[Drabble] Jacked up
Title: Jacked up
Groups/Pairings: Yara, THEY Budou
Rating: PG
Summary: Yara saw his team as a ticking bomb.
Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction.
Warnings: Guns.
A/N: Random drabble in a random AU that I wrote ages ago for yararanger or something. 8D;; Happy New Year? (lol, I need to learn how to post appropriate fics for hoidays, orz)
There was tense silence as Yara’s team entered the encampment, mistrustful gazes thrown their way as battered and worn out soldiers huddled around their own heat boxes.
“It’s not fair,” Yamamoto muttered, his finger drifting to the trigger automatically. Yamamoto was the twitchy one, not quite trigger-happy (more like trigger-heavy) and the past year under Yara’s wing had given him an unhealthy dose of paranoia.
Even Takahashi eyed their surroundings in a distrustful, brooding manner. Yara knew his men didn’t like this any more than he did, but at the same time, it was what needed to be done.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Hayashi murmured under his breath, trying his best to ignore all the staring, though he was as tense as a dog with hackles raised. Beside him, Eda took a better grip on his rifle. Yara could see that the safety was already flicked off.
Sometimes Yara saw his team as a ticking bomb; useful, but inevitably dangerous to either side of the game. He glanced over his shoulder, giving them all - Yamamoto especially - a warning look. “Do not do anything unless I say so,” he hissed under his breath. “Acting hostile won’t endear you to anyone.”
At his command, they visibly forced themselves to relax. Hayashi even managed a smile.
(None of them took their fingers off the trigger.)
Groups/Pairings: Yara, THEY Budou
Rating: PG
Summary: Yara saw his team as a ticking bomb.
Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction.
Warnings: Guns.
A/N: Random drabble in a random AU that I wrote ages ago for yararanger or something. 8D;; Happy New Year? (lol, I need to learn how to post appropriate fics for hoidays, orz)
There was tense silence as Yara’s team entered the encampment, mistrustful gazes thrown their way as battered and worn out soldiers huddled around their own heat boxes.
“It’s not fair,” Yamamoto muttered, his finger drifting to the trigger automatically. Yamamoto was the twitchy one, not quite trigger-happy (more like trigger-heavy) and the past year under Yara’s wing had given him an unhealthy dose of paranoia.
Even Takahashi eyed their surroundings in a distrustful, brooding manner. Yara knew his men didn’t like this any more than he did, but at the same time, it was what needed to be done.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Hayashi murmured under his breath, trying his best to ignore all the staring, though he was as tense as a dog with hackles raised. Beside him, Eda took a better grip on his rifle. Yara could see that the safety was already flicked off.
Sometimes Yara saw his team as a ticking bomb; useful, but inevitably dangerous to either side of the game. He glanced over his shoulder, giving them all - Yamamoto especially - a warning look. “Do not do anything unless I say so,” he hissed under his breath. “Acting hostile won’t endear you to anyone.”
At his command, they visibly forced themselves to relax. Hayashi even managed a smile.
(None of them took their fingers off the trigger.)