Posts tagged ct.
RvB: Graduation (Happy Birthday, Nem!)
He held her hand softly, fingers interlaced. “What’s your favourite graduation?” he whispered, keeping this tradition of small, harmless, personal questions in the dark. She was always herself when no one could see her.
“What do you mean?” she said, genuine.
“Mine was fifth grade.” He turned and gestured out into the room, even if it was so dark he knew she couldn’t see. “We all got tiny caps and gowns like we were graduating high school, but it only took ten minutes because you can’t make nine year olds sit still for much longer. We got a giant piece of paper and then threw our hats at each other. My parents bought me ice cream.” He squeezed her hand a little before adding, explaining, “my mother had passed away by my high school graduation. It was so much longer, too. More stuffy.”
She raised their hands and kissed the back of his. Compassion. Another thing she was so good at, in the dark. “Last time my parents were together was in Kindergarten.” She gave it more thought, and Wash heard her lick her lips. “I think my favourite is college. It was long. Neither of my parents came. I didn’t get ice cream,” she added, with a smile. “But I did it. Without any help, I did it.”
They lay there in silence for a while, her thumb making circles over his. “Did you join right after?” he said.
“Yep,” Connie nodded, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’d just graduated college. I thought I could do anything.”
“You can,” he said, without thought. Without hesitation. She squeezed his hand.
“Sometimes, I think so too.” She rolled over, closer to him, and he smiled as she fell asleep, slowly, into his arms.
“You seem like you’d be the type to fall in love often,” she said, and he wasn’t sure why he took offense to it.
“Is that wrong?” Wash stammered, half defensive, half apologetic. “How many times have you been in love, then?”
“Twice.” The number hung in the air, filling the space between them with intimidation. “Once in high school. It was probably more puppy love than anything. And then again, just after college.”
“We grew up,” she said with a shrug. “We didn’t grow up together, so when I left for training, there wasn’t anything to sustain.” Connie said all of this looking at the ceiling. His sheets covered her bare hips, just a corner. She had declared it too hot and lacked the modesty to care that the rest of her lay exposed in the dark. The number two floating between them. Or maybe just over him. “I bet you tell girls you love them after a month.”
He crossed his arms, laying down on his back next to her and pouting slightly. “What of it?”
“Doesn’t it, I don’t know, cheapen it? If you say it so often.”
“How can it cheapen what you feel? I say it because it’s true.” She turned to him, looking at him with that intense curiosity that always made him want to share secrets.
“How do you have so much? I mean. You’d run out eventually. You’d get hurt and you’d stop saying it so often because it lets people hurt you.”
“It lets people love you,” he corrected, holding to his point. All defense now.
“Love hurts,” she concluded, rolling back again.
“People hurt,” he corrected again. “Love-“
“I’m tired,” she said, with a certain finality. I’m tired of this conversation. I’m tired of love.
It took him three months longer to say it to her. And three weeks shorter to feel it.
RvB Prompt: Whispers
Prompt from Nem: You’re one of my secrets, too. Wash/CT
She always thought he spoke in little private bursts, moments he makes his own as he leans into her ear. She used to accuse him of stealing them, but the more she got to know him, the more she realized that stealing anything was far too dishonest for him. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But she knew how she felt when he would lean over during lunch and mutter something only for her ears, and stolen or not, it was private. It was intimate. It was just like him.
He always thought she was telling him a secret. The way she smiled when he starined to hear, and the small laugh she always had when he asked her to repeat something. Sometimes she slipped him notes, and he thought he was in some kind of spy movie, and the paper would self-destruct after he read it. The more he got to know her, the more she seemed like a secret herself, from her words to her laugh to her smile to the way she held his hand. No one had ever trusted him with a secret before.
poolwatcher asked: Prompt: "I believe we lied, even though we said it was the truth. We were never in love with each other, it only felt just the same." Pairing/character of your choice.
“Love doesn’t come easy,” he said one night, and she frowned in the darkness.
“Shouldn’t it, though?” she said, rustling herself free from his embrace to turn and face him. “Shouldn’t it just be easy and natural? Shouldn’t it come when we feel it, and without having to fight for it?”
