Prompt for plus_anon
Dec. 15th, 2018 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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felinefablesPrompt request for Plush_anon
Saw 29 and had to ask NDU Nightmare Galleon.
plush-anon
(I have no idea if this is any specific kind of ‘verse really. Brain went 'it’s an AU, of course it’s not modern times’, thus the typewriter among other things.)
“You don’t have to wait for me.”
Pitch looked up from the typewriter, frowning at the others words. “Excuse me?”
Pitchiner was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, clad in just a pair of pants and a wife-beater. He had been spending the past few hours packing his suitcase, though it mostly consisted of clean underwear and socks, and what would be his new uniform in the army.
From his worn expression, however, you would think that he had been at it for days, instead of just a few hours. And there was a look in his eyes that looked grim, Pitch thought. Like he didn’t expect that he was going to come back. A natural thought, really, when you were a man going off to war.
“I said, you don’t have to wait for me.” Pitchiner then said. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Pitch felt himself bristle at those words. Just who the hell did he think he was? He scowled, and looked back down on his typewriter, the machinery showing his anger in the angry rattling it made.
“I think I am perfectly capable of making that decision myself, thank you!” Pitch growled, when he at one point paused to push the platen back into place, before he gave Pitchiner a nasty look. “Leave me to my free will in that regard, if you please!” With that, he returned to his typing.
Pitchiner frowned, but rather than giving a snarky remark, he sighed.
“I just don’t want to see you end up like Piki.”
The typing stopped, and Pitch closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly.
“I may be his twin,” he said coldly, “but I am not my brother. It was his own damn fault, that Jack decided to leave. And we have already agreed on that it was no fault of yours, that you got drafted into the damn army! We can’t all be perfect specimens.”
Pitchiner frowned. “I know, but-”
“But nothing!” Pitch snapped. “We have all made our decisions. And you do not get to make them for me! If or when I do get sick of waiting, IN MY OWN DAMN TIME, you can get a damn Dear John letter like everybody else!” With that final, hard note in his tone, he glared down at the typewriter and went back to work.
Pitchiner stood silent for a bit, watching the other typing away. He eventually turned around and went back into the bedroom to finish packing.
When they went to bed that night, Pitch was the one to initiate sex, and Pitchiner responded to it gladly. It varied between rough and tender, the both of them leaving as many marks as possible on each other as they could, the two of them clinging to one another in the afterglow when they were finished.
It somehow made it a little easier to part ways the next morning, when Pitchiner had to leave for the army.
He would wait, he decided, as he climbed up into the army truck that was waiting for him. Pitch had never been dishonest about his promises. If a certain kind of letter should show up, then that was that. No use in dwelling on it, when it might not even happen.
Saw 29 and had to ask NDU Nightmare Galleon.
plush-anon
(I have no idea if this is any specific kind of ‘verse really. Brain went 'it’s an AU, of course it’s not modern times’, thus the typewriter among other things.)
“You don’t have to wait for me.”
Pitch looked up from the typewriter, frowning at the others words. “Excuse me?”
Pitchiner was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, clad in just a pair of pants and a wife-beater. He had been spending the past few hours packing his suitcase, though it mostly consisted of clean underwear and socks, and what would be his new uniform in the army.
From his worn expression, however, you would think that he had been at it for days, instead of just a few hours. And there was a look in his eyes that looked grim, Pitch thought. Like he didn’t expect that he was going to come back. A natural thought, really, when you were a man going off to war.
“I said, you don’t have to wait for me.” Pitchiner then said. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Pitch felt himself bristle at those words. Just who the hell did he think he was? He scowled, and looked back down on his typewriter, the machinery showing his anger in the angry rattling it made.
“I think I am perfectly capable of making that decision myself, thank you!” Pitch growled, when he at one point paused to push the platen back into place, before he gave Pitchiner a nasty look. “Leave me to my free will in that regard, if you please!” With that, he returned to his typing.
Pitchiner frowned, but rather than giving a snarky remark, he sighed.
“I just don’t want to see you end up like Piki.”
The typing stopped, and Pitch closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly.
“I may be his twin,” he said coldly, “but I am not my brother. It was his own damn fault, that Jack decided to leave. And we have already agreed on that it was no fault of yours, that you got drafted into the damn army! We can’t all be perfect specimens.”
Pitchiner frowned. “I know, but-”
“But nothing!” Pitch snapped. “We have all made our decisions. And you do not get to make them for me! If or when I do get sick of waiting, IN MY OWN DAMN TIME, you can get a damn Dear John letter like everybody else!” With that final, hard note in his tone, he glared down at the typewriter and went back to work.
Pitchiner stood silent for a bit, watching the other typing away. He eventually turned around and went back into the bedroom to finish packing.
When they went to bed that night, Pitch was the one to initiate sex, and Pitchiner responded to it gladly. It varied between rough and tender, the both of them leaving as many marks as possible on each other as they could, the two of them clinging to one another in the afterglow when they were finished.
It somehow made it a little easier to part ways the next morning, when Pitchiner had to leave for the army.
He would wait, he decided, as he climbed up into the army truck that was waiting for him. Pitch had never been dishonest about his promises. If a certain kind of letter should show up, then that was that. No use in dwelling on it, when it might not even happen.
