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asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2016-08-04 02:07 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2016-08-04 02:07 pm
Entry tags:
A to Z Challenge Chapter 12: Lucidity
Title: A to Z Challenge Chapter 12: Lucidity
Fandom: White Pine Original Fiction
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,254
Summary: Travis has second thoughts after he bolted home.
Author’s Notes: Written for the A to Z Challenge at 1_million_words. The calm before the storm because things are about to get messy soon.
Continued from here.
Travis couldn’t deny the fact that he felt like hell for running out on Ethan like he had. On the other hand, he knew that if he stayed he’d hunt down that damn idiot Farrow and punch his lights out. After some sage advice from his father, and a few of his mother’s enchiladas, Travis had returned to the home he shared with Ethan and stared at his computer screen. Knowing that the words would remain stuck until he cleared his head, Travis reached for the phone and called his husband.
“Hey baby,” he drawled into the phone, “you still love me?”
“Of course I do,” Ethan replied. “It’d take more than this to make me stop. Are you feeling any better?”
“Sort of,” he said, switching the phone from one ear to the other. “My pops and I had a long talk, and then mama fed us.”
“So all is good in the world?”
“Yeah,” Travis said, grinning. “I still hate that I took off on you though.”
“It was for the best,” Ethan said. “Even Jordan said as much. He’s sorry he didn’t get a chance to tell you good-bye. Oh, and I promised him a copy of one of your books. You have any lying around?”
Laughter bubbled out of Travis and spilled over the phone lines. “Yeah baby, I’ve got boxes of the damn things all over the place. Remind me when you get home and I’ll round up one of each that I have around here for you to take back on Monday.”
Truth was, it’d be good to get some of the damn things out of here finally. He’d get emails from the occasional reader looking for an autographed copy or one that had gone out of print, but usually, all his author copies sat in a box in the garage. His agent told him that if he actually got out of White Pine once in a while and did a book signing or two, this wouldn’t happen. But whatever. They made nice paperweights.
“Thank you, Murphy,” Ethan said. “Jordan will be grateful.”
“What about you?” God, he wished he’d stayed in Garret.
“I’m always appreciative of all things Murphy-related. From fatherly talks to cheesy quesadillas to hunky mixed up men.”
“So happy to hear it, E,” Travis chuckled. “I do know that I have a hardback copy of my last release right her by my desk. I was using it for reference but do you think Reid would like a copy? ” He was being an asshole, but he couldn’t stop himself. At least he’d resisted the urge to add that he could sign it ‘fuck you, Travis’. But only just barely.
“I’d be happy to offer it to him… or rather, to the backside of his head. Will that do?”
“Oh, that’d more than do, baby,” Travis spluttered. “As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a better way to introduce him to my writing style. I’ve been told it’s both sublte and in your face.”
“I don’t know how I survived without you, Travis,” Ethan sighed into the phone. “No matter how dire the circumstances, you always find a way to make me laugh. I love that about you.”
Travis’ heart did a little two-step in his chest. “And you keep me grounded, E. It’s not as much fun as making someone laugh, but it’s equally important. Even more so when you’re married to someone as flighty as I am.”
“Speaking of flighty,” Ethan said. “I need to get back to work and I think you have a deadline to meet.”
“Sadly, I do,” Travis confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Not a second later,” Ethan agreed. “If you and your parents get into town early, come by the station. I’m sure Jordan would like to see you again. He’s interested in meeting your father, too, after all the stories I’ve told him.”
As much as he wanted to reach through the phone and smack Ethan for that crack, he knew it was all too true. Liam Murphy was quite the character. It wasn’t any wonder that his little crab apple of a son didn’t fall far from that crazy tree. “Will do, baby.”
The conversation had gone better than he’d expected, but then, Ethan had this marvelous capacity for understanding where Travis was concerned. He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve such consideration, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. Nah, he’d take it and run for as long as Ethan could give it.
Relieved that he and his baby were back on track, Travis was able to focus on his current novel better than he had in over a week. If he kept this up, he might even beat his deadline for the first time since he’d started writing. One thing at a time, he scolded. Don’t get your hopes up, you idiot.
