[Fic] Tron Lines
Nov. 5th, 2011 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Tron Lines
Fandom: Tron
Characters: Kevin Flynn/Jordan Canas
Word Count: ~1100
Rating: PG
Summary: Jordan discovered her husband's secret by accident, and by the time she knew it all she could safely say it wasn't like any secret any other husband in the world could have kept.
A/N: Cross-posted to AO3 here.
She saw it first when she was helping him get ready for work, and thought she'd imagined it. Sparkles in front of her eyes for not getting breakfast before she threw clothes at him and told him he was going to be late, even on that monster bike of his, get moving. But then Jordan saw it when she was helping him get ready a second time, more leisurely, dressing him up for a press conference on the new recollection, repurpose and recycling initiative he hoped to spread beyond ENCOM, and she knew it wasn't her imagination.
Then he threw the undershirt on, and the dress shirt, and she wondered what she'd seen at all. Pressure bruises from sitting in a chair or leaning against a desk too long? Desks made horizontal pressure bruises, not vertical ones, she had a set herself from leaning over the drafting table.
"Kevin?" Jordan blinked in the moments after, trying to figure out if she really saw that. She went over, too, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pressed her cheek to the back of his shoulder, both for the comfort and to see if these marks exuded any warmth that would confirm their existence. She was pretty sure she would have noticed that already, but still.
He did notice the unusual display of cling. "Hey... something wrong? What's up?" One hand covered hers, smooth and warm the way it should be. Then again, she hadn't seen anything on his hands.
"Nothing..." Maybe nothing. Maybe something. "Do you have to go do that press conference? You could stay here with me and Sam..."
That was unfair, because now she had to watch the conflict on his face, staying here in the warmth of home and family which she knew he appreciated, or go do the work that drove and inspired him and share that inspiration with the world. Dodging around the issue was never the right answer. She'd known the value of being blunt and open with Kevin Flynn long before she'd married him; sometimes it was the only way you could get him to hear you about anything.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he frowned, worry creasing his brow and making his mouth scrunch up in that funny way he had. "Is something wrong with S--"
"No, no, nothing's wrong. With me or Sam. It's..." She took his hand and led him back over to the mirror, tugging his shirt up out of his pants, then the undershirt.
Flynn smiled, completely misunderstanding. "Hey, you could have said something ea--" then he stopped. Because she just pointed, pressing a finger to his side and close to his hip where the faint blue line crept up out of his waistband. And now that she was looking at it for more than a second or two here and there it didn't look like a bruise. It looked like it was glowing.
"There something you want to tell me, babe?" She was proud of herself for her voice sounding as steady as it was. People didn't abruptly sprout glowing blue lines, they just didn't. People didn't glow, at all. Bugs did, some kinds of fish did, but not people.
Flynn frowned, reaching around to awkwardly trace the little blue line, then opened his pants and rolled them down his hips so they could both see better. No, it wasn't long, but there was a matching one on the other side. And one at the top of his thigh, both sides. They'd both been so busy lately that she'd missed it. And the couple of parallel dots on his ribs that looked like they were going to blossom into lines. God, what had she missed?
"Babe, what have you been up to? What have you been doing?"
"It's... complicated." He pulled his pants back up, put his clothes on slowly, distracted. By whatever he was thinking, and for the first time in their whole relationship she felt shut out. Whatever he was thinking or planning, it was something she not only couldn't guess or didn't understand, but had no conception of. Coding she just laughed off her incomprehension, she hadn't bothered to learn much more than she needed and he knew all the myriad ways computers talked to each other, and that was fine. The recycling, reuse, make the most of everything they could she did understand, and fully supported.
But she couldn't in this lifetime imagine what put neon blue glowing lines in a person's body. What he could be doing that turned him into a person in a comic book. Except this was real. Her mind could barely accept that it was happening, especially when he was dressed and she couldn't see anything.
"How complicated?" Was it toxic? Was it deadly? Was she going to lose him in some slow, inexorable way? Was he going to turn into a lite-brite? She felt a hysterical giggle coming on, covered her mouth with her hand to stop it.
"It's..."
Practicality interrupted. She heard herself saying it. "If it's a long story, you'd better call the press conference and re-schedule, or..." And then she swallowed it back and shook her head. "No. You go do the press conference, then..." They'd planned to have dinner out. Celebrate. She'd call and cancel the reservations. "Then come straight back here and tell me."
"Are you sure?"
His palms warm on her cheeks, turning her face up towards him. Warm and thick and solid and reassuring, in his own way. Jordan took a breath and rested her hands on his chest, palms open, just for a second. Just to look at him, searing his image onto her brain, worried frown and all. Pretty soft curls and beautiful eyes and whatever else was going on, here, still, was the man she loved ridiculously much.
She stretched up on tiptoes and kissed him and buttoned up his shirt. "I'm sure. You just make sure you remember to come back here and tell me all about it. I can wait a few hours, and they'll go into a feeding frenzy if you reschedule." Practicality helped, anyway. She could clean or something while she waited, she couldn't work cohesively in this state. Maybe she'd jot down a few notes if she got inspired, in the meantime.
"Okay..." he said, dubious, but accepting. Taking her word for it, if she said it was okay. But she still wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, and he hugged her just as tight. "You know I love you, right?"
"Of course," she told his shirt pocket. "And I love you. Just the way you are, Kevin Flynn, you make sure you remember that." And she would make sure she remembered it, too. "I'll be here when you get back. You can tell me all about it."
