mindsplinters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mindsplinters) wrote2010-03-13 03:14 am
mindsplinters) wrote2010-03-13 03:14 am
31 Days: Day Twelve
With a prompt like this, could I really do anything other than Mexican AU? I think not.
World: Kingdom (Mexican AU - or, more accurately, the very start of Mexican AU)
Characters: Tasha, Dusty
"You don't have to come with me, you know. It's not your fault." Tasha kept her eyes on her work, fingers flying over the bits spread over her bedspread that would eventually reassemble themselves into a gun. A shotgun lay along the foot of the bed, stark and deadly in its quiet, a box of shells topped and spilling its contents over the bed.
"It's not your fault either." His voice echoed so soft and low that it almost seemed that he was talking to herself.
"Yes, it is. I let them down. I didn't see it coming and didn't warn them." She bit her lower lip hard to stop the flow of words and picked up another piece, slotting it into place neatly with a click. She noticed her hands shaking slightly and grimaced. A slow inhale stilled the tremors but the memory of them, however recent, made her stomach twist in sick knots. With deliberation, she chose another piece from her bed and brought it to the slowly developing gun. "You don't have to come," she repeated, "but I've got to do this. I'm going to clear out that fuckin' nest and be done with it."
A warm, strong hand settled on her shoulder, squeezed, and it took all of her willpower to resist the instinct which said to grab, hold, twist, and throw. Instead she straightened and allowed the gun's weight to draw her hand downwards, arm hanging slack, and closed her eyes. Past the instinct, there was always the deep-down joy and relief of him and his existence. Suddenly, she allowed the gun to fall completely to the bed and turned. With a choked sound, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his firm chest. "Dusty, I can't..." She sucked in a ragged breath and felt his arms encircle her shoulders. It was the comfort that broke her finally and she leaned into him with a sudden, raw sob.
She felt him drop his head and press kisses to her hair. The tears bubbled up uncontrollably at the tenderness. Her arms tightened at his waist. "Oh, baby," he whispered. One of his big hands shifted up to stroke at her hair. "What're you gonna do? What d'you wanna do?"
Tasha shook in his arms, swiftly losing control to the increasingly hysterical sobs that wracked her lean body. Unable to answer with words, she shook her head and clutched at the back of his t-shirt. She felt her knees weakening, her weight leaning hard against his solid frame. Thankfully, he read her body and scooped her up into his arms, turning to sit on the bed and cradle her in his lap. His hands moved over her shoulders and back in helpless soothing circles.
Long minutes passed before she felt hollowed out and still. The tears drained from her, her body aching from the emotion, Tasha curled into her boyfriend's arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, chin tucked a bit, and she watched his hand move over her knee, her thigh, before searching out and lacing their fingers together. "I want," she began softly and she noticed the deadness in her voice with something clinical and detached, "I want to take care of this. No, I need to take care of it."
Dusty shifted beneath her and tilted his head to press his cheek to her temple. "But it's big, baby. Really big."
This time, wrung out by the storm of tears, she noticed the tension in his words. Her head felt strangely clear and understanding slipped through her. Twisting, she brought her face close to his, foreheads touching with the new position. "I know," she whispered, the knife-bright steel back to her voice once more. "It had to be to... To kill them and I want those damn things dead." She closed her eyes. "I should have been there with them. I have more training and better aim."
"And you had a shift." He tilted to deliver a kiss to her nose. "You didn't know. Hell, I didn't know. Totally head-blind but, yeah, like, I could've seen signs, too."
She sighed. "Doesn't matter." Tasha drew back enough to meet him eye to eye. There was something almost like a smile on her mouth now, grim and cold. "I have to protect those of us left, Dusty. The kids... Losing those two, that's got to be the end of it. No more daemons killing our friends." She held still as he lifted his hand to the side of her face, stroking her cheek, pushing hair behind her ear. Then she gently took his hand and held his knuckles against her lips. "There's no letting this go," she breathed. "It's really war this time."
Dusty nodded, his expression mirroring hers now. "I know, Tasha." He looked to the side, to the shotgun and ammunition and handguns. "Tonight we'll go and burn the frickin' thing to the ground."
Her fingers caught beneath his chin and turned his face back to her. Her crimson eyes bore into his, lit with purpose and intensity now. "And we're both coming out, right?" It was less question, more demand.
He tugged her close and, in the seconds before their lips touched, whispered, "I'm not letting you go. Together or not at all."
