yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2016-02-02 01:02 am
flair) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-02 01:02 am
Entry tags:
[#001] first breath after a coma (Blood Blockade Battlefront)
Theme Prompt: New Beginnings
Title: first breath after a coma
Fandom: Blood Blockade Battlefront
Rating/Warnings: G, post-finale (so ep 12 spoilers)
Bonus: No
Word Count: 992
Summary: snapshots following the finale
i.
It isn’t easy.
Luckily, Leonardo Watch hadn't expected it to be. He doesn't think it ever could've been--not for him, not for the city, and certainly not for Black.
ii.
For the third night in a week, he rubs Black’s back and presses his cheek against the top of his head, listening to the half-whispered words falling unevenly between hoarse sobs and whimpers, shaking shoulders and fingers digging into his sides. His gaze drifts around, from the calendar pinned back to October and the empty beer bottles strewn about the room, to the worn sheets over his lumpy mess of a bed, to the dusty morning sun starting to peek over the skyline and into his one room apartment.
He watches the sun creep along his bed, and by the time its rays have reached the edge of it, Black’s calmed down into manageable sniffles.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, face still pressed into Leo’s throat. Leo shakes his head, squeezing the blond tightly in his arms. Black sighs as he moves his head to his shoulder instead, and Leo can tell he’s watching the sun creep past the edge of the bed and onto the floor. “...I just miss her a lot. I’m going to honor her last wishes,” and Leo can tell he’s on the edge of crying there, throat tight and voice going softer so it doesn’t crack, “but it’s just--”
“Hard, right?” Leo finishes for him, grinning, and he feels Black grin back. “I know. It’s been a nightmare without White around to liven up my incredibly boring days.”
“Tell me about it,” Black replies back, and when Leo doesn’t answer he laughs, leaning back. “I mean it, Leo. Tell me. Tell me about your incredibly boring days.”
“Sure, but only if you tell me about yours first.”
iii.
Three months isn't rushing into anything, Leo tells himself for the fifth time, no matter what Zapp or anyone else might say.
He can honestly believe it, too; there aren't any foreseeable cons in being able to sneakily hold Black's hand under the table, in surprising him with morning kisses when he's just come out of their cramped closet-turned-bathroom, or in sleeping together. Well--they'd already been doing that anyway, to sate Black's crying fits and because it'd been getting too cold to sleep on the floor, but there's something different in doing it while they're together. Leo couldn't say what it is exactly, but he knows it makes every accidental touch and every non-accidental touch feel like the same static shock, kicking a warmth into gear that leaves them both exhausted and sweaty in the middle of the night.
And the middle of the day.
And--well. A lot of other times. Black's a little more hot-blooded than he looks on the surface, a little more willing to step up to the plate and take control, and Leo reasons it out as helping him take control of his life a little bit at a time. It's not like he doesn't like Black either--he maybe sort of kind of really likes him, actually, and he's fairly sure Black feels the same way--so it isn't a problem, and it's something he enjoys.
So no.
Three months isn't rushing into anything. Three months is a perfectly fine number.
iv.
Okay.
Three months may have been rushing it just a bit. Leo settles with this thought as he settles into his couch, head propped up on its arm. He wouldn't admit it aloud, especially not to Zapp (given his track record of shoving it in his face whenever he turned out to be right), but getting together three months after Halloween's whole deal might've not been the best idea either of them ever had. It isn't the worst, naturally--Black has the whole "I made a deal with the devil" thing under his belt, and Leo has his own "I let my little sister give up her eyes for me instead of stopping her like I should've"-related issues--but it definitely might've not been the best idea.
For one, it was more or less on a whim. It was during drinks and after sunset, watching cars drive far beneath them from the apartment's roof, and honestly, Leo can't remember anything from that night aside from Black's hand shyly closing over his and asking him, in a very quiet voice, if he'd like to try dating, "or something like that."
For two, it'd been long before Black had decided (also on a whim) that he was going back to Scotland. It made sense at least--from what Leo had gathered, that was his and White's mother country--but it didn't make the sudden notice any better. The resulting fight was definitely why he was out on the couch, stuck watching the moon's even dimmer light crawl faintly through the window over what's supposed to be his bed (currently occupied by Black and a cocoon of blankets instead).
At least he can sleep without me now, Leo thinks to himself with a sigh. Progress is progress.
Even if it's achieved by going a few steps back.
v.
"I'm sorry, Leo," Black says again, his voice soft and strained over the phone just like the last three times he's said it. "I just don't think it's fair to either of us."
What isn't fair, Leo replies, is breaking up with me the week after you land in merry old Scotland and expecting me to act like I'm totally on board with it.
In his mind, of course... or maybe not, because the line's gone eerily still; Leo can't even hear Black breathing, and when he begins to call his name ("Black?") it cuts completely. Pulling back reveals a call ended message and the time spent talking (00:15:45) just under it, and Leo groans loud enough that the creatures in the unit below his shriek in alien tongue and slap the ceiling (his floor) with something strangely wet and sticky-sounding.
