![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixTitle taken from Abney Park's Vengeance.
Title: Like a Fragile Thing
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Rating: R
Word Count: 2272
Characters: Carolina, York
Summary: Trigger warning for attempted rape. Spoilers through season 9. After the Sarcophagus mission Carolina is angry and York refuses to be convenient.
Even under the turmoil of her emotions Carolina could feel her knuckles burning as she sunk punch after countless, bone-crunching punch into the heavy bag. She couldn't stop- she wouldn't stop. Not so long as she could feel the shame of failing coat her like an oil slick. The Director may not have stated his disapproval at her performance but he didn't have to for her to know it was there. She was the best, she was the most dependable. She had never failed, she had never lost to anyone, she was never anything less than perfect.
Until now.
With a roar she threw her weight into a haymaker and before the bag could swing back at her, hands held it in place.
"I'd ask if the bag did something to insult you, but I've dealt with this one before. It's a bit of a dick."
Carolina scowled and ran her wrist over her forehead, bangs sticking to her skin. "What do you want, York?"
The man grinned, half hanging from the bag. "Just seeing how you were doing. You did get knocked around a bit in that last mission." At that moment Carolina hated what an open book York was. She could see the concern practically rolling off of him. She wondered if he came looking for her on his own or if one of the others asked him to.
Wash and North were both soft-hearted enough to openly worry but too cowardly to test Carolina's mood. CT would've probably made a comment about 'Mommy being upset' and by now South had to know. Even if someone (North) hadn't told her, she'd know just from looking at the board. The next time they'd meet, South would make all sort of snide comments about Carolina being toppled, how she'd fallen, how she was no better than anyone else now.
"Carolina? You okay?"
It wasn't that Carolina thought she was better than the others, she just held herself to a higher standard. A standard the others couldn't match up to for whatever reason. One that Texas beat her at. Carolina hated losing. She hated challenges she couldn't overcome. She hated that Texas so effortlessly took away what she'd worked so long and hard to achieve.
"Okay, you're really starting to worry- mph!" The rest of York's words were muffled against Carolina's teeth, one of her hands fisted tightly in his hair. He had to struggle to pull back enough to ask, "What are you doing?"
"Shut up," she shoved him against a wall, devouring his mouth again.
Hands on her shoulders forced her back and York's expression was pinched tight. "Carolina, stop."
"No." She pushed his hands aside and kissed him again. Belatedly Carolina could taste blood on her tongue and York squirmed against her, trying to get an arm between them, get some leverage to separate them again. Carolina growled, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down. York may be stronger, but Carolina refused to be rejected. She wasn't going to lose this, she wasn't going to fail now.
York managed to slip his head back only for Carolina to bite down on his clavicle. "Ow- seriously, Carolina! Stop."
That word, that tone of voice made her heart constrict in ways she never felt before and she pulled back enough to glare at him, feeling shamed and betrayed. Why was he doing this? Why was he pushing her away? Was it because of what happened during the mission? Was he turning his back on her just like the others surely had?
No. Not York. Carolina refused to let him go. Texas wouldn't take him away from her, not like she did the top of the board or the Director's favor. Carolina would make him stay, make him want this.
She hooked her leg around York's, knocking him to the floor, pushing him down as she straddled him. He cursed and grappled with her, trying to shove her away until she caught an arm, bending it back until she could feel the limb protesting.
"Ow, fuck. What is wrong with you? Get off!"
Carolina put more pressure on his arm. "Stop. Fighting me." With one hand she shoved York's shirt up his chest, fingers clawing at the buckle of his trousers. Every time York moved to stop her, she pressed down on his wrist until he was biting back curses.
His chest heaved and York spat out, "Don't bring Texas into this!"
It felt like something in Carolina's heart snapped. Her hand wrapped around York's throat, slamming his head back hard enough she could feel a pained groan under her palm. "This has nothing to do with her!"
The bones in his wrist were grinding together in her hand and the cut on York's lip grew as he bit down on it. "Dammit, Carolina!" He snapped, "If it isn't Texas, then what are you thinking about? Because it sure as hell isn't me!"
There was something in his words, in the tone of his voice that made Carolina pause and look at him. Look in a way she hadn't since before she left to back up the twins two days ago. She saw the unnatural twist of his arm and her hand on his throat. She saw the line of his stomach where his shirt had been haphazardly shoved up and her legs pinning his down. She saw the defiance in his expression and the hint of something possibly like fear skirting on the edges. And then she finally noticed his face.
