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fandomweekly2021-01-10 02:47 pm
smilebackwards) wrote in fandomweekly2021-01-10 02:47 pm
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[#80] Dream On (The Old Guard)
Theme Prompt: #080 – Opposites Attract
Title: Dream On
Fandom: The Old Guard
Rating/Warnings: Mature - swearing, referenced violence, sexual content
Bonus: No
Word Count: 998
Summary: It’s been ten years since Andy and Quynh started dreaming of the new immortals. Certain changes have occurred.
“They are fucking again,” Quynh says, conversationally.
“I saw,” says Andy, who by this point has learned more endearments in Arabic than she knows curses. It’s disconcerting.
Andy sits up from her bedroll.
It’s been ten years since she and Quynh started dreaming of the new immortals. Flashes of sand and steel and blood.
Quynh didn’t used to be so nonchalant about the dreams. She’d invested heavily in the original clash of combat—“Let’s go to sleep,” she’d said to Andy in mid-afternoon, tugging her into their tent, “I want to see which one is going to die first this time”—and then even more deeply in the ensuing love story.
Andy had barely noticed the shift in the men’s interactions after they’d settled into an uneasy truce and left their armies behind, but then she spent less time sleeping than Quynh.
“Yusuf and Nicolo are friends now,” Quynh told her, a year after they’d watched the two men disembowel each other under the walls of Jerusalem.
“Yusuf and Nicolo?” Andy asked. She’d never heard names during the dreams.
“Yes,” Quynh said, apparently now an authority. “Nicolo is from Genoa. I didn’t catch the name of the city Yusuf is from.”
“All right,” Andy said, bemused. “And they have ceased killing each other?”
Quynh nodded. “I think that Nicolo—.” She stopped and pursed her lips. “Well, perhaps next time you dream of them you might tell me what you think.”
Andy dreamt while Quynh took watch that night. She’d met travellers from Genoa before and she could see shadows of them in the sharp nose and deep-set green eyes of one of the men. Nicolo then. Yusuf was watching him from across the fire, his face as soft as warm gold, while Nicolo gentled their horse, brushing out its mane and laughing as it nudged at him with its velvet nose. Nicolo surfaced an apple from the folds of his tunic and offered it to the horse.
“I bought that for you,” Yusuf called.
“You are very kind to me, Yusuf,” Nicolo said, “but Seraphina deserves it more.”
“I think you’re right,” Andy told Quynh when she woke. “Nicolo is not aware that Yusuf loves him.”
Quynh shook her head. “No, no. Nicolo is the pale one.” She twisted a strand of dark hair around her finger. “Yusuf is the one with the lovely curls.”
“Yes, that’s what I said,” Andy said. “Nicolo does not realize how softly Yusuf looks on him now.”
“What?” Quynh gasped. “Give me the wine,” she ordered and proceeded to drink until she slipped into slumber.
“You’re right,” she said gleefully when she woke. “Yusuf looks on Nicolo just as softly.”
The next months were torture. Every time she and Quynh woke from a dream, Quynh would say, “Did you see?” and Andy would reply, “Yes, yes. How can they be so stupid?”
Yusuf would read Nicolo love poetry in a language Nicolo didn’t understand and Nicolo would tell him that it was very beautiful, that he had a beautiful reading voice, and then they would both stare deeply into each others eyes—while Quynh and Andy waited in agonized expectation—only for them to seek their separate bedrolls and sigh quietly to themselves as if their love were impossible and unrequited.
“I cannot believe that Nicolo didn’t kiss him after Yusuf showed him that portrait sketch,” Quynh fumed, three years later, cutting the throat of a marauder.
“And Yusuf didn’t understand when Nicolo peeled all those pomegranates for him,” Andy said, shaking her head as she stabbed another man through the heart.
At least she and Quynh had healthy outlets for their frustration. At night, before they slept, Andy kissed Quynh deep and slow and they demonstrated exactly how pleasurable being in love could be if one were not a fool.
-
Andy knew it was a gamble, but they were going to miss their ship so she shook Quynh’s shoulder gently.
Quynh’s eyes flashed open. “Andromache,” she yelled, looking like she was considering hitting herself over the head with a nearby rock to sink back into unconsciousness, “I told you not to wake me! Yusuf just touched Nicolo’s wrist!”
“No,” Andy refuted. Surely he wouldn’t have been so bold after Nicolo had dramatically reared back—clearly from touch starvation and over-sensitive wanting and not from horror as Yusuf had interpreted it—last time Yusuf had accidentally-on-purpose brushed against his hands.
“Yes!” Quynh said.
Fine, Andy thought, settling down beside her. They’d take the next ship.
-
Yusuf had his hand steady at the juncture of Nicolo’s neck and Nicolo was pressing into him desperately, his face an eclipse.
Andy ripped herself from sleep. Quynh would never forgive her. “Quynh! Quynh, quickly, it’s happening!”
Quynh threw herself down on the blankets beside Andy, dropping from wakefulness to sleep with enviable control. Andy had completely missed a declaration of love from Nicolo—entirely misinterpreted by Yusuf of course—a year ago when she’d been unable to do the same but she was better at it now.
They’d shifted position in the few moments Andy had been awake and now it was Nicolo holding their faces together in the kiss, his hands cupping Yusuf’s jaw as Yusuf wrapped his arms around the small of Nicolo’s back.
Finally, Andy thought, finally. But what had been the breaking point that precipitated this? Hells, they were going to have to finally find Yusuf and Nicolo and ask.
-
“He learned that from us,” Quynh laughs about the dream of Yusuf and Nicolo’s lovemaking. Nicolo had twisted his hips in a very familiar fashion, drawing a startled groan of pleasure from Yusuf.
“Likely he did,” Andy smiles, peering into the bright sun.
