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The Simplest Thing (Todd/Neil, PG)
Title: The Simplest Thing
Pairing: Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Fandom: Dead Poets Society
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, but who hasn't seen DPS, dude?
Disclaimer: Guh, if only.
Notes: My first DPS fic. Written after watching the movie for the millionth time, and written in about half an hour. Probably needs work done to it, but I'll deal with that later. xD
It was the night of Todd’s birthday the first time Neil quietly snuck into Todd’s bed.
The air was cold when Neil pulled back the covers, and Neil’s feet were even colder when he climbed in. Todd has asked him in a hushed, alarmed voice what he was doing, and Neil had merely shushed him as he shifted in close, pulling the covers up over their shoulders.
Todd lay on his side, facing the wall, staring at it uncertainly as he felt the warmth of Neil’s body against him, while Neil lay on his back, and the only thing he heard Neil say, quietly, was, “I wish you’d told me it was your birthday.”
Todd didn’t reply to that. He just kept staring at the wall, listening to the sound of Neil’s breathing. Before long, Neil had fallen asleep, while Todd lay there awake for what felt like hours, just thinking, thinking about how much he wished his birthday meant something to his parents; enough at least that they’d think to buy him something other than a desk set that they’d given him for his last birthday. When morning came, they didn’t say anything to each other about the night before and they didn’t act any different. It was as though Todd had dreamt that Neil had climbed into his bed with his cold feet tucked up against Todd’s.
But the next night Neil came back to his bed. And the night after, and the night after that, until it became something they just did without thinking about it. Some nights they talked in hushed voices; talked about that day’s class with Mr. Keating, or about the Dead Poets, or about their aspirations, their dreams, or their secrets, while Neil warmed his feet against Todd’s. Sometimes they told each other jokes -- Neil always knew how to make Todd laugh, and there were some nights were Todd found himself pushing his face into the pillow to stifle his laughter as Neil told humorous anecdotes about their teachers, or jokes that he’d heard from Charlie.
The nights that they’d come back from one of their Dead Poets meeting were always filled with quiet chaos; Neil too beside himself with excitement to settle, and Todd too restless to effectively tell Neil to calm down. Tiredness always overcame them quickly, however, and before long they’d be fast asleep, Neil sometimes snoring with his face pressed against Todd’s back.
Sometimes, though very rarely, Neil would talk about his father, and Todd would lie there, listening to Neil speak about how trapped he felt, how he wished he could break free from his father. Neil would always eventually laugh it off uneasily, pretending that it didn’t matter to him as much as it really did, and to change the topic Neil would then talk about the play he was going to be in at Henley Hall, as though he was deliberately defying thoughts of his father by talking about what he loved most; acting.
And some nights they just lay there in silence, listening to each other breathing, or listening to the wind howling outside while Todd warmed Neil’s feet with his own. In some ways, Todd liked those times most of all because there was something calming about Neil’s silence. Something comforting, something about Neil’s presence that always made him feel secure. And Neil obviously craved the contact because one night, as they lay in silence Neil shifted onto his side and spooned up behind Todd, and slid his arm around him. Todd had been completely uncertain at first, lying there stiffly as he felt Neil’s breath warm against the back of his neck. But slowly he relaxed, slowly, until he found himself drifting off to sleep while Neil held him.
It became more like that from that night on; Neil curling up behind him, holding him, while they talked, or joked, or just lay there without saying anything, while Neil toasted his feet against Todd’s. So comfortable with it did Todd get that sometimes he’d gingerly clasp his hand over Neil’s and lace their fingers together. And every morning, when they got up, they continued to act as though everything was the same. Sometimes, though, they caught each other’s eyes across the table at study hall, or Todd would casually glance behind him to look at Neil in Mr. Keating’s class, and Neil always smiled back at him; a secret smile.
The night before Neil’s play debut, Neil had spooned up behind Todd and confessed in a hushed voice that he was terrified about the play. What if his father turned up, Neil had asked as he clutched Todd to him. What if his father turned up and took him away from Todd, from the school, from acting? What if, what if, what if, and Todd had whispered back to him to stop worrying, that what if might not even happen.
"You’re right," Neil had whispered back, trying to sound more reassured than he no doubt felt, "you’re right, it won't happen," and Todd felt Neil press a kiss to the back of his neck as he tucked his feet in within Todd’s to keep them warm.
Todd couldn't help thinking that night, as Neil finally fell asleep against him, that of all the things he would miss about Neil if Neil was ever taken away from him, he'd miss the simplest thing of Neil warming his cold feet against his, most of all.
