fizzerbass

Phone Calls, Part 15c: Movin' On (LAST CHAPTER)

2009-08-09T20:48:49Z

Title: Phone Calls, Part 15c
Author:

Rating: NC-17 for rough, but consensual, sex
Word Count: 7,465 - so it's in three parts
Notes: Yes, you read right, I finally finished Phone Calls. Believe it? Longer note inside...
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Annie Proulx. I only own the angst and the mistakes.

Things got a little better after that. Jack was still in the grips of serious depression, no doubt, but he wasn’t so tortured any more. The grief counseling sessions Rosie found for him were mainly responsible, giving Jack a structure he didn’t know he needed and getting him out of the house, slowly bringing him back to the real world and a life outside his guilt and regret. There were days and weeks and months of two steps forward and ten steps back, of daring to be happy with Ennis one minute only to tumble head-long into an abyss of despair and anger at himself for attempting any emotion other than pain or remorse the next.

But slowly, ever so slowly, the anger turned into something else. Not quite acceptance, for he could never fully accept a world without Bobby in it, but something more along the lines of resignation. This was his life, and while he had parts he regretted with his whole being, it was life he could live with. Not easily, not peacefully, but never the less, live with and not hate himself with every breath he took. It was what it was. His past, staying in the past where it belonged.

Which left Jack to deal with his future. His future with Ennis. Or rather, dealing with the fact he was finally ready to face his future with Ennis and Ennis…wasn’t. Oh, Ennis was right there every step of the way, supporting him and sitting with him through every one of his various moods and emotional fits, and Jack knew he always would be. Ennis was definitely in it for the long haul, definitely wanted to give Jack the sweet life he’d denied him all those years ago. Trouble was, Ennis’s sweet life apparently didn’t include a sex life.

At first it didn’t bother Jack because honestly, sex was the last thing on his mind. Rosie said it was normal, said grief took its toll on a body and not to worry too much about it. That part of his life would come back to him when it was ready and not a minute sooner. Trouble was, when his dick started making itself known again, somewhere about eighteen months after Bobby and Lureen’s death, Ennis was too busy handling him with kid gloves to do anything other than hold him close in bed at night.

Jack tried. Tried to let Ennis know he was ready to join the land of the living again, giving him subtle –and some not so subtle – hints that he was ready to resume that part of their relationship. Hell, that part of their relationship had been the only part of their relationship for so long it amazed Jack they even still had a relationship without it. Which made him realize just how strong their relationship really was now, because after twenty years with Ennis, Jack knew just how much Ennis liked sex and how much the other man needed it just as bad as he did. So where was he getting it from?

Jack rolls on his back to stare at the ceiling, his hard-on making a ridiculous tent at his waist. He feels anger roll through his body fast on the heels of his arousal because Ennis has just denied him again, slipping out of bed with a mumbled, ‘got to get ready for work’. It’s the second time in three days and Jack’s sick of it. Sick of it and a little fearful, truth be told, that maybe Ennis really doesn’t want him that way any more after all he’s seen these last eighteen months.

Well, you know what? Tough shit. Jack’s tired of feeling afraid and weak and maybe he’s learned a lesson or two about saying what you mean to say before the chance to say it is gone.

“Who you fuckin’, Ennis, huh? Know you got to be getting’ it from someone and it sure as shit ain’t me. Steve been bendin’ over for you after work? Maybe you an’ Rosie are friendlier than I think?”

Ennis goes still on his way to the bathroom, his eyes glazing over with anger hot enough to burn as he growls over his shoulder. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, Jack?

Jack scrambles out of bed, circling around Ennis to get right up in his face, stabbing the tense man’s chest with each point he makes. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout the way you won’t even touch me. I’m talkin’ ‘bout the way I know there ain’t no way you’ve gone almost two years without getting’ any.” He grabs Ennis’s hand and thrusts it on his own cock. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout how much I know you like this, like touchin’ it and suckin’ it and how you ain’t doin’ it with me, so you got to be doin’ with someone else.”

Ennis pulls his hand away, pushing past Jack forcibly. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

Jack reaches out and grabs Ennis’s arm, spinning him around. “I do know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, Ennis. I’m talkin’ ‘bout exactly this!” He pulls Ennis’s hand back down to his cock. “You won’t even touch me!”

Ennis breaks free of Jack’s grasp on his hand, pushing Jack back hard at the shoulders. “I’m bein’ respectful, asshole! Tryin’ to let you get better.”

“Bullshit, Ennis.” Jack pushes right back, moving Ennis a good foot. “You were never shy ‘bout shovin’ your dick up my ass before, all those years when you knew somethin’ was botherin’ me. So what’s changed now? Got yourself another piece of ass better than mine?”

Ennis comes back close to Jack, snarling deadly but quiet in his face. “I ain’t fuckin’ no one else, Twist, so stop sayin’ it now.” His eyes squint shut, his words shooting hard enough to bruise. “I know how to keep my dick in my pants, Jack, and I got a hand for when I don’t. Can’t say the same for you, can I?”

Jack lunges forward, grabbing the straps of the wife-beater Ennis wore to bed between his hands and twisting them tight. “Fuck you, del Mar! I did what I had to do back then ‘cause you didn’t want me.” He releases his hands suddenly, jabbing his finger furiously inches from Ennis’s face. “Don’t make me do it again.”

Ennis grabs the finger and twists Jack’s whole arm, spinning him around and bending him over at the waist and shoving him on the bed. He pulls Jack’s pants down roughly, his fingers scratching red lines into Jack’s skin as he pulls his own pajamas down just far enough to get his cock out. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, asshole.” He spits into his free hand, transferring his grip from Jack’s arm to the back of his neck to hold him in place. “Gonna fuck you so hard you’ll never go nowhere.”

Jack inhales sharply as Ennis thrusts into him fast and furious, the pain tremendous but exactly what he needs.

“You were never his Jack. I’m fucking you now. Me. This is my cock in your ass and don’t you forget it. Mine, Jack, mine.” He grabs Jack’s hips with both hands, never stopping his rhythm. “Never his...never his…you were never his.”

Jack hears Ennis’s words, beating into his brain with each angry thrust of Ennis’s cock in his ass. He doesn’t understand them at first, his mind too full of lust and rage and desire for things to make sense, but eventually, the meaning makes itself clear. This is the closest they’ve ever come to talking about Randall.

Jack is overcome with regret and anguish and now, more than ever, he needs Ennis to do this. To fuck him hard and rough and full of rage and without pity or holding back. He needs this to hurt his body as much as it’s hurting his heart to know Ennis thought Randall actually occupied any part of his heart. He needs this…

…and isn’t going to get it because now Ennis is stopping, his breath ragged and his chest heaving, his thrusts slowing to a stop. His hands release their bruising grip on Jack’s hips as his head falls forward onto Jack’s back.

