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krisipanics
Dec. 4th, 2010 10:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsAs part of her wishlist krisipanics asked for fic featuring Show Pony. This is more ficlet than fic, but I hope it works for you anyway ♥
With thanks tothemoononastick for looking this over.
“It’s easy,” Show Pony promises, and turns a tight circle around Mikey, who’s sitting at the side of the road, knees bent and head down, his hair falling forward and concealing his face.
Mikey fastens his borrowed rollerskates, bright pink laces cutting white-edged lines against his fingers as he says, “I’m going to break my neck.”
Show Pony skates backwards, and then twirls, arms to the sky and fingers pointed. “No you won’t.”
“An arm then.” Mikey ties a bow and then unfurls, straightening his legs and sitting upright. He brushes back his hair and peers down at his feet. And at this moment, his expression blank and guarded, he’s 100 percent Mikey -- Kobra Kid put aside along with the guns and the jacket.
“You’re not going to break an arm either,” Show Pony promises, because he’s not going to allow that to happen. He skates forward and holds out his hands. “Trust me.”
Instantly, Mikey reaches up, linking their fingers together. “If I break my arm you’ll have to fix my coffee.”
Mikey’s hands feel gritty, the skin of one calloused in parts, fitting the butt of his gun. Show Pony pulls Mikey upright. “You could make coffee one-handed.”
Mikey’s grip tightens as he balances on eight wheels. “What if I break both arms?”
“Then I’ll be out of here,” Show Pony says, and slowly moves backwards. “Because Gerard would kill me.”
Mikey frowns as he takes a half step/half roll forward on one foot. “I’d protect you.”
“How, by being a human shield?” Show Pony grins, imagining trying to hide behind Mikey. “Or are you planning to hit him with your arm splints?”
“I wouldn’t hit Gee,” Mikey says, indignant, like the very idea is absurd, and then amends. “Not hard anyway. Enough for you to get away.”
“You’re all heart,” Show Pony says and skates back, slow, so slow, as Mikey takes another shaky step forward. “And you’re not going to fall.”
Mikey clings on as he pushes off on one foot, his knees bent and back hunched. “I feel like fucking Bambi on ice.”
Show Pony can’t help laughing, the sound loud, breaking the still air. Deliberately, he looks at Mikey’s legs. “I can see the resemblance.”
Mikey pushes off on the opposite foot, tension radiating outwards. “Why am I doing this again?”
“Because I love to skate,” Show Pony says, and moves his thumb so it rests on the delicate skin of Mikey’s inner wrist.
“Right,” Mikey says, and he’s picking up speed, more the crawl of a broken-legged lizard and not one that’s already skewered. “It’s faster going by bike.”
“Not as much fun, though.” Show Pony looks over his shoulder, at the road that stretches for miles, and then back, past Mikey to their shadows that stretch out, elongated and dragging behind them. “Ready to go solo?”
“No,” Mikey says, and keeps skating forward, the jerky roll of his wheels merging with Show Pony’s smooth drone. “If I break my legs....”
“I’ll carry you,” Show Pony says, and tightens his fingers around Mikey’s before letting go and gliding off to one side.
For a moment Mikey flounders, arms outstretched and flailing. Then sinks into the rhythm of his skating, slow but steady, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Show Pony wants to spin and jump, his happiness expressed in the whir of his wheels. Instead he stays at Mikey’s side, says with a grin, “Told you.”
Which is when Mikey goes down. Yelping, he comes to an abrupt stop, his feet flying up as he falls. Instinctively reacting, Show Pony tries to grab hold, and ends on the ground, his ass aching and flat on his back, Mikey stretched out to his side.
Stunned, Show Pony stares up, eyes half closed against the glare of the sun, then looks toward Mikey. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Mikey says, and turns his head, cheek against sandy asphalt and the wheels of his skates still spinning. “I’m broken.”
Imagining snapped bones, Show Pony pushes himself up on his elbow and reaches out, his stomach clenched as he gets ready to skate for the others. “What is it? Leg, arm, tell me it’s not your back.”
“None of those,” Mikey says, and his mouth curls into a smile. “I broke my ass.”
Relief strikes hard and Show Pony hits Mikey hard on the chest. “Bastard.”
Mikey’s smile fades and Show Pony gives one last jab at Mikey’s ribs before lying back down, stretched out in the middle of a road in the middle of a desert. Sand all around and the air hazy with heat.
His wheels finally still, Mikey says, “Stay a while?”