Pairing: Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Fandom: Dead Poets Society
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, but who hasn't seen DPS, dude?
Disclaimer: Guh, if only.
Notes: My first DPS fic. Written after watching the movie for the millionth time, and written in about half an hour. Probably needs work done to it, but I'll deal with that later. xD
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It was the night of Todd’s birthday the first time Neil quietly snuck into Todd’s bed.
The air was cold when Neil pulled back the covers, and Neil’s feet were even colder when he climbed in. Todd has asked him in a hushed, alarmed voice what he was doing, and Neil had merely shushed him as he shifted in close, pulling the covers up over their shoulders.
Todd lay on his side, facing the wall, staring at it uncertainly as he felt the warmth of Neil’s body against him, while Neil lay on his back, and the only thing he heard Neil say, quietly, was, “I wish you’d told me it was your birthday.”
Todd didn’t reply to that. He just kept staring at the wall, listening to the sound of Neil’s breathing. Before long, Neil had fallen asleep, while Todd lay there awake for what felt like hours, just thinking, thinking about how much he wished his birthday meant something to his parents; enough at least that they’d think to buy him something other than a desk set that they’d given him for his last birthday. When morning came, they didn’t say anything to each other about the night before and they didn’t act any different. It was as though Todd had dreamt that Neil had climbed into his bed with his cold feet tucked up against Todd’s.
But the next night Neil came back to his bed. And the night after, and the night after that, until it became something they just did without thinking about it. Some nights they talked in hushed voices; talked about that day’s class with Mr. Keating, or about the Dead Poets, or about their aspirations, their dreams, or their secrets, while Neil warmed his feet against Todd’s. Sometimes they told each other jokes -- Neil always knew how to make Todd laugh, and there were some nights were Todd found himself pushing his face into the pillow to stifle his laughter as Neil told humorous anecdotes about their teachers, or jokes that he’d heard from Charlie.
The nights that they’d come back from one of their Dead Poets meeting were always filled with quiet chaos; Neil too beside himself with excitement to settle, and Todd too restless to effectively tell Neil to calm down. Tiredness always overcame them quickly, however, and before long they’d be fast asleep, Neil sometimes snoring with his face pressed against Todd’s back.
Sometimes, though very rarely, Neil would talk about his father, and Todd would lie there, listening to Neil speak about how trapped he felt, how he wished he could break free from his father. Neil would always eventually laugh it off uneasily, pretending that it didn’t matter to him as much as it really did, and to change the topic Neil would then talk about the play he was going to be in at Henley Hall, as though he was deliberately defying thoughts of his father by talking about what he loved most; acting.
And some nights they just lay there in silence, listening to each other breathing, or listening to the wind howling outside while Todd warmed Neil’s feet with his own. In some ways, Todd liked those times most of all because there was something calming about Neil’s silence. Something comforting, something about Neil’s presence that always made him feel secure. And Neil obviously craved the contact because one night, as they lay in silence Neil shifted onto his side and spooned up behind Todd, and slid his arm around him. Todd had been completely uncertain at first, lying there stiffly as he felt Neil’s breath warm against the back of his neck. But slowly he relaxed, slowly, until he found himself drifting off to sleep while Neil held him.
It became more like that from that night on; Neil curling up behind him, holding him, while they talked, or joked, or just lay there without saying anything, while Neil toasted his feet against Todd’s. So comfortable with it did Todd get that sometimes he’d gingerly clasp his hand over Neil’s and lace their fingers together. And every morning, when they got up, they continued to act as though everything was the same. Sometimes, though, they caught each other’s eyes across the table at study hall, or Todd would casually glance behind him to look at Neil in Mr. Keating’s class, and Neil always smiled back at him; a secret smile.
The night before Neil’s play debut, Neil had spooned up behind Todd and confessed in a hushed voice that he was terrified about the play. What if his father turned up, Neil had asked as he clutched Todd to him. What if his father turned up and took him away from Todd, from the school, from acting? What if, what if, what if, and Todd had whispered back to him to stop worrying, that what if might not even happen.
"You’re right," Neil had whispered back, trying to sound more reassured than he no doubt felt, "you’re right, it won't happen," and Todd felt Neil press a kiss to the back of his neck as he tucked his feet in within Todd’s to keep them warm.
Todd couldn't help thinking that night, as Neil finally fell asleep against him, that of all the things he would miss about Neil if Neil was ever taken away from him, he'd miss the simplest thing of Neil warming his cold feet against his, most of all.
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