“No one writes about the ones that come easy,” he offered, after a moment.
“That’s because everyone writes with a broken heart,” she said back, turning around again so his face was buried between her shoulder blades.
He was quiet for a while, breathing her in to gather courage. She felt him tense up and ask, “does this come easy to you? I mean, natural?”
“Yes,” Connie answered, eyes open in the darkness. As he relaxed into her, she smiled and pressed against him, all second thoughts gone. This feeling, this smell, his arms around her. This was love. Surely, this was love.
Later, she would think, loving and lying are only a few letters apart.
completelysane asked: For Wash/CT: "But I will not chase your shadow as you go from room to room/dropping handkerchiefs and daggers, smoking guns and other clues"
CT never thought herself hard to find, not for someone who had all of the Freelancer network at their disposal. Sure, the Insurrectionists had done their best hiding her behind a new voice and a new signal and, for good measure, in the middle of a desert, but she knew better than to think the Director didn’t know about it. She still spent those first few months waiting for someone, someone very specific, to do just a little digging and follow the smoking trail of self destruction that she left in her wake.
completelysane asked: "There’s no one to talk to/All I can think/Is your eyes are full of train smoke/And your mouth tastes like rain/And I know when I know nothing/I will always know your name" Wash/CT, maybe AU where she stays during the time he's implanted.
For the longest time since meeting him, she refused to call him anything other than Wash. Washington was never even an option. She remembered when he introduced himself and said “David”, our of habit. His cheeks turned red and he immediately tried to correct it, saying he wasn’t used to code names. She cut him off and said her name was Connie, and he thought she’d also confessed her real name for an entire month. York had come up to her later and said his name was Wash, when she asked what it was short for, York laughed. She looked it up in on a map later.
“David,” she would say as she sat next to his hospital bed, her hand tentatively next to his but never touching. It always calmed him down. It took her a few days to realize she should try it. She’d been saying “Wash” with no effect.
She only had another few days left. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
She kept going back and forth on her goodbye. If he was still unconscious, it might be easier. She thought about taking his hand. Maybe kissing him. Would she kiss David? Would she even kiss Wash at this point?
He moved again, and whimpered. She leaned close and whispered that everything was going to be alright.
That she was here for him.
Here for you,
completelysane asked: Prompt: "I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics..." ~Lemony Snicket. Wash/CT, Sandtrap.
“It’s like you don’t trust me,” she murmured with a small grin, that half joking manner that they were finally coming back to. He scoffed, the sound harsh in her ear piece, and walked past her pointedly as she was loading up her gun, exposing belly, back, unarmed, unfisted hands. “I’m not so sure you should, anyway,” she added, and took aim before he had time to turn.
queen-of-france asked: "I'll love you to death, I guess that's what you get/ And I don't know where we are all going to/ Love don't get stranger, it is what it is/ And I don't know where we are all going to/ Everything happens today, and that's what you get/ And I don't know where we are all going to" - Spiritualized, "Ladies And Gentlemen We're Floating In Space"
“I always hated that question,” she said accusingly, staring Wash down as if it would prevent him from asking it. “It’s my last chance,” he explained, and she tried to sigh but she was too busy being nervous and anxious, planning her way off this ship for good, in five minutes’ time. “Where do we go from here?” he said, softly, and she looked at him with all the harshness she could find and said in a voice that only cracked twice, “we don’t.”
completelysane asked: 15 for Wash/CT and 1 for Supernatural (any character/pairing is fine but Sam is my fave!)
15. kissing to save the day
“So, you remember that Firefly episode, The Train Job?” Wash asked a bit nervously. Connie glared at him.
“I can’t believe you’re going to get us arrested, Wash,” she repeated. “This is not how I wanted to spend my mandatory vacation.”
“I’d argue that York and North are going to get us arrested, by running away faster than us. And then picking that lock at the end of the alley.” He noticed her still glaring at him and decided to backpedal a bit. “But anyway, the episode, right?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Good. Think of that as context,” he said and slammed her against the alley wall, kissing her just as five police officers, two squad cars, and one helicopter ran past the entrance to the small abandoned street. One of the officers paused to look at their silhouette, let out a small chuckle, and kept going.
