Young Avengers, AU, fragment
Thursday, September 24th, 2009 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoOh AUs. Why do I love you so?
Billy officially hated moving.
The worse thing was, Billy didn’t know which part he hated more. Maybe it was seeing his entire life broken down and fitted into a series of non-descript cardboard boxes. Maybe it was being stuck in a car for three days with his family – and Billy totally agreed with his dad they should have kept going and done it in two. Maybe it was leaving behind New York for some small town, Nowhere, USA.
Maybe it was the sick feeling of nerves and anticipation he got whenever Billy realized that he’d be going to a new school. Not that Billy had really had many friends at his old school. There had been a few casual acquaintances, but no one wanted to be caught talking to him as long as he’d been a target. And then after the whole incident with Kessler, no one wanted to even be near him for fear he might turn into the human lightning storm again.
Or maybe it was the fact that he had to climb a flight of stairs to reach his new room. Hadn’t this place ever heard of elevators? Elevators beat stairs any day of the week. Billy would rather live on the sixth floor of a place with stairs than on the second of a place without.
It seemed to Billy that every step he took up, the box he was carrying gained a pound. Gravity seemed to work in reverse here. Finally, he stood at the top of the stairs only to be confronted by a hallway and four closed doors. He propped the box against the stair railing so that all its weight wasn’t resting on his arms.
“Which room is mine?” Billy yelled down the stairs.
“The one at the end of the hall,” his dad yelled back.
“Figures.” Billy picked up the box and headed down the hall. When he got to the last door he nudged open the door with his foot, and set the box on top of the other boxes that were stacked into a corner. His bed sat in pieces propped against the wall. The desk was buried under more boxes. The nightstand was sitting on its side, the drawer still taped shut. His computer was still downstairs where the movers had left it. “At least the room is large.”
The closet was hidden behind the wall of boxes, so inspecting that was out. He could still get to the window though. It was covered by a set of blinds, but Billy could see light leaking through the slats. Which at least meant that the view wasn’t blocked by a tree or anything.
As he got closer to the window, Billy could hear the sound of a lawnmower running. It was such an unusual sound in New York, though it was probably pretty common out here. He’d get use to it, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever get use to the lack of the ever present hum of sound that came with living in a city. Billy pushed open two of the slats in the blinds and looked out.
Um.
His window overlooked the neighbor’s backyard where a guy about his age with blond hair was currently mowing the grass. Shirtless. He wasn’t as built as some of the football players Billy had seen, but there was a definite layer of muscle on him. A fine sheen of sweat made him gleam in the sunlight. The faintest tinge of pink across the guy’s shoulders and back indicated the beginnings of a sunburn.
“Billy! Come down and get the rest of your boxes.” Billy jumped as if he’d been physically caught staring.
“Coming,” Billy yelled back. He took one last look at the blond, before he let the blinds close. With a sigh, he turned to head back down the stairs and another Sisyphean climb up the stairs with a box.
Billy officially hated moving.
The worse thing was, Billy didn’t know which part he hated more. Maybe it was seeing his entire life broken down and fitted into a series of non-descript cardboard boxes. Maybe it was being stuck in a car for three days with his family – and Billy totally agreed with his dad they should have kept going and done it in two. Maybe it was leaving behind New York for some small town, Nowhere, USA.
Maybe it was the sick feeling of nerves and anticipation he got whenever Billy realized that he’d be going to a new school. Not that Billy had really had many friends at his old school. There had been a few casual acquaintances, but no one wanted to be caught talking to him as long as he’d been a target. And then after the whole incident with Kessler, no one wanted to even be near him for fear he might turn into the human lightning storm again.
Or maybe it was the fact that he had to climb a flight of stairs to reach his new room. Hadn’t this place ever heard of elevators? Elevators beat stairs any day of the week. Billy would rather live on the sixth floor of a place with stairs than on the second of a place without.
It seemed to Billy that every step he took up, the box he was carrying gained a pound. Gravity seemed to work in reverse here. Finally, he stood at the top of the stairs only to be confronted by a hallway and four closed doors. He propped the box against the stair railing so that all its weight wasn’t resting on his arms.
“Which room is mine?” Billy yelled down the stairs.
“The one at the end of the hall,” his dad yelled back.
“Figures.” Billy picked up the box and headed down the hall. When he got to the last door he nudged open the door with his foot, and set the box on top of the other boxes that were stacked into a corner. His bed sat in pieces propped against the wall. The desk was buried under more boxes. The nightstand was sitting on its side, the drawer still taped shut. His computer was still downstairs where the movers had left it. “At least the room is large.”
The closet was hidden behind the wall of boxes, so inspecting that was out. He could still get to the window though. It was covered by a set of blinds, but Billy could see light leaking through the slats. Which at least meant that the view wasn’t blocked by a tree or anything.
As he got closer to the window, Billy could hear the sound of a lawnmower running. It was such an unusual sound in New York, though it was probably pretty common out here. He’d get use to it, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever get use to the lack of the ever present hum of sound that came with living in a city. Billy pushed open two of the slats in the blinds and looked out.
Um.
His window overlooked the neighbor’s backyard where a guy about his age with blond hair was currently mowing the grass. Shirtless. He wasn’t as built as some of the football players Billy had seen, but there was a definite layer of muscle on him. A fine sheen of sweat made him gleam in the sunlight. The faintest tinge of pink across the guy’s shoulders and back indicated the beginnings of a sunburn.
“Billy! Come down and get the rest of your boxes.” Billy jumped as if he’d been physically caught staring.
“Coming,” Billy yelled back. He took one last look at the blond, before he let the blinds close. With a sigh, he turned to head back down the stairs and another Sisyphean climb up the stairs with a box.
(no subject)
Date: 9/25/09 01:47 am (UTC)Also, mistake: Billy would rather live on the sixth floor of a place with stairs than on the second of a place without. I think it should be elevator, not stairs.
(no subject)
Date: 9/25/09 09:14 am (UTC)