But something kept nagging at the back of his mind.
“Focus, Murphy,” he growled to himself. “You’re on a deadline and Ethan will be home soon.”
It was useless. Every time he tried to hone in on his own work, to push his characters closer to the finish line, the more his brain reared up and tried to break for the fences. Pulling a sheet of copy paper out of his desk, Travis grabbed a pen and fell back on one of his most effective writer’s block techniques – doodling. Ethan had accused him more than once of procrastinating, but Travis knew it worked, even if he did use the method to put off the inevitable from time to time.
He’d picked up the habit as a kid in school, whenever he’d get stuck on an essay or book report. A spiral in one corner became a cloud. That cloud would get a sun, maybe a few birds and before long, he was writing like he’d never stumbled in the first place. For whatever reason, the mindless doodling cleared his thoughts and freed his mind up for the things he needed it to do. Travis just prayed that it’d shake loose whatever was gnawing on his cerebral cortex.
Blinking, Travis noticed he’d filled half the page with something resembling – in a rather badly drawn way – Ethan’s ex-husband, Reid Farrow. Why the hell had that popped out of his pen? He never drew people, especially not people he knew. Mostly because he sucked at it, but also because that took too much concentration, defeating the purpose of the exercise. But there he was, in all his douchebag glory.
What had Ethan been telling him that morning before he’d left for work? Some case that had him stymied. A kid had been attacked leaving a grocery store and all the guy had was a vague description of his attacker. Ethan wasn’t sure if he was being snowballed or if he was missing something important. Either way, the case was bugging him.
An even better question was why had Reid freaking Farrow been haunting his thoughts? He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. Taking out another piece of paper, he jotted down some notes so that he’d remember to ask Ethan about them tomorrow, when they were driving home. Together. Around lunchtime tomorrow, he and his parents were going to leave for Garret to retrieve Ethan and bring him home. Hopefully Farrow would keep to himself because, as Ethan had predicted, Liam’s first question had been, “How hard did you hit the fecking bastard?”
Score one point for the detective.
Will continue here.
Fandom: White Pine Original Fiction
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,254
Summary: Travis has second thoughts after he bolted home.
Author’s Notes: Written for the A to Z Challenge at 1_million_words. The calm before the storm because things are about to get messy soon.
Continued from here.
Travis couldn’t deny the fact that he felt like hell for running out on Ethan like he had. On the other hand, he knew that if he stayed he’d hunt down that damn idiot Farrow and punch his lights out. After some sage advice from his father, and a few of his mother’s enchiladas, Travis had returned to the home he shared with Ethan and stared at his computer screen. Knowing that the words would remain stuck until he cleared his head, Travis reached for the phone and called his husband.
“Hey baby,” he drawled into the phone, “you still love me?”
“Of course I do,” Ethan replied. “It’d take more than this to make me stop. Are you feeling any better?”
“Sort of,” he said, switching the phone from one ear to the other. “My pops and I had a long talk, and then mama fed us.”
“So all is good in the world?”
“Yeah,” Travis said, grinning. “I still hate that I took off on you though.”
“It was for the best,” Ethan said. “Even Jordan said as much. He’s sorry he didn’t get a chance to tell you good-bye. Oh, and I promised him a copy of one of your books. You have any lying around?”
Laughter bubbled out of Travis and spilled over the phone lines. “Yeah baby, I’ve got boxes of the damn things all over the place. Remind me when you get home and I’ll round up one of each that I have around here for you to take back on Monday.”
Truth was, it’d be good to get some of the damn things out of here finally. He’d get emails from the occasional reader looking for an autographed copy or one that had gone out of print, but usually, all his author copies sat in a box in the garage. His agent told him that if he actually got out of White Pine once in a while and did a book signing or two, this wouldn’t happen. But whatever. They made nice paperweights.
“Thank you, Murphy,” Ethan said. “Jordan will be grateful.”
“What about you?” God, he wished he’d stayed in Garret.
