Fanfic -- Andromeda
Fandom: Andromeda
Summary: Harper contemplates Tyr.
Pairing: Harper/Tyr
Rating: PG-13
Warmings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own the show, or the characters therein.
Author’s Notes: It’s a 490 word drabble. How much do you think happens?
Unspoken You know, for a guy who’s so secretive about his past, Tyr’s fucking easy to get. Every gesture says a hundred things he doesn’t really want said, if you know how to read him. And I’m getting pretty good at that, even if he doesn’t want me to.
The way he stands, all tough stance and crossed arms and look-at-me-funny-and-I’ll-kill-you, usually with a bunch of weapons at hand to do the job - what it really says is more like, everyone-I’ve-ever-loved-has-died-so- please-don’t-try-to-get-close. It’s pretty hilarious that this big, self-sufficient Nietzschean has never really gotten over that, but hey, who am I to judge? I know girls don’t go for the obvious guy, and I still hit on ‘em like crazy. Sometimes what you do is just a cover for what you’re scared’ll happen if you don’t.He’s a hedonist, too. I know, I know, Nietzs are supposed to be the ultimate survivors, pared down to the necessities, nothing extraneous floating around. But anyone who’s ever watched him eat could tell you - pure hedonism. And yes, I know what that word means. He may have become a gourmet cook to please some former client (and thank you for being in a ranting mood, Beka), but he keeps his hand in for himself. Plus, his clothes are either butter-soft leather or something so smooth and silky I keep wondering if it isn’t really silk.
No, I didn’t raid his closet. Sheesh, give me some credit here.
I just run into him a lot.
Then there’s how he sleeps. I was in Rommie’s surveillance once - okay, more than once - and I, uh, kinda watched him for a while. Not in a creepy way! It’s just, he’s so gorgeous asleep. Hot all the time, but gorgeous asleep. And he’s gotta have something holding over from his past, because nobody sleeps like him. Perfectly still. Kinda flowing over the bed, taking all the little dips and furrows, but crammed way tiny at the same time. It’s like he was taught to sleep like that.
But you know, I’m not gonna push. I don’t have to, so I’m not gonna. Everything I really need to know about Tyr would fit on one datapad screen : he’s a hell of a fighter, he’d leave us in a heartbeat to be with his own kind, and he’ll never let me get hurt. It’s the last one he doesn’t know I know, but he also doesn’t know I know he’s never gonna say anything. The things he’s never gonna say could take up half Rommie’s memory banks, and that’s cool. I’m not gonna say either. Which means, between him not saying and me not saying, that nothing’s gonna be said.
Until the world goes to hell, and I end up in his bed, and nothing needs to be said. Cause as well as I know him?
Yeah, he knows me about ten times that much.
And that’s pretty cool too.
Summary: Harper contemplates Tyr.
Pairing: Harper/Tyr
Rating: PG-13
Warmings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own the show, or the characters therein.
Author’s Notes: It’s a 490 word drabble. How much do you think happens?
Unspoken You know, for a guy who’s so secretive about his past, Tyr’s fucking easy to get. Every gesture says a hundred things he doesn’t really want said, if you know how to read him. And I’m getting pretty good at that, even if he doesn’t want me to.
The way he stands, all tough stance and crossed arms and look-at-me-funny-and-I’ll-kill-you, usually with a bunch of weapons at hand to do the job - what it really says is more like, everyone-I’ve-ever-loved-has-died-so- please-don’t-try-to-get-close. It’s pretty hilarious that this big, self-sufficient Nietzschean has never really gotten over that, but hey, who am I to judge? I know girls don’t go for the obvious guy, and I still hit on ‘em like crazy. Sometimes what you do is just a cover for what you’re scared’ll happen if you don’t.He’s a hedonist, too. I know, I know, Nietzs are supposed to be the ultimate survivors, pared down to the necessities, nothing extraneous floating around. But anyone who’s ever watched him eat could tell you - pure hedonism. And yes, I know what that word means. He may have become a gourmet cook to please some former client (and thank you for being in a ranting mood, Beka), but he keeps his hand in for himself. Plus, his clothes are either butter-soft leather or something so smooth and silky I keep wondering if it isn’t really silk.
No, I didn’t raid his closet. Sheesh, give me some credit here.
I just run into him a lot.
Then there’s how he sleeps. I was in Rommie’s surveillance once - okay, more than once - and I, uh, kinda watched him for a while. Not in a creepy way! It’s just, he’s so gorgeous asleep. Hot all the time, but gorgeous asleep. And he’s gotta have something holding over from his past, because nobody sleeps like him. Perfectly still. Kinda flowing over the bed, taking all the little dips and furrows, but crammed way tiny at the same time. It’s like he was taught to sleep like that.
But you know, I’m not gonna push. I don’t have to, so I’m not gonna. Everything I really need to know about Tyr would fit on one datapad screen : he’s a hell of a fighter, he’d leave us in a heartbeat to be with his own kind, and he’ll never let me get hurt. It’s the last one he doesn’t know I know, but he also doesn’t know I know he’s never gonna say anything. The things he’s never gonna say could take up half Rommie’s memory banks, and that’s cool. I’m not gonna say either. Which means, between him not saying and me not saying, that nothing’s gonna be said.
Until the world goes to hell, and I end up in his bed, and nothing needs to be said. Cause as well as I know him?
Yeah, he knows me about ten times that much.
And that’s pretty cool too.