The Summer After, Tucker/Caboose
Sep. 9th, 2009 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sissyThe Summer After
Fandom: Red vs. Blue
Pairing:Tucker/Caboose
It was not long after the war, with thoughts of flaming flags and burning bases still fresh. The summer was heavy, warm and sticky like a lollipop melting on the dashboard. Michael spent his days sprawled out on the scalding metal of Lavernius’s downtown apartment fire escape, sweating and heavy lidded as he waited for the common-man workday to end.
Michael rarely fell asleep, but he was hardly ever awake. The heat induced half coherent mixes of dreams and memories, of scorched armor and warm kisses. Spilt kool-aide was reminiscent of old blood, Michael licked his fingers clean and remembered a too small kitchen with too many empty chairs in a desert with too many stains.
Cherry popsicles left a sugar-coat on Michael’s lips, the residue slowing the occasional mouthing of a name he had forgotten the sound for. Some days were slower than others, except for the days when he really slept. Most days he stared through cage bars at the trickle of dirty children running to play for hours, others he closed his eyes from the blaring sun and opened them to a sky half lit.
With the dying light would come scolding and a reluctant kind of love as Lavernius rubbed life into his burnt skin, red from the day of fire. There would be griping and tutting and frowns, but Michael would smile and breath, “Tucker.” He would be corrected with a firm, “Lavernius.”, and Michael would be the only one smiling until winter came.
Fandom: Red vs. Blue
Pairing:Tucker/Caboose
It was not long after the war, with thoughts of flaming flags and burning bases still fresh. The summer was heavy, warm and sticky like a lollipop melting on the dashboard. Michael spent his days sprawled out on the scalding metal of Lavernius’s downtown apartment fire escape, sweating and heavy lidded as he waited for the common-man workday to end.
Michael rarely fell asleep, but he was hardly ever awake. The heat induced half coherent mixes of dreams and memories, of scorched armor and warm kisses. Spilt kool-aide was reminiscent of old blood, Michael licked his fingers clean and remembered a too small kitchen with too many empty chairs in a desert with too many stains.
Cherry popsicles left a sugar-coat on Michael’s lips, the residue slowing the occasional mouthing of a name he had forgotten the sound for. Some days were slower than others, except for the days when he really slept. Most days he stared through cage bars at the trickle of dirty children running to play for hours, others he closed his eyes from the blaring sun and opened them to a sky half lit.
With the dying light would come scolding and a reluctant kind of love as Lavernius rubbed life into his burnt skin, red from the day of fire. There would be griping and tutting and frowns, but Michael would smile and breath, “Tucker.” He would be corrected with a firm, “Lavernius.”, and Michael would be the only one smiling until winter came.