Show Pony curls his hand around Mikey’s in reply.
krisipanics asked for fic featuring Show Pony. This is more ficlet than fic, but I hope it works for you anyway ♥With thanks to
themoononastick for looking this over. “It’s easy,” Show Pony promises, and turns a tight circle around Mikey, who’s sitting at the side of the road, knees bent and head down, his hair falling forward and concealing his face.
Mikey fastens his borrowed rollerskates, bright pink laces cutting white-edged lines against his fingers as he says, “I’m going to break my neck.”
Show Pony skates backwards, and then twirls, arms to the sky and fingers pointed. “No you won’t.”
“An arm then.” Mikey ties a bow and then unfurls, straightening his legs and sitting upright. He brushes back his hair and peers down at his feet. And at this moment, his expression blank and guarded, he’s 100 percent Mikey -- Kobra Kid put aside along with the guns and the jacket.
“You’re not going to break an arm either,” Show Pony promises, because he’s not going to allow that to happen. He skates forward and holds out his hands. “Trust me.”
Instantly, Mikey reaches up, linking their fingers together. “If I break my arm you’ll have to fix my coffee.”
Mikey’s hands feel gritty, the skin of one calloused in parts, fitting the butt of his gun. Show Pony pulls Mikey upright. “You could make coffee one-handed.”
Mikey’s grip tightens as he balances on eight wheels. “What if I break both arms?”
“Then I’ll be out of here,” Show Pony says, and slowly moves backwards. “Because Gerard would kill me.”
Mikey frowns as he takes a half step/half roll forward on one foot. “I’d protect you.”
“How, by being a human shield?” Show Pony grins, imagining trying to hide behind Mikey. “Or are you planning to hit him with your arm splints?”
“I wouldn’t hit Gee,” Mikey says, indignant, like the very idea is absurd, and then amends. “Not hard anyway. Enough for you to get away.”
“You’re all heart,” Show Pony says and skates back, slow, so slow, as Mikey takes another shaky step forward. “And you’re not going to fall.”
Mikey clings on as he pushes off on one foot, his knees bent and back hunched. “I feel like fucking Bambi on ice.”
Show Pony can’t help laughing, the sound loud, breaking the still air. Deliberately, he looks at Mikey’s legs. “I can see the resemblance.”
Mikey pushes off on the opposite foot, tension radiating outwards. “Why am I doing this again?”
“Because I love to skate,” Show Pony says, and moves his thumb so it rests on the delicate skin of Mikey’s inner wrist.
“Right,” Mikey says, and he’s picking up speed, more the crawl of a broken-legged lizard and not one that’s already skewered. “It’s faster going by bike.”
“Not as much fun, though.” Show Pony looks over his shoulder, at the road that stretches for miles, and then back, past Mikey to their shadows that stretch out, elongated and dragging behind them. “Ready to go solo?”
“No,” Mikey says, and keeps skating forward, the jerky roll of his wheels merging with Show Pony’s smooth drone. “If I break my legs....”
“I’ll carry you,” Show Pony says, and tightens his fingers around Mikey’s before letting go and gliding off to one side.
For a moment Mikey flounders, arms outstretched and flailing. Then sinks into the rhythm of his skating, slow but steady, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Show Pony wants to spin and jump, his happiness expressed in the whir of his wheels. Instead he stays at Mikey’s side, says with a grin, “Told you.”
Which is when Mikey goes down. Yelping, he comes to an abrupt stop, his feet flying up as he falls. Instinctively reacting, Show Pony tries to grab hold, and ends on the ground, his ass aching and flat on his back, Mikey stretched out to his side.
Stunned, Show Pony stares up, eyes half closed against the glare of the sun, then looks toward Mikey. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Mikey says, and turns his head, cheek against sandy asphalt and the wheels of his skates still spinning. “I’m broken.”
Imagining snapped bones, Show Pony pushes himself up on his elbow and reaches out, his stomach clenched as he gets ready to skate for the others. “What is it? Leg, arm, tell me it’s not your back.”
“None of those,” Mikey says, and his mouth curls into a smile. “I broke my ass.”
Relief strikes hard and Show Pony hits Mikey hard on the chest. “Bastard.”
Mikey’s smile fades and Show Pony gives one last jab at Mikey’s ribs before lying back down, stretched out in the middle of a road in the middle of a desert. Sand all around and the air hazy with heat.
His wheels finally still, Mikey says, “Stay a while?”
Show Pony curls his hand around Mikey’s in reply.
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Date: 2010-12-19 10:16 am (UTC)I keep thinking of Mikey trying to rollerskate and laughing. He would look so funny *g*