Graveyard Shift [Spirit, Stein - Teen]
Title: Graveyard Shift
Author: seatbeltdrivein
Fandom: Soul Eater
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairing: Spirit, Stein
Word Count: 510
Warning: General creepiness, lots of implied things of a squicky nature but nothing overt
Summary: "Some nights, it was a wonder he could fall asleep."
Author’s Note: Written for the prompt: "Stein/Spirit: dissection - Ileum’s connected to the mesentery. Mesentery’s connected to the coelom." No slash, but feel free to break out your subtext!goggles. Thanks to cornerofmadness for the quick beta.
Spirit hadn't noticed the faint scar on the lower right part of his stomach until a girlfriend pointed it out, tracing the faint white triangle with a curious finger. She'd asked where he'd gotten it, and Spirit had bent nearly in half to get a good look at the thing, only to find that there was only one possible answer: "I don't know."
But he had a good idea of who might.
Stein didn't even look surprised when Spirit asked, just stared his emotional weapon down and said, quite calmly, "I was just making certain you were still alive."
Spirit gaped at him, sure his eyes had to be bulging out of his head, because who said things like that? "How can you not tell?" he demanded. "You feel me every day!" He caught the undertone of his own words too late, always a second behind Stein, who wasn't so much staring blankly anymore as he was smirking.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Stein said. He was sitting in the desk in their little apartment, a pencil still braced in his hand, sharp lead pressed to a clean sheet of paper, as though it hadn't occurred to him yet that he should move.
"You're real fucked up, you know that?" Spirit clenched his fists at his sides. Even if he had proof that Stein had actually done something to him, there wasn't anything Spirit could do. He'd picked this road himself.
It was his responsibility to keep Stein's madness contained. Spirit reminded himself of that every time he found some unexplainable scar, some strange mark on his body that didn't belong. At night, as he lay in bed, eyes clenched tight to keep out the sight of Stein in the bed opposite, Spirit kept himself quiet and still with the thought, the reminder of his position.
It didn't matter that, should he crack open his eyes, he would see Stein laying wide awake, staring him down and muttering to himself, "…ileum's connected to the mesentery, connected to the coelom…" and on and on and on, like the bastard was cataloging the intricate details of Spirit's insides.
Some nights, it was a wonder he could fall asleep.
In the morning, though, everything was brighter. In the morning, things were better, the taint of fear that lingered in their room dissipating into the light creeping through their curtained windows.
Stein was already awake, Spirit realized as he slowly returned to awareness. Muscles uncoiling from a night of stiff sleep, Spirit's hand moved, unbidden, to that first mark, the strange triangle, and noticed with a chill that the lines, once smooth and barely distinguishable from the skin surrounding it, were raised and puffy.
Across the room, Stein sat up in bed, smiling back at Spirit. "Good morning," he said.
Spirit swallowed and rubbed his thumbs along the lines, trying his best to convince himself that it didn't feel fresh, that there wasn't a hint of sticky dampness lingering around what should have been an old, dry wound.
"Morning," Spirit returned, and reminded himself of his responsibility.
Author: seatbeltdrivein
Fandom: Soul Eater
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairing: Spirit, Stein
Word Count: 510
Warning: General creepiness, lots of implied things of a squicky nature but nothing overt
Summary: "Some nights, it was a wonder he could fall asleep."
Author’s Note: Written for the prompt: "Stein/Spirit: dissection - Ileum’s connected to the mesentery. Mesentery’s connected to the coelom." No slash, but feel free to break out your subtext!goggles. Thanks to cornerofmadness for the quick beta.
Spirit hadn't noticed the faint scar on the lower right part of his stomach until a girlfriend pointed it out, tracing the faint white triangle with a curious finger. She'd asked where he'd gotten it, and Spirit had bent nearly in half to get a good look at the thing, only to find that there was only one possible answer: "I don't know."
But he had a good idea of who might.
Stein didn't even look surprised when Spirit asked, just stared his emotional weapon down and said, quite calmly, "I was just making certain you were still alive."
Spirit gaped at him, sure his eyes had to be bulging out of his head, because who said things like that? "How can you not tell?" he demanded. "You feel me every day!" He caught the undertone of his own words too late, always a second behind Stein, who wasn't so much staring blankly anymore as he was smirking.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Stein said. He was sitting in the desk in their little apartment, a pencil still braced in his hand, sharp lead pressed to a clean sheet of paper, as though it hadn't occurred to him yet that he should move.
"You're real fucked up, you know that?" Spirit clenched his fists at his sides. Even if he had proof that Stein had actually done something to him, there wasn't anything Spirit could do. He'd picked this road himself.
It was his responsibility to keep Stein's madness contained. Spirit reminded himself of that every time he found some unexplainable scar, some strange mark on his body that didn't belong. At night, as he lay in bed, eyes clenched tight to keep out the sight of Stein in the bed opposite, Spirit kept himself quiet and still with the thought, the reminder of his position.
It didn't matter that, should he crack open his eyes, he would see Stein laying wide awake, staring him down and muttering to himself, "…ileum's connected to the mesentery, connected to the coelom…" and on and on and on, like the bastard was cataloging the intricate details of Spirit's insides.
Some nights, it was a wonder he could fall asleep.
In the morning, though, everything was brighter. In the morning, things were better, the taint of fear that lingered in their room dissipating into the light creeping through their curtained windows.
Stein was already awake, Spirit realized as he slowly returned to awareness. Muscles uncoiling from a night of stiff sleep, Spirit's hand moved, unbidden, to that first mark, the strange triangle, and noticed with a chill that the lines, once smooth and barely distinguishable from the skin surrounding it, were raised and puffy.
Across the room, Stein sat up in bed, smiling back at Spirit. "Good morning," he said.
Spirit swallowed and rubbed his thumbs along the lines, trying his best to convince himself that it didn't feel fresh, that there wasn't a hint of sticky dampness lingering around what should have been an old, dry wound.
"Morning," Spirit returned, and reminded himself of his responsibility.