#never six

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

“Seriously? You lit the fuse on this, Jesse, you think you just get to back off out of range while it blows?”

Jesse’s pretty sure he didn’t set light to anything, that would be Mike and Sam putting on a show that sent fireworks through half the club, but he’s not gonna say that to Fi.

“You’ve known him for years, Fi. He’ll take the digging better from you.”

Fi throws him a distinctly sideways glare. “Do you have any idea how tiresome it is always being the person who has to put all the emotional labour into relationships?”

I'm writing again! Hadn't touched this fic since February, and then one evening this week I was suddenly hit with inspiration for three different scenes that start linking everything together. Is it because I've spent the past ten days reading in a huge new fandom that is absolutely inundated with amazingly good, brilliantly written fic? I don't know, but I hope it continues 😁

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

Fi ignores Mike’s attempt to be a buzz-kill. “Hmm, maybe next time,” she says, her eyes growing wider before she starts up the stairs to the mezzanine. “I’m off to meet someone for a gun buy.”

Not someone she trusts, obviously, if she wants the M7, and Mike’s thinking the same way, his expression serious as he looks up at her. “You want me to come along?”

“Sweet of you, but I’ll be fine,” she calls down. “Logan’s a weasel, not a threat.” She swings the M7 up into her grip and leans over the railing with a smile. “I like to accessorize to remind him who’s in charge.”

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

“That’s all I gotta do? Not show up for work?”

“Well, that and nominate our friend here to fill for your sudden absence.” Sam points his thumb at Jesse. “He’s a good guy, just moved down to Miami, you knew him for years back in Jacksonville.”

“What the hell are you getting me into here?” Rosales’ face is drawn tight now, his expression mutinous. “Five kay ain’t worth getting arrested or fired, I won’t do it.”

“We’re not gonna be doing anything illegal,” Jesse reassures him, and technically they won’t. Fi’s doing the illegal bit; they’re just gonna be in the general area while she does it.

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

He doesn’t want the answer exactly, but not asking would be worse. “What kind of damage?” “I might have had to blast a small hole in the back wall,” she says. “By the kitchen.” “You blew up her house?” Her face slides into a pout. “There’s no need to be so dramatic about it, I said it was small. I even stayed away from the plumbing.”

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

The outside of his old home, the stairs, they look the same. He walks up and the door’s unchanged, the metal stubborn and resilient.

Inside, the structure of it stands. There’s no smell of smoke, nearly a year after they burned it, but the patterns of the flames are drawn black against the walls. Everything soft has been eaten away, leaving metallic frames and the dark, warped glass of snow-globes.

It’s all so familiar, and everything’s a hollowed-out remnant of the friendship, safety and love he remembers here.

He props himself in one corner, his back and head against the wall, surrounded by silence. He almost misses the heavy throb of the club through his bones.

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Monday

Meant to post this yesterday and forgot 🤪

“It is good to be home,” he says, low, his lips moving over the rough stubble and dripping water at El’s jawline. El catches and tenses against him, just for a second; a slightly longer breath and then he softens again, his hands flowing back into the motion, spreading soap over Sands’ back and shoulder blades.

He doesn’t say anything, though, no answer, affirmative or otherwise. So that’s Sands’ initial marker, and the answer is... less. Slower. He’s not looking to make anything weird here and trip off an episode of El-branded drama. Absent the requisite layers of forethought and contingencies, those can take an abrupt turn south to PigShitsVille less than three words in.

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

“God? Really?” Sands is instantly amused, as he always is with any mention of religion. "Take a look at your life, El. Hell, take a look at who you're shacked up with, then tell me you think God had anything to do with it, because I'm guessing that particular god doesn't like you very much."

"I know who I’m with,” El says, his hand gliding down Sands’ arm to rest over the bullet scar. “And I know if God had given me someone 'nice', someone good and innocent, I would have left them."

[tiggymalvern]

Six Sentence Sunday

And now Fi’s hands have stopped working the cleaning cloth over the Walther and she’s glaring at him, hard. “Do you have any idea the kind of assholes I’ve let grope me for a job? And had to sell it as convincing?” Her mouth twists up at one corner. “If Michael only ever has to kiss Sam, he’s getting off lightly.”