valmora | to lasarus (with FICLET)

lasarus -

Just got back ~30 min ago from Milwaukee Irish Fest, where Danú (and Cherish the Ladies, and Gaelic Storm, and Tommy Makem, and... and... ::squees::) played, and I got to see Danú live, and -

::fangirly squeeing over Tom::

They're even better live! And! And! ~~Tom and Oisin!~~ Their unmitigated talent! And Tom doing his energizer-bunny-walky thingie when he gets into the music, and Oisin looking like he's dipping his fiddle when he plays, and Eamon being all cute and calling Tom "Harry Potter" and yes! ::squiffles them::

::is newly-minted fangirl::

(they had a challenge that the best get-up-and-dance-'cause-the-music's-good-er of that show got to spend the evening "out on the town with Eamon". I thought about it, then decided that would be A)dishonest and B)slightly creepy, but I will next time they're in town. Or something. =) )

(And Tom is REALLY GOOD. Like, period, on absolute scale. =DDDDD ~~Damn, if only he weren't married... but I'm reserved for you anyway. ^_~~~ )

So.....

Title: Of a Name
Rating: PG
Fandom: Celtic!bandfic RPS
Pairing: Oisín McAuley+Tom Doorley (of Danú), angstness
Disclaimer: This is the kind of story that will assure that not only will I go to Hell, but that I will, upon arrival, receive a visit from a large number of very pissed-off Irish musicians. ::blows kisses at Messrs. Doorley and McAuley:: I don't think it's actually like this, and neither should you. I wrote this for the amusement of myself and certain friends and made no profit from it.
Notes: I deliberately omitted the comma in the lj-cut text. It's up to you whether my meaning should have it or not. =) Also, I didn't do any research into character backgrounds for this one, because I've found that it kills the vibe (especially given that Tom was wearing a wedding ring) and suppresses fic.

Tom slurs Oisín's name into two syllables of a reel, and Oisín doesn't like it. Doesn't like that the years of working together have left the sound of his name imprinted on Tom's tongue, that he has become such a part of Tom's life that even his name has become a part of the music that is Tom.

He doesn't want to be that much a part of Tom's life because he doesn't want Tom to become that much of a part of his own. It would be too easy to let the sound of his own name on Tom's lips leave him shivering, to let the sight of Tom's longbroadstrong fingers make heat curl deep inside him. Too easy to want him as desperately as he ever wanted to play fiddle.