“Uh, guys?” York appeared a bit later, maybe a minute, maybe ten. “They’re gone. You can stop now.”
Wash immediately backed off of Connie, his cheeks slowly reddening. She looked at him, licking her lips thoughtfully, and said “The Train Job, huh?”
“It was inspiration,” he replied sheepishly.
North clapped him on the back, still drunk, and loudly declared “I can’t even believe that worked. Or that she kissed you. I really can’t believe she kissed you.” The other three shushed him hurriedly.
“Alright kids,” York said, “time to get out of here, but do it calmly. They always chase a running man.”
“You were going to be an astronaut?” Dean said one day, driving the impala down the road at predictably unsafe speeds.
“Yeah,” Sam said, a bit quietly. “I mean, before you came and got me-“
“I thought you were going to be a lawyer.” He picked up a leftover bag of chip crumbs from three days ago and emptied it into his mouth, blocking his vision of the road ahead with perfect accuracy.
“I did too, but, you know, once I got there-“
“-space? Dude, you were in space?”
Sam’s mouth twitched softly at his brother’s disbelief, somewhere between a smile and a frown. “Forget it. We hunt demons now.”
“If this doesn’t work out, Sammy, we’re gonna take you, me, and dad as soon as we find him, and you’re going to fly our asses to a demon-free moon.”
“Yeah,” Sam resigned, looking out the window now. “Sounds like a plan.”
For AJ! RvB: Extraction
When I have a moment, I will write you something more because it’s your birthday so you need more fics. But for now, here’s that one we collaborated on a long time ago that I found and finished this morning as a small, timely gift (to come before the belated one) :P
“I don’t see why we have a random trooper on this mission,” Wyoming said, staring at the offending man in plain, unenhanced armor.
“It is the mission. Protecting a civilian,” South said and the malice was obvious in her voice. Wyoming and Connie laughed.
“Come on, guys,” York said with an easy shrug. “Just give the guy a chance, it won’t kill us to learn how to play nice with others.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Maine growled.
“Hey, we could all use a little more teamwork.”
The new guy laughed, and betrayed that “he” was actually a “she”.
“You’re not helping my case,” York muttered and the girl raised her hands in defense and defeat.
“You can carry your own weight?” Carolina demanded, speaking for the first time since the Pelican took off. “We’re two minutes from drop point.”
“Yeah, no sweat,” she said and that seemed enough for Carolina.
“If I had known we were going to babysit, I would’ve brought my gold stars to give you for doing a good job at not dying,” South muttered with a smile.
“Who would ever let you within a mile of their kids?” York retorted. North’s small, instinctive laugh came over the radio and died just as suddenly as South’s head whipped around to face him.
“She used to babysit all the time,” North said, suddenly very interested in defending his sister’s credibility to watch over children. “Tons of people in our neighborhood would hire her, all the kids were scared shi—-loved her. Loved her, yes.”
“I’ll have to make due without that validation, then,” the girl said, her voice smothered in sarcasm.
“I see why you stuck up for her, York,” Wash chimed in from across the soldier. “She’s got your terrible, obvious sense of humor.”
“Hey, I have a fucking awesome sense of humor,” both of them said at the same time, and Wash sat back smugly with his arms across his chest, his point sufficiently proven.
“Get ready,” Carolina said firmly, cutting the other replies from the agents short. “Showtime.”
“Really?” York snickered and Carolina’s helmet turned to glare at him. “Sorry, sorry, I just…really?”
The doors opened before anything else could be said, and the agents rushed out, a surly Carolina behind them.
“Are you mad you didn’t get to have the last word,” York asked, head tilted towards the leader in an oddly apologetic stance.
“No,” she growled simply.
“Right, because that would be silly.”
York nodded. “Sorry.”
She looked at him for a moment, her expression softening slightly under the helmet, and then - “You know, I could’ve sworn you were taller.”
“Must be how I’m standing or something. We ready to go?”
