Fic: (Ghost Ship, Dodge/Munder, PG)
Man, the chick who took my blood today butchered my arm. There are gross broken blood vessels and it hurts every time I bend it. I mean she was nice and all, but fucking ow. Like my day wasn't already stressful enough.
ANYWAY.
Earlier minotaurs suggested I celebrate being able to type again by writing him some Ghost Ship fic. So I did. Because I'm easy.
The sun's just starting to come up when Greer turns up to relieve Dodge of duty. They grunt barely coherent 'morning's at each other and Dodge heads down the stairs to the bunks, rubbing his eyes against the fatigue he's been fighting most of the night. And he doesn't really mind the night shift, but when he's spent the whole day in the water with Munder trying to patch up a wreck that they all know is beyond repair, he spends most of his watch thinking about the moment when he gets to crawl into his bunk.
No one would ever use the word 'comfortable' to describe their bunks, but he's used to them and anyway he's tired enough right now that he could probably fall asleep standing up. So he stumbles through the bunkroom in the dark, sinking onto the edge of his bunk just long enough to unlace his boots before he pulls them off and slides into bed with an exaggerated groan.
Only his narrow bunk is even narrower than usual, and either the walls have gotten bonier or there's someone in his bed. "That better be you, Munder," Dodge says, shoving the shoulder closest to him until the body in his bunk mumbles something and turns over.
Silky hair falls across his hand, and Dodge rolls his eyes and shakes Munder's shoulder a little harder this time. "Wake up, asshole."
Munder mumbles again, but he cracks one eye open this time and peers at Dodge in the darkness. "What?"
"What are you doing in my bunk?"
"You weren't using it," Munder answers, reaching up to rub at his eyes and Dodge would think it was kind of cute if he wasn't annoyed at the fact that Munder's not getting up.
"Well I am now," Dodge says, shoving again when Munder's eyes flutter closed. "Get back in your own bunk."
"Can't," Munder says, letting out a yawn and stretching a little further under Dodge's covers. "Pipe burst in the wall, everything on the top's wet."
And that's just great, because there's no way he's sleeping on the floor. His bunk isn't soaked, after all, and he's the one who's been awake all night while everyone else was down here fast asleep. But it's obvious Munder's not planning to go anywhere, so Dodge shoves him closer to the wall and slides into the narrow bunk next to him. He tugs the sheet up over his chest and tries to turn onto his side, but there's not enough room to maneuver and he barely catches himself before he slides right back out of bed again.
He kicks Munder's legs out of the way, a muffled protest coming from under the blanket as Munder rolls a little closer to the wall. There's still not enough room for both of them in the bunk, but Dodge manages to turn on his side and wrestle half the pillow away from Munder. He knows what the rest of the crew's going to say if they wake up to find Dodge and Munder wedged into his bunk together, but he doesn't really care when he's barely balanced on the bed as it is.
It's not that he isn't used to sleeping this close to Munder. But at home there's a lot more mattress under them, more places for hands and legs to go. With both of them in his bunk there isn't even enough room to turn over, and the only place to put his hands is on Munder. The top one, anyway, resting on his hip under the blanket because if Dodge doesn't hold on to something he really will fall out of bed. His other arm's wedged under the pillow, and he's going to wake up with pain in all sorts of weird places if he ever manages to get to sleep.
That doesn't seem likely, though, because just as he balances himself securely enough to close his eyes, Munder shifts and Dodge feels himself falling. He grips frantically at Munder's hip, dragging himself back onto the mattress and clamping his whole arm around Munder's waist this time. "Jesus," he murmurs, heart beating too fast and there's no way he's getting any sleep like this.
Munder doesn't seem to be having a problem, but he's safely on the inside of the bunk and that doesn't seem fair. Dodge thinks about getting up and dragging Munder out of his bunk just so they can switch places, but he's not sure he can do it without waking up the rest of the crew. Chances are they'll be waking up soon anyway, because the sun's rising and nobody stays in bed much past dawn when they're on the water.