Dozens of time-accelerated healed cuts lay scattershot around the damaged socket, still a little puffy, skin still pink and raw and it was far more disconcerting than she had anticipated seeing York's left eye: a foggy, milky imitation of his right that stared almost sightlessly at her. Carolina had known, of course. As field leader she was given access to her team's medical records and she'd read up on York's condition during transport, knowing he wouldn't have given her the full truth. But there was a vast difference between knowing and seeing. As vastly different as York's eyes now were.
It was jarring to see this wounded, helpless man where there had always been York's easy smiles and warm expression. When Carolina realized that she was the cause of this, it horrified her in a way she couldn't completely fathom. She pulled her hands away from York's body, unable to look at him.
She shifted her weight to one hand in a slouch, bringing the other to her face and trying to get her head back in fucking place. Even with her eyes closed she could feel York's arm move, easing out the pain in his tendons and stretching the joint, getting the circulation back in his fingers. The thought of what she had just tried to do made Carolina more than a little sick to her stomach. Unable to deal with it, she pushed it deep down, took a breath and said, "I volunteered for another upgrade."
The pinch of his mouth was evident in his voice, "What kind of upgrade?"
"Don't know yet."
"Well, just be careful," the fact that York still spoke to her as if she hadn't just tried to rape him would've been hilarious if she hadn't just tried to fucking rape him. "You know I respect the Director and all, but first gen upgrades tend to be... buggy." The memory of Kentucky's body after the first attempt at utilizing the super speed equipment was still fresh enough in mind to make throats tighten.
A silence stretched between them; a silence they'd never shared before. It was thin and brittle, a gut-wrenching, poisonous thing that pierced at the thin skin between Carolina's shoulder blades. When she tried to breathe the air got stuck in her throat. "York-"
"It's okay."
"It's not okay! York, I just-"
"Hey," hands were on her wrist, pulling them away from her face and Carolina didn't realize when she started hiding behind them. "I get it. Really." He brought one of her hands to his lips, kissing the red knuckles and chaffed skin. "You were in a bad place in your head."
Why was he always like that? Why was York always so sweet and patient with her? She felt so ashamed, she wanted to curl in his arms until she could forgive herself. "That's no excuse," she said quietly.
"No, but I get it anyway."
Carolina looked into his mismatched eyes and saw the simple acceptance there. She gave into her urge and lay against his chest, trying to find comfort in the steady beating of York's heart.
His hands came up and lay gently on her, one on her hip, the other running through the ends of her hair. "Talked to the doc," he said. "After they were done ripping me a new one for sneaking out for the mission, they told me Maine's in stable condition. In bad shape and he'll probably be on light duty for a bit, but he'll survive."
Carolina couldn't help a fond, if slightly surprised, chuckle. Only York would worry about the guy who helped blind him in one eye. Just like only he could forgive what she'd nearly done. "You remember Maine threw a grenade in your face, right?"
York just shrugged, "And then he got shot in the throat. Figured we're even. Besides- bad blood between roommates never ends well." A hand danced lightly over her back and Carolina wondered if Maine taking a sniper round for her helped earned York's forgiveness. "Look- about Texas-"
The phantom smile slipped from Carolina's lips, replaced by a scowl. "I don't want to talk about her."
"Carolina-"
"Just," before she was even aware of it, her hands had clenched into fists again and Carolina forced them open one finger at a time, "let it alone, York. At least for now."
His lips pressed together but he relented. "Alright. For now."
This silence was a more familiar kind. Still brittle on the edges but softened in brief patches. The sweat dried on Carolina's skin, making her feel crusted and dirty, but the feeling of York under her cheek was too comforting to give up. She didn't know how he managed to make her feel self-conscious and relaxed at the same time or what he got out of coaxing her along in their relationship, but she was glad he was there: a constant, stabilizing force whenever the mission blew everyone about.
Before she really thought about it Carolina's fingertips brushed against the bruise on York's face before gently touching around his blind eye, following the scar down his cheek. He had to have been concussed from the cement block Maine hit him with or from the grenade; possibly even both. It was a testament to the Project's medical team and York's determination that he was able to go on that mission at all let alone come out of it without major additional injuries.
"How's your sight?"
