comment_fic | Free For All

You're viewing

comment_fic
Create a Dreamwidth Account Learn More

Reload page in style: site light

evil-little-dog.livejournal.com posting in

Now it's time for the free for all!

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the spoiler cut.
If there are possible triggers in your story, please warn for them in the subject line!

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

cozy-coffee.livejournal.com

any, any, “I wish you the happiest of happiness.”

From:

cornerofmadness.livejournal.com

any, any, quiet fury

From:

turnerwolf.livejournal.com

He groaned as the sun poured into his room; the blinds had been raised, and he knew he hadn’t done that. Last night was a blur for the most part, like many of his most recent ones. A microwaved meal, followed by pills and a drink to try to take the edge off the pain. The pain his doctors were telling him did not exist.

Complete recovery, they kept telling him. Near on a full goddamned miracle. Any pain he was still experiencing, based on their charts and tests, they determined was psychosomatic. All in his head. And with that, away went the more potent prescribed pain pills, and he was left to make do with what was available over the counter. Another mess…he could only buy so much at a time, so multiple stops at chemists that were far away from each other to set off the initial warning when his ID was entered into the system.

He wasn’t stupid. They would catch up to him eventually, so he had to find another way, but for now…

He groaned as he sat up, back to the window, allowing that nasty sun in. He took a sniff…was that bacon? The question had just time to pass through his codeine-starved mind when the apartment erupted into the shrieking shrills of what seemed like every smoke detector he owned in the apartment.

He heard some soft cursing, a familiar voice…He slowly made his way out to the kitchen.

His eyes then flickered to the cabinet that held his drugs. The door was open, and the shelves were empty. Fuck.

Ted was busy waiving a dish towel around the smoke detector, closest to the stove, which finally quieted. A pan of burnt, what used to be bacon, lay on top of the stove. He stopped and looked over at Steve, studying him and trying to decide on the appropriate greeting.

“When were you going to tell me, son?”
Tone quiet, broken even.

Steve glanced wide-eyed at the empty cabinet. Never. He was never going to tell him about that. He was never going to admit a weakness he was losing, no HAD lost control over.

“No fella…not that,” Hastings let out a disgruntled huff, “Oh that, that is a whole other kettle of fish to fry, I want you to tell me when you were going to be man enough to tell me you wanted out. That you were planning on jumpin’ ship on me.” Concern, worry, and betrayal, the emotions rippled quickly over his features, settling on a cold, quiet fury.

“I’m not…Oh. It…I…” It wasn’t that Steve really wanted to leave AC12. But he knew it was a matter of time before he could no longer conceal his problems. The pills, the alcohol, his feelings for Hastings. When one of these problems slipped and came out, they all would, and he wouldn’t be able to keep them hidden forever. Not in a unit whose job was to sniff out these weaknesses in fellow serving officers when they were potentially being preyed upon by the criminal element. He was a joke, and he knew it. He had a good run. Ten years.

“I was just…keeping options open, you know?”

He wouldn't meet Hastings' eyes.

“Options. Fine. Exactly then, how do these fit into that…” He reached down to the floor, picking up a bag that had all the pills he had cleaned out of the cupboard and dumping them all over the table.

“Jesus lad…why didn’t ye come to me?” Ted asked as they both watched some of the bottles roll and fall onto the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Still not meeting Hastings' eyes, but a defiant tilt to his head.

“Attempting to save my best officer from himself. If he wants the help.”

Silence. He stared at Ted. His stomach twisting itself into knots. “I…it’s too late…”

“No…no, it’s not, son. I promise.”

He stared at Ted who sounded so sure, so confident, he wanted so much to believe him, to grasp the life preserver Ted was holding out to him.

“Please son, talk to me.”

God. It was Hastings still calling him ‘son’ that broke him. After everything…after Hastings’ confinement and questioning, after the pills, after knowing Steve was thinking about leaving…Hastings was still willing to go to bat for him.