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fandomweekly2026-03-30 08:54 pm
a_little_apocalypse) wrote in fandomweekly2026-03-30 08:54 pm
Entry tags:
[#294] like before (Control)
Theme Prompt: #294 - Pining
Title: Like Before
Fandom: Control
Rating/Warnings: PG/none
Bonus: No
Word Count: 998
Summary: Trench finds it so easy to look to Darling and remember how things used to be.
It was easy to think that some things never change, but Trench knew that that state was only temporary, no matter how languid the sense of time passing sometimes felt. Everything changes, eventually. Everything ends. However, until that inevitable point, there was the familiarity of the whiskey he always bought, the cigarette brand he always smoked, and the sight of Casper Darling across the table, as animated in conversation as he ever was.
Marshall had said to him once, "You've changed, Zachariah." She'd said it once, quite some time ago, but piercing enough that those words still circled his thoughts. It had felt accusatory, but surely that was true of anyone? Things happened, and people changed. You could only adapt to the given situation, and Trench knew each point and circumstance in his life that had led to him being steeled, tempered, changed. Yet still, paradoxically, there would be the part of him that would look to Marshall and wonder how much he had changed, really. Sometimes feeling like he hadn't changed at all, that certain lines of thought lay frozen in time and that he would think those same things over and over with no manner of relief or way to escape. Maybe you've changed too, he'd think, looking at her. He wondered if he believed that. He wasn't sure.
Darling's presence was reliable, almost comforting in a way that felt like a trap; there would be these times, after work and late into the evening, where they could retreat away from the office and away from anything that wasn't the simple fact of the two of them, alone, comfortable in each other's company. And it didn't take much to set Darling off - there was always something that he was excited about, excited for, working on, working towards. Darling liked to talk, and Trench liked to listen; the steady fact of Darling's enthusiasm, as consistent as it had ever been. From the very start, Trench had always known him to be like that. Years had passed and so much had happened, but that fact remained the same.
To look at Darling - to really look at him - Trench knew that the damning simplicity of time passing brought change to them all. He saw Darling near enough every day most days, but it wasn't until these quieter moments that he would let his gaze drift as Darling spoke, see the grey at his temples and in his facial hair, the thought of we're getting old hitting against the perception of Darling in his mind as younger and a young man; the difference in years between them wasn't enough to be dramatic, but enough that Trench had still felt the disparity, back when they'd first met. Or perhaps that's just your nature, Trench thought, and age has nothing to do with it. Darling had always been bright and optimistic in a way Trench saw life hammer out of other people, but Darling had somehow endured.
To think of him as old still felt strange, though. And if you're old, then I must be, simply, older. Shaped and formed by the duty at his shoulders, projecting the image of Director of the Federal Bureau of Control to the people of the Bureau and beyond. Image was important. Presentation was important. Taking on the Bureau's problems and pressures and handling them swiftly, calmly, efficiently. Making the decisions that had to be made, and standing by their consequence. Taking on that responsibility. Being responsible.
He would look to Darling and remember - thoughts so vivid they threatened to push the air out of his lungs to think of them - times that had been, he now knew, less complicated. They hadn't felt that way at the time, but those years between them also brought the benefit of hindsight. The recollection of days out on the field, working under supervisors and Department Heads, following instruction and getting results. Working within the lower ranks of the Bureau's hierarchy, with all of the space and time that that afforded them.
Trench would listen to Darling speak of current Bureau events, but by tuning out gently enough to blur the details he could almost believe, just for a moment, that this was some same conversation they'd lived a year ago, five years ago, a decade ago. Some things changed and some things didn't, and there was always bureaucracy to rail against, even if you are now the Head of Research in your own right. There were still the small, petty conflicts, the arguments that would be forgotten in a week (and rekindled in a month, maybe).
Is this what you thought you'd be, all that time ago?
Is this what we thought we'd become?
Nonetheless, Darling would still catch his eye and falter mid-sentence, bashful, like he'd been caught in the act of--... Trench didn't know what. Like there was something still alluring about time spent together alone, actions unwitnessed, with no needless judgement from those beyond the walls of Trench's apartment. There was something exciting about it, wasn't there? Back then. The risk of being seen. The fear of being caught. (Was it exciting?) The fear had set a bone-deep terror within Trench's mind and body. Darling had always seemed unburdened by those concerns. Fearless. (Something alluring about that, too.)
Darling would watch Trench stand, trailing off on his latest thought as the act of movement distracted him. There were things that could silence him, Trench knew that much - in this case, a hand at his cheek and a thumb on his lips, wordlessly signifying intent; that action would cause a smile, as it ever did, and Darling would lean into Trench's touch, as he ever did. And it was still so easy to think him the same as those days, the same as back then, to think him unchanged, and unchanging.
