Some Idiots Wear Red At A Funeral
Title: Some Idiots Wear Red At A Funeral
Fandom/Series: Some Idiots
Characters: Walt Holiday, Philip Watson, Eagle Four Eyes
Pairing: Implied Phil/Walt.
Summary: Prequel to Have All The Luck. After hearing the news of Eagle's brother's passing, Walt rushes home after a mission, only to forget that wearing a spandex costume of red and black at a funeral may not be the best of attire options. Whoopsie.
Challenge/Theme: Timed writing exercise on October 13th, 2010 for the prompt "bright" using Dr.Wicked's Write-or-Die to get a feel for this year's NaNoWriMo premise. 10 minutes, with some after-10 editing.
Length: 785 words.
Genre: Humor/General. (Why is it that I can never write ONE frickin' genre?)
Rating:PG-13.
Status: Complete.
Warning: Implied slash, underdeveloped characters, and lots of cursing.
Notes: Might change the title later on. Nothing much to write here except that I'm enjoying writing for Phil and I've always loved Eagle since I first met him. <3
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Mercenaries aren’t known for lurking the in light of day. Most of them - i.e., the ones who would very much like to stay alive - tend to creep in the shadows before dusk, the utter dark of night, and the barest edges of morning just before the dawn breaks. Some of them, however, dress in shockingly bright clothing and prance about the daylight without a care in the world.
Walt Holiday, known by his merc-given name Dark Meat, was a bit of both. A bit of shockingly bright colored spots - red, of course, why not? - accenting an all black costume. A spandex costume. Yes. Like Batman, or Superman, or nearly any other super hero in existence. Even Kick-Ass.
However, regular spandex-wearing heroes tend to stay somewhat conservative and not prance around, making a scene when they really shouldn't.
Walt wasn’t good at not making a scene. No, in fact, he always had to make a scene because that’s just what Walt does. He’s obnoxious and loud-mouthed and always rowdy, so it’s not wholly unexpected of him to do something stupid at an inappropriate time.
Like at his mentor’s brother’s funeral, for example.
He was the only one who came dressed in black and red, and in case you didn’t know, red at a funeral is bad etiquette - red at a funeral, generally, means that you’re happy that the deceased is precisely that - deceased, and not feeling too lively at the moment. Meaning, you're celebrating their death, or you’re just an utter ignorant idiot.
Walt was the last option, ignorant and idiotic.
Poor bastard.
He had just finished up slaughtering a legion of alien broods when he heard the news. Timothy Roeker had kicked the bucket while fishing out by Alaska, and they were having the funeral that afternoon in their hometown.
Walt rushed back home as soon as he could, and hadn’t bothered to change.
Thank goodness nobody but Phil and Patrick “Eagle Four Eyes” knew the man under the mask.
Sadly, everyone knew that Walt as the masked man was known as Dark Meat, and his appearance at this funeral in disrespectful attire would very much affect business… for about two days, and then it would kick up and start again like nothing happened.
“Sorry I’m late boss,” Walt whispered to Eagle as soon as he got there.
Eagle was sitting in the pews, dressed in a wool suit. “Fucking idiot,” he said. “You ain’t supposed to wear red a funeral. People think you’re happy he’s dead.”
“Shit,” Walt said. “Got any spare clothes?”
“What, do I look like a shopping mall to you?”
“Just asking...” Walt slunk out of the church. “I’ll go buy some clothes from the boutique down the road.”
“You better, and you better damn hurry,” Eagle said. “They’re about to start serving the refreshments while Timmy’s chosen priest gets his afro all tidied up.”
“Save me a cookie.” Walt slipped out into the hall, where some people were still standing around chatting. He tried sneaking away so that nobody would say anything about his costume.
“Nice costume,” Phil said, just as Walt found himself bumping against the fellow merc's solid chest. “Nobody's gonna let it down for months.”
“Last person I need to see right now,” Walt said through clenching teeth, trying to worm his way through the crowd.
“Don’t be cruel. We lost a brother to the sea. The least you could do is not wear spandex today.”
“Not my idea. It was what I was wearing when I heard the news and came back into town.”
“You need better taste in clothes.”
“And you need to stop following me, or people might start to talk.”
“They're all ready talking. Who gives a shit.” Phil came outside with Walt. “And I’m not following you.” He took out a smashed pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his suit. “I was just heading in the same direction.”
“This is really turning out to be a bad day,” Walt grumbled as he hoofed his way down the sidewalk.
“Gee, I thought funerals make for happy days. Don’t let me ruin your fun.” Phil took a drag on his cigarette. “Stop whining, you pansy. And you’ll want something more of a grey tone. It’ll bring out the color in your eyes.”
“Why the fuck are you-”
“Grey, Walt,” Phil said, smirking. “Trust me on this.”
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