Challenge #18 - soldier's injury
title: soldier's injury
author: iniq
rating: G
pairing: 5x3x5
word count: exactly 500! *preens* XD
notes: the challenge was 'an injury' - it got us a slap from a woman... and something much more fatal >_>; *cough* a razor cut - but hey! it hurts, it bleeds, it makes grown men whimper, hiss in pain, and flinch... so there! :p
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soldier's injury
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WuFei splashed some water in his face and looked up into the mirror, searching for any spots he might have had left unshaved. He felt his cheeks, trailing long, bony fingers down his jaw line, but the skin was smooth. 'Like Trowa's ass,' his mind supplied him with a nice mental image fitting the expression, reminding him that he would still have to get some groceries for tonight's romantic dinner.
Shaking the shaver in the lukewarm water one last time, more careful, to get all the excessive soap, hairs and water out, he reached for the plug with the other hand, fingers deftly searching for it in the milky water. Watching the liquid dwindle down the drain, he hummed a low tune. Trying to form words to the melody in his head, he found that he couldn't. The origin of it had escaped him, and he was left to his own devices, his voice chords following the same few notes over and over again. He formed a cup with one hand, and splashed the sink with water, washing it clear of soap and cut off hairs. Another morning ritual performed with a soldier's calculating mind.
His fingers glided over the white porcelain frame, then shook the white soap suds off, into the spray of, by now cold, water. When he was done, he slung the used towel over his shoulder, and made a grab for the unopened bottle on the porcelain board below the mirror. Opening it, he gave the lotion a sniff, determining whether it was truly his. Smelling the familiar fragrance, he poured some in his hand. The aftershave stung on his cheeks, as he slapped them with the scented alcohol solution, but after years of enduring it, his skin was used to the daily treatment; just as it was used an occasional cut. Looking up, he tilted his chin up, and wiped it with his flat palm. Not too shabby.
He held the hand under the spray, and rubbed his fingers and palm together, a vain attempt to get the smell of aftershave off his skin. When he deemed it clean enough, he shut the water off, and patted the towel, before grabbing his utensils. Lifting his hand, he pulled the dog tags out of the white undershirt, now that they no longer needed to be kept from falling forward. He cast one last look at the person in the mirror, and let his eyes roam over his skin, vainly searching for imperfections. His hand reflexively moved up, brushing his thumb over the small cut he had made. He hissed, and flinched away slightly, before he pulled a few strands of black hair behind his left ear. The luxuries of a free day were few, and he enjoyed not having to redo his ponytail every time a strand came loose. Whistling the tune aloud now, he left the bathroom with a content, relaxed expression; knowing that in the bunkroom, his lover was still sleeping, dreaming of him.
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author: iniq
rating: G
pairing: 5x3x5
word count: exactly 500! *preens* XD
notes: the challenge was 'an injury' - it got us a slap from a woman... and something much more fatal >_>; *cough* a razor cut - but hey! it hurts, it bleeds, it makes grown men whimper, hiss in pain, and flinch... so there! :p
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soldier's injury
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WuFei splashed some water in his face and looked up into the mirror, searching for any spots he might have had left unshaved. He felt his cheeks, trailing long, bony fingers down his jaw line, but the skin was smooth. 'Like Trowa's ass,' his mind supplied him with a nice mental image fitting the expression, reminding him that he would still have to get some groceries for tonight's romantic dinner.
Shaking the shaver in the lukewarm water one last time, more careful, to get all the excessive soap, hairs and water out, he reached for the plug with the other hand, fingers deftly searching for it in the milky water. Watching the liquid dwindle down the drain, he hummed a low tune. Trying to form words to the melody in his head, he found that he couldn't. The origin of it had escaped him, and he was left to his own devices, his voice chords following the same few notes over and over again. He formed a cup with one hand, and splashed the sink with water, washing it clear of soap and cut off hairs. Another morning ritual performed with a soldier's calculating mind.
His fingers glided over the white porcelain frame, then shook the white soap suds off, into the spray of, by now cold, water. When he was done, he slung the used towel over his shoulder, and made a grab for the unopened bottle on the porcelain board below the mirror. Opening it, he gave the lotion a sniff, determining whether it was truly his. Smelling the familiar fragrance, he poured some in his hand. The aftershave stung on his cheeks, as he slapped them with the scented alcohol solution, but after years of enduring it, his skin was used to the daily treatment; just as it was used an occasional cut. Looking up, he tilted his chin up, and wiped it with his flat palm. Not too shabby.
He held the hand under the spray, and rubbed his fingers and palm together, a vain attempt to get the smell of aftershave off his skin. When he deemed it clean enough, he shut the water off, and patted the towel, before grabbing his utensils. Lifting his hand, he pulled the dog tags out of the white undershirt, now that they no longer needed to be kept from falling forward. He cast one last look at the person in the mirror, and let his eyes roam over his skin, vainly searching for imperfections. His hand reflexively moved up, brushing his thumb over the small cut he had made. He hissed, and flinched away slightly, before he pulled a few strands of black hair behind his left ear. The luxuries of a free day were few, and he enjoyed not having to redo his ponytail every time a strand came loose. Whistling the tune aloud now, he left the bathroom with a content, relaxed expression; knowing that in the bunkroom, his lover was still sleeping, dreaming of him.
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