The Outsiders: Brooklyn From New York

Chapter 21: Yours

A lot of dialogue this chappie, if you want a brief summary without the touches and very sweet kisses, scroll to the bottom and I'll summarize. Enjoy!

Pony laid down on Brooklyn's bed and sighed as the blonde man studied in silence. He didn't look to be very productive since his note taking looked suspiciously like doodling in the margin of a fairly expensive textbook. Brooklyn was so damn cold. He could let tension roll of him in an instant and go to study, leaving Pony in a thrall of pained confusion. Pony sighed. He was being over dramatic. Brooklyn had pissed him off because Pony actually believed Brooklyn would treat him like an adult outside of the bedroom.

Pony watched Brooklyn and noticed that all the tension had left his frame, his manner, his utterly relaxed muscles. He sighed and scratched something out. He always wrote in black ballpoint pens that let long streams of ink flow with the slightest touch but could be stilled to barely a mark. His handwriting was gorgeous; a unique alphabet based off of very elaborate cursive, flowing and curled to the thin line of beauty where legibility is slightly marred by the long loops and dancing lines.

Pony wanted to know what he was drawing, so he crawled up to cover Brooklyn's frame with his, even though it was impossible to actually cover Brooklyn's frame. He rested on Brooklyn's back, his groin pressing to Brooklyn's hips as his face hung over Brooklyn's shoulder. Brooklyn rested his head on the book and Pony nudged it free.

"Brooklyn, this is beautiful."

It was a sketch of Pony, head in his hands as his elbows rested on the bed. His hair hung in his face, longer in the front than it'd ever been and seemingly without grease. Every muscle, every curve, every line was perfect and his expression was one of tense boredom. He wasn't wearing a shirt and Pony wondered if the lines of his bare shoulders and face were that pleasant.

"Humfp." Brooklyn muttered into the pillow.

"I'm serious." Pony said.

"I only drew you to see where I could convince you to get a tattoo." Brooklyn muttered.

"And to try a new hairstyle." Pony said. He frowned. "What's wrong with my hair now?" Brooklyn laughed and enjoyed Pony's gentle caresses as the boy stroked his hair.

"Nothing. I just thought it might look good like that."

"Do you know someone with this haircut?" Pony knew he did since he would often draw people with hair similar, the same man, boy almost, with dark hair, eyes and smile. Or an older one with a grave expression, eyes always downcast. Or a woman with blonde hair and a gentle face. Or the Italian girl Brooklyn spoke of once before, with long curls and a sultry smile. Pony sometimes felt jealous of the pictures since he knew they had to receive a lot of Brooklyn's attention for him to be able to draw them.

"Yes. You've seen my doodling before."

"Show me it again, draw the one with the tattoo on his neck." Brooklyn groaned.

"I've been drawing him?" Brooklyn asked.

"Yes." Pony said.

"I don't want to."

"Please?" Pony asked.

"Fine."

Pony watched, feeling the edge of Brooklyn's shoulder bone moving as he drew. The man looked very handsome, if not severe, or at least trying to look severe. The tattoo on his neck read "NY", for New York City, Pony assumed, although privately he wondered whether it had anything to do with Brooklyn. Even the entire outline was black, (from Brooklyn's favorite color of pen) Pony thought that his eyes were black in real life too.

Pony disliked the detail Brooklyn gave to his muscles because the man appeared to be rather built without being as broad shouldered as Brooklyn. He was thin and sinewy, lean muscles evident but not over stated. Pony frowned at the pen sketch whose eyes were tamed to his in a deadened embrace.