m7 fic part one rated R

Stargate: With an almost unrecognisable Nathan from M7. I never even noticed him the first time I saw this - I was too busy giggling over Bodie from Dawson's Creek, and I was queueing up for autographs at the time with friends, so I was barely paying attention anyway. Well, this was a weird one. It starts off as a whole Martin Luthor King civil rights thing - I never even had to study that in school (such dangerous concepts) but I still got the references, subtle as they were. Then it just devolved into Jack's extreme and offensive xenophobia being proven true as the guy is revealed to be just a snake, after all. And didn't Brendan Fraser see off Imhotep in two movies? That should have been their first clue. Poor Imhotep. For a senior public servant he gets such a bad rap. No...on second thoughts, that's just about right J. Yu pops up, not dead. Yay, I like Yu. He seems awfully pro Tauri, for a go'auld. I mean, he's always letting SG-1 get away with it. The man has done more for the SGC than the Tokra and Tollan combined, when you think about it. So from this episode we get the message civil rights leaders are bad? Hmmm. Perhaps there are nuances, as a non American, that I am seriously missing here.

24: Evil Richard Burgi! Yay! I love a bad boy. Bring it on. I just don't get my friends who shy away from evil incarnate, especially in a character. The worse RB is, the more heroic Jack seems. It's a yin yang thing, and I love it. And Keifer is so cool. Now I remember why I inflicted all those crap films on myself in the 80s.

Dark Angel: I miss Zack. I hate Logan's hair. I miss Herbal. I'm warming to Alec though, even though I've been spoiled re his character's journey - like I couldn't guess. Nice work with the creatures too, very inventive makeup designs. Star Trek and Stargate should be ashamed. Was relieved to see annoyingly cute comedy relief little genetically engineered trained killer was sent over the border to Canada.

Seriously, dude, this M7 preview is rated R cuz it has lots of m/m sex in it. Cover your eyes now:

Auld Lang Syne - part one

Buck hissed and eased back in the biggest copper tub they had in the bathhouse,
slopping with steaming water. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back sliding
into the water, his eyes only snapping open as he heard the jangle of spurs
on the floorboards of the bathhouse.




"Buck," Chris greeted with a grin as Buck tried not to squirm or
shift restlessly in enormous tub.




"Help you with, ah, anything, Chris?" Buck twisted again in the water,
gasping and choking off a groan.




Chris' smile grew broader.




"I was thinking of riding out to my place tomorrow. Want to come?"
His eyes sparkled with amusement.




Buck's cheeks were flushed and nothing could stop the soft moans that kept
escaping from his lips.




"Uh huh," Buck managed to nod, his hands gripping the sides of the
bath enough to make dents on the side.




Chris nodded, almost too tickled for words.




"Good. See you tomorrow then. Night, Buck. Night, Ezra," he called
towards the soapy water of the bath and walked out, almost laughing.




Buck was about to issue forth a retort but instead arched back with a rush
of breath.




Ezra surged up from the water like a dolphin, looking smug, sloshing water
over the sides.




"I thought you must have drowned by now," Buck teased breathlessly.




Ezra just smiled, slithered forward over Buck's chest and kissed him, smothering
another groan from Buck as Ezra's long fingers slipped inside him. He stroked
in and out, making Buck writhe under him in the now tepid water, all the while
kissing him deeply because he knew Buck was a screamer.




Ezra drew back, letting Buck catch his breath, gently pushing his knees up,
then he leant into Buck's embrace, covering his mouth again. Buck must have
been an adventurous youth because Ezra always slid into him like warm butter.
It was delicious. None of Vin's nervous tightness. Buck opened up to him and
held him tight in his arms and Ezra loved it. He loved the feel of Buck's arms
and legs wrapped around him, loved the feel of Buck's skin rubbing against his,
loved the tickle of Buck's moustache against his lips. He loved Buck's playfulness
and tenderness. He rose up, leaning on Buck's shoulders, eyes locked together.
Buck kept panting the word 'yes' in time with Ezra's thrusts, urging him on.




