LindseySlashFicathon
Apr. 9th, 2004 05:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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willshenillshe, who requested Lindsey/Xander along with the finest sippin' whiskey and guitar playing.
The Devil Wears A Blue Dress
By Claire
Lindsey looks out over the crowd as his fingers fall into the familiar rhythms of the past months. The same faces are scattered around the place, paying more attention to the football playing on the silent TV above the bar than they ever have to him. Except for the one person sitting near the back, dark and intent, focusing on Lindsey like he knows him from somewhere. Only Lindsey knows that he doesn't, is pretty sure he would remember it. Hell, would remember the eye patch if nothing else. He moves his eyes quickly at the slight smirk coming from the other man, realising he's been caught staring. His attention drops down to his fingers, concentrating on them as he moves through the chords, even though he's been playing this since he first found his father's old guitar at the back of the closet.
He keeps his eyes down until he hits the final note, resonating perfectly in the air before it's swallowed by the sound of someone cursing the football reference for some transgression.
He looks up, no longer bothered about the lack of response, and signals to Debbie that he's taking a break. He leans the guitar against the stool and walks off the small stage, feet carrying him to the corner of the bar.
"Mind if I join you?" Lindsey motions to the empty seat.
Soft brown looks at him as the other man nods. "Please."
He drops into the chair, smile coming easily to his lips. "Lindsey." He holds out his hand, waits for a heartbeat before it is taken.
"Alex."
He hears the pause before the reply, so quick it's barely there, but he ignores it. Has given other people enough pauses of his own to object to it now. The hand in his is strong, and Lindsey can't resist running his thumb over Alex's wrist, feeling the shiver he causes in the other man moving into his own flesh.
The touch borders the edge of propriety, lingering longer than it should, especially here, with the sweet smell of molasses covering the harsh reality that the hint of anything other than straight meets with fist and boot and the bloodstain in the corner that no amount of bleach can ever remove.
Alex pulls his hand back as Debbie approaches the table. And the look she throws Lindsey tells him she knows exactly what he's thinking, even if she doesn't say it.
"What can I get you boys?"
"Whiskey." Lindsey answers for both of them before Alex can order another glass of the watered down beer he has standing in front of him. "And, Deb, bring the good stuff."
She nods before she leaves, other demands being called out to her on her way.
Alex watches Debbie's retreat back to the bar, taking in the entire room with the single eye he's got. And Lindsey is curious about the patch, but he doesn't ask. Knows too much about the wondering looks and the questions. He rubs his fingers over his wrist, absently tracing the outline of the scar he knows is there, even if it's getting harder to see with each passing day.
"So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"
"Just passing through." And Lindsey's surprised. Most people passing through tend to take one look at the place and keep on going. The only ones who stay are the ones who never got out in the first place. Lindsey likes to think he's not counted among them, but here he is. Maybe he adapts to necessity, maybe he needed the comfort of home after Angel and Wolfram & Hart. Maybe the truth is that he never really got as far away from the past as he wanted to.
He almost asks Alex what the hell persuaded him to stop here, but Debbie is standing there, placing two glasses and a bottle on the table before she's gone again without saying a word.
Lindsey picks up the whiskey, giving it a cursory glance to make sure it really is the good stuff and not the homemade poison they decant into the empty bottles. He fills the two glasses, sliding one across the table and raising his own in mock salute. "To the best whiskey money can buy in these parts."
Alex returns the gesture and swallows the whiskey in one before Lindsey can warn him; cough swiftly following as the glass is nearly dropped back onto the table.
"Interesting interpretation of 'best'." Alex's voice is rough, like the alcohol scorched him on the way down. It's why Lindsey drinks it.
Lindsey picks up his glass, swirling the alcohol slightly and watching the dull reflections from the lights illuminate the liquid.
"You're not going to actually-"
He drinks the whiskey down in one.
"-drink that are you?" Alex's question tails off as Lindsey's empty glass hits the table. "You're a better man than I am," are the only words when no racking cough is forthcoming.
"I very much doubt that." Not when he drinks it to drown the visions of violence and blood and Angel lying broken on the floor. He picks the bottle back up and pours out another glass for each of them.
Alex looks down and smiles. "I would, but I'd like to still have my throat when I leave here."
Lindsey finds himself matching the smile, and not drinking the whiskey, even if his fingers are curled around the glass. "So, how long are you going to be here for?"
"Just tonight. I'm staying at the motel on the edge of town." Alex meets his eyes as he offers the information. "You know it?"
"Yeah." It's a flea-infested dump used mainly by the hookers, but it's the only motel in town.
Alex nods, "good. I'm in room 12, you can meet me there." He pushes his chair back and stands, grabbing his jacket off the back before he walks out of the bar.
Lindsey watches him go, and there's only few seconds before a shadow falls and Debbie is next to him.
"Lindsey, honey, you know what you're doing?"
"No," he answers truthfully. Standing, he pulls a note out of his pocket to pay for the whiskey and drops it on the table. He brushes a quick kiss across Debbie's cheek and she leans down to pick up the money. "But, you know, just for tonight, I don't really care." And then he follows Alex out of the door.
End.
