due South snippet: "Hunting"
Jul. 18th, 2009 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luzulaTitle: Hunting
Pairing: teenage Benton Fraser/Eric Kitikmeot
Rating: PG-13
Length: 297 words
Prompt: heart
Summary: Eric isn't watching the caribou.
Notes: Okay, so maybe I wrote this to bring me out of a little writing slump. Not beta read. In my head, this takes place before Leaving Home.
Holding the branches aside with his hand, Benton held his breath. There they were, the caribou. He was downwind; they couldn't smell him, and he watched them graze, unhindered by his presence. Their winter fur was coming off in ragged bits and pieces, and the male still had a velvet layer of skin on its antlers.
He could shoot them if he wanted to, but he didn't want to--Quinn had taught him that lesson all too well. Now that he was older, he realized that the wrong didn't lie in killing them, because you had to kill to eat (or let other people do it for you). But killing something just to gain status, that was wrong.
Benton's neck prickled, and he closed his eyes and listened. Wind. Chewing caribou. Mosquitoes. His own heart, beating. And--was that leaves rustling behind him?
He whipped his head around, and Eric was standing a few meters away, watching him.
"I heard you," Benton mouthed silently.
"But not until I was close."
"True. Anyway, come and look at the caribou."
But then the hairs on Benton's neck rose again, and he turned. Eric wasn't looking at the caribou, and suddenly Benton had had enough.
"Why are you always watching me?" he whispered. They were almost nose to nose now.
"Because I..." Eric trailed off. He was still staring.
Then he crowded close and brought his mouth against Benton's. Benton reeled away in surprise and tripped. Eric lost his balance, too, and they fell over in a tangle.
Startled, the caribou thumped away. Eric pressed his mouth to Benton's again. It was wet and warm and awkward, but strangely stirring despite that. Benton opened his mouth experimentally and kissed back.
Oh. So that was why.
For now, please comment at the LJ entry.
Pairing: teenage Benton Fraser/Eric Kitikmeot
Rating: PG-13
Length: 297 words
Prompt: heart
Summary: Eric isn't watching the caribou.
Notes: Okay, so maybe I wrote this to bring me out of a little writing slump. Not beta read. In my head, this takes place before Leaving Home.
Holding the branches aside with his hand, Benton held his breath. There they were, the caribou. He was downwind; they couldn't smell him, and he watched them graze, unhindered by his presence. Their winter fur was coming off in ragged bits and pieces, and the male still had a velvet layer of skin on its antlers.
He could shoot them if he wanted to, but he didn't want to--Quinn had taught him that lesson all too well. Now that he was older, he realized that the wrong didn't lie in killing them, because you had to kill to eat (or let other people do it for you). But killing something just to gain status, that was wrong.
Benton's neck prickled, and he closed his eyes and listened. Wind. Chewing caribou. Mosquitoes. His own heart, beating. And--was that leaves rustling behind him?
He whipped his head around, and Eric was standing a few meters away, watching him.
"I heard you," Benton mouthed silently.
"But not until I was close."
"True. Anyway, come and look at the caribou."
But then the hairs on Benton's neck rose again, and he turned. Eric wasn't looking at the caribou, and suddenly Benton had had enough.
"Why are you always watching me?" he whispered. They were almost nose to nose now.
"Because I..." Eric trailed off. He was still staring.
Then he crowded close and brought his mouth against Benton's. Benton reeled away in surprise and tripped. Eric lost his balance, too, and they fell over in a tangle.
Startled, the caribou thumped away. Eric pressed his mouth to Benton's again. It was wet and warm and awkward, but strangely stirring despite that. Benton opened his mouth experimentally and kissed back.
Oh. So that was why.
For now, please comment at the LJ entry.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-20 07:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-20 11:58 am (UTC)