Unless they took the night watch, that is.
Or they're an annoying bed hog like Munder.
As soon as he thinks it Munder sort of hums low in his throat and pushes back against him, and Dodge bites back a groan he's pretty sure would wake the rest of the crew. "Stop," he whispers instead, arm tightening around Munder to show he's serious.
Only that brings Munder even closer, and when he pushes back again Dodge feels himself start to slide off the bunk for the second time. He scrambles to catch himself, feels Munder sliding with him and just for a second he's sure they're both going to hit the floor. And he really doesn't want to explain to Murph and the rest of the crew why he and Munder are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of limbs and blankets, so he manages to hang on and swings one leg over Munder's.
Munder who's laughing under his breath, that low chuckle shooting straight to Dodge's groin in spite of his best efforts to be annoyed. "Asshole."
That just makes Munder laugh harder, but he moves over a fraction, just enough to let Dodge ease away from the edge of the bunk. Somehow Dodge manages to push Munder's hair out of his face without tumbling off the bunk again, settling back down on the pillow to close his eyes. And there's no way he's going to get any sleep, because even if he wasn't about a second away from falling out of bed, the rest of the crew is going to wake up and start making noise any second.
Somebody - Epps, most likely - will make coffee, someone will start the shower and knowing Santos the TV will go on during breakfast, so Dodge isn't even sure why he's bothering. But it's warm in his bunk and even though it's not really comfortable, they've been at sea awhile and it's been weeks since he's shared a bed with Munder. That's reason enough to stay right where he is, and it's almost reason enough not to care what the rest of the crew will think when they wake up and see him like this.
As soon as he thinks it Munder moves against him again, but he doesn't push back this time. Instead his hand slides over Dodge's where it rests on his stomach, fingers sort of threading together and Dodge smiles in spite of himself. Because Munder can be a selfish prick when he wants to be, but he's Dodge's selfish prick, and there's nobody else he'd rather be crammed into a bunk with.
He's not sure when he finally falls asleep, but the next thing he knows he's jolted awake by a loud crash and a sharp pain in his tailbone. "Ow!" he yelps, then "fuck" under his breath as he rubs his back and looks around.
Epps is watching him over the top of her coffee mug, not bothering to hide her amused smile and when he scowls at her she just laughs harder. "Morning."
"You okay, man?" Munder asks from somewhere above him, and Dodge looks up to find Munder looking down at him from the bunk they'd been sharing a few seconds ago.
"No thanks to you."
"Hey, I didn't push you," Munder says, but they both know that's not what Dodge meant.
"I should've kicked you out of my bunk when I found you there," Dodge answers, any fleeting affection he felt for Munder gone because he's sitting on the floor and his ass hurts and Epps is laughing at him. "Your lazy ass should be up already anyway. Don't you have a burst pipe to weld?"
Munder rolls his eyes, but he pushes the sheet back and swings his legs over the edge of Dodge's bunk. "Yeah, yeah. It's all yours," Munder says, but he reaches down to ruffle Dodge's hair as he stands up, and Dodge can tell he's not mad.
He waits until Munder climbs over him to push himself off the floor, sliding back into his bunk and stretching out as much as he can on the narrow mattress. He ignores the muffled voices coming from the other side of the room, ignores the fact that Epps and Munder are probably talking about him and that Santos and Murphy are probably above deck right now, trying to forget they ever saw Dodge and Munder crammed together in his bunk.
None of that matters, because he's got his bunk all to himself, and no way is Munder stealing it again, no matter how nice it is to fall asleep pressed together. He pulls the pillow - his pillow - closer and breathes in deep, senses flooded suddenly with the scent of Munder, and Dodge doesn't quite stifle a sigh.
So okay, maybe it isn't all bad having Munder in his bunk. But next time, he gets the outside.
