[justin/iris; r] Yet Indeed She is My Sister
Fandom: Carnivàle Title: Yet Indeed She is My Sister Author: emilie_burns Pairing: Justin/Iris Rating: R Word Count: 1,010 Disclaimer: Carnivàle is copyright HBO and Daniel Knauf. Warnings: Incest, abuse of biblical verses. Author's Notes: Written for yuuo for the First Kiss Meme. Title comes from Genesis 20:12. I couldn't resist the temptation of trying to write this pairing. They manage to be full of both Do Not Want and Fuckin' Hot at the same time. I hadn't seen the second season at the time of writing, so this is a bit short to avoid too much, if any, backstory clashing. (please to not be giving Season 2 spoilers, thanks) Summary: Her mouth felt dry as sand. "Leviticus, chapter eighteen, verse nine," she whispered.
Yet Indeed She is My Sister
The thunder was low and loud, a series of continuous rumbles that rattled the windows and for a dreadful, dark moment after she woke, Iris stared into the lightning-lit shadows of her new, unfamiliar bedroom and expected to hear a sickening screech of metal on metal at any moment. She'd barely managed to bring her heartrate back under control when a muffled thud startled her, and she sat bolt upright, clutching her blanket to her like a protective shield.
There it was again. A scrape of wood, something moving. Justin. She kicked off the blankets and grabbed her shawl before lighting the lamp and carefully opening the bedroom door. A faint gleam shone from under his, and she tested the knob before freezing.
He hadn't seen her yet. Dressed in only sleepwear pants, her younger brother was lifting books from a box in the corner of his room. She said nothing, content to watch him as the light and shadows accented the lines of his back. She smiled a bit; he'd been a small, scrawny thing, as a boy. Now, as a man, newly ordained and settling into a home that was all theirs, and theirs alone, Iris felt a surge of pride. Pride was sinful, but in quiet defiance to the inward rebuke, she lifted her chin. She'd saved them both, took care of them both. And they'd come so far from where they'd been. She had every right to be proud of their survival, of their success.
He noticed her then, and there was no surprise in his features. Iris wondered if he'd known she was there all this time.
"What are you doing?" she asked, lightly scolding him as she slipped into the room. "The unpacking can wait until morning."
"Did I wake you?" His smile somehow managed to be contrite and arrogant at the same time, and Iris pressed her lips together to restrain the flash of anger. He'd grown into a fine man, and a godly one, but at times he was far too sure of himself, forgetting that she was the reason he was still alive. At times, she'd wondered if he forgot that he needed her. He did. He would not have gotten this far without her.
She huffed a bit and set the lamp down before she drew her shawl tighter around her, putting forth a prim and proper demeanor. "All this thumping and scraping about, it's a wonder you haven't woken the neighbors while you're at it."
"Don't be silly, Iris. There's no way anyone could hear us above the storm." He stepped over a lid to rest his hand on her arm. "I'll take more care against making noise. Why don't you go back to bed?"
"Because I'm already up," she replied, and pulled away from him to stand in front of the window. Outside it was almost bright as day with the constant, fierce flashes of lightning. The rain was harder now, she could hear it in the way it beat down on the roof. "I hope this house doesn't have leaks."
"If it does, we'll fix them." He followed her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking over her head out the window. "I'm just thankful that the Lord saw fit to withhold the storm until we'd managed to move everything in."
"Praise God." The words felt flat on her tongue. It grew more difficult as time went on to think of God, to be pure and righteous, around her brother. Especially then. She allowed herself to lean back against him, and his arms crossed around her and his head came to rest against hers.
"We're home. This is truly our home, yours and mine. What a long way we've come."
"Indeed." It was positively sinful, standing there. But surely there was nothing wrong with it, with leaning back against her brother for support. That was all. Nothing more. And she couldn't even convince herself of that.
There had been several suitable young gentlemen callers over the last few years, but none of them measured up to her standards. None of them were worthy of leaving the place where she felt like she belonged, at her brother's side. None of them had been even half the man he was. None of them compared to Justin.
He made no move to pull away. It might have been her wishful imagination, but it seemed to her as though he was holding her perhaps just a bit tighter than before.
It was wrong. It was wicked and sinful and terribly improper. She should pull away, go back to her room, kneel on the floor and pray until she was pure again.
"You're trembling," he whispered.
Her mouth felt dry as sand. "Leviticus, chapter eighteen, verse nine," she whispered.
Justin was still for a moment, then it wasn't her imagination; his arms tightened. "Who were the laws of Moses given to?"
"The children of Israel."
"During their journey after their salvation from the hands of the Egyptians."
"They were in sinful rebellion against God." His breath was warm against her ear, and his voice was taking on that note, that sound that made her heart swell with pride. He was a leader, a preacher, a powerful man of God. "Worshipping golden calves and complaining about all He provided for them."
"Yes, they were being punished," she agreed.
"Abraham was chosen of God. He was a good man, a godly man."
"He was," she agreed, and her breath caught in her throat, shorter and shallow now. "Like you, Justin."
"Genesis, chapter twenty, verse twelve."
Iris opened her eyes, not seeing the heavy rain pelting against the glass window in front of them. Whether she moved and turned around, or whether he turned her himself, she didn't know and didn't care. There was nothing gentle about it, as if they were trying to match the intensity and energy of the storm outside. It was wrong in the eyes of society. But no one else could understand that her brother had a destiny greater than any man.
No one but her.
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