Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Gattaca slash fiction

Title: Smoke
Fandom: Gattaca
Rating: PG
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Jerome/Vincent
Summary: Vincent realizes that what he has found in Jerome is nearly greater than Titan.


Space had always been a mystery to Vincent Freeman. Looking up too the sky in the cold city he lived in he could never see stars, only blackness. It was an empty abyss that stretched on forever and ever. No matter how many books Vincent had read and memorized in his short life, he still felt completely foolish. There was nothing anyone could write or say to prepare him for such an adventure, such a challenge, and he had been trying so hard this entire time to comprehend what was out there. Vincent often remembered the stars, how he and his mother would stare up at them on cool nights, a thick wool blanket wrapped around them. She was his first astrological teacher. She would point out constellations and teach him their names and tell their stories, both good and evil.
Here though, out on the porch of Jerome Morrow's home, there were no tales to be told, no glimmering dots to connect. There was nothing but a black veil covering it all, hiding all that Vincent Freeman had ever dreampt of seeing with his own two eyes. All the things others could only be told or read in a thick text book.
"Jerome." A voice called from behind.
Vincent turned a bit too sharply, only to face his quick-witted roommate. The man rolled his wheels over the slight buldge on the screen track, and glided only inches out onto the porch. "You shouldn't be out here at such an hour, it's frightfully cold."
Vincent leaned his back against the metal railing of the condo, a soft grin resting on his face as he lossened his tie. "Right."
He laid his hands on the handles of Jerome's wheelchair, and helped him back inside as he closed the glass screen door and covered it in the large drapery. "I'm guessing you've finished?"
"Yes, yes, everything's prepared." The british swimmer bickered calmly as he wheeled into their genetic impersanation lab. "All of the blood and piss samples are in the fridge, and I have the cannesters of skin and hair in their vials here for you. We should be safe for the next few days. Thank god for that, it's hard to piss three good packages of urine a day when your on a diet of vodka and cigarettes."
Jerome's voice echoed off of the thick stone walls of his home as he chattered, and Vincent couldn't help but wonder how the hell Jerome had put up with a place like this all alone. The staircase didn't do much good either, such a terrible reminder of what Jerome's physical state was. He stared for awhile, watching his older friend chatter and wheel about in his british tongue, telling him of the awful things he had to deal with today. It almost made Vincent chuckle. He knew Jerome must have missed having someone to talk too other than himself. So he let the man be and allowed him talk up a storm as he himself hung up his black coat.
"Of all the things I hate it's to be talked down too, and to be treated that way by someone I am paying to do a service is just intolerable." Spat Jerome in a short fase of fury.
A small pfft released from the back of Vincent's throat at Jerome's words and, of course, Jerome knew what he was onto.
"That is not funny, Vincent." Now Vincent knew he was in for it, there were only two reasons why Jerome would use his real name; if he was upset, or if he was completely drunk.
"I know, I'm sorry. It's just, how can others not talk down too you." Vincent chuckled behind his rolled up fist that was trying to stop him from laughing.
"Ooh, Vincent, really." The man complained, swiftly turning his wheelchair around and returning too a table where he guzzled down the last of his iced scotch in a glass.
The last of Vincent's laughter dissapated, but the grin did not do so as well as he began to walk over too his friend. "Look, I'm sorry, alright."
"Just forget it." Scowled Jerome, glaring off too the side, letting his half extinguished cigarette press too his lips. "I don't know how I've put up with this abuse these past five months. After all I've done for an obnoxious in-valid like you."
Vincent released a sigh from his nose, and walked up behind Jerome, laying his firm hands on his shoulders and rubbing them softly with his thumbs. Immediatly, though he knew Jerome tried to resist his reaction, he relaxed beneath Vincent's finger tips The hand that held his finished cigarette rested on his right handle bar, while his glass lay on his thigh. As Vincent continued the soothing treatment, Jerome's neck grew more relaxed and his head lay against Vincent's left arm comfortably. The last bit of Vincent's grin faded, and there was nothing but silence for many moments.
Vincent could not help but stare at his partner, the man that was making all of his dreams come true, and with nearly nothing for him to gain in return. Through all they had done, all they had been through, Vincent could only remember the days when he realized that this step to reaching his main challenge, was all but a challenge in itself. He remember taking his first awkward steps into this empty condo, filled with nearly no furniture and only the materials Jerome Morrow needed to survive. He remembered when he finally saw him, the valid angel here to answer his prayer, shrouded in thick smoke. The smoke was like a mask until it drifted too the side and showed that perfect, alluring gaze of spite.
The entrancing green eyes, that were once ordered on a sheet of cheap paper by Jerome's parents, sent a thrilling chill down Vincent's spine. He had never seen some one stare directly at him with such intensity and beauty all at once. He didn't know wether to be enchanted or frightened. He was grateful to have German there with him, without a distraction or someone to bring him back to reality, Vincent would have been senslessly glued too the spot. Rays of sunlight from the near by window curved themselves perfectly around Jerome's face and than reflected off and into the smoke that gracefully traveled around him. It turned the once elusively gray smoke a bright shade of yellow and green. The colors reminded Vincent of the poisonous gas the planet Venus was shrouded by.
Again the business man, German, brought Vincent back into reality, and although Vincent's eyes wandered, Jerome's magnifescent green pair stayed put on his invited impersonator.

