I never wrote a fanfic, but I thought maybe I should try something new. So I tried to write down my favorite part of a dream I had a few weeks earlier. Hope you like it. Maybe I'll write down the rest of this dream too, idk.
Can be read as some kind of skip muck x reader.
Y/n had a fun night, and perhaps a few drinks. She spent the night under bill guarneres supervision. Early in the morning she left, so she won't get caught being in the boys barracks. On her way back to her office she met skip. A storm is coming, so she took him to her office to stay safe. Well ... Things get a bit interesting after a little talk.
Tw: mention of rape, curse words
Words: 2,822
I'm no native speaker, so feel free to correct me. :)
I open the door of the barrack just a crack to escape as quietly and unnoticed as possible into the fresh morning air. I close the door carefully and look left and right to make sure neither Sobel nor Evans are around and catch me coming out of one of the barracks early in the morning. The sky above me is gloomy, densely hung with dark rain clouds that seem to announce a storm. I zip my jacket up to my chin to protect myself from the cold wind and unsteadily put one foot in front of the other to get to my small office before the rain starts.
I pass the wooden wall of the barracks on the right and am surprisingly greeted by Skip.
"Good morning princess." The cigarette between his lips bobs up and down as he smiles meaningfully at me.
"You startled me, Skip!" I hiss at him softly, which only widens his smile.
"Don't worry, I certainly won't tell Sobel about your … trip" He particularly emphasizes the word trip and waggles his eyebrows, after which I only shake my head.
"Oh shut up, Muck. It's not what it looks like." I explain before continuing my way. But my answer seems more like an excuse to him, because he pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning against and follows me.
He takes a big drag on his cigarette, holds the tobacco smoke for a few moments and then blows it into the damp, cool air in a dense cloud of smoke.
"It never is, is it?" I don't even have to look at him to see his wide and mischievous grin. The corners of my mouth twitch involuntarily, which I only try to hide by dramatically rolling my eyes.
"I drank too much last night and Bill didn't want me to go unnoticed that night. He let me sleep in his bunk.” I explain as I cautiously peek around the next corner to check for two certain officers I'd rather not cross paths with at this moment. On the one hand because I'm still relatively drunk due to the alcohol consumption and the lack of sleep to sober up and on the other hand because I couldn't explain what I have to do so far away from my barrack at this time.
"So you spent the night at Wild Bill Guarnere's, didn't you?" He smirks at me maliciously after emphasizing Bill's nickname. Without answering his question, I stumble back, the ground beneath my feet seems to tremble.
"What are you doing out here so early?" I finally ask my stalker, now leaning against the wall myself. Less for comfort, but more because I start to sway and get dizzy.
"Malark snores at an unbearable volume and I couldn't sleep." He shrugs his shoulders, stands in front of me and now also looks around the corner. “No one can stand that. And sometimes in the early morning there is a lot to watch. Like you sneaking out of the barracks. More drunk than anything else, I guess." He seems to have noticed my swaying because he gives me a questioning look. Before he could even form his question "Everything ok?" I nod and push myself off the wall. He carefully puts his hand on my upper arm and tries to support me if I lose my balance.
A muffled growl can be heard from far away. The announced thunderstorm will soon reach us, a few raindrops are landing on our heads as silent harbingers. The sky above us is getting darker and if I didn't know it's morning I'd say it was the middle of the night.
Skip makes a face. Apparently he's not too keen on going back to his barracks to a snoring Malarkey. But pouring rain and a storm doesn't seem like a great prospect either.
"Come on," I offer him after a moment's thought. He lowers his gaze back to me and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "You wanna stay out here and get wet?" I ask before he can ask what I mean. "Come on." I tug at his sleeve, giving him no choice but to follow me.
The thunder grows louder and the raindrops get thicker and heavier. We reach my barrack just in time to save ourselves in my dry room. While I unlock the door with shaky hands, he drops the glowing butt of his cigarette on the wet floor and stamps it out.
It's less of a barrack and more of a small wooden shack in which I have both my office and my bed, which is hidden behind a curtain. I take off my jacket and hang it over the desk chair. I don't notice Skip standing by the door, staring at the large, dark bloodstain on the floor. He's heard of the story, but I guess it's something else entirely to see the menacing remnant of it. Even though I tried a lot to somehow get the dried blood out of the wooden floorboards, I didn't make it. And now it rests there as a memorial and constant reminder of the rape.