“You were never his, Jack. Never.”

Ennis’s words are broken, his voice shattered as his breath hitches and he begins to cry. Jack is stunned because he’s only seen Ennis cry twice in twenty years, the last time being the day he came to Texas to find Jack passed out cold and bleeding on Bobby’s bed. There isn’t much he remembers about that day but he does remember Ennis breaking down into tears after getting him strapped into the truck. He remembers running his hand through Ennis’s curls as Ennis lay in his lap, sobbing so hard and so silently, clutching his waist as if to never let go.

Jack feels Ennis’s tears wetting his back now and realizes he has done nothing but hurt this man since he’s come to Texas. Denying his growth, refusing to see the changes he struggled to make because he, Jack Fucking Twist, was so goddamned selfish and wrapped up in his own pain. Well, not anymore. Not again after today.

He rises up on his knees, bringing his arms behind him to grab Ennis so the other man doesn’t fall backward. He gently twists his hips, letting Ennis slip from within him, and continues turning around so they are chest to chest, face to face. Ennis is hiding behind his hands and Jack reaches for them, clasping them tightly to his chest to reveal Ennis’s tear-streaked face. He leans forward, planting soft kisses all over Ennis’s cheeks, his eyes, his mouth, his nose, everywhere he can reach.

“Ssh, Ennis, ssh. Not never, Ennis, not never. Always. I’ve always been yours. Every day since I was nineteen years old, I’ve been yours.”

Ennis pulls his hands from Jack’s clasp and pulls him roughly to his chest, crushing Jack in an embrace so tight he can hardly breathe.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I never should a done that to you. Never should have taken you like that…been so rough-”

“No, Ennis, stop. You did nothing wrong. I asked you to do that to me. I made you do it, practically begged you to do it. You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“But, Jack…it is wrong. I knew what you were tryin’ to do. I knew you were tryin’ to piss me off and I should a been stronger, I should a just walked away-”

“No!” Jack roars, pushing himself out of Ennis’s embrace, anger making his eyes glitter with blue flame. “Don’t you EVER walk away from me, Ennis del Mar. Ever! I need you to stand toe-to-toe with me. I need you to call me on my bullshit and I need you to not back down just ‘cause of all I been through and ‘cause you think I can’t take it. I need…”

He trails off, seeing the hurt still lingering in Ennis’s eyes. Hurt he’s caused, but hurt he can fix, too. He cups Ennis’s face in his hands, letting his thumbs caress the other man’s cheeks. He leans in and kisses Ennis…soft…sensual…his lips embracing Ennis’s top and bottom, surrounding his mouth and sealing in his want, sealing in his need for this man that runs through his body faster and deeper than the blood flowing through his veins.

“I need you to love me, Ennis. Just love me. Not protect me, not keep me safe from harm, but love me. Help me know I can feel something other than pain and regret. Help me feel alive again.”

He kisses Ennis, letting his hands push back through the other man’s hair to cup the back of his neck. He feels Ennis’s hands, warm against his lower back and let’s himself be pulled back into Ennis’s embrace. He deepens the kiss, licking gently at Ennis’s lips, loving the feel of Ennis’s tongue against his when the other man opens his mouth. Loving the look of warm brandy desire in Ennis’s eyes when he breaks the kiss.

“Can you do that, Cowboy? Can you love me like that?”

Ennis smiles, a slow, sexy smile that makes Jack’s heart beat fast in his chest as a wave of warmth spreads from his heart throughout his body.

“Keep kissing me like that, Jack Twist, and I’ll love you all night long.”

Jack laughs, little bubbles of happiness bursting inside as Ennis buries his head in his neck and starts licking and biting a trail down to his chest. He falls back onto the pillows, dragging Ennis with him and lays there as the other man gets to work. And this time, when Ennis enters him, it is soft, and slow and everything love should be. Each push, each pull relentlessly tugging on Jack’s heart, his mind, his soul.

Always…always…always.

Jack shakes his head to clear the memories, ruefully remembering the hills and valleys he’s traveled to get to this place. He looks around the room one more time and picks up his suitcase, not looking back once he leaves the room. He goes downstairs to find Ennis just coming in the front door, the other man tiredly rubbing the back of his neck as he looks up at Jack, pointing his chin in the direction of the suitcase.

“That the last one, Bud?”

Jack nods, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He expected to feel sad today, to feel bad about leaving the place where he lived with Bobby and Lureen for so long, but he really doesn’t. He searches inside, casting about for what it is he really feels and settles on content. Not happy, not sad, but content. Comfortable with what’s he’s doing and who he’s doing it with. It’s a good day.

Ennis’s words bring him out of his reverie. “Ready to go?”

He looks at Ennis, at his slim form, his strong shoulders, his weathered hands and thinks about everything they’ve been through the last two years, hell, the last twenty-two years. He feels a small curl of warmth in his belly because, yes, he is ready for this. Ready to move on, ready to go forward, ready to face his future.

“Yeah, Cowboy, I’m ready. Just…take your time getting there, okay?”

Ennis’s eyes cloud with confusion. “We’re followin’ each other, Jack. Ain’t we gonna get there at the same time? You ‘fraid your shiny new truck won’t make it the three hours it’s gonna take to get there?”

Jack smiles. “No, smartass, I’m not worried ‘bout the truck. I just got something I want to do before you get there, alright?”

Ennis looks at him for a long time, and Jack can see the worry in his eyes. He crosses the room and places his hands on Ennis’s chest, running one up to cup Ennis’s neck. “I’m fine, Ennis. Really. I’m not sad or nothin’, I promise.”

Ennis wraps his arms around Jack’s lower back, dropping their foreheads together. “Just need some time to say good-bye?”

Good-bye? No. He’s said enough good-byes to last him a lifetime. And the funny thing is he’s come to realize you never really do say good-bye to people or things you’ve loved in your life. The important ones stay with you and shape you and mold you even after they’ve gone on from your life. They’re always a part of you if you want them to be, tucked away inside where they’re safe and warm.

No, what he has in mind is more of a new hello. Hello to the next chapter of his life, the one where he still holds on to Bobby and Lureen and their good memories and the one where he gets acquainted with a life lived with Ennis. Thinking of the new bed he’s having delivered, and the new sheets he washed and hid away in his suitcase, he lifts his chin slightly to brush his lips against Ennis’s. He wants to get the new furniture all set up so Ennis walks in fresh, so they start again fresh, in a place and a bed with memories only theirs to make.

“Not exactly, but kind of. Just…when we get close, go to the store for some milk or some smokes or somethin’, alright?”

Ennis shrugs, giving Jack his own soft, sweet kiss. “Alright, Bud, if that’s what you want. How will I know when to come home?”

