LOTR HS AU (1)

"You just . . . left him there?" It's 4 miles away, and after a game . . .  His father gives him one look, and Boromir can't say anything else. Instead, he grabs his keys and heads for the door.

Boromir isn't surprised, either. Nothing their father does surprises him anymore, but he can't help wishing things were different. He does what he can, but it never seems like enough. How could it ever possibly be enough?

It's raining now. Of course it is. As he opens the garage, he sees a sodden figure jogging slowly up the driveway. 

Faramir's chest is heaving; his eyes are red, and his shoulders sag heavily. Their eyes meet for a long moment. 

Nothing I do will ever be enough to make up for this. Boromir knows that, but he's still going to do whatever he can to make this right. He slings one arm around his brother's drooping shoulders and walks him inside. He's enough taller that Faramir doesn't see his reddening, burning eyes.

LOTR HS AU (1)

"Your brother would have made the play."

Of course he would have, Dad. He's the perfect son. Your favorite son. You probably wish he was your only son. "Would you have rather seen me break my arm?"

"Of course," is the instant reply. Faramir isn't sure what else he expected. A curt nod to hold back the pained resignation.

"Since he's out for the season, I guess . . . I'll have to try harder."

His father snorts. "Try harder? You won't be back on the field unless you can prove to me that you're useful. Consider yourself permanently benched."

Faramir is frozen, numb. Torn between rage and disbelief. As the coach shoulders past him through the locker room door, he flicks off the lights. "And you can get a ride home with one of your little friends. I don't play chauffeur to losers."

As he hears the outer door close behind his father, Faramir falls against a locker and slides to the floor.

LOTR HS AU (1)

I should have had it.

Sweat steams off his neck as he sprints the length of the field, then back. He's covered the distance more times than he can count, and he's going to keep running until he can't remember why.

I should have caught it. It was in my hands.

Those hands clench tight, fingers aching with the strain as he crosses the goal line and turns, sprints back. He's also relived the moment the ball slipped away as many times as he's crossed this line, and ground his fingernails into his palms as often. He is probably bleeding.

Dad's never going to forgive me this time.

He finally lets himself think it, and then quashes any thought at all for 3 more sprints. At the opposite line, he collapses, reddened palms skidding over the grass to keep him from breaking teeth. On hands and knees, he just breathes, fast and heavy.

SPN AU 1

Burying my head in books again while Dean's off doing the kind of thing everyone expects him to do. He's gonna be a lord someday; gotta keep up the family image, make an appearance at functions, prove his skills in combat. Of course, he doesn't see it that way. It's just what he does at home every day anyway, and this is what I do, so at least we're both happy. Dad needs this information; it's why we came all the way to these libraries instead of just staying home in the first place. Focus, Sam.
Focus.
Focus.
This is actually exactly what I need, and it's pretty interesting stuff; just gotta grab a pen and jot down the translation--
"Whatcha reading?"
Holy crap, there's someone in here; he can't see what I'm looking at, cover it up, quick--CRASH! And there went my chair and my dignity; ow, that's my back and my head. Well done, Sam. Very well done.
Back on my feet and I've got to try to hide some of this stuff from whoever just walked in . . . where did he go? Oh, haha, there he is. Little guy.

LOTR HS AU 1

He looks so sad.

I should be screaming with everyone else right now. I ran out onto the field and that's my brother over there in the green, the one with his helmet off and his hands in the air, leaping in circles with our cousin. We won!

But . . . that guy over there. The one who dropped his pass. The one we owe the game to, if I'm being honest. Bad luck to him. Most guys would be on the ground by now. Not him. He's got his head up and his shoulders back, he's not bending to us or to the pressure of disappointment. Strong, but somehow I can tell . . . he's miserable.

I can't quite cheer as loudly as my brother deserves.

SPN AU (1)

I don't know if he's supposed to be in here, but I'm not going to stop him. I don't care enough, and it's not my library, anyway.

A large head bent over the biggest book I've ever seen. Is he actually reading that?

He's been there for awhile. Now I'm curious.

Going to ask him.

"Whatcha reading?"

His chair falls over. That's kinda cute. But whoa, this guy is tall.
Very tall.

LOTR HS AU (1)

That pass was perfect.

It had to be; I accept nothing less from myself, but now they're going to blame the little guy. I don't see how it's the kid's fault either. This is going to tear him up, and his brother, too. We lost.

It's not like I ever wanted to take over. I just . . . wanted what was best for the team, and with Boromir's arm out . . . It just happened this way. He wanted it too badly, pushed too hard, and all for nothing. I couldn't even give it to him. Couldn't win for him.

I'm sorry. Sorry that we lost, sorry that he couldn't be where I am. Sorry that the pass was perfect.