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lslinesTitle: Upsizing
Rating: T
Series: Named
Characters: Jack; Babel; Flea.
Prompt:winglesswriting - 126. "The Bedroom Floor"
Claimer: All mine.
Notes: I didn't realize quite how much this piece says about each character until I reread it. But it does, in an understated kind of way, and I'm proud of that. Proud enough to post it here as well as well as the usual places I post Named (like fictionpress andwinglesswriting)
Rating: T
Series: Named
Characters: Jack; Babel; Flea.
Prompt:
winglesswriting - 126. "The Bedroom Floor"Claimer: All mine.
Notes: I didn't realize quite how much this piece says about each character until I reread it. But it does, in an understated kind of way, and I'm proud of that. Proud enough to post it here as well as well as the usual places I post Named (like fictionpress and
winglesswriting)The problem was the bed.
It was a double and, yes, that was admittedly much better than a single. But while three teenagers may have fitted snuggly into it, mostly as one was petite and another just plain scrawny, they were not quite teenagers anymore.
Of course, Jack was still her petite self, although her delicate thinness had been worn away over the years to leave a much more sturdy kind of thin. Something not so breakable; her travels had seen to that. Not that that was to say Jack had ever been breakable, really. Small, yes, but hard. Underpinning the whole of her light frame was a strength like that of ten feet of solid steel. The boys would sometimes compare her to an ant. Small, yes, but able to lift more than a hundred times it’s own weight. Although it wasn’t in lifting things that Jack’s strength lay.
Naturally, Flea was still as scrawny as ever. There was something so very built-in about it that not even Ansel could lay extra fat over his ever-too-slightly-visible ribs. They often joked that his parents were actually Famine, personified, and either a stick or a model. Usually, when discussion over it ensued as it often did, they decided that because of the physical impossibilities the stick presented... It was probably safer to say it was the model. It explained the prettiness too, they would tease him, for he never really did like being called beautiful, though you couldn’t deny he was.
It was Babel who had changed enough for it to matter. When he had been nineteen he had been all gentle planes and rounded edges, but now they were gone. In their place solid muscle, sharp edges, sheer angles. Like someone had made him child-proof and now the children were all grown. No longer was it required to hide the edges, corners that had been designed for their alluring sharpness and their visual aesthetic. Harder surfaces were no longer cushioned by piles of carpets. Safety locks could be removed from the chemical cupboards, medicine and bleach and lead-based paint side by side on the shelf.
Until Jack had come home, the change in Babel had gone mostly unnoticed by Flea. It was gradual after all, the physical work leaving it’s mark in his flesh, and it wasn’t like the man himself had really changed. He was still Babel, calm and patient and gentle, ever ready to listen and always knowing just when to say what. Maybe he could open jars with a little more ease. Maybe he was a little more solid, but it just a little more warmth wrapped around him after a nightmare. Maybe he was slightly thicker, harder to make him stumble with a tackle of a hug that could fell even Thunder.
It was Jack who noticed it, though. Sitting aside her bike, visor pushed up and a smile dancing on her lips at their stunned expressions. You’ve changed, she said with a nod, and Babel had just smiled back and lifted her into the air. Even then, it hadn’t quite clicked in Flea’s head, that the difference meant something.
The bed, however, that highlighted the problem. Because, they couldn’t quite... Fit.
They had tried to conquer it. It was only the third body that was the problem, after all, causing at least one of them to each be pushed over the edge during the night if they all tried to lie on it together. So instead, Flea had his leg thrown over Babel’s, one arm curled against his side and brushing Babel’s shoulder as the other held a loose grip on Jack’s forearm where she lay on Babel’s chest with her arms around his neck. It had worked well for a while, until Babel twitched with an apologetic grin and rolled onto his side, Jack falling partly between them, partly on top of them. Flea huffed an objection, rolling closer to the edge to accommodate her, Babel doing the same on the other side.
Babel’s arm looped under Jack’s neck, stroking Flea’s cheek soothingly, his other arm falling to rest in the curve of Flea’s side. Flea let his hand fall to the same position on Jack, other hand pillowing his head. Jack sighed happily, squirming between them and urging them closer.
“You know,” She murmured, breath ghosting over Babel’s bare chest, and he was suddenly aware of her breasts pressed against him. It was a feeling he’d missed. “I think we might need a slightly bigger bed, Muscle Man.”
Flea grinned on her other side. “You mean we can finally get rid of this old hunk of junk?”
Jack flailed half heartedly behind her, completely missing him. “I always liked this bed. Don’t insult it or we shan’t get another.”
“Sorry doll,” He smiled against the now motionless hand resting on his cheek. “But I have a year’s worth of teasing to catch up on.”
“...Muscle Man?” Even in the dark, they could both see the thoughtful crease between Babel’s brows.
“Well, you can’t be the Golden Poet anymore. Don’t have the right lack-of-physique for it anymore.” She tilted her head up a little, back arching as she tried for the extra distance, and kissed him. “Sorry.”
“Aww.” Flea whined, his fingers dancing across Jack’s side as she held herself tense in her arch, trying to remain within kissing distance of Babel’s mouth. “I don’t get to play?”
Jack elbowed him. “No, ‘cause you can’t play nice.”
He jerked away from the jab, and promptly fell off the bed. Jack and Babel ignored him, although Babel did shrug and agree with Jack. “Possibly we do need a slightly larger bed. I’ll look into it in the morning.”
