wishing on a star

by shady canary

Wow. Dying. Yippee.

No, wait, that's the wrong emotion, isn't it.

Hmm… Oh no, I'm dying.

That's more like it.

Right?

It seemed ridiculous to be pondering this small conundrum as I lay there in the snow, my right leg bent at an impossible angle. And of course, there was the small fact that I was most likely going to die. Sigh. Oh, well.

I peered up at the star-speckled sky (honestly, what else was there for me to do?) and watched in pensive amusement as the edges of my vision started to blur and fade.

Ah! Look at that! A shooting star! (Wow, actual emotion, interesting)

For a few last minute kicks and giggles, I made a wish. It was probably just my brain dying anyway.

I wish… for a ride on a shooting star, where it's warm, and, well, happy. And there will be hot chocolate too, with marshmallows, 'cause I'm freezing to death down here.

I smiled at the absurdity of that wish. And the irony of that commonly used phrase. There was suddenly a white light, and it was all I could see, so I decided to give into it. Maybe those crazies actually had something.

"Mmppfffh…mmr?" huh? I think that was supposed to be at least partially intelligible. Maybe. Wait. Where am I? It was warm, wherever I was, and the warmth seemed to be radiating from right next to me, so I snuggled in. No matter how undignified snuggling was. No matter. Nope. Mmmm… wait, what's that thump-thump sound?

I was suddenly very awake, as I yelled something (unintelligible yet again) and sort of flung myself off of what turned out to be a very comfortable bed, only to crash onto a very uncomfortable and painful floor. Though it was possible that the only reason it was painful was the fact that I had jarred my very broken leg in its odd solid thigh high cast during the fall.

"Ow." This was not a moan, a groan, a whine, nor a complaint. It was a statement. Yes it was.

A very masculine chuckle sounded from the bed above me, right before I saw one of the most beautiful man faces peek over the edge of the bed.

"Are you okay?" the smile in his voice was bubbly and sweet, like sparkly grape juice, the fizz popping and sparkling in his warm hazel eyes.

I pretended to glare at the pretty apparition as I told him off, "You do know that your whole 'I care for you' face is totally ruined when you smile and laugh at me, right?"

He actually took the care to feign hurt "Really?"

I sighed and closed my eyes. He really was too pretty. "No, not really." I could feel him beaming at me, all happy and cute-like. I reopened my eyes to look at him when I heard him moving around.

I saw the rest of his body when he stepped onto to floor, and holy fuck, what a body, I'm telling you. You know, that beautiful middle ground between skinny and muscular, where you'd use words like 'lean' and 'toned' and 'lanky' to describe him. Much better than my scrawny majesty. And that ass… ooh, tasty. If only he wasn't covered by those shorts…

His hands were actually working their ways under my shoulders and knees by the time I realized what he was doing. "Whoa, whoa, Hey! Whuh-Deh-Fuh!?!" He lifted me, the jerk-face!

That laugh yet again bubbled and popped and fizzed in his smile and eyes as he answered my exclamation. "You're hurt, and need to be resting. And also, with that leg you'd be lucky to even stand up." With perfect ease, he placed me back on the bed, and when he stood straight again, he had a small frown of confusion on his face. "There was something else…?" With that same thoughtful look on his face, he walked across the room we were in to a tiny, almost otherworldly kitchenette. While he was doing that (whatever it was he was doing), I took the opportunity to really look around and take in my surroundings.

First off, the room made me feel like I was trapped inside a red-velvet cake, with cream cheese icing in strategic places. It had red-brown walls, with off-white trim. Everything metal was shiny stainless steel. Even the bedspread was a quilt made of a variety of brown to red hues, with off-white trim. As for furniture, there was the bed I was on, merely a large twin-size. There was a table, and a large clock (at least, I think it was a clock, cause it had like, thirty numerals and five hands, and it was huge, like five feet across, at least) on the left wall, and a really big comfy-looking chair next to the wall on my right. The floors were hardwood (emphasis on the hard), a dark cherry wood or something.

As I pondered the floor, feet entered my line of sight, and I followed them up to see mister pretty man carefully carrying a steaming cup towards me. "Whatcha got there?" I smiled at him, and I must admit, my smiles aren't nearly as wonderful as his are. He smiled back, (see? Just look at how his whole face lights up, what with that dimple in his cheek and all) and kneeled on the floor in front of me.

"Hot chocolate. With marshmallows, of course." Huh, ironic maybe. I almost said something, but he wasn't finished. His face was suddenly very serious as he looked at me. "It's just as you wished, remember? Just as you wished for me."

And then he kissed me.

For everyone who hasn't figured it out yet, I am male. Don't feel bad though, if you thought I was (coughshitfuckdammitcough) female. It happens. A lot. Sadly. Enough so that if my gonads shrank anymore because of my wounded and nearly nonexistent manhood, I would be female. I mean seriously, I'm already halfway there because of my extreme sexual attraction to men. Some people consider gay men to be chicks with dicks anyway. But mostly only the ones who seem (coughshitfuckdammitcough) girly. Like me. Sadly. Damn.

Sigh. Anyway, I digress.

