Title: Strawberries: The Scenes We *Don't* See... (1/1)
Author: Bronze Tigress

Pairings: 5x2x6; mention of 4xR, 3xD
Warnings: implied yaoi, het

Disclaimer: I'm only playing with them; the bunnies made me do it!

Author's Notes: This is what happens when a plot bunny and several of
it's siblings attack me in the shower on a Monday (which is wash day).
And what happens when they decide to write a vidfic for a voiceover.
*MY* bunnies. Aren't they silly?

This fic is a companion to 'Neapolitain'.

symbols:

[words] - video images only; no sound
~words~ - voiceover; a chorus made up of between three and six male
voices speaks in a nearly-singing unison, as if the words were a song
without a melody, or they a Greek Chorus. It is impossible to distinguish
any particular voice.

Sections between ~*~'s run simultaneously.

~~~

[Outside, in wintertime; snow covers lawns and roofs, and icicles hang
from tree branches and power lines. A section of small row houses are
hidden by the remains of a huge tree and the electric lines it brought
down with it in its fall. A uniformed Preventer is directing clean-up
crews, equipment, and ambulances through the snowy street and the
wreckage. The officer's ebony hair is caught back in a neat tail that
partially obscures the letters printed across the back of the heavy coat.]

~He brought home strawberries last night. I can't imagine where he
found them at this time of year. I mean, it's not exactly as if it were
still snowing out, but that ice storm last week doesn't exactly qualify
as strawberry-growing weather. Probably way too expensive, too...~

[A tall man with broad shoulders and a long sweep of platinum blond
hair bends down to put a wine bottle into a refrigerator. His hair
obscures his face as he stands again to reach for the clear plastic box
resting on the counter beside him. The shot tightens in on the box, which
is filled with what appear to be strawberries.]

~*~*~*~*~

[Copper-coloured hair gathered neatly into a braid runs down the back
of the uniform jacket worn by the slender, yet unmistakeably male,
figure pushing a shopping cart through a crowded department store aisle.]

~He must like them or something. Strawberries, I mean. Really like
them. This shampoo is strawberry scented, and there's over a dozen more
bottles just like it under the sink. I know I don't like shopping that
much either, or running out of shampoo, but really! At least when I
brought back seven bottles of the same conditioner it was a nice
innocuous vanilla scent. Smells pretty good on _him_, too...~

[Through a hazy filter, as in a dream sequence, we see a mud-splattered
man with short, dripping wet hair that might be almost any shade it is
so completely covered in dirt. He is carrying an equally muddy rake
and a duffel bag that appears, miraculously enough, to be mostly clean.
He knocks on a door. It is answered by a young woman with sand
coloured hair and a pink dress, who seems rather amused by the apparition in
her doorway.]

~*~*~*~*~

[Two men - one tall, very fair and blue-eyed in a Nordic fashion, and
the other nearly a head shorter, obviously Chinese, with dark eyes and
tanned skin - stand in a clothing store picking out shirts. Both reach
for the same red one, and they smile as their hands brush together. As
they turn to leave the display we notice the long straight fall of
platinum hair and the neat black ponytail we've seen before. The blond is
carrying the basket with both
their selections in it.]

~What is it with him and red clothes? You'd almost think it was a
lucky colour or something. At least black goes with everything -
especially more black - but reds, well... And all this white! Does make
sorting the laundry easy, though. Must remember to run those new shirts
through a second rinse...~

[An initially nondescript man wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans
sits on a bench in a laundry room, reading. Suddenly he looks up, then
closes the book, revealing startlingly intense blue eyes and a long
brown braid which he flips back over his shoulder as he stands. He steps
towards the dryers and begins taking out clothing and folding it neatly
into a basket. Under the light, his hair takes on a recognizably
coppery sheen.]

~*~*~*~*~

[Once again through the hazy filter, we see a young man with short
brown hair, sitting in a chair turned three-quarters away from the camera.
Before him kneels a young woman whose pale hair falls below her hips.
She appears to be speaking earnestly to him. As the shot fades she
lifts one hand to rest it on his knee.]

~Cream whipped, vanilla sugar on the counter with the desert bowls, and
all the most perfect heart-shaped slices of the strawberries in a
separate bowl for garnish. Dinner's just about done simmering - where'd
that... ah! bay leaf *out* now.~

[In the same kitchen as before, the tall blond man, dressed in white
jeans and red shirt and with his waist-length hair loosely tied back out
of harm's way, is pouring something from a carton into a metal bowl on
the counter. Beside him, the braided man pulls a knife from the drawer
and begins working.]

~*~*~*~*~

[A tray with three steaming mugs rests on a counter-top. A pair of
peach-skinned hands adds a metal bowl with some condensation and
fingerprints on it, then one hand disappears, returning with a small bowl. The
shot pans up so that we can see that the mugs contain hot chocolate,
the metal bowl holds whipped cream, and the smaller bowl is filled with
slices of bananas. The hands return, lifting the tray and swivelling it
off the counter.]

~Vanilla-scented pillars lit on the counter-top, where I can see them
from the kitchen and from the table in the living room. Couch decorated
with a few surprises ('cause I don't want to be hunting for things
later, and I am *not* using whipped cream for *that* again - I still don't
think I got it all off after last month's little adventure with the hot
chocolate). Yup, looks like everything's ready...~

[The Chinese man, now wearing black jeans and a red tank top and with
his hair loose, is lighting a row of large pillar candles on a
mantlepiece. Several more await his attention on the low table in front of the
fireplace. Another man, his long brown braid falling over his shoulder
as he bends down, sets a plate of bread and a handful of cutlery on the
table before turning back towards what is evidently the kitchen. The
darker man smiles after his
retreating form.]

~*~*~*~*~

[The low table has been cleared of everything except the candles, and
moved towards the mantle. The light now comes only from the many
flickering pillar candles. Puddles of red, white, and black fabric litter
the floor.]

~Huh. Who knew? I think I'm going to need to run *myself* through a
second rinse to get all the strawberry off...~

[Beams of early morning sunlight shine through curtains patterned with
a tiny black gingham and scattered red chrysanthemums, illuminating
three figures in the king-sized bed. The two darker men curl protectively
around their fair companion, whose head rests on the Chinese man's bare
shoulder. A quilt, patterned to coordinate with the curtains, is
pulled up too far to see more. The shot pans back through the doorway as
the door closes upon the peaceful scene.]

~~~

comments? e-mail Bronze Tigress!