(no subject)
title Way with Words.
pairing Subtle Lukas Podolski/Bastian Schweinsteiger, with mentions of Daniela.
rating PG, at the most.
disclaimer Not true!
summary Lukas does not have a way with words, and he has accepted this.
A/N: Another little drabble from me - but an angsty one, this time!
Lukas does not have a way with words, and he has accepted this. It’s easy to crack jokes, and horse around, but things rarely come out as he intends them to even then, and so he tends to stay quiet. His thoughts aren’t muddled, and this is what matters -better to stay silent than talk too much, anyhow, and he has other talents. On the pitch, it doesn’t matter if he can say just the right thing, at just the right time - it matters that he can score goals. Besides, Bastian talks enough for the both of them.
But it’s times like this when things become difficult, and the words tangle up and twist over themselves until his original sentiment is completely unrecognizable. Times when Bastian (closest friend, warm body next to his) needs those words more than ever, and he can’t manage anything more than an awkward slap on the arm, and stupid epithets (women! they’re crazy anyway, you don’t need her). This is brother, who looks so pale and unhappy when he thinks no one is watching; who needs help, even if he won’t ask for it. Help in the form of a bit of warmth, or even just a stiff drink to take his mind off of the intrusive questions that are constantly being aimed his way.
And Lukas tries. He does, honestly, with every fiber of his being. Even if he can’t find the words, he tries. In the still of the deserted locker room, (arms slung around shoulders and waists) he holds just a little too tightly - as though he can banish the bitter looks and tightness in the mouth through sheer force of will. He says what he can - repeating it like a mantra against cool skin (it’s fucked, you know, but it’s all right. it’s all right) and hoping to help in his own roundabout way.
pairing Subtle Lukas Podolski/Bastian Schweinsteiger, with mentions of Daniela.
rating PG, at the most.
disclaimer Not true!
summary Lukas does not have a way with words, and he has accepted this.
A/N: Another little drabble from me - but an angsty one, this time!
Lukas does not have a way with words, and he has accepted this. It’s easy to crack jokes, and horse around, but things rarely come out as he intends them to even then, and so he tends to stay quiet. His thoughts aren’t muddled, and this is what matters -better to stay silent than talk too much, anyhow, and he has other talents. On the pitch, it doesn’t matter if he can say just the right thing, at just the right time - it matters that he can score goals. Besides, Bastian talks enough for the both of them.
But it’s times like this when things become difficult, and the words tangle up and twist over themselves until his original sentiment is completely unrecognizable. Times when Bastian (closest friend, warm body next to his) needs those words more than ever, and he can’t manage anything more than an awkward slap on the arm, and stupid epithets (women! they’re crazy anyway, you don’t need her). This is brother, who looks so pale and unhappy when he thinks no one is watching; who needs help, even if he won’t ask for it. Help in the form of a bit of warmth, or even just a stiff drink to take his mind off of the intrusive questions that are constantly being aimed his way.
And Lukas tries. He does, honestly, with every fiber of his being. Even if he can’t find the words, he tries. In the still of the deserted locker room, (arms slung around shoulders and waists) he holds just a little too tightly - as though he can banish the bitter looks and tightness in the mouth through sheer force of will. He says what he can - repeating it like a mantra against cool skin (it’s fucked, you know, but it’s all right. it’s all right) and hoping to help in his own roundabout way.