Diana Wynne Jones ficlet
Mar. 29th, 2004 11:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamjarEight Days of Luke, not beta-read. No major warnings.
Title: Hide and Seek
The Christmas party was exactly what it should be. David enjoyed the dancing, the gas heaters set out in the garden and the food. He talked with a girl next to the mulled wine, with a boy reading Philosophy at Cambridge and kept half an eye out for Luke. For a while he thought he might be one of the candles, but gave it up as too obvious. There were the koi fish in the pond, but when he looked at them he decided they were just fish. He wandered around the party until he found himself standing under the mistletoe with a tall girl with masses of dark curly hair and a red and white rugby shirt.
She kissed him, quickly and strongly, just enough for him to catch the taste of wood smoke and eucalyptus. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He pulled away and looked at her, searching in her eyes for the familiar spark of Luke. She laughed and pushed him away from the mistletoe.
David went back into the garden and leaned against a tree. He took out his book of matches and lit one. A moment later he felt Luke behind him.
“What was I?” Luke demanded. His voice came from above.
David hesitated. His eyes went across the garden to look at a tall figure, laughing at someone as she was pulled under the mistletoe again.
“Is that your guess?” Luke said.
David shook his head and turned around. A ball of mistletoe was growing on the tree, green and obvious against the leafless branches. Luke sat next to it, looking down at David with an eager expression.
“Are you sure? I could have been. Or the mistletoe.” Luke poked at the mistletoe nextto him for emphasis then jumped to stand next to David.
David shook his head and smiled. He looked up and Luke followed his eyes to the mistletoe above them. “Tradition,” David said, and bent his head and kissed Luke. This mistletoe was alive and growing, bigger than the sprig hanging over the open French windows, so it only made sense that the kiss should be bigger too.
Eventually David took a step back and looked at Luke. He raised his hand to brush Luke’s hair, hesitated, then did it. When he licked his lips, he could taste something like smoke and cough-sweets.
“You weren’t the girl,” he said. “You were the kiss.”
Title: Hide and Seek
The Christmas party was exactly what it should be. David enjoyed the dancing, the gas heaters set out in the garden and the food. He talked with a girl next to the mulled wine, with a boy reading Philosophy at Cambridge and kept half an eye out for Luke. For a while he thought he might be one of the candles, but gave it up as too obvious. There were the koi fish in the pond, but when he looked at them he decided they were just fish. He wandered around the party until he found himself standing under the mistletoe with a tall girl with masses of dark curly hair and a red and white rugby shirt.
She kissed him, quickly and strongly, just enough for him to catch the taste of wood smoke and eucalyptus. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He pulled away and looked at her, searching in her eyes for the familiar spark of Luke. She laughed and pushed him away from the mistletoe.
David went back into the garden and leaned against a tree. He took out his book of matches and lit one. A moment later he felt Luke behind him.
“What was I?” Luke demanded. His voice came from above.
David hesitated. His eyes went across the garden to look at a tall figure, laughing at someone as she was pulled under the mistletoe again.
“Is that your guess?” Luke said.
David shook his head and turned around. A ball of mistletoe was growing on the tree, green and obvious against the leafless branches. Luke sat next to it, looking down at David with an eager expression.
“Are you sure? I could have been. Or the mistletoe.” Luke poked at the mistletoe nextto him for emphasis then jumped to stand next to David.
David shook his head and smiled. He looked up and Luke followed his eyes to the mistletoe above them. “Tradition,” David said, and bent his head and kissed Luke. This mistletoe was alive and growing, bigger than the sprig hanging over the open French windows, so it only made sense that the kiss should be bigger too.
Eventually David took a step back and looked at Luke. He raised his hand to brush Luke’s hair, hesitated, then did it. When he licked his lips, he could taste something like smoke and cough-sweets.
“You weren’t the girl,” he said. “You were the kiss.”
