Firecracker
Rated: PG
One-shot

The quiet music echoed through the house and the slim form danced through memories of love and laughter, decorating the room with the quiet giggles and soft pushes into the bed at the end of the room.

The couch held the hard body of the young man like a womb held a child. He remembered the passion with a fond smile, even the angry fights that had them screaming at each other. Even the final fight that had his darling beloved running from their home. His home.

Somebody else's warm body curled against his side, someone else fondly nuzzling his arm. He smiled slightly and stroked over the soft blond hair, so different from his ex's dark red. The soft, trusting face that slowly woke and smiled sleepily at him was so different from the harsh sarcasm that marked the face of the one he'd loved so deeply. He smiled reassuringly, reminding him that it was all okay, and they fell back asleep.

Morning came, and with it the sounds of things smashing together, falling into pieces against each other and onto the floor. Another crawled from the bed, slim figure finding a fiery redhead redecorating his lover's apartment. Who are you? he demanded. Nothing was the response, in a whispery, intense voice. What are you doing to my lover's home?

Redecorating.

Candles spread across the floor, a cigarette lit between faintly colored lips, ashes burning. Fire in untamed eyes and a wicked laugh as the wicks lit, sharing the light. "Bastard," he laughed softly, blowing out the smoke. "I knew it. Don't let him own you. He ain't the type, but you don't ever let him learn it, alright?" He extinguished the cigarette on the edge of a very expensive coffee table. "Never let anybody own you, got it?" He waited for the nod before turning in a flash of flame.

"Tell him for me," he turned, smiling tempestuously, "He can fuck himself... and if he's going to change the locks, he should try locking them."

The quiet music brought with it memories of passion and fire, but the tamed song now raged through the apartment, reminding him of all that might have been.