After flopping down on my bed, I notice that he's still standing in the doorway. My gaze follows his and rests uncomfortably on the spot.
"I was told to put a rug over it." I try to release the tension with a casual saying and get him out of his thoughts. He looks at me, no trace of his typical smile left.
"I'm really sorry about what happened there." His voice is more like a whisper, but there is a slight note of anger in it that cannot be ignored. I cross my arms over my chest and just shrug to not let the whole situation get to me too much.
"It's not your fault. And Roe stitched me up, so everything's ok.", I reply dryly, but my fingernails dig into my upper arms at the thought of the day. Fragments flash in my mind, how he banged my head on the floor, over and over again until everything around me went black. How he hit me, kicked me, insulted me. How his grip on my neck tightened the more I tried to fight him and tried to scream.
My gaze is fixed on nothing as I mentally relive the moments until a movement pulls my attention back to reality. He stalks the spot as if it would pounce on him and wreak havoc if he gets too close. With a light tap on the mattress, I indicate to him that he can sit next to me on the small bed.
After he has also put his jacket over the chair, he follows the request and sits down on the end of the bed, leaning his back against the wall at which the bed is standing. Once he's settled on the bed, I lean back, legs bent to my chest, head resting against the wall, and I close my eyes for a moment. Due to the still existing alcohol level, the world around me is constantly spinning, so I open my eyes again, which gives me a little relief. I breathe in deeply, and out, and in again, the world around me becoming a little clearer and calmer with each breath.
"Skip?" I ask after a few moments, looking at the man sitting at the end of my bed, breathing in and out evenly. Without opening his eyes, he just answers with a "Mhm?" at the sound of his name.
"Can I ask you a question?" The corners of his mouth twitch up and pull his lips into his signature grin.
"You already have." I roll my eyes at his answer and have to suppress a smile myself.
"Do you really like me? I mean…” I clear my throat and try to sort the words in my head so they make the most sense and are understandable. "Do you really like me as a person, or just because I'm a woman you guys can lure into bed?" It's quiet again for a very long moment, his smile disappears and he looks at me a little dismayed.
"What?" is the only thing that comes over his lips after what feels like an eternity. Judging by the look on his face, he seems offended by my question. Before I can repeat it, before I can even open my mouth, he cuts me off.
“Of course we like you. I mean, surely there are some guys who just want to … you know? And are nice to you because of that. But, and I can say that for many men with certainty, the majority like you because you are just incredibly great. You're funny, you're good looking, you're a wonderful person and you have an incredible character. You take care of us even though that happened to you..." he waves his hand at the spot of dried blood on the floor "... and you're so loving to everyone you meet. I mean, personally, I wouldn't mind if you let me ask you out sometime." A cautious laugh escapes his lips and he looks at me, I return his smile. “But we like you like anyways. Not because you are a woman, but rather as a person. We like you as part of aus, even if technically you're not. Well, not officially by now." He lets his gaze wander through my 'office'. A desk at which I write reports, an eye test chart, a chair for the eye checks with a swivel table on which a slit lamp stands for further eye examinations and a suitcase with trial glasses and a number of trial lenses for eyeglass determination. So in and of itself it has its advantages as an ophthalmologist in the US Army to live on the camp site. At least I have my own room and don't have to listen to men snoring.
"I mean, Malarkey was even jealous last night," he adds with a grin, looking at me. "You and Bill seemed to hit it off and, oh boy, if he knew you spent the night in his barracks!" His grin spreads to a laugh and he tilts his head back. I have to laugh this time too. It's a funny thought, Malarkey jealous, his face probably as red as his hair as he watches Guarnere and I become friends, have a beer or two and laugh.
"We really, really love you," he summarizes his statement after our laughter has stopped and it's quiet again. "Some certainly more than others and some maybe a little more than what's good for them, but overall we really like you." He cocks his head to the side and looks at me. It takes me a little moment to think about everything he said before I close my eyes and let my head rest against the wall behind me again. It's getting quiet around us again, the storm in front of the door is getting stronger and makes the wooden walls shake. But the thought of a certain Donald Malarkey being jealous, having even encouraged me to be friends with Bill, given what had been an icy, if not suspicious, relationship between us, brings a smile to my lips.