He shrugged, seemingly content there on the floor. "Depth perception is kinda shot. Surprised you trusted me with driving. I sure wouldn't have."
"Your shooting is probably worse than your driving right now." The corners of her lips turned up, just enough for him to notice.
"Well, Command gave me permission to activate my healing unit whenever I've got my armor on. Says there's a chance it might repair some damage."
"You'll be able to see properly again?"
"Maybe. Not going to be getting my hopes up, though."
"We'll have to get you back up to speed if you want to keep your position."
"So long as I get to stay under you, I don't mind," and even if he had one broken eye, that look he gave still sent a shiver curling deliciously up Carolina's spine.
A hand wandered down her body and when he squeezed, Carolina sighed. "Are you sure?"
"Your head's back in place, right?" Fingers flexed and massaged and Carolina couldn't help rocking against them. When she shifted she could feel the beginnings of York's arousal against her thigh, "I've had a helluva day- you're not the only one that could use some relaxing."
Practiced hands slipped under York's shirt and Carolina knew his body enough to feel every bone-deep bruise and artificially mended break- all sustained from the clusterfuck that was yesterday morning's training exercise. Whenever she touched a tender spot, York gave a quiet hiss.
"You good for this?"
"Painkillers are starting to wear off so you'll have to do all the work. Other than that, I'm good."
She huffed in laughter, sliding over to cover York's body with her own, to let his hands skim up her back and her lips brush against his. "Me doing all the work? That's nothing new."
"There you go, busting my balls again."
"You like it."
"Under protest."
Carolina muffled her laughter in York's mouth, letting him have the last word simply so she could touch him, undress him, feel him deep inside and when her eyes held his, York could tell that she was right there with him instead of trapped in a maze of frustration and anger inside her head. It made all the difference in the world.
Afterward, as Carolina wiped them both clean, York fell asleep with his good eye pressed against the floor. Carolina touched the line of healed skin again, then cupped his face in her hands so she could kiss his lips. "You're too good for me," she whispered against them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pillowed her head on his shoulder and just listened to him breathe.
Title: Like a Fragile Thing
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Rating: R
Word Count: 2272
Characters: Carolina, York
Summary: Trigger warning for attempted rape. Spoilers through season 9. After the Sarcophagus mission Carolina is angry and York refuses to be convenient.
Even under the turmoil of her emotions Carolina could feel her knuckles burning as she sunk punch after countless, bone-crunching punch into the heavy bag. She couldn't stop- she wouldn't stop. Not so long as she could feel the shame of failing coat her like an oil slick. The Director may not have stated his disapproval at her performance but he didn't have to for her to know it was there. She was the best, she was the most dependable. She had never failed, she had never lost to anyone, she was never anything less than perfect.
Until now.
With a roar she threw her weight into a haymaker and before the bag could swing back at her, hands held it in place.
"I'd ask if the bag did something to insult you, but I've dealt with this one before. It's a bit of a dick."
Carolina scowled and ran her wrist over her forehead, bangs sticking to her skin. "What do you want, York?"
The man grinned, half hanging from the bag. "Just seeing how you were doing. You did get knocked around a bit in that last mission." At that moment Carolina hated what an open book York was. She could see the concern practically rolling off of him. She wondered if he came looking for her on his own or if one of the others asked him to.
Wash and North were both soft-hearted enough to openly worry but too cowardly to test Carolina's mood. CT would've probably made a comment about 'Mommy being upset' and by now South had to know. Even if someone (North) hadn't told her, she'd know just from looking at the board. The next time they'd meet, South would make all sort of snide comments about Carolina being toppled, how she'd fallen, how she was no better than anyone else now.
"Carolina? You okay?"
It wasn't that Carolina thought she was better than the others, she just held herself to a higher standard. A standard the others couldn't match up to for whatever reason. One that Texas beat her at. Carolina hated losing. She hated challenges she couldn't overcome. She hated that Texas so effortlessly took away what she'd worked so long and hard to achieve.
"Okay, you're really starting to worry- mph!" The rest of York's words were muffled against Carolina's teeth, one of her hands fisted tightly in his hair. He had to struggle to pull back enough to ask, "What are you doing?"
"Shut up," she shoved him against a wall, devouring his mouth again.
Hands on her shoulders forced her back and York's expression was pinched tight. "Carolina, stop."
