Death Becomes Him (4/?)
Death Becomes Him (AU)
Part 4/?
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Summary: Fernando is Death by proxy; Daniel is/was/will be dead. And I realize I make terrible summaries, so I'm just going to say now that this part is about Daniel. And! There's a bonus character!
Warning: The bonus character swears a lot.
“Agger!”
The truck had roared past, its horns still blaring in an echo, the taillights not even screaming red.
“Agger, goddammit!”
He can feel the gravel under him, hot against his neck. He closes his eyes then and decides not to move.
“For fuck’s sake, Danny! For fuck’s sake!”
Someone kicks his feet, so he’s forced to open his eyes again. Martin is fuming at his side.
“You’re a sick fucker, you know that?!” Apparently, Martin is also concerned. “Can you move?”
Daniel knows that, yes, he is sort of a sick fucker, but he does feel a bit sorry for his friend. He nods his head and braces his elbows against the gravel to get up.
He winces as he tries to lift himself. He had been thrown off his bike and he hit the ground quite hard, but he knows he’ll live.
“Jesus effin’ Christ!”
“Martin, can you stop swearing for a second and help me get up?”
His friend scowls at him but nonetheless holds out a hand to pull him up.
“What the hell were you thinking, huh?”
He was thinking of many things, but right now, he is thinking of his bike - his biggest buy with his parents’ money. He looks around and sees it lying on its side a few meters away, scratched and a little bent, but otherwise not broken. It seems Harley will live, too.
“Hey, are you listening to me? What the hell were you thinking playing chicken with a fucking truck?!”
Daniel turns to Martin again; he seems shaken. His own bike is parked haphazardly by the side of the road.
“Look, I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? It just… came to me.”
Now Martin looks incredulous.
“I fucking swear, Agger! Sometimes I think you have a death wish!”
A death wish. He sometimes wonders about that himself.
Like that time he was balancing on the ledge that jutted out the side of the pathway over Main Street. It was a dare, and Daniel always found himself accepting dares. So he was there, standing on a foot-wide ledge, watching the cars below swoosh by, slightly leaning forward over the road, his hands letting go of the railing. The guy who had dared him changed his mind.
“Jeez, Agger. You don’t have a death wish, do you?” the guy had asked nervously.
That’s also another thing that he wonders about sometimes - how everyone seems to be nervous around him.
He thinks it started when he had come home with his uncle’s family from the hospital, all those years ago. They had been nervously nice to him, always. It made him sick.
And when he had been old enough to finally live on his own and he told them so, they had nervously but immediately agreed.
He supposes that’s also the reason he had breezed through school even if he’s not really that great; they all seemed to be nervous about the potential breakdown he’s going to have if he failed even a single class. His classmates had also been nervously whispering behind his back: There’s the lone survivor of Flight 214! Everyone had heard it from the news or from rumors, and sometimes their parents will ask about him: Has your classmate been acting weird? We heard he has this disorder...
It was all sickening. But maybe people just get really nervous around other people with death hanging over their heads.
But he doesn’t have a death wish. Does he?
He looks again at Martin, his foul-mouthed cocky little bastard of a friend. He’s normally not nervous, but he’s nervous now.
“Get a grip, will you? Of course I don’t have a death wish…”
He only has dreams of Death.
Part 4/?
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Summary: Fernando is Death by proxy; Daniel is/was/will be dead. And I realize I make terrible summaries, so I'm just going to say now that this part is about Daniel. And! There's a bonus character!
Warning: The bonus character swears a lot.
“Agger!”
The truck had roared past, its horns still blaring in an echo, the taillights not even screaming red.
“Agger, goddammit!”
He can feel the gravel under him, hot against his neck. He closes his eyes then and decides not to move.
“For fuck’s sake, Danny! For fuck’s sake!”
Someone kicks his feet, so he’s forced to open his eyes again. Martin is fuming at his side.
“You’re a sick fucker, you know that?!” Apparently, Martin is also concerned. “Can you move?”
Daniel knows that, yes, he is sort of a sick fucker, but he does feel a bit sorry for his friend. He nods his head and braces his elbows against the gravel to get up.
He winces as he tries to lift himself. He had been thrown off his bike and he hit the ground quite hard, but he knows he’ll live.
“Jesus effin’ Christ!”
“Martin, can you stop swearing for a second and help me get up?”
His friend scowls at him but nonetheless holds out a hand to pull him up.
“What the hell were you thinking, huh?”
He was thinking of many things, but right now, he is thinking of his bike - his biggest buy with his parents’ money. He looks around and sees it lying on its side a few meters away, scratched and a little bent, but otherwise not broken. It seems Harley will live, too.
“Hey, are you listening to me? What the hell were you thinking playing chicken with a fucking truck?!”
Daniel turns to Martin again; he seems shaken. His own bike is parked haphazardly by the side of the road.
“Look, I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? It just… came to me.”
Now Martin looks incredulous.
“I fucking swear, Agger! Sometimes I think you have a death wish!”
A death wish. He sometimes wonders about that himself.
Like that time he was balancing on the ledge that jutted out the side of the pathway over Main Street. It was a dare, and Daniel always found himself accepting dares. So he was there, standing on a foot-wide ledge, watching the cars below swoosh by, slightly leaning forward over the road, his hands letting go of the railing. The guy who had dared him changed his mind.
“Jeez, Agger. You don’t have a death wish, do you?” the guy had asked nervously.
That’s also another thing that he wonders about sometimes - how everyone seems to be nervous around him.
He thinks it started when he had come home with his uncle’s family from the hospital, all those years ago. They had been nervously nice to him, always. It made him sick.
And when he had been old enough to finally live on his own and he told them so, they had nervously but immediately agreed.
He supposes that’s also the reason he had breezed through school even if he’s not really that great; they all seemed to be nervous about the potential breakdown he’s going to have if he failed even a single class. His classmates had also been nervously whispering behind his back: There’s the lone survivor of Flight 214! Everyone had heard it from the news or from rumors, and sometimes their parents will ask about him: Has your classmate been acting weird? We heard he has this disorder...
It was all sickening. But maybe people just get really nervous around other people with death hanging over their heads.
But he doesn’t have a death wish. Does he?
He looks again at Martin, his foul-mouthed cocky little bastard of a friend. He’s normally not nervous, but he’s nervous now.
“Get a grip, will you? Of course I don’t have a death wish…”
He only has dreams of Death.