Word Count: 1013
Rating: 'Soft' R
Summary: The things we hold on to.
Prompt: Oct 2nd challenge at slashing_lorne: Peanuts comic strip. And ‘072: Fixed’ for fanfic100.
Disclaimer If the parallel universe theory is correct, there's some distant AU out there where I own them. Unfortunately this is not it.
Notes: This is pretty much just fluff. What can I say? Sometimes a girl needs a little sweetness, or a lot of it. :p Also it turned out being far less Lorne-centric than I envisioned. Sorry. Maybe tommorow?
Thanks to azicrow for the beta. She protects you all from my completely arbitrary use of tenses.
Kavanagh looked down in devastation at the soggy, ruined half a page on the desk in front of him. It had been his ‘one personal item’. Of course things like that didn’t matter anymore. Not with the Deadalus’ semi-regular trips and the fact that he’d been back and forth a couple of times himself. It therefore didn’t really mean anything he tried to tell himself. It didn’t work.
There was a reason it had been his one item. His father, a fan of the Peanuts comic strip, had given him this, the first ever published strip as a graduation present. It had meant that much more because he knew how much his dad had treasured it.
In his first year here, it had been his refuge. His tiny piece of sanity in this crazy city. He’d taken it out of its plastic wallet when he most needed the comfort. Early this morning had been one of them. He’d woken up to find the Major gone. No note. No explanation. Just gone. It was to be expected of course. It was nothing more than sex. And the military man had too much at stake to risk anyone seeing him in his quarters. It hadn’t made it any less painful though.
That’s when he’d bought out the comic. He’d memorised it a long time ago, could see the brightly drawn characters with his eyes closed but he still liked to read it, to trace along the outlines with his finger. It reminded him of a simpler time. Foolishly, he’d left it on his desk when he went to work. Of course, today would have been the day that Simpson messed up the environmental controls.
With trembling hands he reached out to touch the mess of paper, stroking it gently just once, before crumbling it up, the wet paper crushing easily instead his hand and threw it in the trash. Pathetic sentimentality would do nothing but leave him in as much of a mess as the once carefully preserved strip.
That night Lorne appeared in his quarters again. Just as desperate and needy as the first time. His hands touching and groping almost before the door had shut behind them. Again, the only words they shared were needy whimpers and frantic pleas. Again, Lorne was gone when he awoke. This time he had nothing else to turn too.
They followed the same pattern on and off for the next two weeks. It was always Lorne who set the tone. He’d never been to the airman’s quarters. The days were the same as ever. Not even a glance if they passed each other in the corridor. His harsh, condescending tone if he called Lorne to switch on a piece of technology. The major’s response was, as always, friendly complaining and easy charm. There was never any hint at what they’d been doing in their off hours. It didn’t bother him. He wasn’t here to win any popularity contests. He’d never cared much what anyone else had thought of him. If he was nothing more than sex to Lorne than that’s all that Lorne was for him.
Then one night after they’d both been busy with their own lives and not seen each other for a few days, Lorne arrived in his quarters. He walked in, pulled the chair from the corner of the room and set it close to the only other chair at Kavanagh’s desk before sitting down and indicating with a nod of his head for the scientist to do the same.
Kavanagh sat down slowly, avoiding eye contact with the man. This was so out of the bounds of what they’d set up that he couldn’t possibly imagine it would be good. Still at least the Major had the decency to tell him it was over. He’d dealt with worse in the past.
Lorne leant forward and gently took hold of one hand, using his free hand to lift Kavangh’s chin, forcing him to look at the other man.
“I have something for you.” He said quietly. Kavanagh wasn’t sure, but he thought that those might very well have been the first non-work related words Lorne had ever said to him. He can’t think of a response so stayed seated, incredibly still, as he waited for the next move.
Lorne sighed slightly and unrolled a piece of paper he had been holding, that Kavanagh hadn’t even noticed until then. The scientist gasped as the paper opened up and a familiar pattern started to emerge, a hand drawn and painted version the Peanuts comic strip that had been destroyed.
“What?..I...How? How did you know?” He finally stutters out after a few false starts.
Lorne smiled, pleased at the response. “I have my sources.” He replied mysteriously, the smile growing and ending in deep dimples on either side.
“It’s not a bad copy.” Kavanagh said offhandedly, aiming for casual now that his thought processes had decided to catch up with him. “Where did you get it?”
“I drew it.” Nick replied matter-of-factly, no arrogance or pride in his voice. “I like to paint. It’s a nice vent.” He paused and smirked. “Well one of them anyway…perhaps not my favourite anymore.”
Kavanagh’s earlier attempt at being cool was completely forgotten as he gushed over the canvas. “Really? You drew it? That’s amazing! Of course there may be some copyright issues but I suppose that’s not so important out here.” He realised he was babbling and stopped all of a sudden. “Yeah, like I said. It’s pretty good.”
Lorne grinned again, and leaned in close, he kissed the scientist, a slow, sweet, exploratory kiss completely unlike their usual frantic ones. “I’m glad you like it.” He murmured softly against his lips, his warm breath tingled Kavanagh’s already sensitised nerve endings. “I took a little artistic license.” He added sheepishly, as he pulled away just enough to draw Kavanagh’s eyes to the bottom right hand corner. Scribbled into the page, in red ink to make it stand out from the picture were two words.