Ezra pushed forward, as deep as he could go in the tub and bit down on the
heady rush of his release. He buried his face in the crook of Buck's shoulder
and tried to catch his breath as Buck held him, stroking his wet hair. Gently,
Buck tilted Ezra's face up so he could kiss him, then he let Ezra rest upon
him a little more.




In this last year Ezra had finally crossed wholly into manhood, leaving most
of his boyish ways behind, but wet and sated like this, with darkened eyes and
swollen lips and the masks all slipped away he still looked as young as Buck
had first seen him. Not as young as JD, not by a long shot, but still with a
brittle vulnerability that had hooked Buck, right through the heart.




Ezra looked up at him and Buck felt that kick in his guts again. He brushed
Ezra's lips softly with his thumb. The water was getting cold and he was going
to get sore. They rearranged themselves again, treasuring a rare quiet moment,
then the water lost a few more degrees and all its appeal and Buck nudged Ezra
to get out of the bath.




Several hours later found them gathered at their usual table in Ezra’s
hard won saloon, playing cards with Ezra more for sport than any hope of actually
winning anything.




Buck threw a coin into the middle of the table.




"You never told me you were buying that hotel."




"Bought. And I was always taught never to talk with my mouth full."




Buck choked on his whisky, remembering the bathhouse, and JD chuckled at Buck's
blushing.




"So you're my new landlord."




Ezra just smiled his Cheshire smile.




Buck laid his cards down on the table, wishing they were better. JD folded
and Ezra, then Ezra, to his shock, folded too.




Buck sat confused for several long moments, then he turned Ezra's hand over,
compared it with his own and realised he'd really beaten him.




"I've won?" he asked, needing confirmation.




"The cards never lie."




Buck's expression turned shrewd at the cheerful note in Ezra's voice.




"Did you let me win?" he asked, suspicious, the shine going off his
good fortune.




Ezra gave him his best poker face.




"Why, my dear Beauregarde, are you accusing me of cheating?"




"Well, no," Buck back pedalled, flushed, knowing such a suggestion
was an affront to Ezra, even if it was the truth more often than not.




"And besides," Ezra continued archly. "When have you ever known
me to give away money?"




Well, that settled it. Never. Buck scooped up his winnings with a clear conscience,
under Ezra's watchful eye.




They played a few more hands, then called it quits, Ezra escorting Buck back
to his room. Buck was still stewing over his sudden change in fortunes as they
crossed the road together.




"You let me win," Buck was affronted, having fallen for one of Ezra's
tricks again.




"No," Ezra was looking entirely sincere. "I didn't. I didn't
cheat you. That's why you won."




"You -" Buck had trouble forming the words, flabbergasted. "You
mean you've been cheating me all this time?"




Ezra's cool green eyes would neither confirm nor deny such an accusation.




Buck turned around in a little dance, torn between smacking Ezra down or hugging
him close. The little bastard had been cheating him, but had stopped, out of
love. Must be, Ezra would never lose deliberately elsewise. Buck just shook
his head. It was the darndest thing, his friendship with Ezra. Only his dear
Ezra could turn a momentary lapse in his mercenary nature into a declaration
of great affection.




"Why I oughta," was as far as the threat went. He hugged Ezra close
for a moment, then let him go, they being on the still busy main street after
all.




Ezra just gave Buck his most impish grin and Buck grabbed the little scallywag
and dragged him up to his hotel room.




ª




Chris stopped his digging, stood back and rested on his shovel while Buck dropped
the fence post in the hole again, checking for depth, giving it a good wiggle.
No, it still needed a few more inches. He lifted the heavy post out again.




Chris was still leaning on his shovel, barechested and sweating under the late
afternoon sun, needing a break.




Buck tilted the post towards Chris, signalling he willingness to swap for a
while.




Leaning on the post, Chris watched Buck dig out a couple of shovel fulls of
dirt before he spoke.




"How's Ezra treating you?"




Buck stopped, instantly, straightening, all the friendship gone from his face.




"I'm not going to talk about Ezra with you." Seeing Chris' failure
to take his meaning, he slammed the shovel sharply into the ground like a stake
and stepped closer. "You drove the boy to try and kill himself, Chris.
What you did to him..."




