The Big Damn List brings Mullet-verse...and angst. Yay trauma!
Title: Morbid Oppression
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Booster/Beetle, Max
Prompt: "Death."
Word Count: 585
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I...actually wrote this by accident. (Would that I could do so more often.) It was late and I was rereading Countdown to Infinite Crisis while listening to my Mullet-verse soundtrack, then suddenly BAM! Fic. ^_^
Place in Mullet-verse timeline currently unspecified.
*facepalm* Title is...something I'm having an issue with. I think I've spent more time trying to decide on one than I spent writing the damn fic. "Morbid Oppression" is from the A Dictionary of the English Language definition of a nightmare as "morbid oppression during sleep, resembling the pressure of weight upon the breast." "Essential Evil" is from Paul Magnuson's quote that "there is an essential evil in daydreams and imaginings". Thoughts? Thanks to everyone who, er, voted I guess, for this title. ;)
Morbid Oppression
Max levels the gun as he speaks, the movement casually easy, his aim steady. "All I want is to put Earth's destiny in the hands of humans, not people pretending to be human, Ted..."
I'm going to die, Ted realizes. He hurts everywhere and he can taste blood and mucus, some dried, some still sluggishly crawling over split lips. I'm going to die and Max is going to kill me. ...I don't want to die.
He's replying to Max, mouth moving to form the words that will get him killed. He knows, knows that his next sentence will be his last, but he can't stop himself.
"Rot in hell, Max."
And he thinks...I never told Booster goodbye.
The world falls into slow-motion as his teeth clench over the last syllable. He can see every shift in Max's body leading up to the agonizing eternity of his finger on the trigger, the finality of that last microscopic tensing of muscles to squeeze--
"NO!"
He can hear the deafening retort of the gun, feel the burning pain, the last sensation he's aware of. He can't breathe, and the world blurs darkly...he's dying. He's dead. He's...
"Ted?"
The sleepy, worried mumble startles a gasp of air into him, breath stuttering past a choking lump in his throat. He can still feel, he realizes. Because he can feel his body tense and shaking. Warm liquid streams down his face and he thinks, of course. He's still bleeding. Has his blood always been so salty?
"Ted--Are y--Nevermind, of course you're not okay. Ted, I'm here. I've got you. It's okay. It's okay, Ted, you're safe."
And how can he be safe, he wonders, when Max has a gun and a dangerous new personality?
He feels warm arms around him, pulling him against a warm chest, and he gasps another breath. His body aches with remembered pain, and the pain of muscles held tense and motionless. Limbs curl around him, like a living, human cocoon, and he turns to press his face against the offered comfort as a sob escapes him.
The sleepy voice isn't sleepy anymore, but no less worried. It murmurs reassurance and love and Ted finds himself shaking in the embrace, arms snaking around to cling to this warm embodiment of reality. Holding him, rocking him, large hands stroking over his body in soothing motions. Awareness finally trickles through the nightmare fog enveloping his mind.
"...Booster?" he manages to whisper, voice raspy and raw.
Warm, dry lips press against his temple. "Yeah?"
"...I'm sorry I didn't wait for you."
The rocking slows and stills. Booster is silent. Ted's chest feels too tight and his eyes burn with the need to shed more tears.
Then Booster's arms tighten around him and the man takes a deep, shaky breath. "Just...don't do it again, okay?" he says, a tremor in his voice. He manages a weak chuckle. "We're a team, remember? Next suicide mission, you take me with you."
Ted nods his head, not trusting his own voice anymore. It's okay, he knows Booster can feel the movement against his chest. He tries to smile, but his mouth crumples, so he just burrows deeper into Booster's comforting embrace.
Understanding, in a way that can only be achieved through years of knowing each other, of leaking blood, sweat, and tears on each other, of fighting with words and fists both for and against each other...Booster holds him.
"I've got you, Ted. You're safe."
And Ted can't help but believe him.
-----
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Booster/Beetle, Max
Prompt: "Death."
Word Count: 585
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I...actually wrote this by accident. (Would that I could do so more often.) It was late and I was rereading Countdown to Infinite Crisis while listening to my Mullet-verse soundtrack, then suddenly BAM! Fic. ^_^
Place in Mullet-verse timeline currently unspecified.
*facepalm* Title is...something I'm having an issue with. I think I've spent more time trying to decide on one than I spent writing the damn fic. "Morbid Oppression" is from the A Dictionary of the English Language definition of a nightmare as "morbid oppression during sleep, resembling the pressure of weight upon the breast." "Essential Evil" is from Paul Magnuson's quote that "there is an essential evil in daydreams and imaginings". Thoughts? Thanks to everyone who, er, voted I guess, for this title. ;)
Morbid Oppression
Max levels the gun as he speaks, the movement casually easy, his aim steady. "All I want is to put Earth's destiny in the hands of humans, not people pretending to be human, Ted..."
I'm going to die, Ted realizes. He hurts everywhere and he can taste blood and mucus, some dried, some still sluggishly crawling over split lips. I'm going to die and Max is going to kill me. ...I don't want to die.
He's replying to Max, mouth moving to form the words that will get him killed. He knows, knows that his next sentence will be his last, but he can't stop himself.
"Rot in hell, Max."
And he thinks...I never told Booster goodbye.
The world falls into slow-motion as his teeth clench over the last syllable. He can see every shift in Max's body leading up to the agonizing eternity of his finger on the trigger, the finality of that last microscopic tensing of muscles to squeeze--
"NO!"
He can hear the deafening retort of the gun, feel the burning pain, the last sensation he's aware of. He can't breathe, and the world blurs darkly...he's dying. He's dead. He's...
"Ted?"
The sleepy, worried mumble startles a gasp of air into him, breath stuttering past a choking lump in his throat. He can still feel, he realizes. Because he can feel his body tense and shaking. Warm liquid streams down his face and he thinks, of course. He's still bleeding. Has his blood always been so salty?
"Ted--Are y--Nevermind, of course you're not okay. Ted, I'm here. I've got you. It's okay. It's okay, Ted, you're safe."
And how can he be safe, he wonders, when Max has a gun and a dangerous new personality?
He feels warm arms around him, pulling him against a warm chest, and he gasps another breath. His body aches with remembered pain, and the pain of muscles held tense and motionless. Limbs curl around him, like a living, human cocoon, and he turns to press his face against the offered comfort as a sob escapes him.
The sleepy voice isn't sleepy anymore, but no less worried. It murmurs reassurance and love and Ted finds himself shaking in the embrace, arms snaking around to cling to this warm embodiment of reality. Holding him, rocking him, large hands stroking over his body in soothing motions. Awareness finally trickles through the nightmare fog enveloping his mind.
"...Booster?" he manages to whisper, voice raspy and raw.
Warm, dry lips press against his temple. "Yeah?"
"...I'm sorry I didn't wait for you."
The rocking slows and stills. Booster is silent. Ted's chest feels too tight and his eyes burn with the need to shed more tears.
Then Booster's arms tighten around him and the man takes a deep, shaky breath. "Just...don't do it again, okay?" he says, a tremor in his voice. He manages a weak chuckle. "We're a team, remember? Next suicide mission, you take me with you."
Ted nods his head, not trusting his own voice anymore. It's okay, he knows Booster can feel the movement against his chest. He tries to smile, but his mouth crumples, so he just burrows deeper into Booster's comforting embrace.
Understanding, in a way that can only be achieved through years of knowing each other, of leaking blood, sweat, and tears on each other, of fighting with words and fists both for and against each other...Booster holds him.
"I've got you, Ted. You're safe."
And Ted can't help but believe him.
-----