Title: THE DREAM
Date: January 2000
Summary: Entry into the DREAM challenge on SkinnerKrycek
Pairing: Well, I wonder!
Archive: With thanks to CJK at:
Yes, to Basement, Ratlover
OR, if you're getting bounced due to the anti-spam filter my server has added, try
DISCLAIMER: These are the property of CC, Fox and 1013, but believe me, they wouldn't want these!
Walter looked around at the lovely scene spread out as though for his benefit.
Acre upon acre of high wheat, golden, ready for harvest to one side. Rolling meadows to the other, high grasses, dotted with slashes of colour from a variety of wildflowers.
He glanced up, smiled. Red apples, weighted with the juice of ripe fruit, bowed the branch of the old tree so that all he had to do was reach up and pull one down to him.
He rubbed the fruit against his shirt, grinned at his reflection on the polished skin and bit into it, sweetness flooding his mouth as well as the liquid that he could barely contain. He licked his lips, the sides of his mouth clean with his tongue, like a great cat grooming itself.
There were birds somewhere up in the boughs of the tree: he could hear their melodic song. Bees were around, collecting the pollen from the wild roses that
grew in proliferation nearby.
The early afternoon sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky.
Walter finished his apple, sighed at the near perfection of the day. Only one thing was missing for complete perfection.
And, from the sounds coming from the other side of the hill, that element was about to be fulfilled.
Walter stood up, dusted his hands against the moleskin pants that molded his thighs. His Hessian boots were slightly dusty, but that didn't claim his attention. His eyes were fixed on the point where a happy humming could be heard.
He stood, waiting, the image of masculinity: feet apart, fists on hips, his blousy white shirt, open at the neck, ruffling in the slight breeze, hip length leather vest open, framing his manly torso.
As he watched, a figure came over the top of the meadowed hill, gathering flowers. A coronet of daisies circled Alex's dark sable hair: he had enough in his hands for another.
Walter laughed aloud at the thought of Alex trying to persuade him to wear the one he was surely going to make for him.
The laughter caught Alex's attention. For a moment he stopped, looked around till he spotted his waiting lover.
They smiled, the smile a mere token of the love they had for each other.
Slowly, Alex began running toward Walter. At some point in the day, he had pulled out his white shirt from his restricting pants which allowed the material
to billow out around him as he raced toward Walter in slow motion.
In slow motion, the flowers he held were released, strewn to the breeze as Alex's hands reached for his lover, as his smile grew to a grin, his green eyes sparkling, making him look more cat-like than ever.
Walter's hands slowly raised from his hips to stretch forward, ready to catch the man who made his heart beat faster with every approaching step.
In slow motion, Alex leaped from the ground to be caught in those loving arms, to be held high by the man whose love had rescued him from a dark time.
Alex's hands rested on the wide, solid shoulders of his lover; Walter's, around the narrow waist of his beloved. Slowly, still in slow motion, Walter turned round and round, looking into the loving eyes of the one his heart had chosen thoroughly if not wisely.
As they slowly came together, Walter could hear the soft strains of a Mozart melody, a melody that fit in so beautifully with the way he felt right then.
He clasped Alex close to him, allowed his knees to buckle and gradually they made their way to the soft ground.
Alex lay on Walter's chest. A shower of rose petals, all hues of the rainbow, rained down upon them. The air was permeated with their perfume. Laughing, Walter rolled so that Alex, bathed in the petals, laughed joyously, his hands reaching for Walter's face, to bring it down for his kisses.
"Jesus!" Walter sat up in bed, suddenly awake.
He looked around in the dark and realized that he was in his bed, in his room, in his condo. Besides him, head buried in his pillow, Alex lay sound asleep.
Careful, not to disturb him, Walter bent over and sniffed. No roses. Just the sleepy smell of Alex.
He sighed in relief.
He took a moment to appreciate the sight of his lover, then lay back down.
That was the last time he would allow his mother to pick the video when she visited.
"Elvira Madigan, for God's sake," he muttered as he snuggled closer to Alex and fell back asleep.
For those of you who have never seen "Elvira Madigan", go rent it: it's a great chick-flick! Very beautifully photographed, lovely Mozart music, beautiful lovers, and very teary ending. (Gave birth to all those slo-mo running through high grasses
Okay: slight correction. After I posted on SkinnerKrycek, someone pointed out that they were shampoo commercials.