She gave him an odd look- as she normally did -before shaking her head and jumping out. The cement cratered under Carolina’s feet, knees nearly touching the ground. The others had taken up observational cover around her and she was momentarily caught in the revelation that their guest, crouched between the twins, had to be taller than South. The thought was jarred out of her head when York hit the ground hard, stringing together curses as he got to his feet and- was he limping? -moved to cover next to Maine. Carolina just shook her head and barked out, “What’ve we got?” She’d long since come to terms with the fact that, so long as he wasn’t hampering the mission, York just did whatever York did.
“Looks like a full house,” North said, scoping the place out on his sniper rifle. “Couple of guards and a lot of traffic in the halls.”
Carolina took in the building and surroundings, forming and discarding plans until she said, “Alright, we’ll go for the tried and true method. Maine, you and South make a nice big diversion on the east end. I saw some fuel tanks there and possibly a generator on the drop in. I want you drawing as many to you as you can. North and Wyoming will scope out sniper positions and cover you. The rest of us will head into the base. Connie, we’ll leave you at the data center to get our secondary objective. Wash, watch her back. York and I will get out guest here through to our primary objective. We’ll move once North and Wyoming are in position. Everyone clear?”
They all nodded, “Got it.”
“Get to it, people!”
The Freelancers split up and as Carolina led hers close to the building entrance, she heard York whispering to the newcomer: “She sounds like some cheesey action movie.”
The newcomer whispered right back, “Hey- everyone’s got their kicks.”
“That doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”
“Hey,” Carolina snapped at them. “We’ve got a mission to focus on.” They held up their hands in almost identical apologetic shrugs.
By Carolina’s elbow, Connie snickered. “What’s wrong, Carolina? Jealous that York’s got a new banter buddy?”
“Try keeping up this time, Connecticut.”
Connie just shook her head and laughed which was not the reaction Carolina was going for but at least she didn’t say anything again. In the end, that was fine by Carolina because, even though she’d never admit it out loud, she thought this was pretty useless training mission. Get their special guest party member to the center of the facility to gain access to some prototype only she knew the codes for. Carolina didn’t know why she couldn’t just explain how the Freelancers could get it on their own but the Director had decided and she wasn’t about to question him about it. He already shot down Connie’s attempts to ask, anyway.
queen-of-france asked: "You can't take back, the one mistake/That still lives on after life it takes/ In that one day that changed our lives / And bitter memories are left behind" - The Offspring, "End of the Line"
“I remember you,” she said, defensively, sitting by the fire in the cold desert.
“Good for you,” Wash responded, terse, patronizing, effective. CT remembered him, yes, but she sure as hell didn’t know him.
RvB: Confirmation (post s10e10)
Wash supposed it was payback for how he broke the news about York.
Not that Carolina was being intentionally malicious. She probably didn’t even know there was anything to be malicious about. He and CT had fallen apart so spectacularly months before that mission, months before he realized she was talking to the Insurrection. So when she told him what happened, and he responded, she didn’t know what was happening.
Sometimes Wash hated how good of a liar he’d become.
And he’d just blurted it out, hastily, just “York is dead.” He didn’t offer her details or explanations or a warning. At least she gave him all three.
Even if he kind of wished she hadn’t.
But that was it, then. Confirmed. CT - Connie - has been dead for a long time. He should have checked the helmet when he first found it. Should have checked for her face. But then he’d be standing here, looking at it in the sand with hope and he remembered how much hope hurts, how it eats at you and how it sweeps everything in its wake for a tidal wave of pain in the face of confirmation.
So he answered, nonchalantly, the same acting that got him re-certified after Epsilon. He looked at the armor of the woman he thought dead, adding a sense of guilt or betrayal. Maybe if he had agreed to leave with her, all that time ago. When she first asked. Maybe then-
Maybe then he wouldn’t need confirmation. He wouldn’t have had to tell Carolina in three words the only person she cared about died. He wouldn’t have had every friend turn on him.
He wouldn’t need to constantly second guess his old squad leader because another betrayal would be just his luck.
He wouldn’t find so much comfort in two teams of simulation troopers who never seem to do anything right, because somehow it seems that little fact keeps them from doing anything horribly wrong, too.
He wouldn’t need confirmation, and it wouldn’t hurt so damn much when he got it.
