Fic: Lasting Resolutions (Suicide Kings, Brett/Avery, PG)
Title: Lasting Resolutions
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Pairing: Brett/Avery
Rating: PG
Summary: Life on the road gives you a lot of time to think.
Author's note: Prompt #2, this one from duckduck. (Aside to Michelle: It's post-movie; sorry. All my characters are mopey lately, can't imagine why. I might try a pre-movie version eventually.) I'm pretty 'eh' about this one, because I don't think it does justice to the poem or the concept I was going for. But the whole point of these things is to get myself writing, so I'm posting anyway. 756 words.
Prompt: Pablo Neruda's "I Do Not Love You"
He doesn't know where they are. Some crappy motel in the middle of nowhere, with no other guests that Brett's spotted and nothing around for miles except a gas station and a few tourist places. It's the perfect place for them to lay low, because the chances of Charlie finding them in the middle of nowhere are pretty slim and even if he did manage to catch up with them, they'd probably see him coming in a town like this.
So Brett's not relaxed, exactly, but he's not as tense as usual and that means he should be able to get some sleep. Avery's been asleep for at least an hour, mouth open a little and probably drooling on the pillow, spread out on his stomach to take up way more than his allotted half of the bed. And Brett knows he could shove in next to Avery, push him onto his side and slide between cheap, scratchy sheets to get a few hours' sleep before morning comes and they're on the move again.
Avery wouldn't even wake up; Brett knows from experience that he'd probably just mumble something in his sleep and press back up against Brett the second Brett slid in next to him. And in the morning Brett would wake up to stifling heat, and arm or a leg or both slung over him and he wouldn't mind, because waking up covered in sweat and Avery lets him know that they both made it through another night.
He knows he should try to get some sleep, because they're on a schedule and it takes a lot of energy to keep as far ahead of the targets on their backs as they can. Instead he's been sitting here in the dark since Avery fell asleep, watching the steady rise and fall of the sheet with every breath Avery draws and wondering how they ended up here.
The truth is he should hate Avery. He should have cut Avery out of his life the second he found out that Avery lied, that he orchestrated the entire kidnapping and landed all of them in the middle of this mess. Only he can't, because he's known Avery practically his whole life, loved him for as long as he can remember and he knows exactly what Avery gets like when he feels like he's cornered.
So yeah, he's still pissed, but he gets it. And that's the part that keeps him awake at night, because he gets Avery and no matter how much he wants to take his stuff and leave while Avery's asleep, he knows he won't. He thinks about it sometimes, mostly when Avery's moaning about how it's all his fault that Elise and Max are dead. Like they both didn't get exactly what they deserved.
He thinks about it on nights like tonight, when Avery's fast asleep and Brett's just watching him, trying to figure out what it is about Avery that makes him impossible to leave.
Then Avery shifts in his sleep, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks for a second before he blinks his eyes open and turns to look at Brett. It takes him a few seconds to focus, but when he finally does he looks confused and maybe a little scared. Like maybe he knows exactly what Brett's thinking on the nights when Avery catches him like this.
"What?" Avery asks, voice thick with sleep and something else and Brett hears the part of the question he doesn't say. And he wants to tell Avery to forget it, that he can't sleep and Avery should just close his eyes and try to get some rest. But he never does; instead he stands up just like he does every other night, crosses the room in the darkness to stand next to the bed. From there it's easy to pull the sheet back and slide onto the mattress, hand on Avery's waist and their legs already tangled together as Brett pushes him back against the pillow and kisses him.
And one of these days he's going to go through with it. One night Avery's going to wake up and Brett will be gone, then he'll be all alone and Avery will know it's exactly what he deserves. But this isn't that night, because Avery's hands are in his hair and on his back and everywhere else they can reach, trying to pull Brett closer like maybe if he just holds on hard enough, the next time he wakes up Brett will still be there.
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Pairing: Brett/Avery
Rating: PG
Summary: Life on the road gives you a lot of time to think.
Author's note: Prompt #2, this one from duckduck. (Aside to Michelle: It's post-movie; sorry. All my characters are mopey lately, can't imagine why. I might try a pre-movie version eventually.) I'm pretty 'eh' about this one, because I don't think it does justice to the poem or the concept I was going for. But the whole point of these things is to get myself writing, so I'm posting anyway. 756 words.
Prompt: Pablo Neruda's "I Do Not Love You"
He doesn't know where they are. Some crappy motel in the middle of nowhere, with no other guests that Brett's spotted and nothing around for miles except a gas station and a few tourist places. It's the perfect place for them to lay low, because the chances of Charlie finding them in the middle of nowhere are pretty slim and even if he did manage to catch up with them, they'd probably see him coming in a town like this.
So Brett's not relaxed, exactly, but he's not as tense as usual and that means he should be able to get some sleep. Avery's been asleep for at least an hour, mouth open a little and probably drooling on the pillow, spread out on his stomach to take up way more than his allotted half of the bed. And Brett knows he could shove in next to Avery, push him onto his side and slide between cheap, scratchy sheets to get a few hours' sleep before morning comes and they're on the move again.
Avery wouldn't even wake up; Brett knows from experience that he'd probably just mumble something in his sleep and press back up against Brett the second Brett slid in next to him. And in the morning Brett would wake up to stifling heat, and arm or a leg or both slung over him and he wouldn't mind, because waking up covered in sweat and Avery lets him know that they both made it through another night.
He knows he should try to get some sleep, because they're on a schedule and it takes a lot of energy to keep as far ahead of the targets on their backs as they can. Instead he's been sitting here in the dark since Avery fell asleep, watching the steady rise and fall of the sheet with every breath Avery draws and wondering how they ended up here.
The truth is he should hate Avery. He should have cut Avery out of his life the second he found out that Avery lied, that he orchestrated the entire kidnapping and landed all of them in the middle of this mess. Only he can't, because he's known Avery practically his whole life, loved him for as long as he can remember and he knows exactly what Avery gets like when he feels like he's cornered.
So yeah, he's still pissed, but he gets it. And that's the part that keeps him awake at night, because he gets Avery and no matter how much he wants to take his stuff and leave while Avery's asleep, he knows he won't. He thinks about it sometimes, mostly when Avery's moaning about how it's all his fault that Elise and Max are dead. Like they both didn't get exactly what they deserved.
He thinks about it on nights like tonight, when Avery's fast asleep and Brett's just watching him, trying to figure out what it is about Avery that makes him impossible to leave.
Then Avery shifts in his sleep, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks for a second before he blinks his eyes open and turns to look at Brett. It takes him a few seconds to focus, but when he finally does he looks confused and maybe a little scared. Like maybe he knows exactly what Brett's thinking on the nights when Avery catches him like this.
"What?" Avery asks, voice thick with sleep and something else and Brett hears the part of the question he doesn't say. And he wants to tell Avery to forget it, that he can't sleep and Avery should just close his eyes and try to get some rest. But he never does; instead he stands up just like he does every other night, crosses the room in the darkness to stand next to the bed. From there it's easy to pull the sheet back and slide onto the mattress, hand on Avery's waist and their legs already tangled together as Brett pushes him back against the pillow and kisses him.
And one of these days he's going to go through with it. One night Avery's going to wake up and Brett will be gone, then he'll be all alone and Avery will know it's exactly what he deserves. But this isn't that night, because Avery's hands are in his hair and on his back and everywhere else they can reach, trying to pull Brett closer like maybe if he just holds on hard enough, the next time he wakes up Brett will still be there.