RvB - In Waves
Title: In Waves
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Series: Stars Aligned
Characters: North, Carolina
Rating: PG
Warnings: The return of implied bad parenting, mostly.
Notes: Comes a little after "Sugar Mice" chronologically speaking (around two or three weeks).
It’s not easy to upset North. Or rather, it’s not easy to make him angry. In all the time she’s been living next door Carolina has heard South throwing temper tantrums at least twice a week, loud fits of shrieking and screaming that sometimes wake the neighbours two houses down, but she has never heard North do it. Their parents don’t scream, or at least Carolina hasn’t heard them do it.
Carolina’s parents used to yell, but she can’t really remember it ever being about anger - it was mostly force of habit, her mum had told her during one of the times she was home, smiling like it was one of dad’s dorky jokes she couldn’t help but laugh to. They used to shout a lot more before Carolina was born, or so she had said, but it was just the way they dealt with each other.
“Some people need a sweeter touch, if you get what I mean”, her mother had said, eyes bright with mischief when she glanced at Carolina from the driver’s seat, smiling, always smiling. Carolina grinned back, and nodded, even though she wasn’t really sure she understood. She just wanted to keep her mum talking. “Your dad and I... well, we obviously don’t. We used to butt heads all the dam- all the time when we first got together, I don’t even know how we managed not to kill each other before we even started living together.”
“‘Cause you were in love”, Carolina said, not even a question, because she saw it every time her mother was home. They’d bicker and they’d get loud, and sometimes her mum would smack her dad on the head as she passed by him or he would hipcheck her while they cooked dinner (or while she made dinner and he handed her things, at least), but again and again they would give each other a roll of the eyes and that half-smile that seemed to be only for the other, and complain, “I don’t even know why I love you so much.”
It wasn’t a fairytale romance, but Carolina liked it all the same, even if it was kinda gross to watch them kiss good morning.
Her mother laughed. “Probably, yeah, can’t really justify the insanity any other way. Anyway, after a while you just learn not to step on each other’s toes, I guess, but habits die hard, and sometimes it’s kind of reassuring. Some things never changing and all. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s not a bad thing either.”
Carolina can’t be really sure, but she has the strong suspicion that North is one of those people who need “sweeter touches”, whatever that means, and that suspicion becomes a certainty on a foggy November afternoon, when she hears the usual bi-weekly racket of South screaming about something or another - except this time her voice stops, then gets even louder than before, and Carolina hears a second voice, half-drowned in the middle of South’s rant. Then the second voice stops, and South’s does too, and it’s only once the door to the backyard opens abruptly then slams shut that Carolina realises that must’ve been North talking back at his twin, for once, and by that point she’s distracted by the sight of him putting his coat jerkily as he walks around the house to get out of the garden and into the street, his limbs strangely stiff, and then Carolina can’t see him through the window anymore.
There’s a split moment where Carolina stands still, hands curled around the flimsy white fabric of the window drapes, a tiny frown on her face and her eyes on the wisp of fog all over the world outside, considering, weighing her options.
The moment passes, and she shuts the drapes with a decisive tug, then turns on her heel and marches to the front door, grabbing her coat and scarf and gloves and hat, because she’s not about to go out in the chilly air without protection. Carolina pauses for a moment, stares up at the long grey scarf hanging on the coat rack, and lets her mouth turn into a stern straight line to stop herself from biting her lip as she grabs the scarf, too, and folds it into a square before making her way out of the house and into the street.
It’s freezing outside, and even though she knew as much the first brush of cold wind still makes her shiver inside her coat. She looks around for any signs of movement, but the fog makes it hard to see more than a few metres in front of her, and the cold is making her cheeks and nose go pink. There aren’t a lot of places to go in this neighbourhood. There’s a bus stop a few blocks down, and a little grocery shop up the street, and there’s the park near the security check-in at the entrance.
Carolina follows her instinct and crosses the street, reminds herself that she can’t walk on the middle of it if she can’t see oncoming traffic and sticks to the crosswalk for the next four blocks, then looks to the sides before crossing, the wet grass crunching softly under her shoes as she walks on it.
