Fic: For Its Own Sake (Suicide Kings, Brett/Avery, PG)
Title: For Its Own Sake
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Pairing: Brett/Avery
Rating: PG
Summary: The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. 1227 words.
A/N: Kink bingo fic #1. The kink this time is Service, which is my biggest kink, as it turns out, though I never thought of it as a kink until I got this card. Go figure! This is, naturally, part of the Deadliest AU, so if you're not following that it might not make a lot of sense.
It's the same story at the end of every season; by the time Avery makes his way home, bearded and sunburned and wearing the same clothes Brett's pretty sure he's lived in for the past two months, he's so exhausted he can barely stand. How he manages to make it home Brett's never sure, but he always turns up, sometimes at the diner so Brett can give him a ride, but sometimes he turns up unannounced at the cabin.
So Brett's not surprised to hear the front door open, and he heads out of the kitchen and into the living room in time to watch Avery unraveling a red wool scarf from around his neck. His hair's brushing his collar just like it does after every season, and Brett would never admit it even if Charlie's goons showed up to point a gun in his face, but he looks forward to running his hands through all that hair before Avery gets around to having it cut.
He crosses the living room to stop in front of Avery, reaching out to push Avery's hands away from his coat. Brett tugs the buttons open one at a time, then he reaches for Avery's hands and pulls off each glove in turn. He shakes the snow off them and tosses them in a pile with the scarf, then he pushes Avery's coat off his shoulders.
"Hi," Avery says, smiling out from behind all that hair and Brett rolls his eyes to stop himself from grinning back.
"You look like shit," he says as he catches freezing fingers between his own palms until Avery's skin starts to warm up a little.
"You say that every season."
"It's true every season," Brett answers, glancing up at Avery long enough to frown at him. "You look even worse than usual this time."
"It was a rough season," is the only explanation Avery offers, and Brett doesn't push, because he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know. He'll see it all on TV later anyway, because he can't help himself, but by the time the season airs he'll have stopped waking up in a cold sweat and checking to make sure Avery's next to him and not drowned out in the Bering Sea somewhere. "I'm glad it's over."
"So stay home next time." Brett lets go of Avery's hands and reaches for his sweater, pushing it up over Avery's chest. Avery's arms go up automatically, tilting forward a little to let Brett tug the sweater off. And he's pretty sure this used to be his sweater, but Avery moved into it during his first season, before they even started sleeping together, so Brett figures it's not his anymore.
Once the sweater joins the pile of clothes growing at his feet, Brett drops to one knee. He reaches for the laces of Avery's boot, knots tight from a combination of wet and cold. It takes him a little while to work the first one open, and he feels Avery's hands grip his shoulders to keep him upright while Brett undresses him.
He pulls the first boot off and sets it down next to Avery's clothes, then reaches for the other one and works open the knot in the second lace. When Avery's standing in front of him in a pair of thick wool socks Brett stands up, hands on Avery's hips to steady himself before he looks at Avery.
"Hi," Avery says again, grinning like an idiot, but he's exhausted so Brett doesn't laugh at him. Instead he lets Avery pull him forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Avery's too exhausted for more than that, but Brett doesn't mind. He spent the past two months trying not to wonder if this would be the time Avery wouldn't make it home in one piece, so now that he's here Brett's willing to wait for more.
Avery reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of wrinkled paper, handing it wordlessly to Brett and he doesn't have to look to know it's Avery's paycheck for the season. He doesn't look at the amount; it doesn't matter how much Avery made, not to him. Instead he sticks it in his own pocket and goes back to undressing Avery, sliding his jeans down and adding them to the pile until Avery's standing in front of him in just a pair of long johns and wool socks.
He looks…well, like a fucking idiot, and Brett shakes his head and looks Avery up and down one more time. "You hungry?"
"Just tired," Avery answers, and that's no surprise either.
Later he'll get Avery into the shower and scrub the last traces of Bering Sea off him, then he'll feed him something a little more substantial than whatever it is they eat on that boat of his. For now, though, he just pushes Avery in the direction of the bedroom, follows him down the hall and stops in the doorway to watch Avery collapse onto the mattress.
Avery lets out a sigh like he's been looking forward to this moment for awhile, and something in Brett's chest tightens, just for a second. He stands in the doorway and watches Avery's chest rise and fall for a little while, and when he doesn't stir again Brett starts to back out of the bedroom. He's got one foot in the hall when Avery moves, pushing himself up on his elbows to blink sleepily at Brett.
"Where are you going?"
Brett rolls his eyes but crosses the room to stop next to the bed, looking down at Avery. "I thought you were asleep already."
He shakes too-long hair out of his eyes and reaches out to grip one of Brett's hands, tugging until he takes the hint and puts a knee on the mattress next to Avery. "Stay."
Brett thinks about arguing, about pointing out that it's his only day off this week and he's got laundry to wash -- including the pile still sitting by the front door -- and a rotted door frame to replace, not to mention getting some food on the table at some point. He thinks about telling Avery that it's his own fault they haven't touched each other in two months, because Brett's been right here the whole time, and if Avery would quit fucking off to the Bering Sea for half the year, they wouldn't have to go through this every time he comes home.
Instead he lets Avery pull him onto the bed, stretches out next to him and doesn't complain when Avery rests his head on Brett's chest like he's a goddamn pillow or something. He runs his fingers through Avery's hair and listens while his breathing evens out, and when he's sure Avery's really asleep he sits up just far enough to plant a kiss on the top of Avery's head. In a little while he'll slide out from under Avery and go deal with the laundry, and then he'll get started on dinner so there's something to feed Avery when he wakes up ravenous, just like he does every year.
Maybe later he'll even get around to the door frame, but right now Avery's turning into him, breath hot against Brett's neck and his hair tickling the bottom of Brett's chin, and he figures he can just stay put for awhile.