Jack laughs, pulling away from Ennis and getting his suitcase from where he left it by the stairs. “That’s easy, friend.” He reaches into his pocket and tosses a quarter at Ennis as he walks by him on the way out the door.

“Call me.”

_____________________________________________________________________

*A/N: I listened to this song, I’m Moving On by Rascal Flatts, 308 times in the writing of both this chapter and the whole story. To me, it is the very embodiment of Jack’s journey. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nleJZInNj7U

Phone Calls, Part 15b: Movin' On (LAST CHAPTER)

2009-08-09T20:44:52Z

Title: Phone Calls, Part 15b
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: NC-17 for rough, but consensual, sex
Word Count: 7,465 - so it's in three parts
Notes: Yes, you read right, I finally finished Phone Calls. Believe it? Longer note inside...
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Annie Proulx. I only own the angst and the mistakes.

Ennis was gone for two weeks and Jack didn’t see him again ‘til he came back to bring him home from the hospital. Two weeks they’ve never talked about and most likely never will. Jack knows Ennis stayed with Steve the whole time and he’s pretty sure they slept together while he was doing it. Doesn’t matter if Steve is married with kids, because Jack knows better than anyone that particular fact doesn’t count for shit sometimes and he’s seen the way Steve looks at Ennis when no one else is looking. Jack’s not going to ask or accuse because that would be some serious pot calling the kettle black shit and, really, there’s no need to talk about it. He knows what it’s like to try and get someone out of your heart by fucking them out or getting them fucked out of you in return. He figures Ennis found out for himself what Jack already knew…that you can’t kick somebody out of your head when they live in your heart.

Besides, Jack had enough trouble just dealing with being home again, living in a house full of memories made by absent ghosts, to worry about what Ennis did while he was gone. The depression he’d been flirting with before his hospital stay became a full-time lover once he got back and it was so damn easy to let the sadness pull him under and shut himself away from the world. Days became nights as he slept his way around the clock, never knowing if Ennis was getting up to go to work or if the tired cowboy was just coming home when they met in the kitchen over coffee. Somewhere deep in his brain, Jack knew he should care about this, should want to be better, should want to be there for Ennis but, honestly, it was just too hard. Too tiring. Way too much like fucking work just to make sure he showered every other day and ate something once in a while when Ennis was watching. Sleep was all he wanted. Sleep was all he needed. He felt no pain when sleeping.

Ennis knew it’d been a bad day as soon as he walked in the door. All the lights were off and the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun heating the room. Jack wasn’t in the kitchen, the den or the dining room and Ennis finally found him still in bed, covers pulled up tight around him like he was freezing. No whiskey bottles laying ‘round, so Jack might be willing to talk if Ennis could make him.

“C’mon, Jack. Out of bed. Let’s get some supper, huh? I’ll buy.”

Jack doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, so Ennis crosses to the bed. “Want to go ridin’? Can probably still rent a mare today if ya hurry.”

Jack draws a deep breath and lets it out slow, rolling onto his back. “I wasn’t any kind of Daddy, Ennis.”

Not this again. Jack’s been on a self-destructive streak lately, not remembering any of the good times he shared with Bobby, only letting bad, sad memories seep in. Ennis has been letting him go on about it, hoping it would die a natural death like the other things Jack’s gotten hung up on as he goes through whatever it is he’s going through, but this one’s sticking around like shit on a shoe. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the fact he’s been working all day while Jack’s been sleeping, maybe it’s just the fact Ennis is tired of Sad Jack and wants his Jack back in his life, but whatever it is, it makes his words come out angry.

“Bullshit, Jack. That ain’t true and you know it.”

Jack picks something up off the covers – Bobby’s yearbook – and runs his hand over the raised words. “Yeah, it is. I wasn’t anything like he needed, like a good Daddy should be.”

Ennis hears the remorse and regret filling Jack’s voice and feels something snap in his mind. This has got to end and it’s got to end now. He ain’t no kind of doctor but he knows getting stuck in sadness like this, like a dumbass cow stuck in briars and brambles, ain’t healthy. He reaches down suddenly and yanks the covers off Jack’s huddled form, all but pulling the other man out of bed and dragging him down the hall.

“Tired of this shit, Jack. Gonna show you once and for all you were a good Daddy to Bobby…a good husband to Lureen.” He stops at the little table by the front door where the mail’s piling up. He picks up a picture of Jack and Bobby at some school function, Jack’s arm around Bobby’s shoulders and both wearing identical mile-wide Twist smiles He shoves it in Jack’s unresponsive hands and raises it to Jack’s face.

“Look, Jack. Look at this picture. Look at the two a you smilin’.”

Jack starts to cry, shaking his head side to side as he clenches the picture close to his chest, and Ennis pulls him over to the shelves by the fireplace where more framed pictures are tucked among the books. “Here. Look at this one. You and Lureen at some dance. She’s smilin’, ain’t she Jack?”

Jack tries to pull away, dropping the picture of Bobby, his fingers picking frantically at Ennis’s hold on his arm. “Doesn’t mean nothing. Lureen always smiled for pictures.”

Frustrated, Ennis slams the picture back on the shelf and grabs the next one, not loosening his grip on Jack. “Well, this one a Bobby looks happy. Him holdin’ that ribbon and lookin’ at you.” He all but shoves it against Jack’s chest, adding another one as soon as he can get his fingers on it. “And this one here. Christmastime. The three of you happy as clams. This one at the beach and the sandcastle you made. ‘Member you tellin’ me ‘bout that one when we met up that year.”

Jack finally tears his arm away from Ennis, letting all the frames slide to the floor as he collapses in a heap, his hands covering his face and muffling his words. “Not true, Ennis. It’s not true. We weren’t happy.” He rocks forward and back as he sobs. “Was just pretend.”

Ennis closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, feeling his heart knocking around in his chest. He squats down slowly in front of Jack, picking up a picture of Bobby and holding it in his hands. He runs a thumb over the smiling boy in the picture, his own face smiling softly in return.

“Kids can’t pretend, Jack. Least not at this age.” He reaches out and grabs Jack’s shoulder, stilling the other man’s rocking. “You and Lureen may have been putting on a show for all the neighbors and town folk, but Bobby didn’t know from shit about that kind of stuff. He was happy, Jack. Any fool looking at these pictures can see he was a happy kid.”

Jack takes the picture from Ennis, his tears dripping off his chin to plop on the glass. “Don’t know, Ennis. Maybe all kids look this way.”

Ennis reaches around and grabs his wallet out of his back pocket, sitting down cross-legged and scootching close so his knees touch Jack’s. “Nuh-uh, Jack. Not all kids look like Bobby.”

He pulls out a picture, carefully wrapped in plastic, of him, Junior and Jenny taken one Thanksgiving. Even though he’s got his hands on each of their shoulders, they all look stiff and posed, the girls with their hands folded in front of them and the barest trace of a smile on their faces. “Sometimes they look like this.”

