Us vs. the Apocalypse
Title: The Tongs
Word Count: 277
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
Author's Note: The Tongs - The V sign, when the palm is facing toward the person giving the sign, has long been an insulting gesture in ... the UK, Ireland, New Zealand, and (largely historically) Australia. The "two-fingered salute", also known as ... "The Tongs" in the West of Scotland, is commonly performed by flicking the V upwards from wrist or elbow. (From this Wikipedia article). Non-canon, from a previous version of the novel.
"Yo, Baitface!" Mason called, dropping onto the edge of Keenan's bed as the rest of us filed into the room behind him. "Betts told us they had to go anal probing?" He made a thrusting motion with his fist and Keenan, who had opened his eyes a crack at the sudden occupation of his footspace, snorted quietly.
"Hi guys," he murmured, groggy from the anaesthetic.
"Hey," I said, pulling one of the chairs close to his bed and resisting the urge to take his hand - as much as I wanted to touch him, just to be sure he was alright, I didn't exactly want to deal with Mason's taunting for the rest of my natural life. "Doc says just a couple days and they'll cut you loose," I told him, as Avery fluttered around the bed, fretting at his pale complexion and quality of the thin blankets. "How are you feeling?"
"Like death," he said, and smiled slightly, a mere twitch of the corners of his mouth. "The usual."
"You certainly look it," Dixon said, and grabbed the clipboard from the foot of the bed, flipping through the pages. After skimming the handwritten notes, he whistled appreciatively. "Damn. Titanium microplates? That's impressive."
"Totally the word I was thinking of..." Keenan mumbled.
"Hey, if you don't like it," Dixon said, shrugging his wide shoulders, "learn to win a fight." The comment netted him a barking laugh from Mason and a two-fingered salute from Keenan, the gesture made somewhat pathetic by the heavy-gauge intravenous needle in the back of his hand. "Or you could just tell me to go fuck myself..." he mused.
"Or that," Keenan agreed.
Word Count: 277
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
Author's Note: The Tongs - The V sign, when the palm is facing toward the person giving the sign, has long been an insulting gesture in ... the UK, Ireland, New Zealand, and (largely historically) Australia. The "two-fingered salute", also known as ... "The Tongs" in the West of Scotland, is commonly performed by flicking the V upwards from wrist or elbow. (From this Wikipedia article). Non-canon, from a previous version of the novel.
"Yo, Baitface!" Mason called, dropping onto the edge of Keenan's bed as the rest of us filed into the room behind him. "Betts told us they had to go anal probing?" He made a thrusting motion with his fist and Keenan, who had opened his eyes a crack at the sudden occupation of his footspace, snorted quietly.
"Hi guys," he murmured, groggy from the anaesthetic.
"Hey," I said, pulling one of the chairs close to his bed and resisting the urge to take his hand - as much as I wanted to touch him, just to be sure he was alright, I didn't exactly want to deal with Mason's taunting for the rest of my natural life. "Doc says just a couple days and they'll cut you loose," I told him, as Avery fluttered around the bed, fretting at his pale complexion and quality of the thin blankets. "How are you feeling?"
"Like death," he said, and smiled slightly, a mere twitch of the corners of his mouth. "The usual."
"You certainly look it," Dixon said, and grabbed the clipboard from the foot of the bed, flipping through the pages. After skimming the handwritten notes, he whistled appreciatively. "Damn. Titanium microplates? That's impressive."
"Totally the word I was thinking of..." Keenan mumbled.
"Hey, if you don't like it," Dixon said, shrugging his wide shoulders, "learn to win a fight." The comment netted him a barking laugh from Mason and a two-fingered salute from Keenan, the gesture made somewhat pathetic by the heavy-gauge intravenous needle in the back of his hand. "Or you could just tell me to go fuck myself..." he mused.
"Or that," Keenan agreed.