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... )
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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