~
ETA: Tonya! I was across the house and did not hear my phone ring. I would have answered it, I swear! ::sad face:: But it's okay, really. It'll be fine. We'll be cyst twins! Except mine is not nearly as impressive as yours and no papers will be written about it.
ANYWAY.
Earlier minotaurs suggested I celebrate being able to type again by writing him some Ghost Ship fic. So I did. Because I'm easy.
The sun's just starting to come up when Greer turns up to relieve Dodge of duty. They grunt barely coherent 'morning's at each other and Dodge heads down the stairs to the bunks, rubbing his eyes against the fatigue he's been fighting most of the night. And he doesn't really mind the night shift, but when he's spent the whole day in the water with Munder trying to patch up a wreck that they all know is beyond repair, he spends most of his watch thinking about the moment when he gets to crawl into his bunk.
No one would ever use the word 'comfortable' to describe their bunks, but he's used to them and anyway he's tired enough right now that he could probably fall asleep standing up. So he stumbles through the bunkroom in the dark, sinking onto the edge of his bunk just long enough to unlace his boots before he pulls them off and slides into bed with an exaggerated groan.
Only his narrow bunk is even narrower than usual, and either the walls have gotten bonier or there's someone in his bed. "That better be you, Munder," Dodge says, shoving the shoulder closest to him until the body in his bunk mumbles something and turns over.
Silky hair falls across his hand, and Dodge rolls his eyes and shakes Munder's shoulder a little harder this time. "Wake up, asshole."
Munder mumbles again, but he cracks one eye open this time and peers at Dodge in the darkness. "What?"
"What are you doing in my bunk?"
"You weren't using it," Munder answers, reaching up to rub at his eyes and Dodge would think it was kind of cute if he wasn't annoyed at the fact that Munder's not getting up.
"Well I am now," Dodge says, shoving again when Munder's eyes flutter closed. "Get back in your own bunk."
"Can't," Munder says, letting out a yawn and stretching a little further under Dodge's covers. "Pipe burst in the wall, everything on the top's wet."
And that's just great, because there's no way he's sleeping on the floor. His bunk isn't soaked, after all, and he's the one who's been awake all night while everyone else was down here fast asleep. But it's obvious Munder's not planning to go anywhere, so Dodge shoves him closer to the wall and slides into the narrow bunk next to him. He tugs the sheet up over his chest and tries to turn onto his side, but there's not enough room to maneuver and he barely catches himself before he slides right back out of bed again.
He kicks Munder's legs out of the way, a muffled protest coming from under the blanket as Munder rolls a little closer to the wall. There's still not enough room for both of them in the bunk, but Dodge manages to turn on his side and wrestle half the pillow away from Munder. He knows what the rest of the crew's going to say if they wake up to find Dodge and Munder wedged into his bunk together, but he doesn't really care when he's barely balanced on the bed as it is.
It's not that he isn't used to sleeping this close to Munder. But at home there's a lot more mattress under them, more places for hands and legs to go. With both of them in his bunk there isn't even enough room to turn over, and the only place to put his hands is on Munder. The top one, anyway, resting on his hip under the blanket because if Dodge doesn't hold on to something he really will fall out of bed. His other arm's wedged under the pillow, and he's going to wake up with pain in all sorts of weird places if he ever manages to get to sleep.
That doesn't seem likely, though, because just as he balances himself securely enough to close his eyes, Munder shifts and Dodge feels himself falling. He grips frantically at Munder's hip, dragging himself back onto the mattress and clamping his whole arm around Munder's waist this time. "Jesus," he murmurs, heart beating too fast and there's no way he's getting any sleep like this.
Munder doesn't seem to be having a problem, but he's safely on the inside of the bunk and that doesn't seem fair. Dodge thinks about getting up and dragging Munder out of his bunk just so they can switch places, but he's not sure he can do it without waking up the rest of the crew. Chances are they'll be waking up soon anyway, because the sun's rising and nobody stays in bed much past dawn when they're on the water.
Unless they took the night watch, that is.
Or they're an annoying bed hog like Munder.