The masterlist isn't up yet, but I'll amend this post when it is :-)
ETA: The masterlist for the ficathon is here.
willshenillshe, who requested Lindsey/Xander along with the finest sippin' whiskey and guitar playing.The Devil Wears A Blue Dress
By Claire
Lindsey looks out over the crowd as his fingers fall into the familiar rhythms of the past months. The same faces are scattered around the place, paying more attention to the football playing on the silent TV above the bar than they ever have to him. Except for the one person sitting near the back, dark and intent, focusing on Lindsey like he knows him from somewhere. Only Lindsey knows that he doesn't, is pretty sure he would remember it. Hell, would remember the eye patch if nothing else. He moves his eyes quickly at the slight smirk coming from the other man, realising he's been caught staring. His attention drops down to his fingers, concentrating on them as he moves through the chords, even though he's been playing this since he first found his father's old guitar at the back of the closet.
He keeps his eyes down until he hits the final note, resonating perfectly in the air before it's swallowed by the sound of someone cursing the football reference for some transgression.
He looks up, no longer bothered about the lack of response, and signals to Debbie that he's taking a break. He leans the guitar against the stool and walks off the small stage, feet carrying him to the corner of the bar.
"Mind if I join you?" Lindsey motions to the empty seat.
Soft brown looks at him as the other man nods. "Please."
He drops into the chair, smile coming easily to his lips. "Lindsey." He holds out his hand, waits for a heartbeat before it is taken.
"Alex."
He hears the pause before the reply, so quick it's barely there, but he ignores it. Has given other people enough pauses of his own to object to it now. The hand in his is strong, and Lindsey can't resist running his thumb over Alex's wrist, feeling the shiver he causes in the other man moving into his own flesh.
The touch borders the edge of propriety, lingering longer than it should, especially here, with the sweet smell of molasses covering the harsh reality that the hint of anything other than straight meets with fist and boot and the bloodstain in the corner that no amount of bleach can ever remove.
Alex pulls his hand back as Debbie approaches the table. And the look she throws Lindsey tells him she knows exactly what he's thinking, even if she doesn't say it.
"What can I get you boys?"
"Whiskey." Lindsey answers for both of them before Alex can order another glass of the watered down beer he has standing in front of him. "And, Deb, bring the good stuff."
She nods before she leaves, other demands being called out to her on her way.
Alex watches Debbie's retreat back to the bar, taking in the entire room with the single eye he's got. And Lindsey is curious about the patch, but he doesn't ask. Knows too much about the wondering looks and the questions. He rubs his fingers over his wrist, absently tracing the outline of the scar he knows is there, even if it's getting harder to see with each passing day.
"So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"
"Just passing through." And Lindsey's surprised. Most people passing through tend to take one look at the place and keep on going. The only ones who stay are the ones who never got out in the first place. Lindsey likes to think he's not counted among them, but here he is. Maybe he adapts to necessity, maybe he needed the comfort of home after Angel and Wolfram & Hart. Maybe the truth is that he never really got as far away from the past as he wanted to.
He almost asks Alex what the hell persuaded him to stop here, but Debbie is standing there, placing two glasses and a bottle on the table before she's gone again without saying a word.
Lindsey picks up the whiskey, giving it a cursory glance to make sure it really is the good stuff and not the homemade poison they decant into the empty bottles. He fills the two glasses, sliding one across the table and raising his own in mock salute. "To the best whiskey money can buy in these parts."
Alex returns the gesture and swallows the whiskey in one before Lindsey can warn him; cough swiftly following as the glass is nearly dropped back onto the table.
"Interesting interpretation of 'best'." Alex's voice is rough, like the alcohol scorched him on the way down. It's why Lindsey drinks it.
Lindsey picks up his glass, swirling the alcohol slightly and watching the dull reflections from the lights illuminate the liquid.
"You're not going to actually-"
He drinks the whiskey down in one.
"-drink that are you?" Alex's question tails off as Lindsey's empty glass hits the table. "You're a better man than I am," are the only words when no racking cough is forthcoming.
"I very much doubt that." Not when he drinks it to drown the visions of violence and blood and Angel lying broken on the floor. He picks the bottle back up and pours out another glass for each of them.
Alex looks down and smiles. "I would, but I'd like to still have my throat when I leave here."
Lindsey finds himself matching the smile, and not drinking the whiskey, even if his fingers are curled around the glass. "So, how long are you going to be here for?"
"Just tonight. I'm staying at the motel on the edge of town." Alex meets his eyes as he offers the information. "You know it?"
"Yeah." It's a flea-infested dump used mainly by the hookers, but it's the only motel in town.
Alex nods, "good. I'm in room 12, you can meet me there." He pushes his chair back and stands, grabbing his jacket off the back before he walks out of the bar.
Lindsey watches him go, and there's only few seconds before a shadow falls and Debbie is next to him.
"Lindsey, honey, you know what you're doing?"
"No," he answers truthfully. Standing, he pulls a note out of his pocket to pay for the whiskey and drops it on the table. He brushes a quick kiss across Debbie's cheek and she leans down to pick up the money. "But, you know, just for tonight, I don't really care." And then he follows Alex out of the door.
End.
The masterlist isn't up yet, but I'll amend this post when it is :-)
ETA: The masterlist for the ficathon is here.
