his face would make Stephen believe it's the hardest thing he's ever done, but he's not sure of that, somehow. When Will's lips gently brush his, he brings his hand up to lay it gently over Will's heart.
"Beating awfully fast," he comments, and then kisses Will again, because somehow, it feels okay, and somehow, he doesn't feel like some perverted lecher of a big brother. He feels like he's come home, like he should never leave, a feeling he's never felt before.
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H-however, I can see Stephen/Will, even with what I've gotten from the canon of TDIR. Very nice, as usual! (There are ... beginning to get redundant. I apologize).
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