Mostly Hal Centered Gen-Fic [AUs]
Tripwire
[Gen AU from 4x01, Post-Apocalyptic]
He doesn’t sleep. The world, the state of it is like razor-wire under his skin and since it ended, since the cities burned and the barber shop with it, and Leo and Pearl, Hal has no slept. He can’t, in the silence. In the the world that is nothing but grit, black marks from burned things on his hands, and his clothes, his face.
Go, he’d told them when the doors had appeared and he’d taken half a step forward himself before Leo looked him in the eye, echoes that word back at him, Go.
He’d gone, and he was. In the ruins of a building that was not quite as bad as the others on the block. Without running water, without the sense of self to chance going far enough out to find water. To attempt to achieve some modicum of clean.
It would be a waste with everything as wrong in the world as it is possible to be, and he does not hum, or line up rocks in some paper-thin attempt at holding to his routines, his rituals.
He is mad, and shaking, and smells, like the rest of the world, of burnt flesh, and he waits for someone to trigger the mental tripwire at the door and longs for the days he was too drunk on himself to care when he was covered in dirt or blood.
Gifts
[Gen, Hal]
There’s a dark humor to the smile that’s short on his lips as Hal steps forward, in front of the others, the werewolf, the ghost, and the child. “Actually,” he starts, his attention on the vampires before him, and them alone, for all his thoughts wandered. “I can’t help thinking that as long as you’re out shopping I would be just a slightly more impressive gift than a defenseless child. They know who I am, as should you. My friends can tell you that, they’ve heard the tip of it. Isn’t that right?’ He asks the question over his shoulder and it’s casual, almost, even if his eyes aren’t. Even if his eyes are all reminders of promises he had never actually heard, you’re supposed to keep her safe, do it, silent as he meets Tom’s eyes before he looks away again.
“Take me, and leave these three, and, well…I imagine you’ll be someone’s favorite.”
[Gen AU from 4x01, Post-Apocalyptic]
He doesn’t sleep. The world, the state of it is like razor-wire under his skin and since it ended, since the cities burned and the barber shop with it, and Leo and Pearl, Hal has no slept. He can’t, in the silence. In the the world that is nothing but grit, black marks from burned things on his hands, and his clothes, his face.
Go, he’d told them when the doors had appeared and he’d taken half a step forward himself before Leo looked him in the eye, echoes that word back at him, Go.
He’d gone, and he was. In the ruins of a building that was not quite as bad as the others on the block. Without running water, without the sense of self to chance going far enough out to find water. To attempt to achieve some modicum of clean.
It would be a waste with everything as wrong in the world as it is possible to be, and he does not hum, or line up rocks in some paper-thin attempt at holding to his routines, his rituals.
He is mad, and shaking, and smells, like the rest of the world, of burnt flesh, and he waits for someone to trigger the mental tripwire at the door and longs for the days he was too drunk on himself to care when he was covered in dirt or blood.
Gifts
[Gen, Hal]
There’s a dark humor to the smile that’s short on his lips as Hal steps forward, in front of the others, the werewolf, the ghost, and the child. “Actually,” he starts, his attention on the vampires before him, and them alone, for all his thoughts wandered. “I can’t help thinking that as long as you’re out shopping I would be just a slightly more impressive gift than a defenseless child. They know who I am, as should you. My friends can tell you that, they’ve heard the tip of it. Isn’t that right?’ He asks the question over his shoulder and it’s casual, almost, even if his eyes aren’t. Even if his eyes are all reminders of promises he had never actually heard, you’re supposed to keep her safe, do it, silent as he meets Tom’s eyes before he looks away again.
“Take me, and leave these three, and, well…I imagine you’ll be someone’s favorite.”