storypaint (
storypaint) wrote2009-08-12 02:38 pm
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Entry tags:
To Creep as Well as Soar (Kyle gen)
Title: To Creep as Well as Soar
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 436 words
Prompt:
clampanonmeme: Dr. Kyle/Xing Huo. Something funny, like... having tea together while FWR is occupied peeping at people, and maybe they mention the fact that their boss is a creep?
Pairing: slight Kyle/Xing Huo
Other: This did not turn out funny at all. Warnings for violent imagery, PG.
Excerpt: So the best that they can do between them is this man, grown old and crusty in his hate and anger. Neither of them love him, and worst of all, he knows.
The boss is a creep.
Xing Huo never says it, and Kyle never says it, but they take tea together at the same time each day, trying to ignore Fei Wong's rumble from the next room. Kyle isn't really a doctor; Xing Huo isn't real. So the best that they can do between them is this man, grown old and crusty in his hate and anger. Neither of them love him, and worst of all, he knows.
They do not love him, but they would die for him, even if they cannot share their reasons why. For something better. For something more than themselves. Evil isn't evil the whole way through; glass glitters in the darkness. Potential, even in those made only for one purpose.
Fei Wong laugh and shouts, screaming into the dimness at the other failed clones, who are all silent, as always. As Xing Huo is supposed to be. Kyle bows to her, mocking, offering a hand to help her up. They still do not speak.
Later, she will let the original go, with no regrets. Kyle will take tea by himself from then on, regretting her loss in that he has to brew it himself. And that it is he who finally peels her off the wall, the clotted blood crumbling like dust across his hands, her eyes staring through him.
The portal awaits Kyle, the redness of it stark and metaphoric. He was born, not made, and he does not miss the symbolism. A shrug; another of his boss's foibles. He does not try to understand him. He suspects that is a lost cause.
Someone has dampened the sugar bowl, somehow, and the crystals cling together until he breaks them to pieces with his fingers. Kyle remembers the press of Xing Huo's leg against his under the table, the occasional ladder of her fishnets brushed to his skin.
He stirs his tea, but it's cold before he drinks it. He leaves the cup half-abandoned when the master shouts for him.
(Later, he'll come back to clean it up, if he lives. Sometimes he thinks he leaves it half-empty to make sure that happens; a little charm for the luck he does not have. Her cup has been broken all to pieces.)
"Yes, Fei Wong?" he says politely, bowing deeply before the man with a craggy face and ridiculous dreams. The monocled man's face breaks into a triumphant smile.
"You will go for me," he says. "You will."
The false doctor nods and wonders who will do the dishes when he's gone.
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 436 words
Prompt:
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Pairing: slight Kyle/Xing Huo
Other: This did not turn out funny at all. Warnings for violent imagery, PG.
Excerpt: So the best that they can do between them is this man, grown old and crusty in his hate and anger. Neither of them love him, and worst of all, he knows.
The boss is a creep.
Xing Huo never says it, and Kyle never says it, but they take tea together at the same time each day, trying to ignore Fei Wong's rumble from the next room. Kyle isn't really a doctor; Xing Huo isn't real. So the best that they can do between them is this man, grown old and crusty in his hate and anger. Neither of them love him, and worst of all, he knows.
They do not love him, but they would die for him, even if they cannot share their reasons why. For something better. For something more than themselves. Evil isn't evil the whole way through; glass glitters in the darkness. Potential, even in those made only for one purpose.
Fei Wong laugh and shouts, screaming into the dimness at the other failed clones, who are all silent, as always. As Xing Huo is supposed to be. Kyle bows to her, mocking, offering a hand to help her up. They still do not speak.
Later, she will let the original go, with no regrets. Kyle will take tea by himself from then on, regretting her loss in that he has to brew it himself. And that it is he who finally peels her off the wall, the clotted blood crumbling like dust across his hands, her eyes staring through him.
The portal awaits Kyle, the redness of it stark and metaphoric. He was born, not made, and he does not miss the symbolism. A shrug; another of his boss's foibles. He does not try to understand him. He suspects that is a lost cause.
Someone has dampened the sugar bowl, somehow, and the crystals cling together until he breaks them to pieces with his fingers. Kyle remembers the press of Xing Huo's leg against his under the table, the occasional ladder of her fishnets brushed to his skin.
He stirs his tea, but it's cold before he drinks it. He leaves the cup half-abandoned when the master shouts for him.
(Later, he'll come back to clean it up, if he lives. Sometimes he thinks he leaves it half-empty to make sure that happens; a little charm for the luck he does not have. Her cup has been broken all to pieces.)
"Yes, Fei Wong?" he says politely, bowing deeply before the man with a craggy face and ridiculous dreams. The monocled man's face breaks into a triumphant smile.
"You will go for me," he says. "You will."
The false doctor nods and wonders who will do the dishes when he's gone.