“In the meantime,” Flea grumbled, crawling back up and pressing Jack further into Babel as he tried to squeeze as close as he could. Arms wrapped around his waist protectively, and he let his appreciation be known with a small mrawgh and a snuggle closer, twining his legs with theirs. “We’ve got a year’s worth of sleeping to catch up on. With not enough blankets, and warm limbs, and waking up half naked for no apparent reason ”
It sounded better than anything the other two could suggest, so sleep they did.
Well, at least until Flea found himself on the floor again, and then they found a better way to occupy their time until the stores opened.
It was a double and, yes, that was admittedly much better than a single. But while three teenagers may have fitted snuggly into it, mostly as one was petite and another just plain scrawny, they were not quite teenagers anymore.
Of course, Jack was still her petite self, although her delicate thinness had been worn away over the years to leave a much more sturdy kind of thin. Something not so breakable; her travels had seen to that. Not that that was to say Jack had ever been breakable, really. Small, yes, but hard. Underpinning the whole of her light frame was a strength like that of ten feet of solid steel. The boys would sometimes compare her to an ant. Small, yes, but able to lift more than a hundred times it’s own weight. Although it wasn’t in lifting things that Jack’s strength lay.
Naturally, Flea was still as scrawny as ever. There was something so very built-in about it that not even Ansel could lay extra fat over his ever-too-slightly-visible ribs. They often joked that his parents were actually Famine, personified, and either a stick or a model. Usually, when discussion over it ensued as it often did, they decided that because of the physical impossibilities the stick presented... It was probably safer to say it was the model. It explained the prettiness too, they would tease him, for he never really did like being called beautiful, though you couldn’t deny he was.
It was Babel who had changed enough for it to matter. When he had been nineteen he had been all gentle planes and rounded edges, but now they were gone. In their place solid muscle, sharp edges, sheer angles. Like someone had made him child-proof and now the children were all grown. No longer was it required to hide the edges, corners that had been designed for their alluring sharpness and their visual aesthetic. Harder surfaces were no longer cushioned by piles of carpets. Safety locks could be removed from the chemical cupboards, medicine and bleach and lead-based paint side by side on the shelf.
Until Jack had come home, the change in Babel had gone mostly unnoticed by Flea. It was gradual after all, the physical work leaving it’s mark in his flesh, and it wasn’t like the man himself had really changed. He was still Babel, calm and patient and gentle, ever ready to listen and always knowing just when to say what. Maybe he could open jars with a little more ease. Maybe he was a little more solid, but it just a little more warmth wrapped around him after a nightmare. Maybe he was slightly thicker, harder to make him stumble with a tackle of a hug that could fell even Thunder.
It was Jack who noticed it, though. Sitting aside her bike, visor pushed up and a smile dancing on her lips at their stunned expressions. You’ve changed, she said with a nod, and Babel had just smiled back and lifted her into the air. Even then, it hadn’t quite clicked in Flea’s head, that the difference meant something.
The bed, however, that highlighted the problem. Because, they couldn’t quite... Fit.
They had tried to conquer it. It was only the third body that was the problem, after all, causing at least one of them to each be pushed over the edge during the night if they all tried to lie on it together. So instead, Flea had his leg thrown over Babel’s, one arm curled against his side and brushing Babel’s shoulder as the other held a loose grip on Jack’s forearm where she lay on Babel’s chest with her arms around his neck. It had worked well for a while, until Babel twitched with an apologetic grin and rolled onto his side, Jack falling partly between them, partly on top of them. Flea huffed an objection, rolling closer to the edge to accommodate her, Babel doing the same on the other side.
Babel’s arm looped under Jack’s neck, stroking Flea’s cheek soothingly, his other arm falling to rest in the curve of Flea’s side. Flea let his hand fall to the same position on Jack, other hand pillowing his head. Jack sighed happily, squirming between them and urging them closer.
“You know,” She murmured, breath ghosting over Babel’s bare chest, and he was suddenly aware of her breasts pressed against him. It was a feeling he’d missed. “I think we might need a slightly bigger bed, Muscle Man.”
Flea grinned on her other side. “You mean we can finally get rid of this old hunk of junk?”
Jack flailed half heartedly behind her, completely missing him. “I always liked this bed. Don’t insult it or we shan’t get another.”
“Sorry doll,” He smiled against the now motionless hand resting on his cheek. “But I have a year’s worth of teasing to catch up on.”
“...Muscle Man?” Even in the dark, they could both see the thoughtful crease between Babel’s brows.
“Well, you can’t be the Golden Poet anymore. Don’t have the right lack-of-physique for it anymore.” She tilted her head up a little, back arching as she tried for the extra distance, and kissed him. “Sorry.”
“Aww.” Flea whined, his fingers dancing across Jack’s side as she held herself tense in her arch, trying to remain within kissing distance of Babel’s mouth. “I don’t get to play?”
Jack elbowed him. “No, ‘cause you can’t play nice.”
He jerked away from the jab, and promptly fell off the bed. Jack and Babel ignored him, although Babel did shrug and agree with Jack. “Possibly we do need a slightly larger bed. I’ll look into it in the morning.”
“In the meantime,” Flea grumbled, crawling back up and pressing Jack further into Babel as he tried to squeeze as close as he could. Arms wrapped around his waist protectively, and he let his appreciation be known with a small mrawgh and a snuggle closer, twining his legs with theirs. “We’ve got a year’s worth of sleeping to catch up on. With not enough blankets, and warm limbs, and waking up half naked for no apparent reason ”
It sounded better than anything the other two could suggest, so sleep they did.
Well, at least until Flea found himself on the floor again, and then they found a better way to occupy their time until the stores opened.
