All Those Little Moments 18, 65, 42

[coffeebuddha]

Title: All Those Little Moments Are What Make A Life
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: R/FRT (overall)
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Summary: A collection of drabbles and shorts for a 100 Themes Challenge. Contains various genres, characters, and ships-mostly Shassie with some Shules, Gules, and misc.

Feedback is always appreciated.

***

 

18. Rainbow

He's in his basement apartment in London when he happens to look up through the window and catch a glimpse of shiny red pumps just at eye level. The legs they're attached to are a damn fine sight too, but the heels themselves are so lush and vibrant that in his mind he's immediately transported back to the month he spent working at an apple orchard and his mouth starts to water.

The best sunsets he's ever seen in his entire life are the ones that he watches when he's living in Hawaii, working at the Dole pineapple plantation. He sits out on the beach almost every night with a huge hunk of pineapple in hand and watches as the sun hits the water and turns the world heart stopping, flaming shades of orange.

He's never been big on fish before, but when he's doing night time janitorial work at an aquarium in Australia, a canary cichlid catches his eye. He spends his entire shift following that single fish as it effortlessly glides its way through the tank. In the morning they fire him, but he isn't really upset, because at the third shop he tries he finds a shirt that exact shade of yellow.

He decides to visit Gus at college for the weekend. Gus doesn't seem eager to introduce him to any of his college friends, but once they hit that first frat party, he stops caring about that. When they make it back to Gus' dorm room and he's certain that Gus is passed out for the night, he packs his things. He makes a stop at an all night store and buys twenty packets of lime jello. That morning, on his way out of town, he stops at a payphone and leaves Gus a message with instructions to go check out the campus's biggest fountain. Gus is undoubtedly going to be pissed the next time they talk, but that doesn't stop him from laughing for nearly a week.

Working clean up at the theater usually isn't so bad. Of course, usually he isn't clean up after Blue Man Group. The show was fun to watch, memorable even if you weren't him, but now it's late and he's tired and coming down from an emotional high and there's paint everywhere. The theater's dark and achingly empty as he works, but when he finally stumbles back to his apartment and sees the bold slash of blue paint on his cheek, he smiles and takes a picture in the mirror.

He's driving down a winding path in the Midwest when he suddenly turns a corner and finds himself on the edge of a forest, bordered by stunning flowers. Without really thinking about it, he parks his bike by the side of the road and wanders out into the midst of the thickest growth. He throws himself down on his back, his body crushing the plants and filling the air with their fragrance. Later, when he reaches a town, his first stop is at a library, where he spends hours pouring through botany books until he finds the flower he's looking for-Baptisia australis or Blue Wild Indigo.

In Austin, Texas, there's a woman, probably sixty or seventy years old, with hair the most brilliant shade of violet that he's ever seen. She serves him breakfast and he tells her about his travels. When he's done, she grabs his arm in a surprisingly tight grip and tells him with a loud, happy laugh, "Shawny, my boy, there's no point in having a life if you don't go out there and live it."

The world is full of amazing, living colors, and he's going to see them all.

*

65. Horror

Lassiter swallows, his throat and mouth suddenly dry, and licks his lips. Tastes the sweat on his upper one. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead and already his shirt is sticking to his back and underarms under his jacket.

He is surrounded. There is no escape. He has no choice but to stay and face this down. Do his job. Anything else would be unacceptable.

His heart is in his throat, pounding so hard he feels like he is choking. All he can feel in his chest, where his heart should be, is tightness, slowly squeezing the life out of him. Killing him as surely as the monstrosities around him would, if only given the chance.

His extremities are cold, tingling, and he clenches his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Lassiter forces himself to take deep, steady, even breaths. He has to appear calm. No weakness. Not here. Not now. No one can know how terrified he is.

Somewhere behind him, he can hear Spencer's amused voice ring out.

"Who murders someone in a freaking snow globe museum?"

*

42. Standing Still

The perp is male, Caucasian, late teens to early twenties, approximately 5'11 and 120 lbs, dressed in a gray hoodie and dark denim jeans. He has the sunken eyes and hollow cheeks of an addict. Henry would bet his boat that the designer purse clutched in his sweaty hands doesn't belong to him.

There's a rookie chasing him on foot. Tall, solid kid, probably not much older than the criminal he's after. The kind of face you'd see on a Wheaties box.

Two weeks ago, Henry would have been right there next to him. The adrenalin would be flooding through him. His blood would be pounding. The hard impact of the concrete against the soles of his boots would jolt up his legs with every step.

Two weeks ago, Henry would have been in on the chase. But one week ago, he'd turned in his gun. Turned in his badge. Become an civilian. So now, even though his brain is screaming at him to get up, help, do something, and his body is tense from his having to consciously keep if from leaping up and giving chase, he just sits and finishes his coffee.

***

I'm probably not going to be around a lot for the next few days, so I wanted to get something up before I disappear completely.

I currently have 45/100 of these themes done and am slowly transferring them to my LJ. I'll eventually get them all up here, but if you want to read them now, you can find them here.