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greenstickered2014-08-17 01:36 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2014-08-17 01:36 pm
Uncharted (Infinity Plays): Poco a poco
Title: Poco a poco
What: Uncharted fanfiction - short story
Rating: PG (sexual references)
Words: ~1250
Summary: Music isn't the way to Chloe's heart, but she enjoys when her boys try it.
Notes: Very loosely inspired byyukimarimo's imagining Chloe/her boys slowdancing with the boys singing the song to her, in that once I finally finished laughing, I thought, "but what songs would they serenade her with on instruments?" In order, they play "Heart and Soul" (that piano duet everyone knows how to play but no one knows the name of), the Across the Universe version of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles, and "Wonderwall" by Oasis.
It's her first time at Nate and Victor's place and she's walking around with a mug of beer in her hands. Victor's "in Eastern Europe or something" and she knows very well what she and Nate are here for, but it's fun to put it off, to heighten the anticipation for both of them.
(Maybe a small part of her is trying to get to know him better. The larger part says it's not serious; the small part says he's brought her into his home and that means something - or she wants it to mean something.)
She runs her fingers along the shelves, absently trying to place the periods and cultures of the artefacts between the books. The spears in with the umbrellas in makes her grin, and then her gaze falls on an upright piano.
"Do you play?" she asks, a slow smile spreading across her face as she touches the keys, just to touch them rather than to make a sound.
Nate laughs, sliding a hand around her waist. "Nah. This is Sully's; I haven't heard him play it in a few years. Once in a while he opens it up to try and impress girls, but I can't remember the last time we got it tuned."
She raises an eyebrow. He stares at her, confused, before he snorts lightly and shakes his head. "Oh, no, no, no, I am not playing it to impress you."
"I don't need to be impressed," she says. "I just want to hear you play."
"I only know one song," he protests. "And it's a duet."
Chloe gently removes his hand from her waist and places it on the keyboard. "I like seeing what a man can do with his hands."
"Do you, now?"
She nods towards the piano. Nate sighs deeply, puts his own beer on top of the piano, and starts playing chords. It really is out of tune. His touch is hesitant at first and he hits a few wrong chords, but slowly he grows more confident.
"I haven't played this in ages," he explains. "Sully can play the other side: It's kind of a dah dah dah, dananananana, dah dah dah..."
Chloe nods, recognizing the tune. She faintly recalls how to play the other side of this duet, but it's more fun watching Nate struggle on his own.
She's starting to lose count of how many times she's been to Charlie's place and she's curling up on the windowsill with a cup of tea. She can't sleep and she didn't mean to wake him, but he's up now and won't accept her apologies or her telling him to go back to sleep.
(He only asks once how she's doing and doesn't push for details, which she appreciates more than she can say.)
Her gaze is on her phone and she's wondering whether she should text Nate and apologize, when she hears the strum of Charlie's guitar, soft in deference to the time of night. It's not the first time he's played it while she was over, but it's the first time he's playing without prompting or alcohol.
He smiles slightly once he realizes he's got her attention. "Any requests?"
Chloe shakes her head. She doesn't feel like thinking, not even to choose a song. "Just keep doing what you're doing."
"Alright, then."
She only recognizes the song once he starts singing. It's slowed down from the original, something she'd never expected what with Charlie's musical purist tendencies, and the tempo change makes it less jaunty, more sincere. The way he's studiously looking at his own cup of tea on the coffee table instead of her (since he doesn't need to look at the fretboard) seems to say something about his intentions behind the lyrics, too. On any other night, she'd think about trying to unpack his song choice. Tonight, she's struggling enough with one friendship to even contemplate the idea of changing another.
"You know I can't hold your hand while you're playing a two-handed instrument, yeah?" she asks instead, rhetorical.
Charlie chuckles over a line, and finishes the song, barely pausing before he moves on to another slow and quiet arrangement. She closes her eyes and listens, letting herself get lost in the music. For a few minutes, she's not getting tangled up in her best friend's harebrained search that will probably get someone hurt; she's not remembering their last search ending in betrayal, near death, and superpowers in the wrong hands; and she's not wondering if perhaps another friend with benefits wants to make things more serious than they have been.
