Droogies. :]
Title: Horrorshow.
Author: Smem.
Fandom: A Clockwork Orange.
Pairing: Dim/Pete, Pete/OFC.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nadsat, Slash, Het, Unbeta'd.
Notes: Only a little Nadsat. Translation at the bottom. Part two of Droogs Don’t Run, set near the end of the book (Three years on) but can be read as standalone
“Dim, This is my wife,” Pete smiles a little too broadly, his grin tight and strained, and Dim regards the two of them with obvious contempt, his lip curling slightly.
“Dimitri,” He snaps, obviously some pride inside him is completely ruined.
“Beg your pardon?” Pete frowns, worried at the man’s response. His wife clings a little tighter to his arm.
“My name, is Dimitri,” Dim snarls again, as if it’s Pete that’s stupid. “Or Officer.”
“Officer?” All this is just a little too much for Pete, who turns to his wife, who looks torn between fear and concern. “Would you mind leaving us, Dear?” He asks her gently. Dim makes an irritated noise, and glares at Pete’s spouse with raw hate. She scurries off fast as anything he’s ever seen.
“Don’t make exceptions on my behalf, Pete,” Dim drawls bitterly, his voice low “After all, I am only poor, stupid Dim, aren’t I? Got dirty work to do? Get me to do it. That was always the way.” He mutters heatedly, voicing his opinion aloud for the first time in three years.
“You know that’s not true, Dim!” Pete declares loudly, his mouth opening to protest, although he knows Dim’s right.
“Yes, it is. For you, I wasn’t even worth anything, just a warm body, a quick shag, bit of the old in out?” He spits, squaring up to Pete, who suddenly wishes he’d never approached his old friend. “Oh my brother. If only you could’ve viddied me now, back then. I would’ve smecked so hard, I would have died, dear Pete, you and your little ptitsa.” The nadsat crawls back into Dim’s voice, shocking Pete how easily it comes back to him. His wife looks across from the records she’s flicking through, mild, blue eyes worried. Pete swings back to look at Dim, and sees his eyes, all dark black and smoldering and full of anger and resentment.
He flashes back briefly, being pressed against a counter, humping and gasping furiously, seeing only those eyes, and he swallows thickly.
“Dim… I never meant to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry,” His voice is tiny, and the fight seems to go out of his old friend, who looks saddened at this.
“Too late for that, Pete, my little Droog. Too late for us,” He nods glumly at the woman over by the boxes of records, looking through the ballads she seems to love so much.
“I know. I wish I’d been a cleverer kid,” Pete murmurs. ”Wish I’d realized what I’d got before it was too late. Now look at me.” His tone is neutral, and Dim smiles tiredly.
“So do I, Pete. Viddy well, little brother. Any time you need a warm body.” With that, and a slight raise of eyebrows, and incline of the head, Dim is gone, leaving only a slight scent of blood and milk that makes Pete’s head spin.
Viddy - See
Smeck - Laugh
Ptitsa - chick (slang for woman)
Droog - Friend
Viddy Well - A phrase meaning sorta ‘See you around’ or ‘Take care’
Author: Smem.
Fandom: A Clockwork Orange.
Pairing: Dim/Pete, Pete/OFC.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nadsat, Slash, Het, Unbeta'd.
Notes: Only a little Nadsat. Translation at the bottom. Part two of Droogs Don’t Run, set near the end of the book (Three years on) but can be read as standalone
“Dim, This is my wife,” Pete smiles a little too broadly, his grin tight and strained, and Dim regards the two of them with obvious contempt, his lip curling slightly.
“Dimitri,” He snaps, obviously some pride inside him is completely ruined.
“Beg your pardon?” Pete frowns, worried at the man’s response. His wife clings a little tighter to his arm.
“My name, is Dimitri,” Dim snarls again, as if it’s Pete that’s stupid. “Or Officer.”
“Officer?” All this is just a little too much for Pete, who turns to his wife, who looks torn between fear and concern. “Would you mind leaving us, Dear?” He asks her gently. Dim makes an irritated noise, and glares at Pete’s spouse with raw hate. She scurries off fast as anything he’s ever seen.
“Don’t make exceptions on my behalf, Pete,” Dim drawls bitterly, his voice low “After all, I am only poor, stupid Dim, aren’t I? Got dirty work to do? Get me to do it. That was always the way.” He mutters heatedly, voicing his opinion aloud for the first time in three years.
“You know that’s not true, Dim!” Pete declares loudly, his mouth opening to protest, although he knows Dim’s right.
“Yes, it is. For you, I wasn’t even worth anything, just a warm body, a quick shag, bit of the old in out?” He spits, squaring up to Pete, who suddenly wishes he’d never approached his old friend. “Oh my brother. If only you could’ve viddied me now, back then. I would’ve smecked so hard, I would have died, dear Pete, you and your little ptitsa.” The nadsat crawls back into Dim’s voice, shocking Pete how easily it comes back to him. His wife looks across from the records she’s flicking through, mild, blue eyes worried. Pete swings back to look at Dim, and sees his eyes, all dark black and smoldering and full of anger and resentment.
He flashes back briefly, being pressed against a counter, humping and gasping furiously, seeing only those eyes, and he swallows thickly.
“Dim… I never meant to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry,” His voice is tiny, and the fight seems to go out of his old friend, who looks saddened at this.
“Too late for that, Pete, my little Droog. Too late for us,” He nods glumly at the woman over by the boxes of records, looking through the ballads she seems to love so much.
“I know. I wish I’d been a cleverer kid,” Pete murmurs. ”Wish I’d realized what I’d got before it was too late. Now look at me.” His tone is neutral, and Dim smiles tiredly.
“So do I, Pete. Viddy well, little brother. Any time you need a warm body.” With that, and a slight raise of eyebrows, and incline of the head, Dim is gone, leaving only a slight scent of blood and milk that makes Pete’s head spin.
Viddy - See
Smeck - Laugh
Ptitsa - chick (slang for woman)
Droog - Friend
Viddy Well - A phrase meaning sorta ‘See you around’ or ‘Take care’