"I'm sorry."




"It's not to me you should be apologising."




Buck went back to digging in short, angry movements that were going to make
his back burn.




Chris watched him and nodded. What he'd done, what Buck knew he had done, it
didn't deserve forgiving. He'd been mad with rage and jealousy and he'd taken
it out, all of it, on Ezra. All the years of pent up misery and frustration
had exploded out of him because Ezra had goaded him. He still didn't know why
Ezra had pushed him like that. He guessed he never would, though he seen those
brief flashes of pain in Ezra's eyes, a pain that sometimes matched his own.




Lately, though, Ezra had slowly been brought back to his former, wickedly cheerful
self and Buck's face just lit up so much whenever he was around Ezra that you
could almost read a book by him. That's what Chris had wanted to comment about,
the happiness he saw in his friends, a happiness he envied. He hated to be reminded
of the misery he'd caused. He could never forget what he'd done to Ezra. Never.
Ezra bore the scars still, on his body and in his eyes.




"I never mean to hurt him."




"Yes, you did." Buck's shovel stumped into the hard baked soil again.
The shovel thumped down three more times before he stopped and looked across
at Chris.




"You know Ezra will do anything for attention, even the wrong sort of
attention. You played his game, even after I told you to leave him alone. Ezra
needs to feel special. Tricking people into hating him or hurting him works
just as well as - I actually think it's easier for him. You let him get to you,
Chris, but that don't excuse what you did. You're supposed to be better than
Ezra."




"You know I'm not. I'm no better than anyone."




"I know it. Ezra knew it." The shovel slammed down again.




"Why'd he do it. Why did he push me like that?"




Buck tossed a spadeful of dirt out of the way. "I told you. He wanted
you to notice him. You singled him out and you made him feel important. Ezra
likes to be the centre of attention."




He was certainly that. Ezra was very hard to ignore. Even just sitting in the
saloon in that bright red coat of his, he always drew your eyes to him. He was
always getting himself in trouble. Out of boredom, Chris now realised, rather
than spite. Ezra didn't mean to be difficult, he just needed somebody to give
a damn.




"I'm really sorry." Chris tried again, and Buck heard it in his voice.
He nodded. That was all that was needed to begin to put things right between
them, or at least, an agreement to try and put it behind them.




"He seems happy."




"I hope so. He isn't as thick-skinned as he pretends to be. You have to
treat him gentle, he bruises real easy."




"Like a girl," Chris grinned. "That's why you like Ezra so much.
He's a girl with a dick."




Buck threw a shovel full of dirt at him. Chris ducked away, missing most of
it.

Buck leant on his shovel. "I like the way he smells and the way he feels
wrapped around me. I love the way he looks and the way he makes me laugh. He
has a good heart, though he sees that as a character flaw right now. I don't
mind trying to teach him right from wrong."

"Somebody has to," Chris agreed, smiling.

"Ezra doesn't know any better. I think I'm the first person to really
give a damn about him. No one's ever loved him the way I do."

"You love him?" Chris couldn't help his exclamation.

Buck couldn't believe his admission. He considered it for several long moments,
then smiled and nodded, agreeing with himself.

"Yes, I do," he beamed.

"Have you told Ezra?"

Buck ducked his head. "No. I think I might scare him off."

"You could be right." Chris asked again: "You really love him?"

Buck tilted his head.

"How did you know you were in love with Sarah?"




"I just knew."

Buck smiled. "I just know."




ª

Chris lounged against the wall of the gaol, watching Buck stomp up onto the
veranda of the saloon, sling off his coat and slump down in the chair Ezra had
sprung from.

Buck was saying something, no doubt complaining about the hard labour Chris
had subjected him to. He saw Ezra smile.

Ezra was flashing Buck his million dollar smile, and Buck went weak at the
knees again for a moment. He was a sucker for those dimples, the twinkle in
those eyes.