Title: first breath after a coma
Fandom: Blood Blockade Battlefront
Rating/Warnings: G, post-finale (so ep 12 spoilers)
Bonus: No
Word Count: 992
Summary: snapshots following the finale
i.
It isn’t easy.
Luckily, Leonardo Watch hadn't expected it to be. He doesn't think it ever could've been--not for him, not for the city, and certainly not for Black.
ii.
For the third night in a week, he rubs Black’s back and presses his cheek against the top of his head, listening to the half-whispered words falling unevenly between hoarse sobs and whimpers, shaking shoulders and fingers digging into his sides. His gaze drifts around, from the calendar pinned back to October and the empty beer bottles strewn about the room, to the worn sheets over his lumpy mess of a bed, to the dusty morning sun starting to peek over the skyline and into his one room apartment.
He watches the sun creep along his bed, and by the time its rays have reached the edge of it, Black’s calmed down into manageable sniffles.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, face still pressed into Leo’s throat. Leo shakes his head, squeezing the blond tightly in his arms. Black sighs as he moves his head to his shoulder instead, and Leo can tell he’s watching the sun creep past the edge of the bed and onto the floor. “...I just miss her a lot. I’m going to honor her last wishes,” and Leo can tell he’s on the edge of crying there, throat tight and voice going softer so it doesn’t crack, “but it’s just--”
“Hard, right?” Leo finishes for him, grinning, and he feels Black grin back. “I know. It’s been a nightmare without White around to liven up my incredibly boring days.”
“Tell me about it,” Black replies back, and when Leo doesn’t answer he laughs, leaning back. “I mean it, Leo. Tell me. Tell me about your incredibly boring days.”
“Sure, but only if you tell me about yours first.”
iii.
Three months isn't rushing into anything, Leo tells himself for the fifth time, no matter what Zapp or anyone else might say.
He can honestly believe it, too; there aren't any foreseeable cons in being able to sneakily hold Black's hand under the table, in surprising him with morning kisses when he's just come out of their cramped closet-turned-bathroom, or in sleeping together. Well--they'd already been doing that anyway, to sate Black's crying fits and because it'd been getting too cold to sleep on the floor, but there's something different in doing it while they're together. Leo couldn't say what it is exactly, but he knows it makes every accidental touch and every non-accidental touch feel like the same static shock, kicking a warmth into gear that leaves them both exhausted and sweaty in the middle of the night.
And the middle of the day.
And--well. A lot of other times. Black's a little more hot-blooded than he looks on the surface, a little more willing to step up to the plate and take control, and Leo reasons it out as helping him take control of his life a little bit at a time. It's not like he doesn't like Black either--he maybe sort of kind of really likes him, actually, and he's fairly sure Black feels the same way--so it isn't a problem, and it's something he enjoys.
So no.
Three months isn't rushing into anything. Three months is a perfectly fine number.
iv.
Okay.
Three months may have been rushing it just a bit. Leo settles with this thought as he settles into his couch, head propped up on its arm. He wouldn't admit it aloud, especially not to Zapp (given his track record of shoving it in his face whenever he turned out to be right), but getting together three months after Halloween's whole deal might've not been the best idea either of them ever had. It isn't the worst, naturally--Black has the whole "I made a deal with the devil" thing under his belt, and Leo has his own "I let my little sister give up her eyes for me instead of stopping her like I should've"-related issues--but it definitely might've not been the best idea.
For one, it was more or less on a whim. It was during drinks and after sunset, watching cars drive far beneath them from the apartment's roof, and honestly, Leo can't remember anything from that night aside from Black's hand shyly closing over his and asking him, in a very quiet voice, if he'd like to try dating, "or something like that."
For two, it'd been long before Black had decided (also on a whim) that he was going back to Scotland. It made sense at least--from what Leo had gathered, that was his and White's mother country--but it didn't make the sudden notice any better. The resulting fight was definitely why he was out on the couch, stuck watching the moon's even dimmer light crawl faintly through the window over what's supposed to be his bed (currently occupied by Black and a cocoon of blankets instead).
At least he can sleep without me now, Leo thinks to himself with a sigh. Progress is progress.
Even if it's achieved by going a few steps back.
v.
"I'm sorry, Leo," Black says again, his voice soft and strained over the phone just like the last three times he's said it. "I just don't think it's fair to either of us."
What isn't fair, Leo replies, is breaking up with me the week after you land in merry old Scotland and expecting me to act like I'm totally on board with it.
In his mind, of course... or maybe not, because the line's gone eerily still; Leo can't even hear Black breathing, and when he begins to call his name ("Black?") it cuts completely. Pulling back reveals a call ended message and the time spent talking (00:15:45) just under it, and Leo groans loud enough that the creatures in the unit below his shriek in alien tongue and slap the ceiling (his floor) with something strangely wet and sticky-sounding.
no subject
no subject