Cinders (pg)
Title: Cinders
Pairing: Lipton/Speirs
Rating: PG (just for smoking)
A/N: I was originally gonna keep it down to 100 words, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) this turned out to be about 360. Oh well.
I would also really like constructive criticism- Reviewers get muffins (the invisible kind). Or cookies (also the invisible variety), if that suites you more.
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Cinders
The cold air bit at Lipton’s face as he walked out from another foxhole. He watched his feet as he went along to talk to the next man. He was so fixated with the sound of the snow crunching under his feet, he was surprised when he looked up to see Speirs. He looked at him with a questioning look.
“Hey.”
“Hello sir.”
Lipton watched as Speirs dug through his pocket.
“Smoke?”
Not really thinking about the rumors, he took one.
“Thank you sir.”
“So I take it you don’t believe those stories?”
“What stories are you referring to sir?”
Speirs just looked at him.
“I’m not worried about you shooting me sir.”
“Why would that be?”
“Because I’m not a german POW.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just thought you might say something more witty than that.”
“Like what, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Be creative.”
“You could never bring yourself to shoot me?”
“And why would that be? I like you too much?”
Lipton’s face tinted pink (although it was currently a pinkish hue from the cold) while he fumbled around for his next remark, which happened to be a scoff-like sound.
“Whatever you say, sir.”
They stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, Lipton holding his already half-gone cigarette. He’s thinking about how cold it is, and tries to will his body to warm up on its own. The glow of his cigarette reaches his fingertips and takes him out of his trance. “Ah!”
Lipton yelps (yes, he yelped, for lack of a better term), tossing the remains of his smoke onto the snow covered ground.
Speirs lets out a humorous snort.
Lipton glares, “What?”
Speirs turns to face him.
“Nothing. You ok?”
“Besides being incredibly cold and-” Lipton stops when Speirs grabs his hand and inspects the red mark forming from where the cinders had made contact.
Lipton looks at Speirs, who is in turn looking at Lipton’s hand.
“Um...sir?”
Speirs looks up, like he was daydreaming.
“Well, take care. I’ll see you around.”
“You too.”
Well then. Lipton thinks to himself as he watches Speirs walk off through the pillar-like trees.
Pairing: Lipton/Speirs
Rating: PG (just for smoking)
A/N: I was originally gonna keep it down to 100 words, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) this turned out to be about 360. Oh well.
I would also really like constructive criticism- Reviewers get muffins (the invisible kind). Or cookies (also the invisible variety), if that suites you more.
___________________
Cinders
The cold air bit at Lipton’s face as he walked out from another foxhole. He watched his feet as he went along to talk to the next man. He was so fixated with the sound of the snow crunching under his feet, he was surprised when he looked up to see Speirs. He looked at him with a questioning look.
“Hey.”
“Hello sir.”
Lipton watched as Speirs dug through his pocket.
“Smoke?”
Not really thinking about the rumors, he took one.
“Thank you sir.”
“So I take it you don’t believe those stories?”
“What stories are you referring to sir?”
Speirs just looked at him.
“I’m not worried about you shooting me sir.”
“Why would that be?”
“Because I’m not a german POW.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just thought you might say something more witty than that.”
“Like what, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Be creative.”
“You could never bring yourself to shoot me?”
“And why would that be? I like you too much?”
Lipton’s face tinted pink (although it was currently a pinkish hue from the cold) while he fumbled around for his next remark, which happened to be a scoff-like sound.
“Whatever you say, sir.”
They stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, Lipton holding his already half-gone cigarette. He’s thinking about how cold it is, and tries to will his body to warm up on its own. The glow of his cigarette reaches his fingertips and takes him out of his trance. “Ah!”
Lipton yelps (yes, he yelped, for lack of a better term), tossing the remains of his smoke onto the snow covered ground.
Speirs lets out a humorous snort.
Lipton glares, “What?”
Speirs turns to face him.
“Nothing. You ok?”
“Besides being incredibly cold and-” Lipton stops when Speirs grabs his hand and inspects the red mark forming from where the cinders had made contact.
Lipton looks at Speirs, who is in turn looking at Lipton’s hand.
“Um...sir?”
Speirs looks up, like he was daydreaming.
“Well, take care. I’ll see you around.”
“You too.”
Well then. Lipton thinks to himself as he watches Speirs walk off through the pillar-like trees.