RvB Song Prompt: Braille (Regina Spektor) AU Part 2
Part 1 here.
‘Cause it’s been turpentine and patches
It’s been cold, cold Campbell’s from the can
They were just two jerks playing with matches
‘Cause that’s all they knew how to play
The first thing she heard about Project Freelancer was that their top agent had died. The information was years late, she knew, and it was secondhand and not meant for her at all. Information kept from her for years because she said she didn’t want anything else to do with them. That a child was a enough to handle from Project Freelancer.
But now at night she finds herself wondering if that means it was Carolina or Tex. She manages to make it three days before she dusts off her old infiltrator skills and has a sit down with the computer, digging up all of the files she can find on the freelancers.
The first few pages are all the data she brought over with her. It wasn’t until page seven that the information on the AI begins to get more specific. Which one was assigned to which agent. Sorted by importance, the first flagged file she found was a report of an agent who had two AIs at once, and it led to her death. Codename Carolina.
Not for the first time, CT was very glad that she’d never reached the top of that scoreboard.
A few pages more and she read about how York and Tex left the program. Both still with their AIs. Wyoming was not so lucky.
Her fingers typed a flurry of codes and letters and keywords until two articles popped up. Agent Washington receives the Epsilon AI. His resulting mental instability halts the project in its tracks. Committed to a hospital ward until further notice, AI removed.
And there was the other article, the one dated just a week ago. Agent Washington, cleared for duty. New code name: Recovery One.
RvB Song Prompt: Braille (Regina Spektor) AU Part 1
She was lying on the floor and counting stretch marks
She hadn’t been a virgin and he hadn’t been a god
So she named the baby Elvis
To make up for the royalty he lacked
CT was never sure if she should tell him, and her indecision ultimately answered itself. She left without a word to Wash, and she convinced herself that it was better this way. What would he do in this project, with scoreboards and life-but-mostly-death missions and AI, what would he possibly do here with a kid.
She wasn’t sure what she’d do with a kid, either, but all she could think of was that it was his, it was Wash, and it was whole, which is more than she could say for the father.
“You have to get me out, now. There’s a physical in a week.” She tried to record the message without her voice shaking, but she finally conceded that it was impossible to do. She sent it, and the response was immediate. Tomorrow. Be ready for extraction.
That night she said goodbye.
He looked at her oddly, probably caught off guard by the civility of the conversation.
“Turning in for the night?”
“Yeah. Hey. Thanks.”
“For making this bearable for so long.”
“You’re welcome,” he said oddly, but didn’t think more of it.
Her skin was flawless. He had expected freckles, he wasn’t sure why, but when he saw he face up close, there was nothing but smooth skin.
For some reason he had this thought that her long sleeve shirts would hide birthmarks and blemishes and moles and, somehow, scars. As she took the shirts off in the dark of his room at what passes for night time out in space, his fingers traced the skin gingerly and found nothing. It was smooth, much smoother than he’d ever thought.
He relied on this tactile experience to get to know her body, the idle thoughts of imperfections now desperate desires to find them, but all he found was smooth, soft, tingling skin.
The morning she left, she pushed a small piece of paper under Wash’s door, the location of the thing he’d spent every on again, off again meeting searching for. It said “small blemish, behind right ear lobe”. She didn’t sign it, and she knew she didn’t need to.
She could run her fingers over the tight skin on her stomach now and close her eyes and pretend it was still silky and smooth. She felt him kick underneath the skin, stained with white veins of stress, worry, and love running on the sides of her body.
She had toyed with the idea of naming him David. She thought it’d be fitting, or poetic, or something, but in the end when she heard him cry the name “Elvis” slipped out, slipped out because for the past eighteen hours she’d been humming the very first song Wash ever sang to her - Love Me Tender.
completelysane replied to your post: I’m spiralling towards introvert writing mode but…
Braille-inspired AU? What is this wonderful thing?
I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but an AU inspired by the song Braille by Regina Spektor, because it’s amazing and she’s wonderful and also all the things.
The basic plotline of it is that CT leaves Project Freelancer pregnant with Wash’s kid. And how all of that works in with the rest of the events of the series.