Jack reaches for the picture, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He stares at it a long time, his chin trembling as he bites his lip the way he does when he doesn’t want to cry any more. Ennis shifts around so he’s sitting next to Jack, both of them looking at the quiet family in the picture for a minute before Ennis picks up one of the pictures of Bobby and places it on top.

“My girls are happy, Jack…but I don’t make them happy. Not the way you did Bobby.”

“Then why are you here, Ennis?” Jack’s voice is quiet. “Why aren’t you with them, trying to fix things?”

Ennis shrugs, putting the picture back in his wallet. “M’here with you. Trying to fix things with you. My girls don’t need me no more.”

Jack shoots up off the floor, scrambling away as if touched by fire. “No! I will not be the cause of you losing them! Not like the way you were the cause-” Jack cuts his words off as Ennis raises his head quick and sharp.

“The way I was the cause of you losing Bobby? S’that what you think, Jack?”

Jack stumbles back against the wall, confusion clearly evident on his face. “Yes! No! I don’t know!” He jams his hands through his hair, standing it up on edge before slamming his fists into the wall behind him. “I’m so damn mad at you, Ennis!”

“Mad at me?” Ennis stands, pointing a finger at his own chest. Rosie had told him anger was a stage in the grieving process and looks like Jack’s getting his money’s worth.

“Yes, you. If you hadn’t called me, if we hadn’t started up again, none of this would a happened. I wouldn’t a been thinkin’ on you instead of getting’ my truck fixed and Bobby and Lureen would still be here.”

They’ve had this conversation before, but only on the phone and never in person. Ennis had held quiet then, not wanting to upset Jack any further but enough is enough. “What difference does it make if they were still here? You still wouldn’t be happy!”

Jack snorts, throwing his arms wide. “Who gives a fuck? It don’t matter if I’m happy or not, not when I’m the one that got them killed!”

Ennis takes a step forward, grabbing Jack’s shoulders hard. “This isn’t your fault, Jack. This is somethin’ that happened to you, not ‘cause a you.”

Jack bucks Ennis’s arms off, storming away towards the windows before pivoting around and striding right back. “So, what? You’re my consolation prize? My kid’s dead and now I get to spend the rest a my life with you as some sort of comfort?”

Jack’s nearly vibrating with anger, his hands trembling where he’s got them cocked on his hips, ready to shot at will. Ennis looks at his face, his jaw set, his mouth hard, his eyes crackling with intensity. But for the first time, Ennis sees something else hidden in their burdened blue depths and he thinks he might know what Jack’s really aiming at here.

“No, Jack. Ain’t like that. S’not an either-or kind of thing. Shit happens. Bad shit happens and it seems like the worst kind of shit’s happened to you and I’m sorry, Jack. My god, I ain’t never been sorrier about anythin’ in my life.” He reaches out a lays his hand on Jack’s heart. “But I can’t change what happened and I can’t fix what went wrong. I can only be here to go forward…to help you go forward…’cause I don’t know what else to do. 'Cause there ain’t nothing else I can do. I just…I just want to be with you, Jack...and I hate it took you losin’ Bobby to make that clear to me.”

Jack takes a step back, letting Ennis’s hand slide off his chest, still angry. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if I want to be with you. How can I? How can I even think about being happy with you when Bobby ain’t never gonna get the chance to be happy with anyone?”

Ennis puts his hands in his back pockets, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t know Jack.” He sucks his bottom lip in over his teeth, biting down hard to stop the fear from bubbling up inside. What if Jack couldn’t get past this? What if Jack doesn’t want him around any more? “You want me to go, Jack?”

“Hell yes, I want you to go. Leave me the fuck alone.” Jack crosses his arms over his chest, defiantly daring Ennis to take him seriously.

Ennis shakes his head. “Can’t do that, Jack. Know you. Know you’ll just hole up in that bed and stay there for days on end, not eatin’ or nothin’.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” Jack snorts. “Won’t hurt anyone that way.”

Ennis hates Jack talking like this, like his life ain’t worth nothing. “It’ll hurt me, Jack. Bad.”

“Well, then welcome to my world, Ennis del Mar. Might be nice havin’ someone else ‘round here feeling as bad as me.”

Ennis looks down at his boots, remembering what Rosie told him survivor’s guilt. “You don’t feel bad, Jack, you feel guilty. Guilty for still bein’ alive and havin’ somethin’ you’ve always wanted ‘cause Bobby and Lureen are gone.”

He looks up to find Jack staring at him wide-eyed, his anger radiating off him in waves. “Of course I feel guilty! It’s all my fault! All my fuckin’ fault…” He crumples forward suddenly, grabbing Ennis’s shirt desperately. “I made this happen! I wanted to be with you so bad and I wished they were gone, I wished…oh my god, Ennis what did I do? What did I do?”

Ennis pulls him close, cradling Jack’s head in the crook of his neck as the other man starts to sobs, his shoulders shaking violently. “Ssh, Jack…s’alright…s’alright.” He holds him tightly, squeezing hard enough make his arms ache. “Ain’t your fault, Jack. Was an accident. You didn’t cause this.”

They stay locked together until Jack’s tears stop and his breathing evens out. Ennis pushes Jack gently away from him, trying to see his eyes because Jack needs to really hear what he has to say, needs to see the truth of Ennis’s words. “What you’re goin’ through is normal, Jack. Natural. It’s supposed to happen this way.”

Jack blinks slowly, his lashes wet and clumped together. “Natural?”

Ennis palms the wetness off Jack’s stubble, nodding. “Yep. Rosie told me…told me to expect a lot of anger…”

“Ohhh, I got that Ennis. Got it in spades.” Jack takes a shaky breath, letting his forehead fall to Ennis’s shoulder. “M’so angry all the time, so fuckin’ full of rage…when I’m not cryin’ like a dumbass, anyway.”

Ennis ruffles the hair at the back of Jack’s head, chuckling softly. “Nothin’ dumb ‘bout what you’re goin’ through. Just different stages.” He shrugs his shoulder to lift Jack’s head. “But, Bud? I think you’re stuck in this stage and it ain’t doin’ you no good.”

Jack drops his head, looking down at the floor. “Don’t know how not to be, Ennis. Don’t know what to do to stop feelin’ this way…or even if I want to stop feelin’ this way.” He looks up, his eyes haunted, his voice a ghostly whisper. “I don’t want to get over losin’ Bobby and Lureen.”

Ennis thinks back to losing his own parents when he was younger. “You aren’t goin’ to, Jack, not by a longshot. But…you can learn to live with it, learn to get by without them here.” Learn to get by with me here instead, he thinks to himself.

Jack stares at him, clearly not believing Ennis in the least, but, maybe for the first time, wanting to.

