(no subject)
Random silliness. Part of the ZK x JH series of thingies I do...sometimes. =3
At first it was the slight trembling that set in after just one day of abstinence. Uncontrollable spasms that hit him at the most inopportune times, like when he was handing in a report to Mustang or shooting the shit with Breda and the boys. His hands would shake and he’d get terribly jittery then they’d all give him an awkward concerned look. It was unnerving to say the least. But it was fine; he could get over it with a few cigarettes and some coffee.
Day three brought on the light anxiety. He was constantly worried about the most inane things imaginable. Did he leave the stove on? Was there enough kibble for the kitten? Did he change the litter before he left? Stupid, unimportant things that shouldn’t have been given a second thought after he walked to the garage to pick up his car. But they were there, lingering on the edges of his mind….because they were trying to keep him from thinking about the real cause of these attacks on his nerves.
The worst of all the constant hindrances arrived on the sixth day. He’d just left the office to make a routine run to the supply depot then to the gun range. He decided to walk since his list of things to restock wasn’t very large and most of it was just to be ordered and shipped later anyways. Besides, he wanted to spend his lunch hour at the range. He found that unloading a clip or two did wonders for his tension. There was a light touch of something at his neck, he swept his fingers up to bat away whatever it was but found nothing. He shrugged it off, but it persisted. It’d go away from an hour at the most before presence was back again. Gawds it almost felt like. . . He needed a cigarette.
He didn’t really understand what was happening to him until the night of the eighth and final day. Somehow the simple solution slipped his mind until he was told the problem, even referenced a medical book. The textbooks would have told him everything he needed to know about what was wrong with him if he’d bothered to flip open one.
“ad·dic·tion
n.
Habitual psychological and physiological dependence on a substance or practice beyond one's voluntary control.
Page 187 of the Medical Journal via the local library. I’m surprised you didn’t think to check with at least the pharmacist in which you go to for your eye drops. He could have set you straight or pointed you to this book.” An amused voice whispered into the blonde’s ear.
“Shut the hell up. Like I’d ask my that old coot about with something like that. I thought I was going insane. . .didn’t want to share.” A groggy voice answered back hastily.
“It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one with this problem.” The dark haired man offered back almost silently while his hand drew a lazy pattern on the blonde’s naked chest.
“I. Hate. You. DAMNIT!”
“I know. Now let the doctor give you your medicine. You‘re feeling a bit shaky.”
At first it was the slight trembling that set in after just one day of abstinence. Uncontrollable spasms that hit him at the most inopportune times, like when he was handing in a report to Mustang or shooting the shit with Breda and the boys. His hands would shake and he’d get terribly jittery then they’d all give him an awkward concerned look. It was unnerving to say the least. But it was fine; he could get over it with a few cigarettes and some coffee.
Day three brought on the light anxiety. He was constantly worried about the most inane things imaginable. Did he leave the stove on? Was there enough kibble for the kitten? Did he change the litter before he left? Stupid, unimportant things that shouldn’t have been given a second thought after he walked to the garage to pick up his car. But they were there, lingering on the edges of his mind….because they were trying to keep him from thinking about the real cause of these attacks on his nerves.
The worst of all the constant hindrances arrived on the sixth day. He’d just left the office to make a routine run to the supply depot then to the gun range. He decided to walk since his list of things to restock wasn’t very large and most of it was just to be ordered and shipped later anyways. Besides, he wanted to spend his lunch hour at the range. He found that unloading a clip or two did wonders for his tension. There was a light touch of something at his neck, he swept his fingers up to bat away whatever it was but found nothing. He shrugged it off, but it persisted. It’d go away from an hour at the most before presence was back again. Gawds it almost felt like. . . He needed a cigarette.
He didn’t really understand what was happening to him until the night of the eighth and final day. Somehow the simple solution slipped his mind until he was told the problem, even referenced a medical book. The textbooks would have told him everything he needed to know about what was wrong with him if he’d bothered to flip open one.
“ad·dic·tion
n.
Habitual psychological and physiological dependence on a substance or practice beyond one's voluntary control.
Page 187 of the Medical Journal via the local library. I’m surprised you didn’t think to check with at least the pharmacist in which you go to for your eye drops. He could have set you straight or pointed you to this book.” An amused voice whispered into the blonde’s ear.
“Shut the hell up. Like I’d ask my that old coot about with something like that. I thought I was going insane. . .didn’t want to share.” A groggy voice answered back hastily.
“It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one with this problem.” The dark haired man offered back almost silently while his hand drew a lazy pattern on the blonde’s naked chest.
“I. Hate. You. DAMNIT!”
“I know. Now let the doctor give you your medicine. You‘re feeling a bit shaky.”