______aud (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} __oddly) wrote in ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} mcr_100,@ 2008-05-11 19:36:00 |
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home turf
Title: Home Turf
Author:__oddly
Pairing: Bob/Frank, if you really want to look at it that way
Rating: PG
Theme: Chicago
Word Count: 200
This is it. This is where he's afraid of failing. This is where he's supposed to push it harder, to prove to everyone that they're on top of the fucking world. This is his Jersey. And yet his stomach has settled in knots and he can barely keep his hands from shaking. And to everyone else, it's just another show. He's in it alone.
"Hey." Frank's voice, a breath brushing against his neck and a hand on his shoulder. He tenses but doesn't quite look up.
"Hey." Another brush of breath, a more insistent squeeze. Reluctantly, he lifts his head from his hands, throws a half-assed look over his shoulder.
"Yeah?" He almost feels like laughing at how pathetic his own voice sounds.
"You'll be fine." He can hear the grin of certainty and the clear 'I get it' in the whispered words before Frank walks off, quick enough to know to leave him to settle on his own.
By the time the house lights go down and Brian is calling them backstage for their usual round of high fives, his hands have steadied and he meets Frank's gaze with a thankful nod.
Yeah. He'll be fine. Get ready, Chicago.
Title: Home Turf
Author:
__oddlyPairing: Bob/Frank, if you really want to look at it that way
Rating: PG
Theme: Chicago
Word Count: 200
This is it. This is where he's afraid of failing. This is where he's supposed to push it harder, to prove to everyone that they're on top of the fucking world. This is his Jersey. And yet his stomach has settled in knots and he can barely keep his hands from shaking. And to everyone else, it's just another show. He's in it alone.
"Hey." Frank's voice, a breath brushing against his neck and a hand on his shoulder. He tenses but doesn't quite look up.
"Hey." Another brush of breath, a more insistent squeeze. Reluctantly, he lifts his head from his hands, throws a half-assed look over his shoulder.
"Yeah?" He almost feels like laughing at how pathetic his own voice sounds.
"You'll be fine." He can hear the grin of certainty and the clear 'I get it' in the whispered words before Frank walks off, quick enough to know to leave him to settle on his own.
By the time the house lights go down and Brian is calling them backstage for their usual round of high fives, his hands have steadied and he meets Frank's gaze with a thankful nod.
Yeah. He'll be fine. Get ready, Chicago.