It's her first time at Harry's new place (well, new to her) and she's clutching a glass of wine like a lifesaver as she looks around. His flat in London eight years ago had been nicer. She doesn't mention it because she's pretty sure he ditched it because of her.
One of the few personal touches is a cheap old guitar Charlie gave him as a half-joking challenge to learn another song a few months ago. Chloe all but jumps at the opportunity to break the silence. "There's a familiar face."
"Oh, yeah," says Harry, picking it up. "I'm still surprised he let me have it."
On one hand, so is she. She never knows whether to be pleased or terrified that they're getting along so well. On the other hand, this guitar's a brand no one's heard of and Charlie prefers his Danelectro. She shrugs. "He wasn't using it."
He sets his wine on the table and sits on the other end of the couch, the fretboard leaning on the armrest. After a few bars, Chloe chuckles. "I'm not in sixth form and that's not my favorite song."
"And as you know very well, I'm also not a virgin," he says, and she smirks despite herself, despite the reminder of how their relationship started. They've gone about this whole thing backwards, sleeping together, falling for each other though not actually saying it in so many words, and only now that it's all over, getting to know each other.
"So how come you never learned how to play anything else?" she asks, assuming he hasn't learned anything since getting this guitar.
Harry tilts his head, considering. "I realized there were less painful things I could do with my fingers to get into a girl's pants."
She rolls her eyes. So he's going to play off the awkwardness between them with sexual references tonight. "Jesus, Harry -"
"And I don't know what happened to my guitar when I left home," he adds, more seriously. "I didn't take it to uni with me."
That, she hadn't been expecting. She'd inferred when they first started working together that he went to uni but not Oxbridge, and he occasionally implies he doesn't keep in touch with his family. This additional detail is interesting, something to tuck away and look at later.
He fumbles a chord, and looks at the fretboard to correct it. "You know, I don't even remember what chords these are," he says. "I just know that this sequence is how the song goes."
She sets down her wine, leans across his lap, and holds his left hand to stop him from going on. "Looks like E minor, but missing a string."
He blinks. "You play?"
"Charlie taught me a few basics." She lets go, and wonders if he could feel her hand.
What: Uncharted fanfiction - short story
Rating: PG (sexual references)
Words: ~1250
Summary: Music isn't the way to Chloe's heart, but she enjoys when her boys try it.
Notes: Very loosely inspired by
yukimarimo's imagining Chloe/her boys slowdancing with the boys singing the song to her, in that once I finally finished laughing, I thought, "but what songs would they serenade her with on instruments?" In order, they play "Heart and Soul" (that piano duet everyone knows how to play but no one knows the name of), the Across the Universe version of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles, and "Wonderwall" by Oasis.It's her first time at Nate and Victor's place and she's walking around with a mug of beer in her hands. Victor's "in Eastern Europe or something" and she knows very well what she and Nate are here for, but it's fun to put it off, to heighten the anticipation for both of them.
(Maybe a small part of her is trying to get to know him better. The larger part says it's not serious; the small part says he's brought her into his home and that means something - or she wants it to mean something.)
She runs her fingers along the shelves, absently trying to place the periods and cultures of the artefacts between the books. The spears in with the umbrellas in makes her grin, and then her gaze falls on an upright piano.
"Do you play?" she asks, a slow smile spreading across her face as she touches the keys, just to touch them rather than to make a sound.
Nate laughs, sliding a hand around her waist. "Nah. This is Sully's; I haven't heard him play it in a few years. Once in a while he opens it up to try and impress girls, but I can't remember the last time we got it tuned."
She raises an eyebrow. He stares at her, confused, before he snorts lightly and shakes his head. "Oh, no, no, no, I am not playing it to impress you."
"I don't need to be impressed," she says. "I just want to hear you play."
"I only know one song," he protests. "And it's a duet."
Chloe gently removes his hand from her waist and places it on the keyboard. "I like seeing what a man can do with his hands."
"Do you, now?"
She nods towards the piano. Nate sighs deeply, puts his own beer on top of the piano, and starts playing chords. It really is out of tune. His touch is hesitant at first and he hits a few wrong chords, but slowly he grows more confident.