Part three: http://fizzerbass.livejournal.com/56147.html

Phone Calls, Part 15: Movin' On (LAST CHAPTER)

2009-08-09T20:42:50Z

Title: Phone Calls, Part 15a
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: NC-17 for rough, but consensual, sex
Word Count: 7,465 - so it's in three parts
Notes: Yes, you read right, I finally finished Phone Calls. Believe it? Longer note inside...
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Annie Proulx. I only own the angst and the mistakes.

Okay, so where to start with this? I first began Phone Calls in September of 2007 – yes, almost two years ago – and I can honestly say I have thought of this story in some way, shape or form almost daily over the last seven-hundred and twenty-some odd days. Simply put, this story haunts me.

Hunts me because of what I’ve done to Jack. Haunts me because of the subject matter I so blithely wrote about - treating depression , suicide, and the stunning wallop of pain only death can bring as if I knew what I was talking about when, in fact, I was clueless. Absolutely clueless. And I pray I haven’t offended anyone with my ignorant and seeming cavalier attitude towards these very serious emotional issues. I truly meant no harm.

Well, I’m not so clueless anymore. I’ve experienced the death of a loved one – not a child, thank God, but of my Mother, which is excruciating in its own right, and I know now firsthand some of the things Jack’s been dealing with. Things that hurt your heart, take your breath away, and make you wonder if you’ll ever get through a day ever again without crying. Things that made me realize there is no way I can leave Jack where I’ve left him, in the pit of his despair.

So, I give you the end of Phone Calls. I already had parts of the last three chapters written (in italics) and what I’ve done is kind of smush them all together, hopefully with some coherent filler in between, so as to give Jack and me the closure we both needed. Did I cover all the questions/issues I set out to? No. Did I gloss over certain parts and emotions that deserve further consideration? Yes, most definitely. In fact, some parts of this are so glossed-over they shine brighter than a midday sun. But at least it’s done. It’s finished. And we can finally move on…

This is dedicated to all of you who have poked, prodded, and sporked me to continue. To those of you who have cared, emailed me, pm’d me and generally just let me know that I’ve never been alone in any of this. And, most especially, for Em. She makes my world a happy place just by breathing. My words are better because of her – and so am I.

~*~*~*~

Jack closes the lid of his suitcase and snaps it shut, the click of the lock catching loud in the almost empty room. He’s been packing for what feels like forever, box after box, suitcase upon suitcase, and it seems impossible this day is finally here. He’s gone. Out of here. Finally leaving Texas and not looking back.

It’s been two years since Bobby and Lureen were killed and almost as long since Ennis came to Texas. He spent the better part of three months in the hospital, recovering both from pneumonia and the two surgeries on his wrist to repair the nerve and muscle damage caused by putting his fist through the window of his back door. The pneumonia was a distant memory, thank Christ, because that had been hell and a half to live through, coughing up what felt like both his lungs on an almost daily basis. The wrist still gave him trouble, but only if he tried to hold something too heavy or went riding for too long.

He started riding again about a year ago, when Ennis had all but forced him outside and on the back of a horse he’d rented for the afternoon. Jack felt like six different kinds of fool sitting on that mare in the middle of his concrete street, but at least he was feeling something, and damn, he forgot how freeing it was to race with the devil on your tail, letting the wind whip all thoughts from his head and leave behind only empty peace. He’d rode all afternoon, back through the fields behind his house, sliding off the horse’s back and sliding right into bed, sleeping the deepest sleep he’d slept since the funeral. Ennis hadn’t said a word, just kept renting the horse as much as his money would allow and letting Jack ride off by himself to try and outrun his demons.

For demons he had. God, he was mad at the world for a while. Mad at Lureen for taking the truck and mad at Bobby for talking her into letting him drive. Mad at Ennis for still having his girls and being fool enough to leave them behind. Mad at the fucking hospital for keeping him cooped up and mad at Rosie for asking all those fucking questions that made him think harder than he wanted to. Mad at himself for still being the fuck-up he was and for still walking around breathing when Bobby and Lureen would never draw another breath on the face of this earth. Mad at God for putting him up on Brokeback Mountain twenty years ago to set this whole fucking freak show in motion in the first place.

So, yeah, he had a whole lot of mad and no one to throw it at but Ennis, which led to some pretty hellacious fights, meaner and madder and angrier than the one at Pine Creek two-and-a-half years ago. The worst had been in the hospital right before Jack was discharged; Jack being scared about leaving the hospital and Ennis being pissed at Jack for not wanting to come home. Jack had hurled his worst at Ennis, telling him there was no reason for him to go home because he had not one fucking thing to go home to, like Ennis didn’t count for shit and never would against the memories of Bobby and Lureen. Ennis had winced, actually winced as if he’d been punched, before letting a calm mask of anger fall over his features.

“You’d be wanting me to call Malone then? Have him be waitin’ for you at home?”

Jack gasps, his eyes going wide as a flush having nothing to do with his pneumonia fills his face and Ennis knows he hit his target. He never meant to mention that fucking asshole to Jack, never meant to acknowledge what they might have been to each other, but damn, if Jack isn’t driving him to this.

Ennis heads for the door, furious and frustrated and filled with anger he needs to get rid of. He has to get out of this room before he says something to Jack that he won’t ever be able to take back. He reaches for the handle and stops only when he hears Jack whimper softly; the bastard’s got the nerve to cry when he was just the one throwing hate around like it was free candy.

“Ennis?” Jack’s voice is impossibly small, Ennis has a hard time believing it’s coming from the same man who just told him to fuck-off six different ways to Sunday. Still, there’s something contained in that one word, something about the way Jack is saying his name that makes him think of a lost lamb calling for the security of its Momma.

“What.” Snide, sarcastic; dripping with hurt and anger.

“Do you still love me?”

Ennis drops his hand from the doorknob, his shoulders and resolve both crumbling at the uncertainty in Jack’s voice. Goddamn, he feels like such an asshole. He knows Jack is going through all kinds of shit right now, knows it’s the grief and the rage talking for him most times, and yet here he is, Ennis del Mar, acting like a two-year old and hitting Jack with the worst thing he’s got. He doesn’t turn around - he isn’t ready to see Jack’s face and those damn blue eyes full of pain he’s put there - so he just turns his head to talk over his shoulder.

“Am I breathing, Jack?”

Jack’s confused; he’s been through too many emotions in the last ten minutes to figure out what Ennis is getting at.

“What?”

Ennis tries to hide his frustration, tries to not snap at Jack again, but he’s got to get out of here soon before he explodes.

“Am I still standing here, breathing?”

“Course you are.”

Ennis sighs, the truth of what he’s about to say surrounding him, grounding him at the same time it damns him for all eternity.

“Then I’m still loving you, Jack. Always will be, as long as I’m breathing.”

