HI, HOW MAY I MAKSIMIZE YOUR DAY? the posterkids' ficathon
If you're here, you're one of the proud, incredible people who adore Kitty Burroughs' recent novel The Posterchildren. And if you wound up here by accident, I recommend you check it out anyway, this stuff is good.
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Mal did not give himself into to smiling, whipping his cape around his shoulders with a pleasing swish! As he fastened the hidden clasp, he caught sight of the himself in the cloudy mirror hanging on the inside of his closet. The only other mirror was in the bathroom, made of metal instead of glass. On one of his less interesting days, his father had shown him how to buff it until it gleamed. It was mundane, but when they were finished and Mal's arms had ached with overuse, Corbin Underwood had slapped him on the back and declared, "Now that's a fucking shine." It had been a satisfying day, all things considered. Much more successful than the day Corbin attempted to teach Malek how to cook pancakes, in any case. Or was it bake pancakes? That day, the idea of cooking- or baking- had brought on a strong wave of homesickness. Not that Mal begrudged his father for his actions, or that Mal disliked their simple living, but cooking- or baking- reminded him ( ... )
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Corbin stared at him. And Mal felt... taken a back. Corbin was staring at him, normal looking and in civilian clothing. Corbin was staring at him, not the Rook.
Mal realized he had made a terrible miscalculation.
Corbin seemed to flounder in the suddenly unbearable tension occupying the room. Mal felt inadequate. He must look a mockery to the Little Bird legacy. To his elder brother, as well. Shame made his cheeks burn, and the feeling dropped heavily into the bottom of his stomach. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, willing himself to speak. "Father, I-"
"Nevermind, kid," Corbin's voice was hoarse. Gruffer than usual. "I mean an actual fucking walk, not this shit. It's okay. Just go get changed." There was an unidentifiable emotion lurking beneath the forced calm of his father's voice. Ragged and exhausted. Mal couldn't bring himself to see the terrible expression that must be on his father's face.
Instead he turned and disappeared upstairs.
He didn't come back down. Nor did his father come up to get him.
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oh my god this is heartbreaking and amazing and perfect and it makes me want to slap myself in the face
underwoods, man. fucking underwoods.
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Unexpected - T (language ( ... )
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