"I haven't played this in ages," he explains. "Sully can play the other side: It's kind of a dah dah dah, dananananana, dah dah dah..."
Chloe nods, recognizing the tune. She faintly recalls how to play the other side of this duet, but it's more fun watching Nate struggle on his own.
She's starting to lose count of how many times she's been to Charlie's place and she's curling up on the windowsill with a cup of tea. She can't sleep and she didn't mean to wake him, but he's up now and won't accept her apologies or her telling him to go back to sleep.
(He only asks once how she's doing and doesn't push for details, which she appreciates more than she can say.)
Her gaze is on her phone and she's wondering whether she should text Nate and apologize, when she hears the strum of Charlie's guitar, soft in deference to the time of night. It's not the first time he's played it while she was over, but it's the first time he's playing without prompting or alcohol.
He smiles slightly once he realizes he's got her attention. "Any requests?"
Chloe shakes her head. She doesn't feel like thinking, not even to choose a song. "Just keep doing what you're doing."
"Alright, then."
She only recognizes the song once he starts singing. It's slowed down from the original, something she'd never expected what with Charlie's musical purist tendencies, and the tempo change makes it less jaunty, more sincere. The way he's studiously looking at his own cup of tea on the coffee table instead of her (since he doesn't need to look at the fretboard) seems to say something about his intentions behind the lyrics, too. On any other night, she'd think about trying to unpack his song choice. Tonight, she's struggling enough with one friendship to even contemplate the idea of changing another.
"You know I can't hold your hand while you're playing a two-handed instrument, yeah?" she asks instead, rhetorical.
Charlie chuckles over a line, and finishes the song, barely pausing before he moves on to another slow and quiet arrangement. She closes her eyes and listens, letting herself get lost in the music. For a few minutes, she's not getting tangled up in her best friend's harebrained search that will probably get someone hurt; she's not remembering their last search ending in betrayal, near death, and superpowers in the wrong hands; and she's not wondering if perhaps another friend with benefits wants to make things more serious than they have been.
It's her first time at Harry's new place (well, new to her) and she's clutching a glass of wine like a lifesaver as she looks around. His flat in London eight years ago had been nicer. She doesn't mention it because she's pretty sure he ditched it because of her.
One of the few personal touches is a cheap old guitar Charlie gave him as a half-joking challenge to learn another song a few months ago. Chloe all but jumps at the opportunity to break the silence. "There's a familiar face."
"Oh, yeah," says Harry, picking it up. "I'm still surprised he let me have it."
On one hand, so is she. She never knows whether to be pleased or terrified that they're getting along so well. On the other hand, this guitar's a brand no one's heard of and Charlie prefers his Danelectro. She shrugs. "He wasn't using it."
He sets his wine on the table and sits on the other end of the couch, the fretboard leaning on the armrest. After a few bars, Chloe chuckles. "I'm not in sixth form and that's not my favorite song."
"And as you know very well, I'm also not a virgin," he says, and she smirks despite herself, despite the reminder of how their relationship started. They've gone about this whole thing backwards, sleeping together, falling for each other though not actually saying it in so many words, and only now that it's all over, getting to know each other.
"So how come you never learned how to play anything else?" she asks, assuming he hasn't learned anything since getting this guitar.
Harry tilts his head, considering. "I realized there were less painful things I could do with my fingers to get into a girl's pants."
She rolls her eyes. So he's going to play off the awkwardness between them with sexual references tonight. "Jesus, Harry -"
"And I don't know what happened to my guitar when I left home," he adds, more seriously. "I didn't take it to uni with me."
That, she hadn't been expecting. She'd inferred when they first started working together that he went to uni but not Oxbridge, and he occasionally implies he doesn't keep in touch with his family. This additional detail is interesting, something to tuck away and look at later.
He fumbles a chord, and looks at the fretboard to correct it. "You know, I don't even remember what chords these are," he says. "I just know that this sequence is how the song goes."
She sets down her wine, leans across his lap, and holds his left hand to stop him from going on. "Looks like E minor, but missing a string."
He blinks. "You play?"
"Charlie taught me a few basics." She lets go, and wonders if he could feel her hand.