Oziversary Fest Fic: Sympathy for the God
Prompts: “What kind of fairy dust have you been snorting?”
“You wanna be careful of playing God once too often. If you're not careful, the real one's gonna get very pissed off.”
Title: Sympathy for the God
Pairing: B/K
Notes: Canon-compliant. Missing scene. Mid-Season 4.
Warnings: PG-13. Drug use.
Word Count: 696
Summary:
“Set up the pieces; knock ’em down. Pull the puppets’ strings and make ’em dance. It all goes my way in the end. Too damn easy.
“I ain’t almighty, but can ya blame me for thinkin’ I was?”
Sympathy for the God
Keller inhaled deeply, snorting the drugs into his system. He felt his head start to spin and the warmth spread through his veins. The walls of Oz melted around him, and he floated away, far, far from all the bullshit. Damn, these were some good tits. He was gone. He wasn’t sitting in a shadowy storage closet in a fucking prison; he was flying with the angels…
“You fucking killed him, didn’t you?”
Jesus Christ - there was the plummet back to earth he hadn’t asked for. Of course, Tobias Beecher, right on fucking cue.
“Hmm?” He turned his head slowly, the room spinning dangerously, and opened his eyes just enough to peer through the narrow slits of his eyelids. His bleary view registered a blur of pale skin, green shirt, and dark blond hair.
Blurry Toby could sound just as pissed off as regular Toby, though. “Mondo’s dead body in the fucking cafeteria. The reason we just spent two hours in lockdown! It was you, don’t bother denying it; after what happened with Shemin, I fucking know it was you, Keller.”
“Wasn’t gonna deny nothin’, good buddy,” he managed to slur out after a moment.
“For fuck’s sake - what kind of fairy dust have you been snorting?” Rough hands reach out of the blur, to pull him upright, back against the wall. Huh, when had he slipped so far sideways like that?
“I’ve never seen you this out of it,” Beecher continued, “Don’t tell me you’re actually feeling guilty.”
“Nope,” he replied simply, “Everything’s goin’ to plan.”
“What plan?” Beecher sounds way too harsh right now. Totally harshing his mellow.
Keller fumbles to get an index finger pressed against his own numb lips. “Shhhhh,” he intones, “It’s a secret.”
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you and O’Reilly up to? You’re gonna get yourselves killed. Fuck that, you’re gonna get me killed!”
“No… never,” Keller mumbles, his eyes falling shut again. “God’s watchin’ over you.”
He hears a bitter laugh echo in the darkness. “God hasn’t watched over me in a long fucking time, Chris.”
Keller still doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m watching over you, Tobe.” Oh shit, did he say that out loud? There’s a reason he can’t think of right now for why he shouldn’t have said that out loud.
“You’re not God, Keller. I thought you’d realized that - that was about the only part of your little tattoo story that I did understand.”
“Mmm,” Keller murmurs, “Set up the pieces; knock ’em down. Pull the puppets’ strings and make ’em dance. It all goes my way in the end. Too damn easy.” He opens his eyes enough to pin the Toby-shaped blur with a stare. “I ain’t almighty, but can ya blame me for thinkin’ I was?”
“You cocky piece of shit,” says Beecher bitterly, “It won’t always go your way. You wanna be careful of playing God once too often. If you're not careful, the real one's gonna get very pissed off.”
“Counting on it.” Keller can barely hear his own voice as his eyelids drift shut again.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And why the fuck are you this fucked up on tits right now? You and O’Reilly are plotting God only knows what - shouldn’t you be on your A game? Ah, fuck,” he hears Toby let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do I even fucking care?”
“Miss you,” Chris breathes. Or at least he thinks he does? Maybe he’s dreaming. Has he passed out? Or is he still just flying with the angels? Is Toby even here? He wants Toby here. He hates it, but even after everything, he still wants Toby by his side. “Miss you,” he repeats, “Don’t wanna miss you. Wanna forget. Wanna forget… I love you.”
He wakes up on the cold floor of the storage closet either five seconds or five years later - who fucking knows? Toby’s gone - was he ever even there? Keller can’t remember. He can’t even remember what he said to him. Shit; no more tits. Too much of a fucking liability right now.