His lips were soft against mine, and warm. I automatically moved my head to the side for a better angle (ah, too much kissing in my younger days). He pressed harder, only a little, and I nearly forgot what he had said. But I remembered, and sadly, I pulled away.

"What do you mean, 'wished'?" I asked, softly, propping myself up on my elbow.

"You wished on me, remember? I was flying over and I heard you; 'I wish… for a ride on a shooting star, where it's warm, and, well, happy. And there will be hot-chocolate too, with marshmallows, 'cause I'm freezing to death down here.'"

Wuh…? "Flying over? And how did you hear me?"

And matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he told me, "Well, I'm a Shooting Star."

Dumbstruck and disbelieving, I stared at him. "…Huh?"

He sighed, then sat on the ground, sideways to me. "Though you humans don't know it, some of the fallings stars you guys see, are actually us, Shooting Stars. There are many of us, all the time, though as individuals we only make appearances every hundred years or so. We fly over, listen to the wishes made on us, then pick a wish to grant. Some Stars only grant the easy wishes, others the ridiculous ones, but some of us pick the wish most heartfelt and are the most needed at the time. Like how I picked your wish. You were on the verge of death, injured, lying in the snow, knowing no one would find you in time to save you. And you're young! So young! Yet your dying wish was not to live, but to be happy. To be warm." He smiled, his face warm and happy again with cheery amusement, "You wished for hot chocolate." He chuckled, shaking his head, "With marshmallows, of course." He sighed, sobering a little. He looked at me. "That's why I picked you." Then a certain deviousness entered his eyes, a cockeyed smile on his face. "Though the part about 'a ride on a shooting star' was appealing all on its own." Suddenly my face became hot as I thought of the implications. Gad, the jerk-face made me blush.

I cleared my throat, suddenly (almost) uncomfortable with the, uh, tension in the air. "So, um, so you're not technically human?"

Now he looked uncomfortable. "Uh, no, not at all, actually. Think of me as more of a, uh, higher-dimensional being of questionable origins." He kind of laughed at that, and scratched the back of his head, the perfect image of contrite embarrassment. "Let's just say I can become whatever form is needed for the occasion. I mean, like, I'm unique, whatever form I'm in, like I'll always look like this when I'm a male human, but I'm not restricted to that."

"Okay, then what's your native form, your natural form?" this was almost really interesting. Hmm, to 'ride' a shooting— no, no-no-no-no-no, not going there. Yet.

A beautiful, soft, nostalgic look sort of bloomed across the… star's face (OMG, he's a star! LOL), as he looked up and leaned back in thought. "Ahh, my true form. How could I possible put into words the magnificence of it? A sinuous, flowing, subtle symphony of light and movement, all trailing and expanding from a single centered point of brilliance? I suppose that's nearly the case. It doesn't quite do the form justice though. In my true form my consciousness expands across the many universes, thinking and pondering all things and nothing. I suppose humans would say I have achieved enlightenment, Zen, a one-ness with all things." He looked at me and smiled. I merely lay there, propped on my elbow, silent and pensive.

"No more questions?" he teased, leaning forward once again.

I made a big show of thinking, a finger to my chin, my mouth quirked up to one side, my eyes cast to the ceiling as if the answer was up there somewhere. "Mmm… One more." I looked back down to his face. He looked at me. "Do you actually, y'know, know what 'ride' implies?" damn it, I was blushing again.

That devious little smile was back, as he looked at me. "Yes. I know what 'ride' implies. Especially the part where you are to 'ride' the 'shooting star'. I have to grant ALL, of your wish, remember?"

"But what about my leg? I can't do…" (Cue blush), "that yet, it's too broken." Not that I didn't want to, mind you.

Okay, the look on his face was getting downright dirty in a very sexy way, as he said in a dirty sexy voice, "I never said we had to do it now. As you're healing, we could enjoy other activities, if you're interested."

I smiled my own dirty sexy smile as I looked at Mister Pretty's really pretty face. "I may be interested. But I think you're going to have to show me these activities you're talking about because I'm actually a very cautious person." I rolled over and leaned back on my elbows, letting my head fall back, 'cause I can totally be sexy when I want to be. "I'm not going to get into anything unless I know exactly what we're going to be doing." I felt… damn, I don't know his name. I looked up at him where he was trying for a whole sexy crawl thing at the foot of the bed. "By the way, 'cause I'm so cautious, what's your name?" he was stunned for a moment, before he laughed full out.

"Because you're so cautious?" Damn that bubbly laugh!

"Yeah, cause I'm so cautious."

"Well, in that case, my name is," he said some weird long word that was all pretty and flowing, "but you can call me Seth."

"Well Seth, I'm James, but you can call me Sexy. Actually, I think 'Sexy Man That Owns Me and Drives Me Wild' may work to."

He laughed again. "Well, Sexy Man That Owns Me and Drives Me Wild, where should we begin?" He began to crawl up between my legs looking insanely predatory as he did so. I waited until he was poised above me, and I could feel his body thrumming above me, before I spoke.

"Personally? I think we should begin right here." And I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his, and he pressed his luscious body against mine.

I think I'm going to have to make wishes more often.

the end

I may write more, may not