"No." She pushed his hands aside and kissed him again. Belatedly Carolina could taste blood on her tongue and York squirmed against her, trying to get an arm between them, get some leverage to separate them again. Carolina growled, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down. York may be stronger, but Carolina refused to be rejected. She wasn't going to lose this, she wasn't going to fail now.
York managed to slip his head back only for Carolina to bite down on his clavicle. "Ow- seriously, Carolina! Stop."
That word, that tone of voice made her heart constrict in ways she never felt before and she pulled back enough to glare at him, feeling shamed and betrayed. Why was he doing this? Why was he pushing her away? Was it because of what happened during the mission? Was he turning his back on her just like the others surely had?
No. Not York. Carolina refused to let him go. Texas wouldn't take him away from her, not like she did the top of the board or the Director's favor. Carolina would make him stay, make him want this.
She hooked her leg around York's, knocking him to the floor, pushing him down as she straddled him. He cursed and grappled with her, trying to shove her away until she caught an arm, bending it back until she could feel the limb protesting.
"Ow, fuck. What is wrong with you? Get off!"
Carolina put more pressure on his arm. "Stop. Fighting me." With one hand she shoved York's shirt up his chest, fingers clawing at the buckle of his trousers. Every time York moved to stop her, she pressed down on his wrist until he was biting back curses.
His chest heaved and York spat out, "Don't bring Texas into this!"
It felt like something in Carolina's heart snapped. Her hand wrapped around York's throat, slamming his head back hard enough she could feel a pained groan under her palm. "This has nothing to do with her!"
The bones in his wrist were grinding together in her hand and the cut on York's lip grew as he bit down on it. "Dammit, Carolina!" He snapped, "If it isn't Texas, then what are you thinking about? Because it sure as hell isn't me!"
There was something in his words, in the tone of his voice that made Carolina pause and look at him. Look in a way she hadn't since before she left to back up the twins two days ago. She saw the unnatural twist of his arm and her hand on his throat. She saw the line of his stomach where his shirt had been haphazardly shoved up and her legs pinning his down. She saw the defiance in his expression and the hint of something possibly like fear skirting on the edges. And then she finally noticed his face.
Dozens of time-accelerated healed cuts lay scattershot around the damaged socket, still a little puffy, skin still pink and raw and it was far more disconcerting than she had anticipated seeing York's left eye: a foggy, milky imitation of his right that stared almost sightlessly at her. Carolina had known, of course. As field leader she was given access to her team's medical records and she'd read up on York's condition during transport, knowing he wouldn't have given her the full truth. But there was a vast difference between knowing and seeing. As vastly different as York's eyes now were.
It was jarring to see this wounded, helpless man where there had always been York's easy smiles and warm expression. When Carolina realized that she was the cause of this, it horrified her in a way she couldn't completely fathom. She pulled her hands away from York's body, unable to look at him.
She shifted her weight to one hand in a slouch, bringing the other to her face and trying to get her head back in fucking place. Even with her eyes closed she could feel York's arm move, easing out the pain in his tendons and stretching the joint, getting the circulation back in his fingers. The thought of what she had just tried to do made Carolina more than a little sick to her stomach. Unable to deal with it, she pushed it deep down, took a breath and said, "I volunteered for another upgrade."
The pinch of his mouth was evident in his voice, "What kind of upgrade?"
"Don't know yet."
"Well, just be careful," the fact that York still spoke to her as if she hadn't just tried to rape him would've been hilarious if she hadn't just tried to fucking rape him. "You know I respect the Director and all, but first gen upgrades tend to be... buggy." The memory of Kentucky's body after the first attempt at utilizing the super speed equipment was still fresh enough in mind to make throats tighten.
A silence stretched between them; a silence they'd never shared before. It was thin and brittle, a gut-wrenching, poisonous thing that pierced at the thin skin between Carolina's shoulder blades. When she tried to breathe the air got stuck in her throat. "York-"
"It's okay."
"It's not okay! York, I just-"
"Hey," hands were on her wrist, pulling them away from her face and Carolina didn't realize when she started hiding behind them. "I get it. Really." He brought one of her hands to his lips, kissing the red knuckles and chaffed skin. "You were in a bad place in your head."
Why was he always like that? Why was York always so sweet and patient with her? She felt so ashamed, she wanted to curl in his arms until she could forgive herself. "That's no excuse," she said quietly.