Jack gasps, floored by the intent carried to him on Ennis’s words and turns his face to the wall. “I don’t know why you do, Ennis. I ain’t worth shit. I don’t do nothing but screw things up. My Daddy was right...”

Ennis turns around, fire in his eyes, his hand trembling as he jabs a finger in Jack’s direction.

“Don’t you do that, Jack Twist. Don’t you say that ever again.” He strides over to Jack’s bed in three quick steps, his anger arriving in only two.

“Your father was nothing but a right bastard who was jealous of your looks and your charm. He hated you simply because he hated himself and you were the easiest target to take it out on.” He tries to get a handle on his rage and can’t.

“You were a good father to Bobby, you were a good husband to Lureen, and you’ve always been a good…friend to me. Don’t you ever fucking say you aren’t worth anything ever again, Jack Twist, cause to me you are worth every fucking thing.”

His hand is still hanging in the air, his fingers trembling as much as his voice. He longs to kiss Jack, to give him some of the emotion boiling throughout his body like a pot unwatched on the stove but he’s still so mad about that asshole Malone. Jack is his, Damnit. His. Not some hot-shot ranch foreman looks like he came off the pages of some cattle catalog. His. And ain’t that the reason he’s down here in Texas? To show Jack he’s serious about this, about him, about the two of them together?

“Fuck it.” Ennis leans over Jack, pulling the oxygen mask up over his nose as he covers the startled man’s mouth with his own. He doesn’t know who is breathing life into whom, but he sure as shit knows this is something they both need to live.

“I love you. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. If you can’t believe in yourself, then believe in me,' cause I ain’t lying.” He places the mask back over Jack’s nose and re-tucks his shirt into his jeans.

“I’m goin’. Gonna be gone a while. Don’t mean I’m not coming back so don’t let that thought in your head. I just…I need to not be around you ‘til I can stop wantin’ to hurt you the way I’m hurtin’ right now.”

And with that, he’s gone. Striding out the door and down the hall and into the elevator before Jack can even comprehend what he’s just said.

Part Two: http://fizzerbass.livejournal.com/55833.html

My heart is broken

2009-06-05T23:56:50Z

I don't normally use this space for truly personal stuff but you all are my friends and I could really use some friends and cyber hugs right now.

*takes deep breath*

My Mom died suddenly and unexpectedly last night. She'd been having various and numerous health issues over the past year but seemed to be holding steady as of late. You know... getting around, enjoying her grandchildren and quilting, which she loved. She went in to the hospital on Tuesday to find the source of some internal bleeding but her doctors seemed confident of correcting the problem.

They were wrong.

Long story short, we thought she was fine late last night so my Dad and I went home to get some sleep. The hospital called not even an hour later to say she had taken a "turn for the worse" - which may, by the way, be the hugest understatement EVER - and she was gone before we could get back to the hospital.

I'm pissed, I'm sad, I'm nearly catatonic from lack of sleep, but I'm secure in the knowledge she is in a much, much better place and finally free from pain and wearing her oxygen 24/7.

And probably smoking a cigarette. :)

Anyway. thank you for always being here for me. I've never met any of you in person but carry you close to my heart just the same. I'll be back in the the near future, I'm sure...

BBM Fic: Seeing the Possibilities

2009-05-25T22:12:58Z

Title: Seeing the Possibilities
Author: fizzerbass
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: G
Notes: Just came back from the movies and this popped into my head. Possible spoilers for Star Trek. Yes, I said Star Trek.

Ennis held the door for Jack, blinking as the sunlight blinded him after the darkness of the theater. He waited as Jack took his sweatshirt off – Jack was always cold in movie theaters, even in the dead of summer, and took the opportunity to light a cigarette. Jack stole it from his mouth after he got it lit, smirking a bit as the smoke curled in front of his sparkling eyes.

“So, did you see it? Could you tell?”

Ennis's brow knit together as he tilted his head to light another cigarette. He nodded his head ever so slightly in Jack's direction to let him know they could move on. “Tell what?”

Jack sighed as he stepped off the curb, waiting for a line of cars to slowly snake by. “The possibilities.”

Ennis kept his head turned to the left, waiting for a break in traffic. “What possibilities?”

“Ennis. You're kidding, right? You couldn't see it, couldn't sense it?” Jack tugs Ennis's arm, pulling him through a break in traffic towards their truck. “You couldn't tell they had the hots for each other?”

Ennis snorts slowly, unlocking Jack's door from the inside and waiting for the other man to climb inside. “Who? That pointy eared guy and the communications gal?” He catches Jack's eye roll as he looks back over his shoulder to back out of their space. “What?”

“No, Ennis I don't mean Spock and Uhura. I mean Spock and Kirk.” Jack cracks his window, both for the fresh air and to hang his cigarette out the window. “Couldn't you see the way they looked at each other? Got in each other's space all the time?”

Ennis accelerates slowly, taking care not to clip any of the people walking through the parking lot as they make their way back out to the main road. “Shit, Jack. Every time you see two guys up on a movie screen, you think they've got something going on. It ain't always like that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it is, Ennis, and you're too stubborn to admit it.” Jack snorts a stream of smoke out his nose and turns away from Ennis, looking out into the early evening. He pulls his arm out of Ennis's reach when the other man tries to take his hand.

“Aw, c'mon now, Jack. Don't be like that.”

Jack cuts his eyes over at Ennis but doesn't respond. Just goes on smoking and stewing.

Ennis sighs, flicking on the headlights as he stubs his cigarette out in the ash tray. “Jack. What do you want from me, huh?”

No response.

“What? I let you drag me to this movie, all about space travel and time travel, and old guys meeting their younger selves, and black holes and red matter and all sorts of other stuff, and I don't say a word about not believing any of that. I seen all them possibilities, ain't that enough?”

Jack turns quick back to Ennis, his eyes reflecting bright in the dying sunlight still coming through the windshield. “Why, Ennis? Huh? Why?” He adds his butt to the ashtray, stabbing it roughly to make sure it's out. “Why's it so easy for you to accept all that far-fetched space stuff and you can't even see what's right in front of your face? Why can't you see the possibility that two men working together may actually feel something for each other besides friendship? That they may get thrown together in all kinds of stuff and suddenly realize that the only thing missing from their life is the guy standing right in front of them?”

Ennis smiles softly, finally understanding. He reaches out to cup the back of Jack's neck, letting his thumb ruffle the shaggy hair at the base as he gently squeezes his partner's warm skin.

“I did...once. That's enough for me.”

Jack smiles in return, relaxing back into Ennis's touch and turning his head to kiss Ennis's forearm.

“Me too, Cowboy. Me too.”

Hee! I won something!

2009-05-13T00:58:38Z

I have been so monumentally blocked lately and have produced nothing writerly-wise in what seems like forever and a month of Tuesdays. I managed to string together 100-words for a BBM chocolate challenge recently and was fortunate enough to have some very kind people say they enjoyed the way they fell together.

