Fic: "Fight or Flight"

[wave_of_sorrow]

Title: Fight or Flight
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG-13? PG-15?
Word Count: 640
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't claim. No money being made.
Summary: Holmes and Watson fight. Watson wonders about what could happen.
Spoilers/Warnings: None
A/N: Fill for a prompt on the kinkmeme. The request was for Holmes and Watson getting into a fight and somehow they end up very close together, completely still and the whole UST comes crashing down on their heads. I don't think this is what the OP had in mind, but I did my best.

 

Do you know that feeling? When time slows down, congeals and clots like hot blood, turns thick and sticky like honey, tangible, solid, before stilling completely. When between two heartbeats, between inhale and exhale, everything just stops. And you’re left standing there, lungs empty, heart still, eyes wide and mouth dry. Your muscles tense, cramped, paralyzed. That feeling of complete and utter clarity, of knowing. It’s that moment. That moment that decides everything. How you react will inevitably alter the course of your life, for better or for worse. That moment when all you know no longer matters. All the words of all the writers, poets, philosophers and intellectuals of this world are no use to you. Knowledge is useless, meaningless. What will you do? Fight or flight?

 

Watson’s eyes follow the crimson drop that drips from Holmes’ nose, watches its fall, sees it hang suspended in the air for the fraction of a stuttering heartbeat and with startling clarity he knows.

 

Knows that he will see the little droplet hit white fabric, be soaked up, watch bright crimson turn dull as it frays at the edges and  dries in the interval of one heartbeat. He will look up at Holmes, see his eyes darken with something more dangerous, more primal than anger. Hunger. He will see Holmes’ bruised, split lips, slightly parted and releasing panting breaths. The strong, rough jaw twitching with suppressed emotion threatening to break free. Will feel the clenching and unclenching of hands on his upper arms, short nails digging into warm fabric and hot skin underneath.  Will hear Holmes growl in the back of his throat, Watson. His name uttered as a threat, a curse, a vow, a plea.

 

Holmes will threaten Watson with the raw need and want in his voice. Curse him with the baring of his teeth for a split second. Vow to love him with the slight furrow of his brow. Plead with him to love him back with the tremble of his chin. And Watson will cup his face, wipe the blood away with his thumb before crushing his salty lips to Holmes’, staining them red.

 

A groan. Relief, pain and pleasure will all melt into one. They will tear off clothing, kiss roughly and messily. Teeth will clash, tongues will collide. The rough, slick slide of two strong muscles against one another will seem obscene as their mouths lock and cocks twitch. They will waste no time with foreplay. They will surrender to the need, the want, the hunger. They will be consumed by it, swallowed whole never to be spit out again. They will go into the very fires of Hell. And they will do it gladly, willingly.

 

Their hearts will ache and burn with the knowledge that first and last time are bleeding into one, the joy and the sorrow forever inseparable. And Love will stake her claim as they succumb to Desire, putting a brand, a mark on their racing hearts. The salt of a hundred unshed tears and sweat will mingle on their cheeks and for all the pain, all the grief in years to come they will not regret it. And they will know.

 

Know that nothing worth having comes without a price. Know that Life and Love are two cruel sisters, delighting in the sorrows and pain of others. Know that Desire’s blue flame will never be extinguished once it has put a mark on you. Know that love is many things, but that ‘easy’ is not one of them. But most of all they will know that happiness is always temporary.

 

Watson’s heart pulses in his chest, his lungs release a panting breath as he sees the little droplet hit white fabric, be soaked up, watches bright crimson turn dull as it frays at the edges and dries.

 

He pushes Holmes away.