After all, he has chess pieces to move and puppet strings to pull.
End
“You wanna be careful of playing God once too often. If you're not careful, the real one's gonna get very pissed off.”
Title: Sympathy for the God
Pairing: B/K
Notes: Canon-compliant. Missing scene. Mid-Season 4.
Warnings: PG-13. Drug use.
Word Count: 696
Summary:
“Set up the pieces; knock ’em down. Pull the puppets’ strings and make ’em dance. It all goes my way in the end. Too damn easy.
“I ain’t almighty, but can ya blame me for thinkin’ I was?”
Sympathy for the God
Keller inhaled deeply, snorting the drugs into his system. He felt his head start to spin and the warmth spread through his veins. The walls of Oz melted around him, and he floated away, far, far from all the bullshit. Damn, these were some good tits. He was gone. He wasn’t sitting in a shadowy storage closet in a fucking prison; he was flying with the angels…
“You fucking killed him, didn’t you?”
Jesus Christ - there was the plummet back to earth he hadn’t asked for. Of course, Tobias Beecher, right on fucking cue.
“Hmm?” He turned his head slowly, the room spinning dangerously, and opened his eyes just enough to peer through the narrow slits of his eyelids. His bleary view registered a blur of pale skin, green shirt, and dark blond hair.
Blurry Toby could sound just as pissed off as regular Toby, though. “Mondo’s dead body in the fucking cafeteria. The reason we just spent two hours in lockdown! It was you, don’t bother denying it; after what happened with Shemin, I fucking know it was you, Keller.”
“Wasn’t gonna deny nothin’, good buddy,” he managed to slur out after a moment.
“For fuck’s sake - what kind of fairy dust have you been snorting?” Rough hands reach out of the blur, to pull him upright, back against the wall. Huh, when had he slipped so far sideways like that?
“I’ve never seen you this out of it,” Beecher continued, “Don’t tell me you’re actually feeling guilty.”
“Nope,” he replied simply, “Everything’s goin’ to plan.”
“What plan?” Beecher sounds way too harsh right now. Totally harshing his mellow.
Keller fumbles to get an index finger pressed against his own numb lips. “Shhhhh,” he intones, “It’s a secret.”
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you and O’Reilly up to? You’re gonna get yourselves killed. Fuck that, you’re gonna get me killed!”
“No… never,” Keller mumbles, his eyes falling shut again. “God’s watchin’ over you.”
He hears a bitter laugh echo in the darkness. “God hasn’t watched over me in a long fucking time, Chris.”
Keller still doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m watching over you, Tobe.” Oh shit, did he say that out loud? There’s a reason he can’t think of right now for why he shouldn’t have said that out loud.
“You’re not God, Keller. I thought you’d realized that - that was about the only part of your little tattoo story that I did understand.”
“Mmm,” Keller murmurs, “Set up the pieces; knock ’em down. Pull the puppets’ strings and make ’em dance. It all goes my way in the end. Too damn easy.” He opens his eyes enough to pin the Toby-shaped blur with a stare. “I ain’t almighty, but can ya blame me for thinkin’ I was?”
“You cocky piece of shit,” says Beecher bitterly, “It won’t always go your way. You wanna be careful of playing God once too often. If you're not careful, the real one's gonna get very pissed off.”
“Counting on it.” Keller can barely hear his own voice as his eyelids drift shut again.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And why the fuck are you this fucked up on tits right now? You and O’Reilly are plotting God only knows what - shouldn’t you be on your A game? Ah, fuck,” he hears Toby let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do I even fucking care?”
“Miss you,” Chris breathes. Or at least he thinks he does? Maybe he’s dreaming. Has he passed out? Or is he still just flying with the angels? Is Toby even here? He wants Toby here. He hates it, but even after everything, he still wants Toby by his side. “Miss you,” he repeats, “Don’t wanna miss you. Wanna forget. Wanna forget… I love you.”
He wakes up on the cold floor of the storage closet either five seconds or five years later - who fucking knows? Toby’s gone - was he ever even there? Keller can’t remember. He can’t even remember what he said to him. Shit; no more tits. Too much of a fucking liability right now.
After all, he has chess pieces to move and puppet strings to pull.
End