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I know i know. I don't post like - twice in a day! It's weird. But, this leaped out and attacked me today so - i had to write it. So here it is. Lindsey, sometime in Angel season...two. No actual 'ship, but a suggestion of Lindsey/Angel.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reremouse for canon stuff and...the other stuff. :) *hugs*
Lindsey dreams.
He dreams of tying his shoes and clapping - he dreams of folding paper and writing a grocery list and buttoning his shirt.
He doesn't, thank fuck, dream of playing his guitar because that would...kill him. It sits in silent accusation in the back of his closet and he's stopped using his umbrella - doesn't wear that really nice Cavalli trench coat that's nearly a year old and only twice worn.
He dreams of Angel - of standing beside him in that cramped office and plotting a rescue - plotting redemption. Dreams that their shoulders brush and that Angel looks up at him and doesn't smile with his mouth but with his eyes. That Angel sees him and doesn't fake falling asleep, this time.
Doesn't...dismiss him.
And he wakes up slick with sweat, his throat raw - stump aching. Cock aching but he is - was - right handed and he can't get himself off with his left hand and he doesn't want to, anyway.
He wants to store up the frustration and the ache, the need and the (love) hate, so when this new thing is ready to be loosed upon the world he won't feel...
Sorry.
He goes into the bathroom and flips on the light - turns on the water and gets into the shower and slumps against the cold tiles. Pushing aside the dreams, the night, the ache in his chest - the sense-memory of Darla's cool, cool lips on his and how they could have been...might have been...
No. Today he's Vice President. Today it all changes - it's all new. He is. Today, he's finally free. He tells himself that as he rubs soap over his body - still-clumsy south-paw, eyes averted from his maimed arm. It doesn't matter that Angel smashed his hand and smashed....so many things. After today, he's not going to be crippled anymore. That - he swears.
Thanks to
reremouse for canon stuff and...the other stuff. :) *hugs*Lindsey dreams.
He dreams of tying his shoes and clapping - he dreams of folding paper and writing a grocery list and buttoning his shirt.
He doesn't, thank fuck, dream of playing his guitar because that would...kill him. It sits in silent accusation in the back of his closet and he's stopped using his umbrella - doesn't wear that really nice Cavalli trench coat that's nearly a year old and only twice worn.
He dreams of Angel - of standing beside him in that cramped office and plotting a rescue - plotting redemption. Dreams that their shoulders brush and that Angel looks up at him and doesn't smile with his mouth but with his eyes. That Angel sees him and doesn't fake falling asleep, this time.
Doesn't...dismiss him.
And he wakes up slick with sweat, his throat raw - stump aching. Cock aching but he is - was - right handed and he can't get himself off with his left hand and he doesn't want to, anyway.
He wants to store up the frustration and the ache, the need and the (love) hate, so when this new thing is ready to be loosed upon the world he won't feel...
Sorry.
He goes into the bathroom and flips on the light - turns on the water and gets into the shower and slumps against the cold tiles. Pushing aside the dreams, the night, the ache in his chest - the sense-memory of Darla's cool, cool lips on his and how they could have been...might have been...
No. Today he's Vice President. Today it all changes - it's all new. He is. Today, he's finally free. He tells himself that as he rubs soap over his body - still-clumsy south-paw, eyes averted from his maimed arm. It doesn't matter that Angel smashed his hand and smashed....so many things. After today, he's not going to be crippled anymore. That - he swears.
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Love it. :)
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Thanks, bay-bee.
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It's odd - i don't know much about Lindsey so writing him is strange.
But i'm glad you liked!
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Great Lindsey voice.
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:)
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*smooch*
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This was SO nice to wake up to! *pets Lindsey lots and lots*
Perfect pain and such longing.
Wheeeeee! Lovely, babe.
*smooches*
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He seemed so...thwarted and angry, all the time.
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*smooches*
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I don't know him well, so that's nice to hear.
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That was beautiful:
He wants to store up the frustration and the ache, the need and the *love* hate, so when this new thing is ready to be loosed upon the world he won't feel...
Sorry.
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:)
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:)
Thank you thank you, Ms. Thang.
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He's so bloody stubborn about being wrong-minded. Even when he knows better, which I think he does.
And Angel. Who doesn't deserve Lindsey (though he also didn't deserve what Lindsey did to him per W&H). But Lindsey wants/hates/wants him so much.
Lindsey is so deluded. Lindsey needs Xander ... or Spike ... or Wesley. Yeah, Wesley, who also was screwed over by Angel. In my happy little world, they survived NFA. And I think they're together.
This was lovely, sweetie. In a hurty kinda way. Very true, I think, to that time in the show, to that point in Lindsey's life. Poor little musical anti-woobie.
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Dude, thanks so much. I know almost nothing of Lindsey but hearsay and other people's fics and a few Angel eps...
So glad i tapped into the right mind-set!
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Thank you, bay-bee.
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:)
He just - came to me!
*makes mysterious finger gestures*
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Slammingly achingly perfect.
Love it!
*smooches the fuck out of you*
A/L just....guh.
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*squeeeeeee!!*
Thank you, bay-bee!
So glad you liked!
*swoons*
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I love, love, love this! It's beautiful and sad and I want to smack Angel upside the head for faking falling asleep and not smiling with his eyes!
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Yeah!
Big ole' mean bastard.
Thank you so much!
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sharkie
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Thank you, bay-bee!
*smoooch*
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Julia, very wow
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:)
Thank you very much.
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:)
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Angsty-Lindsey. Angsty-Lindsey that loves Angel as much as he hates him. Oh my yes!
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Thank you!
It was fun to write - very different, since i don't know Lindsey well at all.
I just made another LJ post, and it has a link to a 'companion' story that's
Angel's POV - i think you'll like it!
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I love Lindsey like this *g*
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:)
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He dreams of tying his shoes and clapping - he dreams of folding paper and writing a grocery list and buttoning his shirt.
He doesn't, thank fuck, dream of playing his guitar because that would...kill him.
Wow.
That broke my heart and I'm not used to feeling bad for Lindsey. I like him, but I never really felt bad for him, till now.
You bastid.
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Heh.
Thank you so much.
:)
I just - well, i was thinking about a Dick Francis book where the hero has lost a hand in a steeplechase accident, and how he dreamed of riding and such and that just made me want to write this.
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Loved so many things about this...I can feel the raw ache-y-ness of Lindsey.
He wants to store up the frustration and the ache, the need and the *love* hate, so when this new thing is ready to be loosed upon the world he won't feel...
Sorry.
Mmm. Angst. :) Lovely.
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It was odd to have this in my head, but fun to explore this character.
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And thank you so much! I can't get into Lindsey's head *too* often, but this just kind of popped in there. Glad it's holding up over time!
:)
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Yowza! All those things to mourn -- and I especially like the use ofthe word thing in that sentence because it's so very true -- great stuff, as always.
And two years old, too! Very cool to find this after so much time.
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:)
It's so fun to get a comment on an 'old' fic.