storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-09-15 09:04 am
storypaint) wrote2009-09-15 09:04 am
Unbuttoned (Mal/Polly)
Title: Unbuttoned
Fandom: Discworld (Monstrous Regiment)
Length: 454 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic: Discworld, Polly/Mal, new uniforms
Pairing: Mal/Polly
Other: PG for implications. Spoilers for end of book.
Excerpt: "The joke uniform," Polly said. She had her rifle over her knee, cleaning it carefully. She glanced up at Mal.
"I don't know why you still wear that one," Polly said to Mal.
They were sitting around the campfire, or what would have been a campfire if Polly hadn't swiftly extinguished the carefully-built collection of sticks and held an impromptu face-to-face lecture with the private who had had the bad luck to be the first to try it when they were trying not to be seen. The private was on guard duty, as reprimand, and the other soldiers had been sent to bed. The officers were watching. They felt something in their bones, and that was a sensation you didn't ignore, not if you wanted to live through the night to sleep again.
Mal looked up from deep contemplation of her coffee (there were ways, if you were careful, to keep the smoke from searching eyes). She blinked.
"Pol?"
In front of the recruits, she was never Polly, always Sergeant. The two of them were careful with their familiarities.
"The joke uniform," Polly said. She had her rifle over her knee, cleaning it carefully. She glanced up at Mal.
Mal looked down. She was wearing the uniform given to them when they were marched home in more-or-less honorable glory. The skirt had been ripped and repaired into something more suited to actual combat situations, but she was still noticeable female. Polly hadn't had a chance to ask, being caught up in recent events. She'd abandoned the skirt over her pants on the second day of their march. But Mal was still wearing it, still feminine. How she walked in those boots, Polly would never know.
"Vampire thing," she said, shrugging. "Like I said before, something about the corsets and dark colors. It's built in."
She sighed and her bosom heaved, and Polly swallowed. There was a sudden thread of longing flowing through her, one she'd been trying to repress for some time. She wasn't... Lofty and Tonker, they were...
They always had each other.
And hadn't Mal come back to fight with her?
"It looks good on you," she said, her throat tight, and she finished cleaning her rifle, darting back to her tent like a new recruit who'd heard a rustle in the bushes. She felt silly, lying there in the dark and trying to sleep.
"I like this one on you," someone purred in her ear, suddenly, and she managed not to stab Mal in fright, but only just.
"Sneaking up on a soldier is a bad idea," she said gruffly, which might have worked had her voice not squeaked.
"I think it might be a good idea in this case," Maledicta whispered, her voice hot in Polly's ear, and after a while, Polly had to agree.
Fandom: Discworld (Monstrous Regiment)
Length: 454 words
Prompt:
comment_fic: Discworld, Polly/Mal, new uniformsPairing: Mal/Polly
Other: PG for implications. Spoilers for end of book.
Excerpt: "The joke uniform," Polly said. She had her rifle over her knee, cleaning it carefully. She glanced up at Mal.
"I don't know why you still wear that one," Polly said to Mal.
They were sitting around the campfire, or what would have been a campfire if Polly hadn't swiftly extinguished the carefully-built collection of sticks and held an impromptu face-to-face lecture with the private who had had the bad luck to be the first to try it when they were trying not to be seen. The private was on guard duty, as reprimand, and the other soldiers had been sent to bed. The officers were watching. They felt something in their bones, and that was a sensation you didn't ignore, not if you wanted to live through the night to sleep again.
Mal looked up from deep contemplation of her coffee (there were ways, if you were careful, to keep the smoke from searching eyes). She blinked.
"Pol?"
In front of the recruits, she was never Polly, always Sergeant. The two of them were careful with their familiarities.
"The joke uniform," Polly said. She had her rifle over her knee, cleaning it carefully. She glanced up at Mal.
Mal looked down. She was wearing the uniform given to them when they were marched home in more-or-less honorable glory. The skirt had been ripped and repaired into something more suited to actual combat situations, but she was still noticeable female. Polly hadn't had a chance to ask, being caught up in recent events. She'd abandoned the skirt over her pants on the second day of their march. But Mal was still wearing it, still feminine. How she walked in those boots, Polly would never know.
"Vampire thing," she said, shrugging. "Like I said before, something about the corsets and dark colors. It's built in."
She sighed and her bosom heaved, and Polly swallowed. There was a sudden thread of longing flowing through her, one she'd been trying to repress for some time. She wasn't... Lofty and Tonker, they were...
They always had each other.
And hadn't Mal come back to fight with her?
"It looks good on you," she said, her throat tight, and she finished cleaning her rifle, darting back to her tent like a new recruit who'd heard a rustle in the bushes. She felt silly, lying there in the dark and trying to sleep.
"I like this one on you," someone purred in her ear, suddenly, and she managed not to stab Mal in fright, but only just.
"Sneaking up on a soldier is a bad idea," she said gruffly, which might have worked had her voice not squeaked.
"I think it might be a good idea in this case," Maledicta whispered, her voice hot in Polly's ear, and after a while, Polly had to agree.