“I’m always appreciative of all things Murphy-related. From fatherly talks to cheesy quesadillas to hunky mixed up men.”
“So happy to hear it, E,” Travis chuckled. “I do know that I have a hardback copy of my last release right her by my desk. I was using it for reference but do you think Reid would like a copy? ” He was being an asshole, but he couldn’t stop himself. At least he’d resisted the urge to add that he could sign it ‘fuck you, Travis’. But only just barely.
“I’d be happy to offer it to him… or rather, to the backside of his head. Will that do?”
“Oh, that’d more than do, baby,” Travis spluttered. “As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a better way to introduce him to my writing style. I’ve been told it’s both sublte and in your face.”
“I don’t know how I survived without you, Travis,” Ethan sighed into the phone. “No matter how dire the circumstances, you always find a way to make me laugh. I love that about you.”
Travis’ heart did a little two-step in his chest. “And you keep me grounded, E. It’s not as much fun as making someone laugh, but it’s equally important. Even more so when you’re married to someone as flighty as I am.”
“Speaking of flighty,” Ethan said. “I need to get back to work and I think you have a deadline to meet.”
“Sadly, I do,” Travis confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Not a second later,” Ethan agreed. “If you and your parents get into town early, come by the station. I’m sure Jordan would like to see you again. He’s interested in meeting your father, too, after all the stories I’ve told him.”
As much as he wanted to reach through the phone and smack Ethan for that crack, he knew it was all too true. Liam Murphy was quite the character. It wasn’t any wonder that his little crab apple of a son didn’t fall far from that crazy tree. “Will do, baby.”
The conversation had gone better than he’d expected, but then, Ethan had this marvelous capacity for understanding where Travis was concerned. He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve such consideration, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. Nah, he’d take it and run for as long as Ethan could give it.
Relieved that he and his baby were back on track, Travis was able to focus on his current novel better than he had in over a week. If he kept this up, he might even beat his deadline for the first time since he’d started writing. One thing at a time, he scolded. Don’t get your hopes up, you idiot.
But something kept nagging at the back of his mind.
“Focus, Murphy,” he growled to himself. “You’re on a deadline and Ethan will be home soon.”
It was useless. Every time he tried to hone in on his own work, to push his characters closer to the finish line, the more his brain reared up and tried to break for the fences. Pulling a sheet of copy paper out of his desk, Travis grabbed a pen and fell back on one of his most effective writer’s block techniques – doodling. Ethan had accused him more than once of procrastinating, but Travis knew it worked, even if he did use the method to put off the inevitable from time to time.
He’d picked up the habit as a kid in school, whenever he’d get stuck on an essay or book report. A spiral in one corner became a cloud. That cloud would get a sun, maybe a few birds and before long, he was writing like he’d never stumbled in the first place. For whatever reason, the mindless doodling cleared his thoughts and freed his mind up for the things he needed it to do. Travis just prayed that it’d shake loose whatever was gnawing on his cerebral cortex.
Blinking, Travis noticed he’d filled half the page with something resembling – in a rather badly drawn way – Ethan’s ex-husband, Reid Farrow. Why the hell had that popped out of his pen? He never drew people, especially not people he knew. Mostly because he sucked at it, but also because that took too much concentration, defeating the purpose of the exercise. But there he was, in all his douchebag glory.
What had Ethan been telling him that morning before he’d left for work? Some case that had him stymied. A kid had been attacked leaving a grocery store and all the guy had was a vague description of his attacker. Ethan wasn’t sure if he was being snowballed or if he was missing something important. Either way, the case was bugging him.
An even better question was why had Reid freaking Farrow been haunting his thoughts? He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. Taking out another piece of paper, he jotted down some notes so that he’d remember to ask Ethan about them tomorrow, when they were driving home. Together. Around lunchtime tomorrow, he and his parents were going to leave for Garret to retrieve Ethan and bring him home. Hopefully Farrow would keep to himself because, as Ethan had predicted, Liam’s first question had been, “How hard did you hit the fecking bastard?”
Score one point for the detective.
Will continue here.