Kink Meme Part 10
Welcome to the 10th Kink Meme prompts post! We are excited to be back in business and can't wait to see all your new prompts and stories.
This meme is open to het and slash pairings, to gen prompts and fills, and to RPF. You are welcome to post anonymously or as a logged-in user.
RULES-One prompt per comment ( Read more... )
This meme is open to het and slash pairings, to gen prompts and fills, and to RPF. You are welcome to post anonymously or as a logged-in user.
RULES-One prompt per comment ( Read more... )
“Hey, Mama!” He wraps her up in his strong embrace, and, just as she always does, she buries her face into his chest, letting him take her weight. “Missed you.”
He sounds tired, her son, and it sparks that same worry that it always does. He’d sounded exhausted on the telephone, still so determined to come see her for her birthday even though his team were only just back from what was apparently a very difficult job.
“I missed you too, baby.” Pulling back from him just enough to get a good look at him, she studies his face carefully. “You okay? Really?”
“Really, Mama. I’m fine, we’re all fine.” He doesn’t look as tired as he sounds, to be fair, though there is a healing graze on his left temple that makes her frown. As if to distract her, Scooter leans down and kisses her cheek, tightening his arms around her waist once more. “It’s fine. Happy birthday, Mama.”
“Thank you, sweetheart!” Her birthday was two days ago, but this is the best present she could have asked for, having her baby boy back with her.
The sound of a van door clicking shut reminds her that he hasn’t come alone, and she pulls out of his embrace to greet one of her other boys as he comes around to the path. In contrast to her Scooter, Templeton Peck does look exhausted, pale and clearly drained, dark smudges under his bright blue eyes, and she swallows down her instinct to make a fuss, smiling instead as she accepts the large bouquet of flowers he holds out to her.
“Happy birthday,” he says with a wide smile of his own, although she notices it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry we’re a couple of days late; got the big guy here home to you as soon as we could.”
“You know what they say: better late than never,” she tells him, stepping close and wrapping him up in a careful one-armed hug, keeping the flowers out of the way, a little worried about what injuries might be concealed under his baggy sweater. “Good to see you, Templeton.”
Just the two of them, this visit, meaning a quieter household for her than normal, when all four of her son’s team fill her life with chaos for a week or two. Pulling gently away from Face’s loose embrace, she shoos the pair of them inside, into the warmth of her kitchen, and both men settle at her table as she moves to flick the kettle on for coffee, finding a vase for her beautiful flowers. “How was the drive?” she asks, lifting a chocolate cake out of the oven - Scooter’s favourite.
“Long,” her son replies, adding, “But a lot calmer than it could’ve been, right, Face?”
“Right, buddy.” He really doesn’t sound so good, Face, and she feels her worry step up a notch.
Carrying the cake over to the table, she takes a moment to really look at both her boys as they take it in turns to tell her about their long drive up to Chicago. That graze on Scooter’s temple is really quite nasty, she can see, although it looks clean and uninfected at least, while Face really does just look pale and tired, no visible injuries. The fact that he is dressed in a loose, faded sweater and baggy jeans rather than his usual designer wardrobe tells her there is probably much more to the story than she knows.
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Scooter heaves a sigh, offering her a little smile. “Meant to be here for your birthday, Mama,” he says, promptly stifling a yawn. “Sorry. Long drive.”
“I know, baby.” Leaning over, she presses a kiss to his forehead, close to that graze. “And I love that you came. But, no offense, you both look like you’re about dead on your feet.”
The look Scooter shoots Face speaks volumes, full of barely concealed distress. Just what happened on that last mission of theirs? Usually, she wants as few details as possible - she knows the work they do is dangerous, knows they risk their lives daily - but this time she’s longing to ask. She’d been surprised when her son told her just Face was coming up with him, rather than their whole team as planned. Apparently Hannibal had been called to some urgent meeting in DC, while Murdock had been offered the chance to get involved in some test flights, leaving Face at a loose end.
Judging by the protective look she can see in her son’s dark eyes, none of them had wanted to leave Face by himself. The fact that Face has come suggests he didn’t want to be alone, either, though she doubts he would admit that if she asked. Cutting two generous slices of cake, she slides them across the table to her two guests, shaking her head slightly. “Get that down you, boys,” she tells them, resisting the urge to just order them straight upstairs to bed.
