I feel like a hibernating yeti.

[blue_soaring]

I'm not exactly sure what I've been doing with myself for the past month (er, aside from devouring everything even remotely related to SPN), but whatever it was, I think I'm done. Very much missing the internets now.

And while I think of it, maho_kiwi? That thing I was going to mail you a billion light years ago? Well, um. I mailed it. And by 'mailed it' I obviously mean 'gave to Roomie to mail from work' (free postage!)... but it's sort of been sitting in her mailroom all this time. -_- I forgot to nag her about it. So, I'm thinking I might Xpress it to you or something. As soon as laylah tells me what kinds of tea she likes. :3

springkink roundup, for those of you playing at home!

Wolf at the Door, Rude/Tseng, NC-17, ~2400 words.
Whatever it is they come looking for, they each find it easily enough spread out beneath Tseng's hands.

Blood Rich, Tseng/Reno, PG-13, ~850 words.
Bodyguards are accessories.

Silhouette, Rude/Tseng, NC-17, ~1250 words.
Black suits, flat eyes and vicious smiles, that's all anybody ever really sees.

This Town's Religion, Reno/Rufus, NC-17, ~550 words.
Rufus gives the show his all.

Dirt in the Machine, Reno/Rufus, R, ~300 words.
"I suppose you're keeping a tally."

4 Minute Warning, Rude/Reno, NC-17, ~700 words.
This isn't the sort of thing Rude does.

Poetry and Prozac, Reno/Elena, R, ~500 words.
Too far away to make a decent target, somebody hiss-whispers into a crackling walkie-talkie.

Damage Control, Rude/Reno, NC-17, ~600 words.
The vaguely human-shaped lump beside him snores like a hibernating grizzly.

untitled, Turks/Rufus, PG, ~500 words.
His Turks circle the bed, grim black shadows smeared with grit and grime.

The Bark to Your Bite, Reno/Rufus, R, D/s, ~600 words.
Rufus says he likes things scripted, orderly and predictable. Reno's none of these things.

Red White and Black, Reno/Tseng, NC-17, ~700 words.
Tseng gave him instructions on how to drop the Sector in three minutes flat. Reno offered to get him off in the same.

A~nd one more, that I completely and entirely forgot about and haven't posted to the community yet (since it's like, May)...

untitled
FF7. Rude/Tseng. PG. ~650 words.
Rude notices things because that's what he's paid for.

Rude tries to not take things for granted. He's seen it one too many times before, a suit getting too comfortable with a cushy deal, a SOLDIER too caught up in his own invincibility to notice the bullet headed straight for his brain. Putting on the black suit means Rude's life-expectancy is only slightly lower than anybody else's in this city, as long as he doesn't wake up stupid one morning.

He stretches his legs out and tucks one arm under the other. The cesspool across the street has been fairly quiet for the last few of hours; one antsy pizza delivery guy, a whore and her john, two mako-poppers. Reno's holed up in a room near the lobby with a couple of grunts to check out the comers-and-goers. Intel says their mark isn't smart enough for a disguise, but Rude's like Tseng in that he doesn't like to take chances.

Rude's gaze shifts three feet to the left. Tie loosened and jacket hung from the bedpost, Tseng looks almost as skinny as Reno. His eyes are closed, face slack with sleep. Looking at him, someone would be hard-pressed to believe whispering his name is enough to snap him fully awake in one second flat. Rude scratches at the evening stubble on his chin.

Tseng has a habit of flying solo. When they're not working a job together, he and Reno usually have at least a grunt, most oftentimes a SOLDIER or two, for backup. Rude doesn't think it's cockiness, or some Wutian lone-warrior thing like Reno jokes about - Tseng has the face of one, and that tattoo curled sinuous as a snake at the nape of his neck isn't any symbol from this side of the ocean, but Tseng's on ShinRa's payroll. Any ties he might've had with his homeland were cut long ago.

