![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
TDIR: Enough
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Will/Barney, Will/Bran, Bran/Barney
Warnings: Angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Will wishes he cared. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
over_look.
Barney smells of paint and grass and sky and Will wishes he cared. Instead his brain transmutes it into how Bran would smell: grass and sky and lazy assured arrogance. He tightens his arms around Barney, feels him hold him tighter, and knows he's doing the same, making a mockery of what they do have. And that's not much, because Barney doesn't remember any more than any of the others. All they both have is that they love Bran, and that neither of them dare to reach for him.
Will imagines that Bran would be horrified if he knew. If he knew that every day of this holiday Will and Barney have come together to imagine, to reach into nothing for what they can't have, binding it around each other. Barney's kisses are soft, too soft -- Will imagines how Bran would kiss, nipping lightly at his lip, tugging, kissing him so hard they might merge into one.
Will has catalogued Barney's body: his hair, white-blond, not quite light enough, his eyes not strange enough and too soft, his face still boyish while Bran has become all angles. Less muscled, but almost the same height, and Will imagines it'd be similar to hold Bran even though he only knows how Barney's body fits his. Touching Barney has always been different than touching Bran would be. It's easier, for one thing, and Barney never shies back from him, trusts him.
Bran trusts him, too, but that's a different thing altogether. That is not this, this can never be that.
But it'll have to be enough.
Pairing: Will/Barney, Will/Bran, Bran/Barney
Warnings: Angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Will wishes he cared. For
over_look.Barney smells of paint and grass and sky and Will wishes he cared. Instead his brain transmutes it into how Bran would smell: grass and sky and lazy assured arrogance. He tightens his arms around Barney, feels him hold him tighter, and knows he's doing the same, making a mockery of what they do have. And that's not much, because Barney doesn't remember any more than any of the others. All they both have is that they love Bran, and that neither of them dare to reach for him.
Will imagines that Bran would be horrified if he knew. If he knew that every day of this holiday Will and Barney have come together to imagine, to reach into nothing for what they can't have, binding it around each other. Barney's kisses are soft, too soft -- Will imagines how Bran would kiss, nipping lightly at his lip, tugging, kissing him so hard they might merge into one.
Will has catalogued Barney's body: his hair, white-blond, not quite light enough, his eyes not strange enough and too soft, his face still boyish while Bran has become all angles. Less muscled, but almost the same height, and Will imagines it'd be similar to hold Bran even though he only knows how Barney's body fits his. Touching Barney has always been different than touching Bran would be. It's easier, for one thing, and Barney never shies back from him, trusts him.
Bran trusts him, too, but that's a different thing altogether. That is not this, this can never be that.
But it'll have to be enough.