Fetching herself a cup of tea, for a long while her kitchen is filled with nothing louder than the appreciative little noises the two Rangers make as they demolish her cake. Exhaustion seems to have no impact on their appetites, she’s pleased to see - both of them go back for seconds, then Scooter happily helps himself to a third as she refills their coffee mugs.
“This is so good, Mama,” her little boy tells her, speaking around a mouthful of cake, and Face chuckles softly, a wonderful sound.
“What happened to your table manners?” the handsome soldier teases his friend gently. “Get you home and you turn into a teenager again!”
Laughing along with him, she leans closer to Face and nudges his shoulder. “Happens every time,” she whispers, laughing louder at Scooter’s faux-hurt look. To her relief, Face leans into her a fraction rather than leaning away.
Every time this complicated young man visits, she is all too aware of the fine line she has to tread with him. Things have gotten easier over the years, far easier than that first difficult visit when her son had only been with his team a year, back when Face still hadn’t known how to respond to her in her role as Mother to them all. He calls her Mama now, more often than not, and he has been able to let his guard down around her at times, though she still feels he is holding himself back, hiding his feelings.
This is the first time Scooter has brought Face to visit by himself, though, so perhaps she’ll finally be able to get through some of his walls. Over the past four years, the team have been busy, barely in the country for more than a couple of weeks at a time, and she has only seen her beloved son rarely. Two visits last year, although one was for two whole weeks over Christmas, and even though she is more than used to it - her son phones her every spare moment he can - it never gets easier.
The whole team have been to stay a couple of times, and each time is just as chaotic and entertaining as that first visit, back when she had been trying to figure out the three crazy characters her son spends his life with. The genius of Hannibal, so protective over all his boys, so proud of them all and so very much in love with Face, even though the two men still hide it well. Murdock’s own special brand of insane, full to the brim with energy and life, yet with enough problems to weigh anyone down - he isn’t always bouncing off the walls, sometimes he is quiet and subdued, and she’s learning how to bring the pilot out of himself when needed. Face, so complex, buried deeply beneath his protective layers, gradually opening up to her.
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“So, what are those two teammates of yours up to, exactly?” she asks now, hoping to steer the conversation a little more towards this last mission of theirs without having to ask directly. She knows, if she does just ask, Scooter will brush it off as nothing, and Face will skilfully change the topic with those conman skills of his. “Hannibal’s off in Washington, right?”
“Yeah.” It’s Face that answers, and she watches as the handsome Ranger reaches up to run one hand through his messy curls, a barely noticeable wince passing over his face. “Hobnobbing with the top brass, or something. Should only be for a few days, then he’s gonna fly out to join us here, if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course that’s okay. Be good to see him again.” It’s been a while since she’s seen the colonel, though she’s spoken to him a few times on the phone. Both Scooter and Murdock call her regularly, while Face tends to send her little gifts like flowers or chocolates, always with a beautiful little note attached. Hannibal only calls when something has happened, like two years ago when Scooter was hospitalised in Afghanistan after being shot in the leg - his calm voice had settled her terror at hearing of the incident, and thankfully Scooter had been back on his feet very quickly. When Face doesn’t offer any further details, she turns to her son instead. “And Murdock?”
Scooter finishes his mouthful of cake this time before answering. “Crazy fool got the chance to do some test flights for some new plane.” Her boy visibly shudders at the mention of flying, though he continues, deep voice a little rougher than before. “He’s gonna be so hyped up for the next week, he’s better off with those other flyboys for a while.”
“He didn’t need a break after your last mission?” She buries the question in action, carrying her empty cup over to the kettle to make herself more tea. “Sounds like Hannibal will get some time to relax, at least, when he gets here.”
“That will be a break, for Murdock. Besides, he had it easier, last time out.” Face’s voice is quiet, and she resists the urge to go to him, wrap him up in a huge hug, knowing he still gets a little spooked. “The rest of us…” Whatever else he was about to say is lost in a huge yawn, and Scooter laughs before yawning again himself.
