Throw it All Away (00silva)
Title: Throw it All Away
Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva or Bond/Silva
Rating: R
Word Count: 778
Summary: Sequel to Bleach, The Gift, and Freedom and Bondage. Silva gives his final gift and James reacts.
A/N: Not much to say. This is the end of my little verse that I'm calling: Bond and Silva give each other things and maybe are a little codependent aka The Codependency Series.
==Warnings: Reference to Canon Character Death that is not Bond or Silva.==
The new apartment Bond shares with Silva in New York is far to lavish for his tastes. But Silva had liked it, and seeing Silva happy brought him joy. Part of him wants to ask where the money for it came from but another part of him knows better.
This is his home now. He cannot go back to England; he cannot go back to Queen and Country. He had grabbed onto Silva to run the second the body had hit the floor, the second she had been killed. He remembers the panic, the fear of everyone. He remembers dragging Silva away, trying not to look at her, at her blank eyes. Once they were outside their driver taking them to the airport, Silva had turned to him, fucked him there in the car. And Bond had responded in his desperation. It was done. It was done. They could rest.
Of course it wasn’t really done. Bond knew Silva too well. After he had returned the list of MI6 agents, at Bond’s instance, they had done enough damage and she was dead, he had felt some small amount of release. But he knew Silva had a type of madness that would not end here. It would consume and it would destroy and soon Silva would need to hurt again, to find something to break again. Bond did not doubt this. But it would not be him; in this at least he was resolute.
The door behind him opens and he can her Silva humming God Save the Queen. Bond is sure Silva finds it funny. He is holding a box, which he places on Bond’s lap as he settles down next to him on the couch, “For you dear James.”
James pauses in the middle of his drink and puts it on the table across from him. He had thought with his last gift that this would have come to an end. He is surprised even if he knows he should not be. He opens it slowly and stares at shock at what looks up at him.
The small porcelain bulldog that she had on her desk stares back up at him. He swallows unsure of what to do, of what this means, if this is another game of Silva’s. He looks over the man who has kicked his feet up on the table, “I am afraid I do not understand.”
He wants to say more but all he can remember is her face staring up at him. Silva smiles peacefully at him, “It is what you want to make of it, you have been so oh, sad about her for a little while now. This is to help you remember, keep her in your heart. It sounds silly my dear but I do mean it.”
Now that Silva has spoken he understands it for what it is. Silva is trying to cheer him up, twisted as it may be. He is trying to give him something of her, because he knows that he took her from him too, in so many ways. He stares at the dog and then closes the box, stands up, and crushes it under his foot. Silva looks shocked, “I do not need it.” James tells him.
Silva looks at the crushed dog and then at him, “Do you now darling?”
James nods and then leans down and grips Silva’s tie, twisting it a little, but not too tight. Silva, ever since his gift has gotten better about this, but still he can see a little flicker of fear in his eyes, when he goes to fast too much. Not to say that he always takes that position in their relationship, but now that she is dead he has been given more chances, few as they are.
Holding the tie he leads Silva into their shared bedroom and strips him, one article of clothing at a time. He then sheds his clothes. When they are both naked he kisses Silva’s scars. One by one, as if they are precious to him, and then goes to sit on the bed. He takes Silva’s hand and brings him down with him.
Only later while Silva is fucking him, while he is giving this man the rest of his everything, does he speak, “Why dear James, why do you not need that anymore, why did you crush it?”
And James whispers slowly, measured, “For you. Always for you.”
Silva smiles and thrusts a little harder, a little faster, causing James to grip him a little tighter. Then he answers, “Same my dear.”
In that small moment Bond thinks they have found something a little like love.
Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva or Bond/Silva
Rating: R
Word Count: 778
Summary: Sequel to Bleach, The Gift, and Freedom and Bondage. Silva gives his final gift and James reacts.
A/N: Not much to say. This is the end of my little verse that I'm calling: Bond and Silva give each other things and maybe are a little codependent aka The Codependency Series.
==Warnings: Reference to Canon Character Death that is not Bond or Silva.==
The new apartment Bond shares with Silva in New York is far to lavish for his tastes. But Silva had liked it, and seeing Silva happy brought him joy. Part of him wants to ask where the money for it came from but another part of him knows better.
This is his home now. He cannot go back to England; he cannot go back to Queen and Country. He had grabbed onto Silva to run the second the body had hit the floor, the second she had been killed. He remembers the panic, the fear of everyone. He remembers dragging Silva away, trying not to look at her, at her blank eyes. Once they were outside their driver taking them to the airport, Silva had turned to him, fucked him there in the car. And Bond had responded in his desperation. It was done. It was done. They could rest.
Of course it wasn’t really done. Bond knew Silva too well. After he had returned the list of MI6 agents, at Bond’s instance, they had done enough damage and she was dead, he had felt some small amount of release. But he knew Silva had a type of madness that would not end here. It would consume and it would destroy and soon Silva would need to hurt again, to find something to break again. Bond did not doubt this. But it would not be him; in this at least he was resolute.
The door behind him opens and he can her Silva humming God Save the Queen. Bond is sure Silva finds it funny. He is holding a box, which he places on Bond’s lap as he settles down next to him on the couch, “For you dear James.”
James pauses in the middle of his drink and puts it on the table across from him. He had thought with his last gift that this would have come to an end. He is surprised even if he knows he should not be. He opens it slowly and stares at shock at what looks up at him.
The small porcelain bulldog that she had on her desk stares back up at him. He swallows unsure of what to do, of what this means, if this is another game of Silva’s. He looks over the man who has kicked his feet up on the table, “I am afraid I do not understand.”
He wants to say more but all he can remember is her face staring up at him. Silva smiles peacefully at him, “It is what you want to make of it, you have been so oh, sad about her for a little while now. This is to help you remember, keep her in your heart. It sounds silly my dear but I do mean it.”
Now that Silva has spoken he understands it for what it is. Silva is trying to cheer him up, twisted as it may be. He is trying to give him something of her, because he knows that he took her from him too, in so many ways. He stares at the dog and then closes the box, stands up, and crushes it under his foot. Silva looks shocked, “I do not need it.” James tells him.
Silva looks at the crushed dog and then at him, “Do you now darling?”
James nods and then leans down and grips Silva’s tie, twisting it a little, but not too tight. Silva, ever since his gift has gotten better about this, but still he can see a little flicker of fear in his eyes, when he goes to fast too much. Not to say that he always takes that position in their relationship, but now that she is dead he has been given more chances, few as they are.
Holding the tie he leads Silva into their shared bedroom and strips him, one article of clothing at a time. He then sheds his clothes. When they are both naked he kisses Silva’s scars. One by one, as if they are precious to him, and then goes to sit on the bed. He takes Silva’s hand and brings him down with him.
Only later while Silva is fucking him, while he is giving this man the rest of his everything, does he speak, “Why dear James, why do you not need that anymore, why did you crush it?”
And James whispers slowly, measured, “For you. Always for you.”
Silva smiles and thrusts a little harder, a little faster, causing James to grip him a little tighter. Then he answers, “Same my dear.”
In that small moment Bond thinks they have found something a little like love.