Millirific 42- Millitime
Title: S'Milliways
Author: adam_bat
Summary: what space time continuum?
Rating: PG
Characters: Bill Pardy (SLiTHER)
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: written for this week's Millirific 42 prompt: Millitime. Also, my very first of the 42. Yay me?
Disclaimer: I don't own the character, just borrowing him.
The checkerboard lays before him, opponent waiting patiently for his wrong move. Scratching his ear, Bill's brows furrow and the red and black squares seem to blur together.
Lifting his hand, he reaches for one piece, glances at the other player who gives no reaction, and then moves another.
There's a long pause as Bill's finger lingers on the checker, eyes scanning the board before he finally lets go.
A moment passes before the man sitting on the other side of the board straightens up in his chair. Uncrossing his arms, he strokes his weathered chin, faded blue eyes taking the game in.
Making a clucking sound with his tongue, the older man reaches out and takes one of his pieces across the board in a series of jumps that leaves the piece Bill so meticulously moved untouched.
"King me."
Bill glowers, jaw set, and finally throws a hand up.
"I can't take this!"
Calmly, the older man regards him, head tilting.
"Really? I figured you'd be well used t'gettin' whooped in this."
"Not that!" Bill points at the other. "You! I can't-- how the hell are you here?"
"Front door, same as you," the old man replies easily; lifting his glass of sweat tea and taking a sip. "It's not that complicated."
"The hell it ain't! I'm sittin' here, playin' checkers-- "
"Losin'."
"-- to myself, twenty some-odd years older."
Bill glares and his other self shrugs.
"S'Milliways."
Bill keeps scowling and the old man smiles. Seeing how the other man's eyes crinkle at the edges (just like his) drives things home a little harder and Bill lifts his beer and takes a gulp.
"How do I know you ain't just an' old lookalike? Y'could be Mal or Rick fuckin' with me."
"Well, I could prove it with scars or somethin'. Or better yet, how 'bout embarrassin' stories? Like that time we fell in that briar patch, an' mom had t'pull thorns outta-- "
"Alright." Bill interrupts, a bregruding believer. "So, you're me. What do we do?"
"Do?" The old man's eyes widen slightly, then he shrugs, a purely Bill shrug.
"Well, I'd like t'finish this game, but if you're tired of gettin' licked... "
"Hey now, you ain't winnin' by all that much," Bill says, shaking his head.
"Well then-- " A wrinkled hand gestures at the board and Bill refocuses on the game.
"Don't suppose you c'n tell me anything 'bout the future," Bill says as he makes a move.
"Nope." The old man slides a piece on the board and Bill takes another left open.
"Figured."
"Sorry."
Another exchange of turns, and Bill looks up.
"Can I ask you one question?"
"What?"
"Is it real?"
"What?"
Bill nods up, and after a moment the old man gets it.
"Oh. Yeah, yeah it's real. Not t'worry, Bill, baldness ain't somethin' y'gotta worry on. No matter what Boo tells ya."
Bill is very visably relieved.
"Good. Gotta keep my looks."
"I'd say we keep them pretty well."
A moment passes and Bill surveys his older self critically, then finally nods.
"Yeah, I'd say so."
They each laugh, one a rougher echo of the other.
Author: adam_bat
Summary: what space time continuum?
Rating: PG
Characters: Bill Pardy (SLiTHER)
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: written for this week's Millirific 42 prompt: Millitime. Also, my very first of the 42. Yay me?
Disclaimer: I don't own the character, just borrowing him.
The checkerboard lays before him, opponent waiting patiently for his wrong move. Scratching his ear, Bill's brows furrow and the red and black squares seem to blur together.
Lifting his hand, he reaches for one piece, glances at the other player who gives no reaction, and then moves another.
There's a long pause as Bill's finger lingers on the checker, eyes scanning the board before he finally lets go.
A moment passes before the man sitting on the other side of the board straightens up in his chair. Uncrossing his arms, he strokes his weathered chin, faded blue eyes taking the game in.
Making a clucking sound with his tongue, the older man reaches out and takes one of his pieces across the board in a series of jumps that leaves the piece Bill so meticulously moved untouched.
"King me."
Bill glowers, jaw set, and finally throws a hand up.
"I can't take this!"
Calmly, the older man regards him, head tilting.
"Really? I figured you'd be well used t'gettin' whooped in this."
"Not that!" Bill points at the other. "You! I can't-- how the hell are you here?"
"Front door, same as you," the old man replies easily; lifting his glass of sweat tea and taking a sip. "It's not that complicated."
"The hell it ain't! I'm sittin' here, playin' checkers-- "
"Losin'."
"-- to myself, twenty some-odd years older."
Bill glares and his other self shrugs.
"S'Milliways."
Bill keeps scowling and the old man smiles. Seeing how the other man's eyes crinkle at the edges (just like his) drives things home a little harder and Bill lifts his beer and takes a gulp.
"How do I know you ain't just an' old lookalike? Y'could be Mal or Rick fuckin' with me."
"Well, I could prove it with scars or somethin'. Or better yet, how 'bout embarrassin' stories? Like that time we fell in that briar patch, an' mom had t'pull thorns outta-- "
"Alright." Bill interrupts, a bregruding believer. "So, you're me. What do we do?"
"Do?" The old man's eyes widen slightly, then he shrugs, a purely Bill shrug.
"Well, I'd like t'finish this game, but if you're tired of gettin' licked... "
"Hey now, you ain't winnin' by all that much," Bill says, shaking his head.
"Well then-- " A wrinkled hand gestures at the board and Bill refocuses on the game.
"Don't suppose you c'n tell me anything 'bout the future," Bill says as he makes a move.
"Nope." The old man slides a piece on the board and Bill takes another left open.
"Figured."
"Sorry."
Another exchange of turns, and Bill looks up.
"Can I ask you one question?"
"What?"
"Is it real?"
"What?"
Bill nods up, and after a moment the old man gets it.
"Oh. Yeah, yeah it's real. Not t'worry, Bill, baldness ain't somethin' y'gotta worry on. No matter what Boo tells ya."
Bill is very visably relieved.
"Good. Gotta keep my looks."
"I'd say we keep them pretty well."
A moment passes and Bill surveys his older self critically, then finally nods.
"Yeah, I'd say so."
They each laugh, one a rougher echo of the other.