Visibility is still near zero. Carolina bites the corner of her lip, and just when she’s starting to think that maybe she just ought to go back to her house, she hears the creak of metal. A beat, then the sound comes back, another beat, and then again, and Carolina turns around, walking in direction of the swings with careful steps, her arms wrapped around her father’s scarf like a security blanket. It’s not slipping that worries her.
Up close she can feel the whoosh of air as North goes up, down, legs swinging back and forth to propel him forward and then slow down, and Carolina walks to the opposite end of the swings, her body not exactly hidden by the metal posts. It takes North a moment to notice her presence, but once he glances to the side and sees her there his rhythm stutters, and on the next swing down he digs his feet into the ground, coming to a halt with an indecipherable look thrown in her direction. Carolina doesn’t really know what to do with that kind of look, not in him, because it reminds her eerily of the way dad looks at her sometimes, like he doesn’t know what to do with her.
North is not like her dad. Carolina is only just realising she doesn’t want him to be, either.
They look at each other for a minute, both of them wary for different reasons, then North speaks up first, like he always does.
“What are you doing here?”, he asks, frowning a little. Not confrontational, just... confused.
Carolina looks away, lets her eyes land on the seat of one of the other swings, and says, “I saw you coming out.” *You were nice when I was upset*, she thinks, but doesn’t say out loud. *I wanted to be nice to you too.* “It’s really cold outside.”
North nods at the edge of her vision, his face even harder to read when she can’t even see him properly. “Yeah, I kinda forgot everything but my coat. I thought I’d keep moving to stay warm”, he explains. He looks at her, searching her eyes, and Carolina turns the smallest degree to escape him, feeling like something important is happening and she doesn’t understand what it is. She doesn’t like this feeling. “Is... did you bring that for me?”
Carolina is still holding the scarf. She had forgotten about it, somehow, but North is giving it - her - a curious look, like it’s all a puzzle he’s trying to solve. She turns around slowly so that they’re facing each other, North still stagnant on the swing, and Carolina regards him for a moment, feeling strangely cautious, then replies, “Yes.”
It’s like they’re weighing each other, three or four long seconds stretching between them before North smiles, sort of tired but still there, “Thanks. Wanna sit with me?”
Carolina nods, and walks to perch herself on the swing next to North’s, handing him her dad’s scarf once she’s sitting down. He takes it from her sort of wonderingly, wraps it twice around his neck, the ends of it still a little too long for his body, and tugs on them to make sure it’s not going to fly away with the wind. “How do I look?”, he asks Carolina, sounding oddly shy.
Her lips curl up at the corners, just the slightest bit, the gesture more of a crinkle of eyes rather than a proper smile. “Like you’re wearing a turban wrong. It’ll keep you warm, though.”
North’s shoulders shake around a quiet chuckle, and he kicks his feet a little, the swing rocking with the impulse. “Feels nice. Thanks again.”
“It’s nothing”, Carolina says, shrugging. She doesn’t ask what he and his sister were arguing about because she isn’t sure she would know what to do if he gave her an answer, so she goes for the easier guess, looking at him sideways while she kicks the ground a little, just enough to get the swing moving slowly. “Are you okay yet?”
North shrugs one shoulder at the edge of her vision, swinging his legs a little harder for a moment. “I guess. I still don’t feel like talking to South right now, but I’m not upset anymore. “ He lets himself drop back on his seat, staring up at the white-grey sky as he swings back and forth, and when he rushes past her he grins, dirty blond hair all fuzzy from the foggy air. “Not cold anymore, either.”
It’s such a silly thing, really, but laughter still bubbles out of her throat, the sound almost startled at first, and once she starts she can’t seem to stop. She’s giggling like - like a little kid, really, but she hasn’t felt like one ever since dad told her mum wasn’t coming home and everything safe or reassuring slowly disappeared from her life as well. It’s really odd, somehow, yet at the same time she feels calm, because she can’t laugh like this inside the house, with its sad blue walls and her dad’s silence, but North isn’t going to shut her up, or give her a weird look, or ask her to leave him alone. He doesn’t understand, not really, but maybe he doesn’t need to. He’s still smiling.
Carolina shakes her head, an answering smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and kicks the ground to match his pace.
