Quinn felt like he was going to vomit. Except that he probably wouldn't. Hopefully. If he did that would be damn embarrassing. He'd seen 'Flynn's' picture on Spectre's LJ and it looked so much like Mal. Like his Mal. And after speaking to Deirdre, and hearing that 'Flynn' said he was from Whitehead, which was where Quinn was from...it was far too much evidence to be a coincidence. Flynn had to be Mal. So Quinn took himself to Flynn's house, shaking all the while, and he raised a hand to knock on the door. Once he'd accomplished that, he mentally willed himself not to vomit or run away. At least not until he knew if it really was Mal or not. God, if it wasn't he was going to feel like a right knob.
Page Summary
Style Credit
- Base style: Abstractia by
- Theme: Abyss by
Expand Cut Tags
No cut tags
no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 12:00 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 12:01 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 12:10 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 12:53 pm (UTC)From:"I will be anything to you that you want me to be. You more than earned that, Mal." Quinn leaned forward again, so his lips were centimeters from Flynn's own.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 01:01 pm (UTC)From:And then they were kissing. And Flynn wrapped his arms around Quinn, and Quinn's fingers found their way in to Flynn's hair, and it wasn't about who was taking care of who anymore. They were taking care of each other. And that was how they both wanted it to be.