Tseng's dark eyes glint in the headlights of a passing car.

"No sign yet," Rude says.

Bedsprings creak in protest as Tseng sits up. He rests his back to the naked, pockmarked plaster, leg drawn up and elbow on his knee. His voice is rougher than Rude expects when he asks, "Have you eaten?"

Rude grunts softly, eyes back on the window and a thumb jerked at the cartons spread across the rickety table.

The bed squeaks again. Tseng's footsteps are breath-soft on the industrial carpet. "Vegetarian," he says, sifting through the cold carryout. "Your preference?"

Rude makes a low affirmative sound deep in his throat. He murmurs quietly to Reno's team there's an incoming, but Rude knows it's not their guy. Reno treats him to a few curses muttered straight in his ear before going silent.

Tseng pushes away from the edge of the table and comes to stand a few feet from the window, opposite Rude, the deep shadows nearly swallowing him whole. The light from the fizzing streetlamp outside falls just a few inches away from his bare toes.

Rude notices things because that's what he's paid for. Murder and mayhem's only about one-quarter the job. His life doesn't depend on knowing that Tseng is as efficient with chopsticks as he is a gun, or that his feet are slender and smooth as his hands.

Sleeping under the watch of someone else implies a sense of trust. They've all shift-slept before, been holed up in dark rooms with one another where there's no breathing room and even less privacy. Somehow, half-dressed with his toes peeking out from the cuffs of his slacks, Tseng seems more vulnerable right now than when he was asleep.

Tseng's job description is the same as his, so Tseng notices him noticing. "Care to go for a walk?" he asks.

"Got movement," Rude says, realising a second too late Tseng already knew. He shakes his head and rises, pulling on his gloves as he heads for the door. Glancing back to see Tseng sink to the floor and check the sight on a sniper rife, Rude doesn't need to wish him luck.

*
End

---

Also, I realise I should probably use a Shinra-type icon, since this post is whopping amounts of FF7, but, Dean. And Sam. 'Nuff said. Wot, Reno thinks they're hot, too! And brothers! He's all over that kink like a cheap suit.

Comments

[laylah.livejournal.com]

Woo, tea! ^_^

I like flavored black teas, mostly. The sort one can have milk and sugar in. Most mornings I go for Earl Grey, but we also have some orange-spice stuff and some chai that I switch in on occasion.

Mmmm. ^^

[laylah.livejournal.com]

also -- is Dean supposed to look like his left eye's normal and his right eye's full of evil, or is that a trick of the light in that particular image?

[blue-soaring.livejournal.com]

Okay, so I've been squinting at that icon for the past few days, and I am totally missing any evidence of Dean EvilEye. So, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's a trick of the light that only people with at least half a passing knowledge of artisty type things could even hope to notice.

More importantly, I'm having a mild fangirl attack at the thought that you know SPN. Because, my love? For SPN? Hard enough to pound nails. :D

[laylah.livejournal.com]

Heh. Icon did not even register -- I mean the pic in your layout. ^^

...I'm afraid the extent of my SPN knowledge is being able to tell a) which one is which, and b) which one is the fandom's darling. Me and TV fandoms don't hang out much. ^^;

[blue-soaring.livejournal.com]

Trick o' the lighting, then. At least, I think it is, because I don't remember an evil!Dean pic like this one. Heh.

I think Dean's the fandom darling at this point, but man, I love them both. Great characters. I just wish I could tell the actors themselves apart consistently, because I keep switching one damn J-name for the other (three main guys are Jared, Jensen and Jeff. I mean, c'mon).

ps. tea.

[nekofreak.livejournal.com]

gah so much to read! *bookmarks~*

but omg YAY you're back!!! *clingsnuggles*

[blue-soaring.livejournal.com]

I'm back! And writing! And omgwee! *EATS*

[nekofreak.livejournal.com]

yay~! i missed you!! *chews on* and writing yaaaay! ^_^

is it ycon yet?? ;_;