"No, but I get it anyway."
Carolina looked into his mismatched eyes and saw the simple acceptance there. She gave into her urge and lay against his chest, trying to find comfort in the steady beating of York's heart.
His hands came up and lay gently on her, one on her hip, the other running through the ends of her hair. "Talked to the doc," he said. "After they were done ripping me a new one for sneaking out for the mission, they told me Maine's in stable condition. In bad shape and he'll probably be on light duty for a bit, but he'll survive."
Carolina couldn't help a fond, if slightly surprised, chuckle. Only York would worry about the guy who helped blind him in one eye. Just like only he could forgive what she'd nearly done. "You remember Maine threw a grenade in your face, right?"
York just shrugged, "And then he got shot in the throat. Figured we're even. Besides- bad blood between roommates never ends well." A hand danced lightly over her back and Carolina wondered if Maine taking a sniper round for her helped earned York's forgiveness. "Look- about Texas-"
The phantom smile slipped from Carolina's lips, replaced by a scowl. "I don't want to talk about her."
"Carolina-"
"Just," before she was even aware of it, her hands had clenched into fists again and Carolina forced them open one finger at a time, "let it alone, York. At least for now."
His lips pressed together but he relented. "Alright. For now."
This silence was a more familiar kind. Still brittle on the edges but softened in brief patches. The sweat dried on Carolina's skin, making her feel crusted and dirty, but the feeling of York under her cheek was too comforting to give up. She didn't know how he managed to make her feel self-conscious and relaxed at the same time or what he got out of coaxing her along in their relationship, but she was glad he was there: a constant, stabilizing force whenever the mission blew everyone about.
Before she really thought about it Carolina's fingertips brushed against the bruise on York's face before gently touching around his blind eye, following the scar down his cheek. He had to have been concussed from the cement block Maine hit him with or from the grenade; possibly even both. It was a testament to the Project's medical team and York's determination that he was able to go on that mission at all let alone come out of it without major additional injuries.
"How's your sight?"
He shrugged, seemingly content there on the floor. "Depth perception is kinda shot. Surprised you trusted me with driving. I sure wouldn't have."
"Your shooting is probably worse than your driving right now." The corners of her lips turned up, just enough for him to notice.
"Well, Command gave me permission to activate my healing unit whenever I've got my armor on. Says there's a chance it might repair some damage."
"You'll be able to see properly again?"
"Maybe. Not going to be getting my hopes up, though."
"We'll have to get you back up to speed if you want to keep your position."
"So long as I get to stay under you, I don't mind," and even if he had one broken eye, that look he gave still sent a shiver curling deliciously up Carolina's spine.
A hand wandered down her body and when he squeezed, Carolina sighed. "Are you sure?"
"Your head's back in place, right?" Fingers flexed and massaged and Carolina couldn't help rocking against them. When she shifted she could feel the beginnings of York's arousal against her thigh, "I've had a helluva day- you're not the only one that could use some relaxing."
Practiced hands slipped under York's shirt and Carolina knew his body enough to feel every bone-deep bruise and artificially mended break- all sustained from the clusterfuck that was yesterday morning's training exercise. Whenever she touched a tender spot, York gave a quiet hiss.
"You good for this?"
"Painkillers are starting to wear off so you'll have to do all the work. Other than that, I'm good."
She huffed in laughter, sliding over to cover York's body with her own, to let his hands skim up her back and her lips brush against his. "Me doing all the work? That's nothing new."
"There you go, busting my balls again."
"You like it."
"Under protest."
Carolina muffled her laughter in York's mouth, letting him have the last word simply so she could touch him, undress him, feel him deep inside and when her eyes held his, York could tell that she was right there with him instead of trapped in a maze of frustration and anger inside her head. It made all the difference in the world.
Afterward, as Carolina wiped them both clean, York fell asleep with his good eye pressed against the floor. Carolina touched the line of healed skin again, then cupped his face in her hands so she could kiss his lips. "You're too good for me," she whispered against them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pillowed her head on his shoulder and just listened to him breathe.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-01-21 02:27 am (UTC)And love the "You like it." "Under protest." It's so easy to hear them having that conversation!
Thanks for helping to kick my weekend off in the most awesome way!
no subject
Date: 2012-01-21 07:27 am (UTC)Hope your weekend continues to be awesome!