Like German had awoken Vincent into conciousness, so did Jerome's cold left hand that lay itself on Vincents. The younger man gazed down at the valid angel below him and felt as Jerome's thumb rubbed his wrist.
"Let's go too bed." Jerome whispered, as if waking from his own thoughts as well.
A nod came from Vincent after Jerome's hand left his and returned too the black wheels of his chair. Vincent followed Jerome too the room they had now grown accustomed to share, and he lifted his friend up from the cursed contraption and onto the soft bed. No words were spoken as Vincent began to untie Jerome's shoe laces and pull his shoes off. Jerome laid back comfortably, the back of his hand laid over his eyes, trying to hide his penitence.
Vincent threw Jerome's socks too the floor and began removing his slacks, lifting his body a bit, and than sliding them off his legs with adapted skill.
"Up you go." Vincent muttered as he lifted up Jerome's torso so he would sit up.
Jerome removed his green vest himself, as well as his darker green tie.
"You should wear green more often." Vincent muttered.
With a irritable sigh, Jerome said "Are you really going to attempt to have small talk while we do this again, Jerome?"
This made Vincent shrug. "I'm just saying. It really brings out your features."
With a roll of his beautiful eyes, Jerome unbuttoned and removed his crisp white shirt. Vincent looked over his friends body keenly, memorizing every arch, and every faint appearance of hair on his pelvis and chest. It was hard to stay fixated on his beauty when Jerome was obviously in a foul mood, but Vincent did his best to let the moment last.
"Go on and get dressed yourself... I can get these on just fine." Jerome grumbled as he grasped his flannel red and black pajama pants.
"Are you sure?" The younger man murmured with concern.
This only sent a rush of annoyance through Jerome and he stubbornly grabbed and forced over one of his idol legs to slip one leg of his pants over his foot and up his calf. "See? I'm perfectly capable." The older man huffed as he continued to get himself dressed. "I've done it for the past six years, I can do it fine without you."
Vincent shook his head, Jerome's words didn't hurt him, he knew it was just the pride talking. "Whatever you say, Eugene." He said as he stood and headed towards the bathroom to brush his teeth and get dressed.

