Take Your Leave with Nicotine - Speirs/Lipton (Drabble)
Title: Take Your Leave with Nicotine
Author: skylilies
Pairing: Speirs/Lipton
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Word Count: 282
Genre: gen
Rating: pg
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just my interpretations of them. Based on fictionalized representations, no disrespect is intended.
Teaser: Speirs is not really asleep, but he’s stopped feeling the cold steel of his trench knife against his ankle and the weight of the gun at his shoulder, the bruises on his shins and the tenderness of his sides.
Notes: a quick drabble to introduce myself to a new pairing and new characters. (somehow, i end up always writing those little inconsequential moments of 'inbetween.') ahh, speirs has taken up a little space of my heart. this was partly inspired by the personal responsibility mix.
Carwood Lipton wakes him up with a polite ‘Sir?’ Speirs is not really asleep, but he’s stopped feeling the cold steel of his trench knife against his ankle and the weight of the gun at his shoulder, the bruises on his shins and the tenderness of his sides. He licks his lips and tastes blood from skin that keeps on cracking. “First Sergeant.”
Lipton goes rigid and he murmurs ‘At ease,’ still distracted by the sudden weight of existing again. His mind is preoccupied with half-remembered picture films from long ago dates, the way his body felt running toward enemy lines, the last of his ammunition. He could really fucking use a cigarette. He reaches for his pocket and pulls out the carton.
Lipton is watching quietly, and his hand is there at Speirs’ mouth with a lighter before he can search for one, and his fingers are dirty and callused wrapped around the base. “Captain, sir,” he repeats, “Captain Winters is looking for you.”
Speirs glances upward to his eyes from behind the new cloud of smoke, the taste of it in his mouth making his fingers relax and his heart dim down to a steady pounding in his chest. “Noted.” He says. Lipton nods and starts to turn away, still holding himself rigid and impersonal.
"Lipton,” Speirs says. Lipton pauses. Speirs holds up the cartoon. “Smoke?”
“Thank you, sir,” Lipton says, and reaches out to him. His fingers are steady as they take the cigarette from his grasp.
This time when Lipton turns away, Speirs allow himself a smile. A small furlough for the battlefield.
He waits for the numbness to settle heavy and limp in his limbs again.
Author: skylilies
Pairing: Speirs/Lipton
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Word Count: 282
Genre: gen
Rating: pg
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just my interpretations of them. Based on fictionalized representations, no disrespect is intended.
Teaser: Speirs is not really asleep, but he’s stopped feeling the cold steel of his trench knife against his ankle and the weight of the gun at his shoulder, the bruises on his shins and the tenderness of his sides.
Notes: a quick drabble to introduce myself to a new pairing and new characters. (somehow, i end up always writing those little inconsequential moments of 'inbetween.') ahh, speirs has taken up a little space of my heart. this was partly inspired by the personal responsibility mix.
Carwood Lipton wakes him up with a polite ‘Sir?’ Speirs is not really asleep, but he’s stopped feeling the cold steel of his trench knife against his ankle and the weight of the gun at his shoulder, the bruises on his shins and the tenderness of his sides. He licks his lips and tastes blood from skin that keeps on cracking. “First Sergeant.”
Lipton goes rigid and he murmurs ‘At ease,’ still distracted by the sudden weight of existing again. His mind is preoccupied with half-remembered picture films from long ago dates, the way his body felt running toward enemy lines, the last of his ammunition. He could really fucking use a cigarette. He reaches for his pocket and pulls out the carton.
Lipton is watching quietly, and his hand is there at Speirs’ mouth with a lighter before he can search for one, and his fingers are dirty and callused wrapped around the base. “Captain, sir,” he repeats, “Captain Winters is looking for you.”
Speirs glances upward to his eyes from behind the new cloud of smoke, the taste of it in his mouth making his fingers relax and his heart dim down to a steady pounding in his chest. “Noted.” He says. Lipton nods and starts to turn away, still holding himself rigid and impersonal.
"Lipton,” Speirs says. Lipton pauses. Speirs holds up the cartoon. “Smoke?”
“Thank you, sir,” Lipton says, and reaches out to him. His fingers are steady as they take the cigarette from his grasp.
This time when Lipton turns away, Speirs allow himself a smile. A small furlough for the battlefield.
He waits for the numbness to settle heavy and limp in his limbs again.