As soon as he thinks it Munder sort of hums low in his throat and pushes back against him, and Dodge bites back a groan he's pretty sure would wake the rest of the crew. "Stop," he whispers instead, arm tightening around Munder to show he's serious.
Only that brings Munder even closer, and when he pushes back again Dodge feels himself start to slide off the bunk for the second time. He scrambles to catch himself, feels Munder sliding with him and just for a second he's sure they're both going to hit the floor. And he really doesn't want to explain to Murph and the rest of the crew why he and Munder are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of limbs and blankets, so he manages to hang on and swings one leg over Munder's.
Munder who's laughing under his breath, that low chuckle shooting straight to Dodge's groin in spite of his best efforts to be annoyed. "Asshole."
That just makes Munder laugh harder, but he moves over a fraction, just enough to let Dodge ease away from the edge of the bunk. Somehow Dodge manages to push Munder's hair out of his face without tumbling off the bunk again, settling back down on the pillow to close his eyes. And there's no way he's going to get any sleep, because even if he wasn't about a second away from falling out of bed, the rest of the crew is going to wake up and start making noise any second.
Somebody - Epps, most likely - will make coffee, someone will start the shower and knowing Santos the TV will go on during breakfast, so Dodge isn't even sure why he's bothering. But it's warm in his bunk and even though it's not really comfortable, they've been at sea awhile and it's been weeks since he's shared a bed with Munder. That's reason enough to stay right where he is, and it's almost reason enough not to care what the rest of the crew will think when they wake up and see him like this.
As soon as he thinks it Munder moves against him again, but he doesn't push back this time. Instead his hand slides over Dodge's where it rests on his stomach, fingers sort of threading together and Dodge smiles in spite of himself. Because Munder can be a selfish prick when he wants to be, but he's Dodge's selfish prick, and there's nobody else he'd rather be crammed into a bunk with.
He's not sure when he finally falls asleep, but the next thing he knows he's jolted awake by a loud crash and a sharp pain in his tailbone. "Ow!" he yelps, then "fuck" under his breath as he rubs his back and looks around.
Epps is watching him over the top of her coffee mug, not bothering to hide her amused smile and when he scowls at her she just laughs harder. "Morning."
"You okay, man?" Munder asks from somewhere above him, and Dodge looks up to find Munder looking down at him from the bunk they'd been sharing a few seconds ago.
"No thanks to you."
"Hey, I didn't push you," Munder says, but they both know that's not what Dodge meant.
"I should've kicked you out of my bunk when I found you there," Dodge answers, any fleeting affection he felt for Munder gone because he's sitting on the floor and his ass hurts and Epps is laughing at him. "Your lazy ass should be up already anyway. Don't you have a burst pipe to weld?"
Munder rolls his eyes, but he pushes the sheet back and swings his legs over the edge of Dodge's bunk. "Yeah, yeah. It's all yours," Munder says, but he reaches down to ruffle Dodge's hair as he stands up, and Dodge can tell he's not mad.
He waits until Munder climbs over him to push himself off the floor, sliding back into his bunk and stretching out as much as he can on the narrow mattress. He ignores the muffled voices coming from the other side of the room, ignores the fact that Epps and Munder are probably talking about him and that Santos and Murphy are probably above deck right now, trying to forget they ever saw Dodge and Munder crammed together in his bunk.
None of that matters, because he's got his bunk all to himself, and no way is Munder stealing it again, no matter how nice it is to fall asleep pressed together. He pulls the pillow - his pillow - closer and breathes in deep, senses flooded suddenly with the scent of Munder, and Dodge doesn't quite stifle a sigh.
So okay, maybe it isn't all bad having Munder in his bunk. But next time, he gets the outside.
~
ETA: Tonya! I was across the house and did not hear my phone ring. I would have answered it, I swear! ::sad face:: But it's okay, really. It'll be fine. We'll be cyst twins! Except mine is not nearly as impressive as yours and no papers will be written about it.