She can’t help but smile despite her concern, at these two young men so clearly exhausted and in need of some of her special care. There will be time enough over the next few days to find out what they’ve been through, what little they might be able to tell her at least. But for now…
“That’s enough, now, the pair of you.” She lifts Face’s empty mug from unresisting fingers, and moves quickly to pull the remnants of the cake away from Scooter before he can cut himself a fourth slice. “Go take a nap. Your beds are all made up, and I slipped a hot water bottle into yours, Face.” She knows the young man really doesn’t do well in the cold, and there is a definite chill in the air as winter approaches. “Dinner’ll be ready about seven.”
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As the sound of their footsteps on the stairs fades away, she is left alone with her thoughts. Something clearly happened to her son and his team, something that has meant they don’t want Face left alone either at Benning or in Washington, waiting by himself while Hannibal is at his meetings. Something that has brought out her son’s ‘big brother’ instincts.
She’ll give them all the tender loving care they will take while she has them under her roof, let them sleep as much as they need to, feed them as much cake as they can eat. And for once, she thinks she really needs to know what has happened - classified or not, something has really shaken up her family, and she won’t stand for that.
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Great writing!!
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http://ateam-prompts.livejournal.com/19117.html?thread=15136685#t15136685
And there's a little sequel of sorts too, with just Murdock and Mama B http://ateam-prompts.livejournal.com/19117.html?thread=15474605#t15474605
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Time passes as peacefully as it always does, out here in her own little world, and she almost forgets her two house-guests until a strangled cry reaches her, drifting out through her open back door. It takes her a second to realise what it is, before she is moving, up the steps and back inside. Another cry, louder this time, and she hears the bang of a door being thrown open, followed by heavy footsteps upstairs.
Heart pounding, she moves as quickly as she can through the kitchen and to the stairs, wondering what can have happened, which of her boys cried out. As she starts to climb, slowly and carefully, her old knees not letting her hurry, she can see Scooter’s door standing open although it is still dark inside. Murmured voices from the guest room, the room where Face is, and as she reaches the top steps she slows, not wanting to disturb the two men, not knowing what has happened, what could be wrong. Something tells her it would be wrong to call out, to let them know she is there, so she takes her time, frowning hard as she looks around.
The door to the guest room is open just a crack, illuminated by the soft light of the bedside lamp, and she can see clearly her son sitting on the edge of the bed, Face held tightly in his arms. Her heart still racing, she holds herself back, watching her Scooter as he rocks his friend slowly back and forth, his deep voice murmuring indistinctly the whole time.
She can’t see much of Face at all from this angle, Scooter has him wrapped up so tightly. A nightmare, she realises with a pang of sympathy - Face is shaking, she can see that much, his head tucked tightly under her son’s chin, the blankets pooled around his waist in disarray. Face is practically in Scooter’s lap already, his hands fisted hard into the back of her son’s loose t-shirt as he clings on. As she watches, her baby boy pulls his friend even closer, shifting on the bed until he is sitting back against the headboard, bringing Face with him, keeping him close against his chest.
She watches as Scooter rests his cheek onto Face’s rumpled curls, lips still moving, speaking in that deep rumble of his, obviously words of comfort, and she can see the worry in his eyes, the frown on his brow. And she doesn’t know what to do for the best. If it was Scooter who had the nightmare, she would be there for him in a heartbeat - he rarely had bad dreams as a little boy, even after his Father died, but there have been some incidents since he joined the army, though he never tells her the details. She would hold him in her arms, rock him if he needed it, tell him he was safe now and that she would never let anything hurt him, not while he was under her roof. Her little boy, still, even though he has grown so much bigger than her.
Now, her little boy is the one doing the comforting. Her little boy is the one holding his friend, no, his brother. She can’t see Templeton’s face, though she can see the lines of tension in his toned back start to ease as Scooter continues to hold him tightly, continues to talk to him softly. How many times have they done this for each other, she wonders, feeling her eyes well up with emotion. How many night terrors must stalk them all, doing the job they do?
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She forces a smile to her face, feeling her heart start to beat a more steady rhythm, but finds she can’t just leave. She mouths, “okay?” to her son, and he nods this time, even as Face starts to pull himself up, sitting straighter in the bed.
