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slashing_lorne2006-10-10 01:18 am
imagechild.livejournal.com) wrote in slashing_lorne2006-10-10 01:18 am
Entry tags:
October 8: "Cowboys like us"
Title: Cowboys Like Us
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
imagechild
Rating: T
Pairing: Lorne / Sheppard
Summary: Taken from the George Strait song: "Cowboys like us" --last line is the chorus from said song.
Word Count: 412
Prompt: Oct 8 - 24th Country Music Association Award: George Strait wins Entertainer of the Year: write a drabble/ficlet using the title of a George Strait Song http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Strait#Discography
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my comics and my Nightcrawler figurine.
It was the same sensation as running through the moss-carpeted forests of home, an angled stick under his arm to serve as a gun, the whoops of the other boys swelling around him as they fought and died and were resurrected on that far-away summer day. It even smelled the same--damp earth and green, growing things enough to make Parrish pop a vein. The figure at his side was most certainly not Bobby Gantry from down the street--and the P-90 in their hands packed a bit more whallop than the y-joint from a solid oak branch...but the idea was the same.
His CO--John Sheppard, eternal boy....running missions with him was more like playing war games than it really should be--but Evan was pretty sure that was a delusion only he suffered from. John could give him a crooked grin from across the bowed heads of a dozen Marines, and suddenly whatever looming catastrophe was at hand seemed no worse than being called in for dinner by an exasperated Mom.
the good cowboys only wore white--Evan had known this from childhood--and their guns were always silver. If Sheppard's fatigues were dark, and his weapon a matching matte black, well that just went to show that the things you learn in childhood weren't always absolute truth.
What they took from eachother, stolen kisses, heated fingertips brushing intimate, sensitive skin--well that was just the cowboy way, wasn't it? A true cowboy knew the rights and wrongs of things--and that somehow what was law wasn't always what was right. No one ever caught them...they were far too clever for that, two pairs of the keenest eyes and ears the American Military had to offer. The Ellison boys from Third Street could never ambush Evan--he always heard them coming a mile away, and made them lie down on the damp leaves when he pretended to kill them--it was the way things were done.
When he lies in damp leaves now, it's not because he's out of the game..it's because the game's just begun. Quick, frenzied heat--desperate sounds that never seem to be any louder than a soft breath...for safety's sake. Lorne never was good at the capture part of the game...he always got overzealous and shot all of his prisoners of war..Sheppard was no different--he gave no quarter, offered no mercy...and Evan smiled as he came, face tipped up to the alien sun.
Cowboys like us sure do have fun.
Author:
imagechildRating: T
Pairing: Lorne / Sheppard
Summary: Taken from the George Strait song: "Cowboys like us" --last line is the chorus from said song.
Word Count: 412
Prompt: Oct 8 - 24th Country Music Association Award: George Strait wins Entertainer of the Year: write a drabble/ficlet using the title of a George Strait Song http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Strait#Discography
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my comics and my Nightcrawler figurine.
It was the same sensation as running through the moss-carpeted forests of home, an angled stick under his arm to serve as a gun, the whoops of the other boys swelling around him as they fought and died and were resurrected on that far-away summer day. It even smelled the same--damp earth and green, growing things enough to make Parrish pop a vein. The figure at his side was most certainly not Bobby Gantry from down the street--and the P-90 in their hands packed a bit more whallop than the y-joint from a solid oak branch...but the idea was the same.
His CO--John Sheppard, eternal boy....running missions with him was more like playing war games than it really should be--but Evan was pretty sure that was a delusion only he suffered from. John could give him a crooked grin from across the bowed heads of a dozen Marines, and suddenly whatever looming catastrophe was at hand seemed no worse than being called in for dinner by an exasperated Mom.
the good cowboys only wore white--Evan had known this from childhood--and their guns were always silver. If Sheppard's fatigues were dark, and his weapon a matching matte black, well that just went to show that the things you learn in childhood weren't always absolute truth.
What they took from eachother, stolen kisses, heated fingertips brushing intimate, sensitive skin--well that was just the cowboy way, wasn't it? A true cowboy knew the rights and wrongs of things--and that somehow what was law wasn't always what was right. No one ever caught them...they were far too clever for that, two pairs of the keenest eyes and ears the American Military had to offer. The Ellison boys from Third Street could never ambush Evan--he always heard them coming a mile away, and made them lie down on the damp leaves when he pretended to kill them--it was the way things were done.
When he lies in damp leaves now, it's not because he's out of the game..it's because the game's just begun. Quick, frenzied heat--desperate sounds that never seem to be any louder than a soft breath...for safety's sake. Lorne never was good at the capture part of the game...he always got overzealous and shot all of his prisoners of war..Sheppard was no different--he gave no quarter, offered no mercy...and Evan smiled as he came, face tipped up to the alien sun.
Cowboys like us sure do have fun.