He did, too.
Fandom: Tron
Characters: Kevin Flynn/Jordan Canas
Word Count: ~1100
Rating: PG
Summary: Jordan discovered her husband's secret by accident, and by the time she knew it all she could safely say it wasn't like any secret any other husband in the world could have kept.
A/N: Cross-posted to AO3 here.
She saw it first when she was helping him get ready for work, and thought she'd imagined it. Sparkles in front of her eyes for not getting breakfast before she threw clothes at him and told him he was going to be late, even on that monster bike of his, get moving. But then Jordan saw it when she was helping him get ready a second time, more leisurely, dressing him up for a press conference on the new recollection, repurpose and recycling initiative he hoped to spread beyond ENCOM, and she knew it wasn't her imagination.
Then he threw the undershirt on, and the dress shirt, and she wondered what she'd seen at all. Pressure bruises from sitting in a chair or leaning against a desk too long? Desks made horizontal pressure bruises, not vertical ones, she had a set herself from leaning over the drafting table.
"Kevin?" Jordan blinked in the moments after, trying to figure out if she really saw that. She went over, too, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pressed her cheek to the back of his shoulder, both for the comfort and to see if these marks exuded any warmth that would confirm their existence. She was pretty sure she would have noticed that already, but still.
He did notice the unusual display of cling. "Hey... something wrong? What's up?" One hand covered hers, smooth and warm the way it should be. Then again, she hadn't seen anything on his hands.
"Nothing..." Maybe nothing. Maybe something. "Do you have to go do that press conference? You could stay here with me and Sam..."
That was unfair, because now she had to watch the conflict on his face, staying here in the warmth of home and family which she knew he appreciated, or go do the work that drove and inspired him and share that inspiration with the world. Dodging around the issue was never the right answer. She'd known the value of being blunt and open with Kevin Flynn long before she'd married him; sometimes it was the only way you could get him to hear you about anything.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he frowned, worry creasing his brow and making his mouth scrunch up in that funny way he had. "Is something wrong with S--"
"No, no, nothing's wrong. With me or Sam. It's..." She took his hand and led him back over to the mirror, tugging his shirt up out of his pants, then the undershirt.
Flynn smiled, completely misunderstanding. "Hey, you could have said something ea--" then he stopped. Because she just pointed, pressing a finger to his side and close to his hip where the faint blue line crept up out of his waistband. And now that she was looking at it for more than a second or two here and there it didn't look like a bruise. It looked like it was glowing.
"There something you want to tell me, babe?" She was proud of herself for her voice sounding as steady as it was. People didn't abruptly sprout glowing blue lines, they just didn't. People didn't glow, at all. Bugs did, some kinds of fish did, but not people.
Flynn frowned, reaching around to awkwardly trace the little blue line, then opened his pants and rolled them down his hips so they could both see better. No, it wasn't long, but there was a matching one on the other side. And one at the top of his thigh, both sides. They'd both been so busy lately that she'd missed it. And the couple of parallel dots on his ribs that looked like they were going to blossom into lines. God, what had she missed?
"Babe, what have you been up to? What have you been doing?"
"It's... complicated." He pulled his pants back up, put his clothes on slowly, distracted. By whatever he was thinking, and for the first time in their whole relationship she felt shut out. Whatever he was thinking or planning, it was something she not only couldn't guess or didn't understand, but had no conception of. Coding she just laughed off her incomprehension, she hadn't bothered to learn much more than she needed and he knew all the myriad ways computers talked to each other, and that was fine. The recycling, reuse, make the most of everything they could she did understand, and fully supported.
But she couldn't in this lifetime imagine what put neon blue glowing lines in a person's body. What he could be doing that turned him into a person in a comic book. Except this was real. Her mind could barely accept that it was happening, especially when he was dressed and she couldn't see anything.
"How complicated?" Was it toxic? Was it deadly? Was she going to lose him in some slow, inexorable way? Was he going to turn into a lite-brite? She felt a hysterical giggle coming on, covered her mouth with her hand to stop it.
"It's..."
Practicality interrupted. She heard herself saying it. "If it's a long story, you'd better call the press conference and re-schedule, or..." And then she swallowed it back and shook her head. "No. You go do the press conference, then..." They'd planned to have dinner out. Celebrate. She'd call and cancel the reservations. "Then come straight back here and tell me."
"Are you sure?"
His palms warm on her cheeks, turning her face up towards him. Warm and thick and solid and reassuring, in his own way. Jordan took a breath and rested her hands on his chest, palms open, just for a second. Just to look at him, searing his image onto her brain, worried frown and all. Pretty soft curls and beautiful eyes and whatever else was going on, here, still, was the man she loved ridiculously much.
She stretched up on tiptoes and kissed him and buttoned up his shirt. "I'm sure. You just make sure you remember to come back here and tell me all about it. I can wait a few hours, and they'll go into a feeding frenzy if you reschedule." Practicality helped, anyway. She could clean or something while she waited, she couldn't work cohesively in this state. Maybe she'd jot down a few notes if she got inspired, in the meantime.
"Okay..." he said, dubious, but accepting. Taking her word for it, if she said it was okay. But she still wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, and he hugged her just as tight. "You know I love you, right?"
"Of course," she told his shirt pocket. "And I love you. Just the way you are, Kevin Flynn, you make sure you remember that." And she would make sure she remembered it, too. "I'll be here when you get back. You can tell me all about it."
He did, too.