"It's a promise." Eyes only closing at the last instant, Tasha claimed his kiss for her own and it tasted of blood and tears.
World: Kingdom (Mexican AU - or, more accurately, the very start of Mexican AU)
Characters: Tasha, Dusty
"You don't have to come with me, you know. It's not your fault." Tasha kept her eyes on her work, fingers flying over the bits spread over her bedspread that would eventually reassemble themselves into a gun. A shotgun lay along the foot of the bed, stark and deadly in its quiet, a box of shells topped and spilling its contents over the bed.
"It's not your fault either." His voice echoed so soft and low that it almost seemed that he was talking to herself.
"Yes, it is. I let them down. I didn't see it coming and didn't warn them." She bit her lower lip hard to stop the flow of words and picked up another piece, slotting it into place neatly with a click. She noticed her hands shaking slightly and grimaced. A slow inhale stilled the tremors but the memory of them, however recent, made her stomach twist in sick knots. With deliberation, she chose another piece from her bed and brought it to the slowly developing gun. "You don't have to come," she repeated, "but I've got to do this. I'm going to clear out that fuckin' nest and be done with it."
A warm, strong hand settled on her shoulder, squeezed, and it took all of her willpower to resist the instinct which said to grab, hold, twist, and throw. Instead she straightened and allowed the gun's weight to draw her hand downwards, arm hanging slack, and closed her eyes. Past the instinct, there was always the deep-down joy and relief of him and his existence. Suddenly, she allowed the gun to fall completely to the bed and turned. With a choked sound, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his firm chest. "Dusty, I can't..." She sucked in a ragged breath and felt his arms encircle her shoulders. It was the comfort that broke her finally and she leaned into him with a sudden, raw sob.
She felt him drop his head and press kisses to her hair. The tears bubbled up uncontrollably at the tenderness. Her arms tightened at his waist. "Oh, baby," he whispered. One of his big hands shifted up to stroke at her hair. "What're you gonna do? What d'you wanna do?"
Tasha shook in his arms, swiftly losing control to the increasingly hysterical sobs that wracked her lean body. Unable to answer with words, she shook her head and clutched at the back of his t-shirt. She felt her knees weakening, her weight leaning hard against his solid frame. Thankfully, he read her body and scooped her up into his arms, turning to sit on the bed and cradle her in his lap. His hands moved over her shoulders and back in helpless soothing circles.
Long minutes passed before she felt hollowed out and still. The tears drained from her, her body aching from the emotion, Tasha curled into her boyfriend's arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, chin tucked a bit, and she watched his hand move over her knee, her thigh, before searching out and lacing their fingers together. "I want," she began softly and she noticed the deadness in her voice with something clinical and detached, "I want to take care of this. No, I need to take care of it."
Dusty shifted beneath her and tilted his head to press his cheek to her temple. "But it's big, baby. Really big."
This time, wrung out by the storm of tears, she noticed the tension in his words. Her head felt strangely clear and understanding slipped through her. Twisting, she brought her face close to his, foreheads touching with the new position. "I know," she whispered, the knife-bright steel back to her voice once more. "It had to be to... To kill them and I want those damn things dead." She closed her eyes. "I should have been there with them. I have more training and better aim."
"And you had a shift." He tilted to deliver a kiss to her nose. "You didn't know. Hell, I didn't know. Totally head-blind but, yeah, like, I could've seen signs, too."
She sighed. "Doesn't matter." Tasha drew back enough to meet him eye to eye. There was something almost like a smile on her mouth now, grim and cold. "I have to protect those of us left, Dusty. The kids... Losing those two, that's got to be the end of it. No more daemons killing our friends." She held still as he lifted his hand to the side of her face, stroking her cheek, pushing hair behind her ear. Then she gently took his hand and held his knuckles against her lips. "There's no letting this go," she breathed. "It's really war this time."
Dusty nodded, his expression mirroring hers now. "I know, Tasha." He looked to the side, to the shotgun and ammunition and handguns. "Tonight we'll go and burn the frickin' thing to the ground."
Her fingers caught beneath his chin and turned his face back to her. Her crimson eyes bore into his, lit with purpose and intensity now. "And we're both coming out, right?" It was less question, more demand.
He tugged her close and, in the seconds before their lips touched, whispered, "I'm not letting you go. Together or not at all."
"It's a promise." Eyes only closing at the last instant, Tasha claimed his kiss for her own and it tasted of blood and tears.