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Series: Stars Aligned
Characters: North, Carolina
Rating: PG
Warnings: The return of implied bad parenting, mostly.
Notes: Comes a little after "Sugar Mice" chronologically speaking (around two or three weeks).
It’s not easy to upset North. Or rather, it’s not easy to make him angry. In all the time she’s been living next door Carolina has heard South throwing temper tantrums at least twice a week, loud fits of shrieking and screaming that sometimes wake the neighbours two houses down, but she has never heard North do it. Their parents don’t scream, or at least Carolina hasn’t heard them do it.
Carolina’s parents used to yell, but she can’t really remember it ever being about anger - it was mostly force of habit, her mum had told her during one of the times she was home, smiling like it was one of dad’s dorky jokes she couldn’t help but laugh to. They used to shout a lot more before Carolina was born, or so she had said, but it was just the way they dealt with each other.
“Some people need a sweeter touch, if you get what I mean”, her mother had said, eyes bright with mischief when she glanced at Carolina from the driver’s seat, smiling, always smiling. Carolina grinned back, and nodded, even though she wasn’t really sure she understood. She just wanted to keep her mum talking. “Your dad and I... well, we obviously don’t. We used to butt heads all the dam- all the time when we first got together, I don’t even know how we managed not to kill each other before we even started living together.”
“‘Cause you were in love”, Carolina said, not even a question, because she saw it every time her mother was home. They’d bicker and they’d get loud, and sometimes her mum would smack her dad on the head as she passed by him or he would hipcheck her while they cooked dinner (or while she made dinner and he handed her things, at least), but again and again they would give each other a roll of the eyes and that half-smile that seemed to be only for the other, and complain, “I don’t even know why I love you so much.”
It wasn’t a fairytale romance, but Carolina liked it all the same, even if it was kinda gross to watch them kiss good morning.
Her mother laughed. “Probably, yeah, can’t really justify the insanity any other way. Anyway, after a while you just learn not to step on each other’s toes, I guess, but habits die hard, and sometimes it’s kind of reassuring. Some things never changing and all. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s not a bad thing either.”
Carolina can’t be really sure, but she has the strong suspicion that North is one of those people who need “sweeter touches”, whatever that means, and that suspicion becomes a certainty on a foggy November afternoon, when she hears the usual bi-weekly racket of South screaming about something or another - except this time her voice stops, then gets even louder than before, and Carolina hears a second voice, half-drowned in the middle of South’s rant. Then the second voice stops, and South’s does too, and it’s only once the door to the backyard opens abruptly then slams shut that Carolina realises that must’ve been North talking back at his twin, for once, and by that point she’s distracted by the sight of him putting his coat jerkily as he walks around the house to get out of the garden and into the street, his limbs strangely stiff, and then Carolina can’t see him through the window anymore.
There’s a split moment where Carolina stands still, hands curled around the flimsy white fabric of the window drapes, a tiny frown on her face and her eyes on the wisp of fog all over the world outside, considering, weighing her options.
The moment passes, and she shuts the drapes with a decisive tug, then turns on her heel and marches to the front door, grabbing her coat and scarf and gloves and hat, because she’s not about to go out in the chilly air without protection. Carolina pauses for a moment, stares up at the long grey scarf hanging on the coat rack, and lets her mouth turn into a stern straight line to stop herself from biting her lip as she grabs the scarf, too, and folds it into a square before making her way out of the house and into the street.
It’s freezing outside, and even though she knew as much the first brush of cold wind still makes her shiver inside her coat. She looks around for any signs of movement, but the fog makes it hard to see more than a few metres in front of her, and the cold is making her cheeks and nose go pink. There aren’t a lot of places to go in this neighbourhood. There’s a bus stop a few blocks down, and a little grocery shop up the street, and there’s the park near the security check-in at the entrance.
Carolina follows her instinct and crosses the street, reminds herself that she can’t walk on the middle of it if she can’t see oncoming traffic and sticks to the crosswalk for the next four blocks, then looks to the sides before crossing, the wet grass crunching softly under her shoes as she walks on it.