It wasn't as though Ezra's smiles were rare, in fact he smiled all the time,
and Buck had learnt to read what Ezra's smiles meant. There were the solicitous,
business smiles that he trotted out when he was gambling or busy working some
scheme, conning somebody, then there were the fixed smiles he wore as a shield,
to hide how much a careless word from Chris or Nathan had cut him to the quick,
again. Next were his real smiles, the ones that shone when he was genuinely
amused and playful. Best of all were the smiles he gave to Buck, full of warmth
and friendship. A flash of gold and green eyes that made Buck feel like he was
the only person in the world and Buck found himself swooning like a lovesick
boy. That's how Buck knew he had it bad. Ezra took his breath away. He was the
most intriguing, mysterious, elegant and dangerous young man Buck had ever known.




Buck leant in close, returning that smile for just a moment, just so Ezra would
know how much he meant to Buck.




Ezra could see it clearly in Buck's eyes. He was no poker player, was dear
Buck, and he wore his heart proudly on his sleeve. Of all the people in the
world, Buck was the only one Ezra trusted, the only one he knew, inside and
out. Ezra beamed another knee trembling smile at Buck. He had a friend at last,
a friend who wanted nothing more than the pleasure of his company.




Chris saw them together and shook his head, amused. He'd never seen Buck so
smitten.

Chris glanced at Mary, who had come to stand beside him, and saw the little frown puckering her brows as she watched Ezra lean forward and rub Buck's sore
shoulders.

"You should be happy for Ezra," Chris remarked. "He's found someone to care about him."

"Yes, but Buck -"

"Then you should be relieved, the town no longer needs to lock up its
wives and daughters. At least not while Buck's like a lovesick cow."




"I just never thought Mr Wilmington was like that."

"Like Ezra?" Chris shook his head. "Nobody on this good earth
is like Ezra. You think it's wrong for Buck and Ezra to be happy?"




"What if people see…"

"Two friends horsing around? What is it, Mary, you don't like Ezra's kind either?" He pushed himself off the wall. "Or are you worried that the town will have to lock up their husbands and sons now?"

She gave him a horrified look, and he shook his head, dismayed.

"Buck ain't like that. Sure, he'll chase anything in a skirt, but he's
only ever loved one man before this. He never left that man's side and no matter
how bad things became between them, he stayed more loyal than any friend. I
think deep down he loves him still."

Mary's eyes widened. "Who?" She had to ask.

"Me," Chris grinned and walked away with a swagger, feeling her eyes staring into his back.

In case you think the shirtless scene with Chris above was gratuitous, it was, but it was also a homage to the infamous fence mending scene from the Young Riders. I haven't forgotten those boys, not at all. One of these days I'll inflict my YR fic on the world. Happily it's all still in notebooks, pre-dating my ownership of my PC by several years.

Dreamt war was declared last night, and I just slunk off to watch videos. Ah, my typical response to a crisis. Wanted to wear my fave black top and purple velvet skirt today, but alas that ensemble, having last been seen in a photo of me and actual real boys, has vanished from my wardrobe. I suspect it has gone the way of all my little black cocktail dresses from my 20s. It doesn't matter. I'm resigned to living out my life trapped and bitter and chained in the attic. I mean, I've had to cancel all social engagements for the remainder of the year because I'm required at home. Sigh. I resigned myself to this fate when I was four, when I was denied yet another modelling contract and my pleas for dance lessons were refused. By six, I'd had almost all of the rebellion beaten out of me. That's why I bought UFO on dvd, I got addicted to it while at home recovering from a very serious head injury when I was five, one of three I received that year. Yeah, this is my life, it's all very gothic and tortured and lonely and trapped. My only hope is that somebody finds my notebooks after I die, but considering the work she did on my Dad's stuff, not a chance. Hmmm, overly gloomy and creative today. What's the date, are we two weeks in? I'm thinking yes.

I'm actually warming to my brand new purple skirt, and in case you're wondering it was only $25 on special because nobody else out here would touch it, and I've not bought anything else this week. It's fuzzy and under flurescent lights it's mega purple. I'm wondering how many muppets died to make this skirt? J Yeah, my old one was sensible and dignified and this is so not, but I'm feeling very unseemly today, especially as I have to spend all weekend digging up my mulberry, olive and lavender bushes (one can never have anything better than what She has) and it's 50s weekend at the Seidler house. Whimper. L