Quickly, but carefully, she moves away down the stairs, keeping her footsteps light. She knows Face would be mortified to know she has seen him like that, though she doesn’t think any the less of him for suffering a bad dream. She wonders if it is this last mission, playing on his mind, without Hannibal in bed beside him to keep him safe. Perhaps this is why he looks so exhausted, and again she makes a silent promise to find out a little more about what happened to them all, why Scooter was so quick to get to his friend’s side.
She is so proud of her son in that moment, not that she isn’t proud of him always. She knows her boy doesn’t always feel so confident with his big body and deep voice, pleased now that he is able to be physical with his friend when needed, and again she wonders how many times the team have comforted each other in this manner. Face’s cry of distress is still ringing in her mind by the time she reaches the kitchen, and instinctively she finds herself putting the kettle on for tea, turning the radio on softly to break the silence. Thank goodness the team have each other, and that her son is a part of them.
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You have got to love her and her mothers intuition knowing without being told that something happened on that last mission. Love how the relation with Face has moved on and she knows just how far she can go with him.
But omg what happened on the mission and what happened to Face? And BA rushing to Face when he cries out in his sleep and the image of him rocking and holding him on his lap so protective. Plus Mama B just standing back and letting BA take care of Face.
So glad you changed my prompt really love your Mama B!
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Glad you still like Mama B and her mother's intuition - it's been nice writing her again. Next parts going up now x
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She’s so worried about Templeton, and about Scooter as well. Physically they seem fine, or, at least, they are up and walking around - she still wants to inspect that graze on her son’s head, though she can imagine the fight she’ll have on her hands to get him to sit still long enough to get close. But nightmares, and exhaustion…
She hears the shower turned on - in her tiny house with its thin walls, the sound of her old pipes rattling into life is impossible to miss - and shakes herself out of her thoughts. They are both safe under her roof, and, even though she’d love to have Hannibal and Murdock there with her as well, she has the time to take care of them now. Her house has been too quiet and empty recently, and she feels a smile split her face as footsteps on the stairs alert her to company.
“Hey, Mama.” It’s her son, her Scooter, and she turns from the cupboard as he sweeps her into a huge hug, lifting her off her feet completely as if she weighs nothing. To him, that’s probably true.
“Put me down!” she giggles, swatting at his shoulder with the towel she has in her hands. “Scooter! Put me down, right this instant!”
But he swings her around once before placing her carefully back on her feet, holding her waist until she has her balance back. “Couldn’t resist, Mama!” he laughs, and she’s so pleased to hear he doesn’t sound as tired as he did before. That nap maybe did one of them some good, at least. “Somethin’ smells wonderful in here!”
Adjusting her dress and combing her hair back into place with one hand, she shoos him away from the oven as he starts lifting lids and moving things around. “Get yourself away from my oven, son!” One more flick from the towel and he gives in, moving back to the table and perching himself on the edge, still with a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes. “Oh, it’s good to see you smiling, baby!” she tells him with a smile of her own. “You sleep well?”
The smile fades a little before he replies, “Yeah, Mama. I slept okay, thanks. Needed that.”
She gives him a moment, but when he offers nothing further she feels compelled to ask, “Is he okay?”
“Think so, he went back to sleep. After.” Her son folds his huge arms across his chest defensively, dropping his chin and suddenly looking so much like a guilty little boy that she has to resist the urge to go rumple his hair. “Sorry we disturbed you.”
“Disturbed me?” Incredulous, she crosses the room in two steps and tugs him down into a chair, sitting opposite him and holding his huge hands in her own. “I don’t care about that, baby. I just want to help, both of you. Bad dreams?”
A tight nod is her only reply, but she does seize the opportunity to move one hand up to his forehead, stroking gentle fingers over the skin near that graze, not quite touching the damaged area. As gentle as she can, but still he flinches away from her, reaching up to take her hand again and holding it tightly. “It’s okay, Mama. Nothin’ bad. Docs said to leave it open so it can heal up proper.”
“That’s not the whole story, now, is it?” He holds her hands tighter still when she tries to get free. “Bosco Albert Baracus, baby, just what happened to you all?”