When Vincent finally appeared from the bathroom, he saw Jerome curled up, his legs folded in an awkward position, and he seemed to be fast asleep. Vincent sat down and ran his hand through his once clean cut hair, leaving it in a mess he used to prefer before becoming Jerome Morrow. With a stretch and one last sigh, Vincent lay back on his side of the bed, feeling all of his muscles and tendons relaxe as the weight and stress melted away on the soft mattress. He stared at the ceiling, restless and filled with thought. There was so much that needed to be done, so much to prepare for. He was nearly halfway there, and yet, from looking back on all the time spent and gone the finish line seemed so damn far away.
He tried to be optimistic, but it seemed that he and Jerome were truly switching sides. He really did feel like Jerome sometimes. Smart, cunning, beautiful... perfect, and as more and more people began to be fooled by this charade, the more and more Vincent was telling himself "why not?". It was a dangerous card to play, and as much as he needed Jerome Morrow's body to be his own, he did not ever want Jerome Morrow's personality to become his own.
Aa cold hand suddenly touched Vincent's chest and slipped around, hugging too his torso. Jerome came near, and laid his head on Vincent's chest.
"Still not asleep?" He murmured, his voice drowzy.
"No... too much on my mind. Sorry if I woke you."
Jerome's head shook and he made himself shift closer, his legs protesting to help. "You didn't."
A frown appeared on Vincent's lips and he sat up and positioned Jerome's body correctly and comfortably against his own. He laid back down, wrapped an arm around his friends shoulders, and smiled softly as he saw Jerome become much more relaxed beside him.
"No problem."
Jerome's eyes stared at Vincent vividly, even in the dark they still effected Vincent in ways no one else's eyes could. "Listen... I'm sorry about what I said, earlier."
The younger man shifted and shook his head. "No need to apologize, I know."
"... It still doesn't make me feel to good to not apologize for it though."
"Eugene, I know you better than anyone, maybe even better than you do." He said, running his hand through Jerome's hair. "Nothing you could ever say could hurt me."
The valid man looked at his lover for a long moment until he frowned. "Damn... and all those times I wanted to make you cry."
A chuckle released from Vincent's throat. "You really didn't like me back than, did you?"
"No. I really didn't."
"Why was that?"
Jerome huffed slightly, before laying his head back again. "Because, I didn't know what kind of obsessive psycho I was going to have to live with for a year."
"Hm, and look at where we are now."
There was a short pause as Jerome analyzed what he meant, and where they were right now. Two men, complete opposites, sharing a name, curled up in each others arms for warmth. It was hard for Jerome's pride to take it. "Oh, god!" He squirmed away half hazardly, curling into a stubborn ball.
"Awww come back, Eugene." Vincent begged.
"It's Jerome, and no, I'm not coming back." He growled.
"Hm." Vincent grunted, shifting over too his friends side and wrapping his arm around him.
For the next few minutes there was debate and shoving, but once Jerome finally was too tired to continue, he gave in and fell asleep in Vincents arms. The perfect man, with the perfect mind. The imperfect soul and the imperfect fate. It all didn't matter as Jerome dozed into a deep sleep. He was like any other person, always, no matter what, lost in dreams. Than Vincent began to realize how much the black sky above them, and the smoke of Jerome's cigarette shared in common. They both hid something, and Vincent had finally found what that veil of smoke had hidden. As he smiled, and lay his head beside Jerome's, he shut his eyes and thought of the treasure he had found in being with Jerome. He had been the first, in many years, to see the man smile, to see the real Jerome he always kept strictly locked up emerge freely.
Jerome hid a treasure as great as the cities sky hid the stars, something you cannot ever read in a book, something no one could ever possibly describe. As Vincent pressed his soft lips against Jerome's temple, he found himself grasp him tighter. He never wanted to let him go. This treasure that was his alone to be given, to be shown. Jerome Morrow, the most imperfect perfection. The smoke had been blown away, and there the angel sat, patiently waiting.


( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 8th, 2009 01:34 am (UTC)
I guess I stumbled onto this because I was looking for good Gattaca fiction - and I'm glad I did! :D If you haven't read this one piece, read it! :D

Feb. 15th, 2009 12:00 am (UTC)
thanks for the tip. It was a great fic.
I'm glad you enjoyed mine, keep searching for great gattaca fics, they're worth the effort.
rock on!
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 19th, 2009 01:55 am (UTC)
awww thanks!
Jul. 21st, 2009 06:33 am (UTC)
ah, your banner at the very end is so pretty!
Feb. 17th, 2013 06:35 am (UTC)
Login and get off hot locals Go Here welcomemyhomecat.blogspot.com
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )

Latest Month

January 2009
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Yasmina Haryono