I iz lucky. :)

BBM Fic: Running on Empty

2009-04-16T15:51:29Z

Title: Running on Empty
Rating: R for language and implied m/m sex
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Annie Proulx. No infringement or disrespect intended.
Notes: So, I'm sitting here, trying to work on Phone Calls when I realize my next chapter is missing. Gonzo. Can't find it on either computer or in my LJ. In my frantic searching, I stumbled across this piece I apparently wrote back in September of '07 and never posted. It's a re-hash really, nothing nobody hasn't said before, but reading it again brings to mind the beginning of Phone Calls. Maybe this was a prequel?

( Read more... )

BBM Easter Offerings

2009-04-13T02:53:14Z

Title: Bless Me Father
Rating/Warnings: Jack's not dead - but he's awful sad/bitter/meloncholy.
Notes: I actually have a happy little AU Easter piece running around my brain I haven't had a chance to write yet today. I remembered I wrote this sad little ditty last Easter and figured I'd hit you with the bad news first. In spite of the tone of this piece, I hope everyone's had a lovely Easter. More later...

( Read more... )

Title: Easter Meditation
Notes: Here's the happy I promised.

( Read more... )

BBM Fic: Thinkin'

2009-03-23T01:53:38Z

Title: Thinkin'
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: PG
Word Count: 460
Notes: I miss Ennis and Jack from the early days, from when they were happy. This may have made it worse. :(

( Read more... )

Original Fic: The Cleansing (Part 3)

2009-03-22T01:12:49Z

Title: The Cleansing, Part 3
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Bemused
Warnings: M/M relationships
Rating: PG-13, for the F-bomb
Summary: He's just trying to help.
Author's request: Is it too confusing the main character still doesn't have a name? Also, did I get my tenses right? I think I may have changed half-way through...

( Read more... )

Original Fic: the Cleansing (Part 2)

2009-03-13T01:17:52Z

Title: The Cleansing (part 2)
Fandom: Original
Prompt: #137: Filched
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: He remembers their time together as summer.
Notes: Trying to flesh out the story I started with the last week's Bleach prompt over at tamingthemuse . I had trouble creating the same mood as the first part so, if you read that one and wouldn't mind reading this one, can you please give me some suggestions as to how to "toughen" up this part? Thanks!

Even though they met in winter, he remembers their time together as summer. Bright. Warm. Sunny. Stolen moments turning into whole days filched from the unrelenting grasp of Chicago in January.

Now, he has a hard time remembering it at all; the constant pain of everyday living an acid bleaching away the remnants of anything good in his life and leaving behind only the white crystalline residue of what once was and could now never be. He finds it very hard to believe he ever had anything as clean and pure as what they had together back then, a fact his sadistic brain likes to remind him of bitterly…acridly…achingly: He never really did.

It was pouring down rain the first time he laid eyes on Mike, a fact he only remembers now because it was the actual wetness that brought them together. As Recruit numbers 134 and 135, they were expected to do everything together, starting each day with breakfast side by side, exactly six inches apart, and finishing with lights out at precisely eleven fifteen, one three feet above the other in their perfectly made bunks. Between times found them running, studying, practicing and slowly erasing any traces of the outside world from their memories – all without any eye contact whatsoever.

No looking, no touching, no “Hey, how you doin?” the first day. The Management demanded it, enforced it harshly, spraying pepper spray into the eyes of those who forgot the rules and glanced in the wrong direction. According to them, Recruits ceased to exist as individuals the minute they walked through the doors of Security and Protection Management, and as such, there was no need to look upon their classmates.

You can’t see what doesn’t exist.

Mike had lost his footing on the steepest part of their morning run that day, slipping a good two feet on the mud-slicked trail before his own brain kicked in and he shot out a hand to nab his stumbling partner. Mike grabbed on tighter than a pit bull, nearly bringing them both down in a crumpled heap of tangled arms and legs before finding good purchase and regaining his balance. He pulled his hand back immediately, risking a quick side-long glance and slight nod of the head before the Cadence Director came abreast and chewed him out for being so clumsy. They’d both been sent back to the starting point to run the whole trail again as punishment.

Even today, six months later, he still draws a sharp breath at the picture of Mike’s face in that moment, still feels the quick roller coaster drop of his stomach to his toes. The other man seemed so real and solid, so there, almost as if he was two men, surrounding him and running on either side of him. He should have known right then and there he was making a huge mistake in accepting The Management’s offer of recruitment – an offer of a new life, really - for there was no way on earth he could ever forget Mike existed after touching him like that, after feeling the other man’s pulse racing in his wrist as he clamped their hands together...life flowing just mere centimeters away from his own dead self.

He told his first lie after Lights Out that night. Well, his first lie to Mike, anyway, but it didn’t count because he didn’t know it was a lie at the time. Mike had whispered a grateful, “You saved my life today, man”, punctuated by a single finger poking at his mattress from underneath. He’d smiled, the movement unfamiliar against his face and muttered, “No big deal”, shrugging off both the gratitude and the newborn feelings of attraction skimming through his veins. It wasn’t until it was all said and done, until the blood dried and the bodies were buried that he knew the truth.

Mike saved his life that day.

Shelter Fic: He Wants

2009-03-11T00:57:57Z

Title: He Wants
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: PG
Notes: Wrote this a while back and sent it to dragontatt who was having a hard day that day. I don't think she'll mind if I share it with you, too. :)

( Read more... )

Original Fic: The Cleansing

2009-03-02T04:20:31Z

Don't let the icon fool you, this isn't a Sports Night Fic. It's just something I came up with for Prompt #137: Bleach over at tamingthemuse . I feel funny calling it an original fic because there really aren't any "characters" in it. Eh, whatever. If you feel like reading, please do me a favor and leave some concrit. I've got my panties all in a wad lately about getting better at this writing thing.

Where were the words? Where were the little, tiny tidbits of type which would free his brain and unloose the feelings festering inside? He clamps his laptop closed in frustration, pushing away from the table to limp over to the window. Damn Janine and her stupid therapeutic writing.

God, he hated feeling this way. Hated the way the bitter aftertaste of anger burned his throat and coated his stomach in acid. Too many days had started with this, and too many nights had ended with his avowal to never feel this way again. Such is the foolish wish of a dying man.

For dying he was. Slowly, surely, inevitably dying. The doctors said weeks, months if he was lucky and didn’t pick up the odd virus or bacteria. He said days, maybe weeks if he was cursed to endure the pain of dying the way he’s been forced to endure the pain of living these last six months.

Had it only been six months?

