#tevetina

[eldertwelvecupsofcoffee]

Secret Snowman Gift!

Here’s my gift for @tevetina

I tried to incorporate all three of your requests; I hope I did them justice. 

Happy Holidays!!

Whizzer stares out the window, watching as the sun set behind the Manhattan skyline in brilliant, blinding orange. He remembers, faintly, a time when the sight of that skyline filled him with inexpressible excitement, when that skyline represented a world of possibility for him—a way out of Brooklyn, out of his dad’s shitty apartment and oppressive parenting-style (or, rather, lack-thereof), and into a place where he could unapologetically be himself, without fear of punishment. Now, the sight of that skyline left Whizzer empty.  After all, look where all that “possibility” had led him: a cold, sterile hospital room that smelled too strongly of bleach and had buzzing florescent lights that didn’t do his complexion any favors.

“Hey.” It’s soft, barely whispered, but enough to snap Whizzer back into reality. He turns, plastering a smile across his face, to see Marvin’s just woken up from his nap.

“Hey there, sleepy head.” Whizzer says. “How’re you feelin’?” He crosses as he says this, and pushes Marvin’s hair out of his face; it’s damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead. Whizzer discreetly wipes his hand on his pants.

“Better with you here,” Marvin replies, trying to sit up a little in the bed. “But still terrible. It’s like someone moved the Sahara inside my mouth.” He reaches for the pitcher of water on his little bedtable, but Whizzer automatically moves to grab it for him, and pours him a glass of water in a pink plastic cup.

“These are so ugly.” He remarks, placing the cup in Marvin’s hand.

“I could have done that myself, you know.” Marvin says with a frown.

“I know, sweetheart.” Whizzer replies with a gentle nod, choosing not to point out how badly Marvin’s hand shook when he’d tried to get it on his own. “Move over.” He nudges Marvin over to the side, causing his lover to dribble water on himself in the process, and falls into the bed beside him. He yawns and leans into Marvin, nuzzling against his shoulder like he would have done in their bed at home.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Marvin points out. “I’ll still be here tomorrow, even if you do go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

Whizzer laughs, locking his fingers with Marvin’s. “It’s going to take more than that to convince me to leave you here alone.” Marvin purses his lips, considering this statement for a moment.

“Okay then,” he says finally. “What would you tell me, to get me to take care of myself, if our roles were reversed?”

“Well,” Whizzer says, thinking it over for half a second. “I’d probably say something like…’Marvin, just go home, and turn on the TV. Drink a little somethin’ till you’re dead—think of me around, sleeping soundly in our bed.’” He pauses, then adds, “But I wouldn’t really want you to leave, so I’d tell you there’s nothing to fear, and beg you to stay right here. And finish with an ‘I love you’, so you couldn’t say no.”

Marvin smiles and presses a weak kiss to the top of Whizzer’s head. “I love you, too.”

 Whizzer managed to get Marvin back to sleep not long after their little exchange—a task that was becoming easier and easier with each passing day, and which did nothing to quell the growing pit in Whizzer’s stomach. He’s just slipping out of the hospital room when Charlotte catches him in the hall.

“Whizzer, wait.” It’s as close to a yell as she can reasonably get, given it’s nearly eleven o’clock at night, and most of the hospital is asleep. Whizzer stops and waits for her, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up again; he’d been hypnotized by the idea of passing out on Mendel and Trina’s couch—something he’d been doing more often lately, given how much closer their place was to the hospital.

Charlotte’s wearing a grim expression, and holding her clipboard close to her chest. Whizzer’s anxiety spikes, and he can feel his arms go a little numb, a nervous reaction he’s had since he was little.

Charlotte sighs, “Look, Whizzer…something bad is happening to Marvin. Something very bad. Something that kills.” Whizzer winces at her bluntness. “Something…infectious, that spreads from one man to another.” She looks at him expectantly, her eyebrows knit together in worry.

It clicks a little slower than Whizzer would care to admit.

“Oh.” He says slowly, because it’s all he can muster. “I have to go now.”  He turns, not entirely sure of where he’s going, because his vision has clouded over and his head is swimming.

“Whizzer?” Charlotte calls after him. “Whizzer, I’m sorry!”

“Whizzer?” Jason’s voice is softer than usual, as if all the life and energy that normally filled him had been sucked out. He’s sat himself down in the hard plastic armchair next to Whizzer, who’s been asked to leave Marvin’s hospital room, because, as one of the nasty nurses put it, he’s not Marvin’s “family”.

“Yeah, pal?” Whizzer asks.

“I need your help with something.”

Whizzer keeps draping and re-draping the garment bag over his forearm; it won’t sit straight, and he’ll be damned if the clothes inside it end up wrinkled because of that.

Trina gently places her hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be alright.” She smiles as she says this, but her eyes give away the uncertainty that her voice doesn’t. Whizzer offers her a weak grin in return, knowing he looks more uncertain of the sentiment as she does.

Whizzer takes a deep breath before he rushes through the door, with a more enthusiastic “Surprise!” than he thought he could manage. He claps a hand down on Jason’s shoulder, explaining how the whole affair was Jason’s brilliant idea.

“I brought the prayer shawl!” Mendel chimes in.

“It’s Jason’s Bar Mitzvah?” Marvin asks, trying to stand up to greet them all. Whizzer pretends not to worry at the way Marvin has to lean into his bed to get the support he needs to stay upright. Whizzer crosses to him and gives Marvin his hand as support. Marvin laces shaking fingers between Whizzer’s and beams; Whizzer can’t help but notice the tears welled up in Marvin’s eyes.

“I brought you a change of clothes.” He explains, clearing his throat slightly and gesturing with the garment bag. “We’ll change you into as much as we can; you’ll look good in the pictures.” Whizzer doesn’t add “Well, as good as you can”; Marvin’s eyes are rimmed with dark purple, his lips colorless, and his cheeks thin and pale. He looks like a walking corpse, and there’s little Whizzer can do to dress that up, though he does wonder if Cordelia or Trina might have some blush in their purse he could use to put a little life back into his lover’s face.

Marvin laughs, snapping Whizzer out of his worried wondering. “I love you. Marry me?”

“We’ll see.” Whizzer says, kissing Marvin’s nose. “You know I want a summer wedding, and who can say where my affections will lie by June?”

Marvin rolls his eyes at that, making a motion with his arm that should push Whizzer away, but does little to move either of them at the moment.

“Come on, now; let’s get you changed.”

What comes after the makeshift ceremony can hardly be called a reception, but Whizzer wouldn’t trade it for a Bar Mitzvah at the Ritz, even if he had the chance.

Trina’s found an NPR station that plays all instrumentals on the boom box that was Charlotte’s gift to Jason—a gift which she insisted he open immediately. Trina proudly declares it better than the band she’d looked into—and much cheaper too. She and Mendel are waltzing around the room, giggling like teenagers; Charlotte and Jason are doing the tango, while Cordelia claps and cheers them on from her place by the appetizers; Marvin is leaning into Whizzer’s shoulder as they sway back and forth, like two teenagers at the prom who’ve no real idea how to dance.

For a moment, Whizzer forgets they’re even in a hospital room. For a moment, he forgets that Marvin’s sick. For a moment, there’s no oppressive weight in the room, no tensions between them, no fears of the future looming over everything.

For just a moment, everything—every single thing—is perfect.

[solomandr]

"Starry night"

A Valentine's @dghdabigbang illustration for @juniper-and-lamplight 's fic Talisman

The fic is incredibly soft and as it seems to me, full of light bittersweetness, which lies genlty onto your heart to melt...

Have fun with the Bang!