Trench would stay silent as desperation gripped him, keeping his touch soft as his ever-present fear intensified.
Don't change, Casper.
Never change.
Title: Like Before
Fandom: Control
Rating/Warnings: PG/none
Bonus: No
Word Count: 998
Summary: Trench finds it so easy to look to Darling and remember how things used to be.
It was easy to think that some things never change, but Trench knew that that state was only temporary, no matter how languid the sense of time passing sometimes felt. Everything changes, eventually. Everything ends. However, until that inevitable point, there was the familiarity of the whiskey he always bought, the cigarette brand he always smoked, and the sight of Casper Darling across the table, as animated in conversation as he ever was.
Marshall had said to him once, "You've changed, Zachariah." She'd said it once, quite some time ago, but piercing enough that those words still circled his thoughts. It had felt accusatory, but surely that was true of anyone? Things happened, and people changed. You could only adapt to the given situation, and Trench knew each point and circumstance in his life that had led to him being steeled, tempered, changed. Yet still, paradoxically, there would be the part of him that would look to Marshall and wonder how much he had changed, really. Sometimes feeling like he hadn't changed at all, that certain lines of thought lay frozen in time and that he would think those same things over and over with no manner of relief or way to escape. Maybe you've changed too, he'd think, looking at her. He wondered if he believed that. He wasn't sure.
Darling's presence was reliable, almost comforting in a way that felt like a trap; there would be these times, after work and late into the evening, where they could retreat away from the office and away from anything that wasn't the simple fact of the two of them, alone, comfortable in each other's company. And it didn't take much to set Darling off - there was always something that he was excited about, excited for, working on, working towards. Darling liked to talk, and Trench liked to listen; the steady fact of Darling's enthusiasm, as consistent as it had ever been. From the very start, Trench had always known him to be like that. Years had passed and so much had happened, but that fact remained the same.
To look at Darling - to really look at him - Trench knew that the damning simplicity of time passing brought change to them all. He saw Darling near enough every day most days, but it wasn't until these quieter moments that he would let his gaze drift as Darling spoke, see the grey at his temples and in his facial hair, the thought of we're getting old hitting against the perception of Darling in his mind as younger and a young man; the difference in years between them wasn't enough to be dramatic, but enough that Trench had still felt the disparity, back when they'd first met. Or perhaps that's just your nature, Trench thought, and age has nothing to do with it. Darling had always been bright and optimistic in a way Trench saw life hammer out of other people, but Darling had somehow endured.
To think of him as old still felt strange, though. And if you're old, then I must be, simply, older. Shaped and formed by the duty at his shoulders, projecting the image of Director of the Federal Bureau of Control to the people of the Bureau and beyond. Image was important. Presentation was important. Taking on the Bureau's problems and pressures and handling them swiftly, calmly, efficiently. Making the decisions that had to be made, and standing by their consequence. Taking on that responsibility. Being responsible.
He would look to Darling and remember - thoughts so vivid they threatened to push the air out of his lungs to think of them - times that had been, he now knew, less complicated. They hadn't felt that way at the time, but those years between them also brought the benefit of hindsight. The recollection of days out on the field, working under supervisors and Department Heads, following instruction and getting results. Working within the lower ranks of the Bureau's hierarchy, with all of the space and time that that afforded them.
Trench would listen to Darling speak of current Bureau events, but by tuning out gently enough to blur the details he could almost believe, just for a moment, that this was some same conversation they'd lived a year ago, five years ago, a decade ago. Some things changed and some things didn't, and there was always bureaucracy to rail against, even if you are now the Head of Research in your own right. There were still the small, petty conflicts, the arguments that would be forgotten in a week (and rekindled in a month, maybe).
Is this what you thought you'd be, all that time ago?
Is this what we thought we'd become?
Nonetheless, Darling would still catch his eye and falter mid-sentence, bashful, like he'd been caught in the act of--... Trench didn't know what. Like there was something still alluring about time spent together alone, actions unwitnessed, with no needless judgement from those beyond the walls of Trench's apartment. There was something exciting about it, wasn't there? Back then. The risk of being seen. The fear of being caught. (Was it exciting?) The fear had set a bone-deep terror within Trench's mind and body. Darling had always seemed unburdened by those concerns. Fearless. (Something alluring about that, too.)
Darling would watch Trench stand, trailing off on his latest thought as the act of movement distracted him. There were things that could silence him, Trench knew that much - in this case, a hand at his cheek and a thumb on his lips, wordlessly signifying intent; that action would cause a smile, as it ever did, and Darling would lean into Trench's touch, as he ever did. And it was still so easy to think him the same as those days, the same as back then, to think him unchanged, and unchanging.
Trench would stay silent as desperation gripped him, keeping his touch soft as his ever-present fear intensified.
Don't change, Casper.
Never change.