He’d taken to spending his afternoons in the Laundromat, watching the mothers doing their wash as their children ran helter-skelter through the maze of machines. There was something oddly soothing about the hum of the dryers, interrupted occasionally by the clunk of an errant sneaker or the scritch-scratching of a pocketful of change set loose during the spin cycle. He was careful not to get too close and careful not to start conversations. Conversations led to questions, and questions were a luxury he didn’t have time for, especially questions for which he couldn’t face finding the answers. He wanted to remain anonymous. Anonymous and invisible, taking up space in the physical world, but not setting off any smoke detectors in the emotional one…staying off the radar of anyone inclined to offer comfort or condolences.

His favorite ‘Mat was the one on Beech and Lexington. Close to his apartment and half-way to the grocery store. He used it’s location as a convenient resting spot, telling himself he was only stopping to catch his breath and gear up for the second leg of his food-finding mission. Never mind the fact he had enough food in the ‘fridge to feed an army, getting out of the cramped confines of his one-bedroom was a daily necessity born of the constant need for noise. For something, anything, to drown out the voices in his head, the one’s telling him it wasn’t his fault, for he surely knew it most certainly was.

Has it been six months already?

He likes to sit by the big, commercial-sized washing machines, amazed by the things people toss inside their gaping holes. Huge comforters, slip cushions to what had to be amazingly ugly, antiquated furniture, even a set of all-season radials one time. He’s jealous almost of these people, of their undying belief and conviction that whatever they throw into these magic machines will come out shiny, new and clean. A dollar fifty, a fistful of detergent and presto-chango! A new lease on life.

On the good days, he smiles at their innocence, secretly cheering them on in their quest to freshen their lives and erase the dirt of daily living. On the bad days, which are rapidly becoming too numerous to count, he sneers at their sheer stupidity. Knowing first-hand even industrial-strength bleach can’t erase blood from a soul stained by a life lived in Hell.

Shelter Fic: Looking at the Future

2009-02-24T04:09:55Z

Title: Looking at the Future
Author: fizzerbass
Fandom: Shelter
Prompt: Rejection
Warnings: Adult situations, m/m implied sex
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 525
Summary: Shaun can wait.
Disclaimer: Shelter, along with the charachters of Shaun and Zach, belong to Jonah Markowitz.
Author's Notes: First time poster and I'm going to slap this up here before I lose the nerve. I'd love some constructive criticism, because the whole point of this is to get better, right?

( It wasn't a pushing away. )

***Written for Prompt #136 - Rejection at tamingthemuse

BBM Fic: Quietly Twisted (NS 5.825)

2009-02-20T03:19:58Z

Title: Quietly Twisted - NS 5.825
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: G
Notes: I don't know why brokeback1963 is sad, but just knowing she is hurts my heart. Hopefully, a little NS and Bobby love will cheer her up.

( Read more... )

BBM Fic: Ten BBM Tidbits - Round 3

2009-02-19T02:57:02Z

Title: Ten BBM Tidbits - Round 3
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: We enter "R" territory tonight, thanks to Smut.
Notes: Ten more words for each. Third round back in normal text. Thanks for the great feedback!

( Round 3 )

Shelter Fic: Would you want to?

2009-02-16T16:27:18Z

Tit;e: Would you want to?
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: G for content, S for shmoopiness
Notes: I sat down to write Angst but this came out instead. Guess it was just too hard to write drama after all the good vibes of the romantic weekend. :)

*Thanks to qaf_fanatic for bitch-slapping my Muse. It seems to have worked.*

( Read more... )

BBM Fic: Ten BBM Tidbits - Round 2

2009-02-16T03:24:15Z

Title: Ten BBM Tidbits: Round 2
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: G to NC-17
Notes: Remember the Microfic Meme from a few weeks ago? The one where you write ten kinds of fic using only ten words? I had originally planned to keep adding ten words to each category until each became a true drabble in and of itself...and completely forgot to finish. *hangs head* It took smilesalot posting ( this )piece of deliciousness to spork my feeble brain and viola! One hundred more words. The round I previously posted is in normal text, the new stuff is in italics. Leave me feedback as to whether or not you want me to spam you with the final eight rounds. :)

( This way to Round 2 -----> )

Shelter Fic: First and Only

2009-02-15T23:23:04Z

Forgot to post this here last night...

Title: First and Only
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: G
Pairing: Zach/Shaun and Cody
Notes: *screeches in, stuttering to a stop* Did I make it? Did I make it? *gasps* </a></font></b></a>yana_ambf very nicely asked if I was going to post anything for the Vfest and, to be honest, I wasn't going to because my Muse and I aren't speaking to each other. Apparently, she's feeling sorry for me at the moment because she threw this idea in my face and gave me about an hour to write it and get it posted. I never claimed a prompt for the Fest, but this story closely fits the "Zach and Shaun forget Valentine's Day until Cody reminds them" prompt. Hope this is okay with the Mods...

( Happy Valentine's Day! )

Shelter Fic: Looking...

2009-02-07T04:53:49Z

Title: Looking...
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: G
Pairing: Zach, Shaun, Cody
Notes: So, dragontatt , told me how she looks at www.flickr.com for inspiration from time to time. I went trolling there tonight and came up with this. Hope you like.

( Read more... )

Shelter Fic: Tick Tock

2009-02-04T03:20:58Z

Title: Tick Tock
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: Probably PG-13
Pairing: My two favorite boys, Zach/Shaun
Notes: Eh, I don't know what this is. I just wanted to write, you know?

( Please click here )

Shelter Fic: Ten More Tidbits - Round 10

2009-02-01T02:48:17Z

Title: Ten More Tidbits - Round 10
Author: fizzerbass
Ratings: Same
Pairings: Same
Notes. Th- th- that's all, folks! This has been a lot of fun to do and I'm going to miss posting every night. I'm sorry I fail at answering comments, but please know your kind replies and encouragement have meant the world to me. You might even say I'm addicted to them... *grins sheepishly*

( Round 10 )

BBM Drabble: Alone in a Crowd

2009-01-31T04:52:23Z

Title: Alone in a Crowd
Author: fizzerbass
Rating: G
Word Count: 100
Notes: Someone made an innocent comment that if I wrote Canon, it must be sad. I wanted to prove I was capable of writing happy Canon. :)

( Read more... )

Shelter Fic: Ten More Tidbits - Round 9

2009-01-31T03:49:54Z

Title: Ten More Tidbits - Round 10
Author: fizzerbass
Ratings: Same
Pairings: Same
Notes: Sorry it took so long - had to work late tonight. But if it's any consolation, I started making Angst into a full-blown fic last night...

( Round 9 )

Shelter Fic: Ten More Tidbits - Round 8

2009-01-30T02:29:36Z

Title: Ten More Tidbits - Round 8
Author: fizzerbass
Ratings: Same
Pairings: Same
Notes: Brain is mush tonight, guys. Sorry.

( Round 8 )