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Pairing: Brett/Avery
Rating: PG
Summary: The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. 1227 words.
A/N: Kink bingo fic #1. The kink this time is Service, which is my biggest kink, as it turns out, though I never thought of it as a kink until I got this card. Go figure! This is, naturally, part of the Deadliest AU, so if you're not following that it might not make a lot of sense.
It's the same story at the end of every season; by the time Avery makes his way home, bearded and sunburned and wearing the same clothes Brett's pretty sure he's lived in for the past two months, he's so exhausted he can barely stand. How he manages to make it home Brett's never sure, but he always turns up, sometimes at the diner so Brett can give him a ride, but sometimes he turns up unannounced at the cabin.
So Brett's not surprised to hear the front door open, and he heads out of the kitchen and into the living room in time to watch Avery unraveling a red wool scarf from around his neck. His hair's brushing his collar just like it does after every season, and Brett would never admit it even if Charlie's goons showed up to point a gun in his face, but he looks forward to running his hands through all that hair before Avery gets around to having it cut.
He crosses the living room to stop in front of Avery, reaching out to push Avery's hands away from his coat. Brett tugs the buttons open one at a time, then he reaches for Avery's hands and pulls off each glove in turn. He shakes the snow off them and tosses them in a pile with the scarf, then he pushes Avery's coat off his shoulders.
"Hi," Avery says, smiling out from behind all that hair and Brett rolls his eyes to stop himself from grinning back.
"You look like shit," he says as he catches freezing fingers between his own palms until Avery's skin starts to warm up a little.
"You say that every season."
"It's true every season," Brett answers, glancing up at Avery long enough to frown at him. "You look even worse than usual this time."
"It was a rough season," is the only explanation Avery offers, and Brett doesn't push, because he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know. He'll see it all on TV later anyway, because he can't help himself, but by the time the season airs he'll have stopped waking up in a cold sweat and checking to make sure Avery's next to him and not drowned out in the Bering Sea somewhere. "I'm glad it's over."
"So stay home next time." Brett lets go of Avery's hands and reaches for his sweater, pushing it up over Avery's chest. Avery's arms go up automatically, tilting forward a little to let Brett tug the sweater off. And he's pretty sure this used to be his sweater, but Avery moved into it during his first season, before they even started sleeping together, so Brett figures it's not his anymore.
Once the sweater joins the pile of clothes growing at his feet, Brett drops to one knee. He reaches for the laces of Avery's boot, knots tight from a combination of wet and cold. It takes him a little while to work the first one open, and he feels Avery's hands grip his shoulders to keep him upright while Brett undresses him.
He pulls the first boot off and sets it down next to Avery's clothes, then reaches for the other one and works open the knot in the second lace. When Avery's standing in front of him in a pair of thick wool socks Brett stands up, hands on Avery's hips to steady himself before he looks at Avery.
"Hi," Avery says again, grinning like an idiot, but he's exhausted so Brett doesn't laugh at him. Instead he lets Avery pull him forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Avery's too exhausted for more than that, but Brett doesn't mind. He spent the past two months trying not to wonder if this would be the time Avery wouldn't make it home in one piece, so now that he's here Brett's willing to wait for more.
Avery reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of wrinkled paper, handing it wordlessly to Brett and he doesn't have to look to know it's Avery's paycheck for the season. He doesn't look at the amount; it doesn't matter how much Avery made, not to him. Instead he sticks it in his own pocket and goes back to undressing Avery, sliding his jeans down and adding them to the pile until Avery's standing in front of him in just a pair of long johns and wool socks.
He looks…well, like a fucking idiot, and Brett shakes his head and looks Avery up and down one more time. "You hungry?"
"Just tired," Avery answers, and that's no surprise either.
Later he'll get Avery into the shower and scrub the last traces of Bering Sea off him, then he'll feed him something a little more substantial than whatever it is they eat on that boat of his. For now, though, he just pushes Avery in the direction of the bedroom, follows him down the hall and stops in the doorway to watch Avery collapse onto the mattress.
Avery lets out a sigh like he's been looking forward to this moment for awhile, and something in Brett's chest tightens, just for a second. He stands in the doorway and watches Avery's chest rise and fall for a little while, and when he doesn't stir again Brett starts to back out of the bedroom. He's got one foot in the hall when Avery moves, pushing himself up on his elbows to blink sleepily at Brett.
"Where are you going?"
Brett rolls his eyes but crosses the room to stop next to the bed, looking down at Avery. "I thought you were asleep already."
He shakes too-long hair out of his eyes and reaches out to grip one of Brett's hands, tugging until he takes the hint and puts a knee on the mattress next to Avery. "Stay."
Brett thinks about arguing, about pointing out that it's his only day off this week and he's got laundry to wash -- including the pile still sitting by the front door -- and a rotted door frame to replace, not to mention getting some food on the table at some point. He thinks about telling Avery that it's his own fault they haven't touched each other in two months, because Brett's been right here the whole time, and if Avery would quit fucking off to the Bering Sea for half the year, they wouldn't have to go through this every time he comes home.
Instead he lets Avery pull him onto the bed, stretches out next to him and doesn't complain when Avery rests his head on Brett's chest like he's a goddamn pillow or something. He runs his fingers through Avery's hair and listens while his breathing evens out, and when he's sure Avery's really asleep he sits up just far enough to plant a kiss on the top of Avery's head. In a little while he'll slide out from under Avery and go deal with the laundry, and then he'll get started on dinner so there's something to feed Avery when he wakes up ravenous, just like he does every year.
Maybe later he'll even get around to the door frame, but right now Avery's turning into him, breath hot against Brett's neck and his hair tickling the bottom of Brett's chin, and he figures he can just stay put for awhile.