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She manages to catch his arm before he can get away from her. “I know I usually don’t want to know,” she whispers, and he goes still in her gentle hold, not making eye contact, listening. “But I can see the worry in your eyes. Something hurt one of your brothers, right? Someone? And, I don’t know, you couldn’t help him?” A fraction of a nod, and she knows she is getting close. “Baby, tell me what you’ve been through, please.”
The longest pause, the silence suddenly louder when the shower is switched off. Face will be down soon, and this moment between them will vanish. They can speak freely and openly about almost anything, mother and son, when time allows. They’ve been each other’s whole world since her husband was killed - yes, there are aunts and uncles and cousins galore, but they are a family of two at heart. He’s given her enough trouble over the years, goodness knows, lied to her time and again in his difficult teenage years, but they’ve reached a wonderful point now, a time for real honesty about their feelings and their lives, and she thanks Hannibal Smith for that, the colonel and his crazy, unique team.
But with something like this, the details of the jobs they do… She knows she is asking something new of her son, and she swallows hard, wondering if she is prepared for whatever answer he gives her. If he can even answer her, if it is his story to tell, if there are confidences involved -
“Was somethin’ so simple, Mama.” Scooter sinks back down into his chair, shaking his head slowly, one eye on the door still. “All the shit we do - sorry, the stuff we do…” She bites down the instinct to smack him around the head for that. No bad language in her house, but she lets it go, acknowledging his apology with a little nod, taking his hands back into hers and squeezing as he continues. “All the stuff we do, and we nearly lost Face in the water. I can’t… the where and the why ain’t important, but he nearly drowned. Hell, he did drown. Hannibal got to him first, but it was… It was too close.”
Pain in her son’s deep chocolate eyes, and a matching pain flares in her chest at the vague image he has painted for her. Hannibal having to pull his lover from the, what, sea or lake or pool, having to resuscitate him. Scooter and Murdock elsewhere, unable to help. “Oh, my boy… But he’s okay, now, you say?”
“Yeah, he’s okay. I should’ve been there, but I… I should’ve been the one to get him out, Mama, I was meant to be right there.” His hands tighten around hers until his grip becomes painful, then he seems to shake himself, relaxing a fraction. “He says he don’t remember much of it, but his dreams tell me otherwise.”
“Dreams will tend to do that,” she hears herself say, wanting to offer him more comfort but not knowing where to start. Even without knowing all the details, the where and the why as Scooter put it, it is so typical of her son to blame himself. And poor Face, to be going through that, nightmares and half-remembered memories. Poor Hannibal too, and she suddenly feels a strong urge to call the colonel up right now, her oldest adopted son, and tell him she loves him and that she will take care of their boys for now, until he can join them. He must be so worried about Face, so far away from his lover after coming so close to losing him.
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“Don’t worry, baby.” She does indeed know, aware that Face doesn’t like to show weakness, doesn’t want to let his guard down for even a moment, though he seems to relax around his team and is learning to relax around her. She knows not to push him, even after several years. She stands with Scooter, pressing a long, firm kiss to his cheek before moving away back to the oven, where she needs to make sure the fries haven’t burned at the edges. “I’m glad you all came back home. Just tell me one thing?”
“Mama - ”
“Did you get the people responsible?” Scooter’s sharp intake of breath is audible and, despite the grim topic, she likes that she can still surprise her son.
When it comes, she can hear the granite in her boy’s voice, and knows once more that she doesn’t envy the enemies he fights. “Yeah, Mama. I got them all good.”
“Good.” And before she can reassure him further, show him that he has managed to protect his family of choice, defend them at least, Face’s light footsteps can be heard on the stairs, and the serious conversation is swept away as the two men immediately tease each other, Scooter commenting on the fact that his brother smells like a fruit shop after his shower, while Face gives as good as he gets by suggesting engine oil isn’t really an acceptable cologne.
But as she starts to serve up their simple dinner, as her two boys fill her kitchen with chatter and energy, she can see the matching shadows in both blue and brown eyes. Face seems more rested, but she’ll have to watch him closely, she thinks, still too pale and his laughter a little forced. And Scooter, still feeling like he’s failed, can’t fool her for even a moment.
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So glad Mama B is on hand to take care of her boys. Love her asking B.A if he got the guys who did it and of course he did!
P.S. Love the new title!
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