Visibility is still near zero. Carolina bites the corner of her lip, and just when she’s starting to think that maybe she just ought to go back to her house, she hears the creak of metal. A beat, then the sound comes back, another beat, and then again, and Carolina turns around, walking in direction of the swings with careful steps, her arms wrapped around her father’s scarf like a security blanket. It’s not slipping that worries her.
Up close she can feel the whoosh of air as North goes up, down, legs swinging back and forth to propel him forward and then slow down, and Carolina walks to the opposite end of the swings, her body not exactly hidden by the metal posts. It takes North a moment to notice her presence, but once he glances to the side and sees her there his rhythm stutters, and on the next swing down he digs his feet into the ground, coming to a halt with an indecipherable look thrown in her direction. Carolina doesn’t really know what to do with that kind of look, not in him, because it reminds her eerily of the way dad looks at her sometimes, like he doesn’t know what to do with her.
North is not like her dad. Carolina is only just realising she doesn’t want him to be, either.
They look at each other for a minute, both of them wary for different reasons, then North speaks up first, like he always does.
“What are you doing here?”, he asks, frowning a little. Not confrontational, just... confused.
Carolina looks away, lets her eyes land on the seat of one of the other swings, and says, “I saw you coming out.” *You were nice when I was upset*, she thinks, but doesn’t say out loud. *I wanted to be nice to you too.* “It’s really cold outside.”
North nods at the edge of her vision, his face even harder to read when she can’t even see him properly. “Yeah, I kinda forgot everything but my coat. I thought I’d keep moving to stay warm”, he explains. He looks at her, searching her eyes, and Carolina turns the smallest degree to escape him, feeling like something important is happening and she doesn’t understand what it is. She doesn’t like this feeling. “Is... did you bring that for me?”
Carolina is still holding the scarf. She had forgotten about it, somehow, but North is giving it - her - a curious look, like it’s all a puzzle he’s trying to solve. She turns around slowly so that they’re facing each other, North still stagnant on the swing, and Carolina regards him for a moment, feeling strangely cautious, then replies, “Yes.”
It’s like they’re weighing each other, three or four long seconds stretching between them before North smiles, sort of tired but still there, “Thanks. Wanna sit with me?”
Carolina nods, and walks to perch herself on the swing next to North’s, handing him her dad’s scarf once she’s sitting down. He takes it from her sort of wonderingly, wraps it twice around his neck, the ends of it still a little too long for his body, and tugs on them to make sure it’s not going to fly away with the wind. “How do I look?”, he asks Carolina, sounding oddly shy.
Her lips curl up at the corners, just the slightest bit, the gesture more of a crinkle of eyes rather than a proper smile. “Like you’re wearing a turban wrong. It’ll keep you warm, though.”
North’s shoulders shake around a quiet chuckle, and he kicks his feet a little, the swing rocking with the impulse. “Feels nice. Thanks again.”
“It’s nothing”, Carolina says, shrugging. She doesn’t ask what he and his sister were arguing about because she isn’t sure she would know what to do if he gave her an answer, so she goes for the easier guess, looking at him sideways while she kicks the ground a little, just enough to get the swing moving slowly. “Are you okay yet?”
North shrugs one shoulder at the edge of her vision, swinging his legs a little harder for a moment. “I guess. I still don’t feel like talking to South right now, but I’m not upset anymore. “ He lets himself drop back on his seat, staring up at the white-grey sky as he swings back and forth, and when he rushes past her he grins, dirty blond hair all fuzzy from the foggy air. “Not cold anymore, either.”
It’s such a silly thing, really, but laughter still bubbles out of her throat, the sound almost startled at first, and once she starts she can’t seem to stop. She’s giggling like - like a little kid, really, but she hasn’t felt like one ever since dad told her mum wasn’t coming home and everything safe or reassuring slowly disappeared from her life as well. It’s really odd, somehow, yet at the same time she feels calm, because she can’t laugh like this inside the house, with its sad blue walls and her dad’s silence, but North isn’t going to shut her up, or give her a weird look, or ask her to leave him alone. He doesn’t understand, not really, but maybe he doesn’t need to. He’s still smiling.
Carolina shakes her head, an answering smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and kicks the ground to match his pace.