There’s a horse atop the next ridge with two riders on its back, their arms raised in a welcome greeting hundreds of dreams in the making.
Title: Dream On
Fandom: The Old Guard
Rating/Warnings: Mature - swearing, referenced violence, sexual content
Bonus: No
Word Count: 998
Summary: It’s been ten years since Andy and Quynh started dreaming of the new immortals. Certain changes have occurred.
“They are fucking again,” Quynh says, conversationally.
“I saw,” says Andy, who by this point has learned more endearments in Arabic than she knows curses. It’s disconcerting.
Andy sits up from her bedroll.
It’s been ten years since she and Quynh started dreaming of the new immortals. Flashes of sand and steel and blood.
Quynh didn’t used to be so nonchalant about the dreams. She’d invested heavily in the original clash of combat—“Let’s go to sleep,” she’d said to Andy in mid-afternoon, tugging her into their tent, “I want to see which one is going to die first this time”—and then even more deeply in the ensuing love story.
Andy had barely noticed the shift in the men’s interactions after they’d settled into an uneasy truce and left their armies behind, but then she spent less time sleeping than Quynh.
“Yusuf and Nicolo are friends now,” Quynh told her, a year after they’d watched the two men disembowel each other under the walls of Jerusalem.
“Yusuf and Nicolo?” Andy asked. She’d never heard names during the dreams.
“Yes,” Quynh said, apparently now an authority. “Nicolo is from Genoa. I didn’t catch the name of the city Yusuf is from.”
“All right,” Andy said, bemused. “And they have ceased killing each other?”
Quynh nodded. “I think that Nicolo—.” She stopped and pursed her lips. “Well, perhaps next time you dream of them you might tell me what you think.”
Andy dreamt while Quynh took watch that night. She’d met travellers from Genoa before and she could see shadows of them in the sharp nose and deep-set green eyes of one of the men. Nicolo then. Yusuf was watching him from across the fire, his face as soft as warm gold, while Nicolo gentled their horse, brushing out its mane and laughing as it nudged at him with its velvet nose. Nicolo surfaced an apple from the folds of his tunic and offered it to the horse.
“I bought that for you,” Yusuf called.
“You are very kind to me, Yusuf,” Nicolo said, “but Seraphina deserves it more.”
“I think you’re right,” Andy told Quynh when she woke. “Nicolo is not aware that Yusuf loves him.”
Quynh shook her head. “No, no. Nicolo is the pale one.” She twisted a strand of dark hair around her finger. “Yusuf is the one with the lovely curls.”
“Yes, that’s what I said,” Andy said. “Nicolo does not realize how softly Yusuf looks on him now.”
“What?” Quynh gasped. “Give me the wine,” she ordered and proceeded to drink until she slipped into slumber.
“You’re right,” she said gleefully when she woke. “Yusuf looks on Nicolo just as softly.”
The next months were torture. Every time she and Quynh woke from a dream, Quynh would say, “Did you see?” and Andy would reply, “Yes, yes. How can they be so stupid?”
Yusuf would read Nicolo love poetry in a language Nicolo didn’t understand and Nicolo would tell him that it was very beautiful, that he had a beautiful reading voice, and then they would both stare deeply into each others eyes—while Quynh and Andy waited in agonized expectation—only for them to seek their separate bedrolls and sigh quietly to themselves as if their love were impossible and unrequited.
“I cannot believe that Nicolo didn’t kiss him after Yusuf showed him that portrait sketch,” Quynh fumed, three years later, cutting the throat of a marauder.
“And Yusuf didn’t understand when Nicolo peeled all those pomegranates for him,” Andy said, shaking her head as she stabbed another man through the heart.
At least she and Quynh had healthy outlets for their frustration. At night, before they slept, Andy kissed Quynh deep and slow and they demonstrated exactly how pleasurable being in love could be if one were not a fool.
-
Andy knew it was a gamble, but they were going to miss their ship so she shook Quynh’s shoulder gently.
Quynh’s eyes flashed open. “Andromache,” she yelled, looking like she was considering hitting herself over the head with a nearby rock to sink back into unconsciousness, “I told you not to wake me! Yusuf just touched Nicolo’s wrist!”
“No,” Andy refuted. Surely he wouldn’t have been so bold after Nicolo had dramatically reared back—clearly from touch starvation and over-sensitive wanting and not from horror as Yusuf had interpreted it—last time Yusuf had accidentally-on-purpose brushed against his hands.
“Yes!” Quynh said.
Fine, Andy thought, settling down beside her. They’d take the next ship.
-
Yusuf had his hand steady at the juncture of Nicolo’s neck and Nicolo was pressing into him desperately, his face an eclipse.
Andy ripped herself from sleep. Quynh would never forgive her. “Quynh! Quynh, quickly, it’s happening!”
Quynh threw herself down on the blankets beside Andy, dropping from wakefulness to sleep with enviable control. Andy had completely missed a declaration of love from Nicolo—entirely misinterpreted by Yusuf of course—a year ago when she’d been unable to do the same but she was better at it now.
They’d shifted position in the few moments Andy had been awake and now it was Nicolo holding their faces together in the kiss, his hands cupping Yusuf’s jaw as Yusuf wrapped his arms around the small of Nicolo’s back.
Finally, Andy thought, finally. But what had been the breaking point that precipitated this? Hells, they were going to have to finally find Yusuf and Nicolo and ask.
-
“He learned that from us,” Quynh laughs about the dream of Yusuf and Nicolo’s lovemaking. Nicolo had twisted his hips in a very familiar fashion, drawing a startled groan of pleasure from Yusuf.
“Likely he did,” Andy smiles, peering into the bright sun.
There’s a horse atop the next ridge with two riders on its back, their arms raised in a welcome greeting hundreds of dreams in the making.
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