"It's probably just the residual alcohol that's talking out of me right now, and I'm pretty sure I'll regret it once I'm sober, but..." I sit up straight again and look at him. "...you said that maybe some like me a little more than what's good for them. Who do you mean? Is there someone who would invite me on a date or something? I mean a real date and not just a date to end up in bed with me?” Instantly, Skip's eyes widen as if he's just realizing that he said something stupid.
"I didn't say that." He tries to save himself quickly but I shake my head.
"Yes, you have!" -"No I have not! You probably just imagined that. You said it yourself, you're still very drunk. You should actually sleep off your intoxication.” Skillfully he tries to distract from the topic but I won't let him.
"Come on, tell me who it is! Please Skip! You owe me that!” I beg him.
"No, I can not do that. He'll kill me if I tell you." He shakes his head to emphasize his statement.
"Aha! So there is someone!” I exclaim confidently. Skip narrows his eyes and shakes his head.
"No, there isn't!" He tries to save himself again, but the impatience and curiosity in me grew immeasurably with every second.
“Oh come on, Skip, tell me! I've already saved you from the storm, so I can save you from...whoever! Now tell me, who do I have to save you from?" I nudge his side with my toes impatiently to get him to look at me again. But instead of looking at me, he just flinches and leans sideways as if to move out of reach of my foot. My eyes instantly widen when I realize what I've just discovered.
"No!" he replies in a threatening tone and raises his index finger before j could even say a thing.
"You're ticklish!" I blurt out triumphantly.
"No I'm not! I'm not ticklish and now get your fucking foot away from me, woman!"
"Oh yeah, and how ticklish you are!" To underline my statement, I quickly sit down and lean forward to tickle him. Maybe with this simple but effective method of torture I can get him to tell me which of his friends might have a crush on me.
"That's not fair!" he lets me know in panic between a few laughs and tries to defend himself.
"It isfair! Tell me a name and I'll stop!” I demand, but he just shakes his head and tries in vain to suppress another laugh.
"NO WAY!" He realizes he can't stop me from tickling him, so he wraps his arms around his stomach to protect the sensitive areas from my touch. This only tempts me to bend over further and now tickle him under his arms.
"Stop it right now!" he begs as I move closer to tickle him better. I, on the other hand, throw my head back and only give him a diabolical laugh in response. When I lower my head again, I immediately regret it. The world around me starts to spin again, the head movement was too fast and I'm in danger of tipping forward as I can no longer keep my balance. Just before I can realize for myself that the world around me is shaking again, Skip grabs my upper arms. At first I think he just wants to support me to keep me in my upright position next to him. But then, unexpectedly, he presses his lips to mine and pulls me close to him.
It takes me a moment to realize what is happening, but the moment is just so perfect and it feels so incredibly good that I kiss him back.
Our lips slowly move to a silent rhythm that only the two of us seem to hear. The melody gets faster and faster and our lips adapt to the rhythm. He pulls me closer to him, almost pressing me against his body. And despite his very assertive demeanor, he still seems to be asking with every movement if I'm okay with that. As he deepens the kiss and runs the tip of his tongue gently over my lip, his hands slowly travel up my upper arms until they finally cup my face. His heartbeat is so strong, complementing the melody with every throb like a bass guitar thump. My hands seek support in his t-shirt and my heartbeat is almost audible. After a few moments we break the kiss to catch our breath. He rests his forehead against mine, our eyes still closed.
"Don't you dare think I fell in love with you," he tells me in a deep, hoarse voice before taking a deep breath. “The moment was just perfect. I couldn't help it."
"The same goes for you," I reply to his loose threat. "But, oh boy, you're an amazing kisser," I confess after my lungs have properly inflated. I slowly open my eyes again, my hands still buried in his shirt, his still cupping my cheeks.
"The same goes for you.", he repeats my answer with a big grin and now looks into my eyes too. "Don't tell that Mala-" he stops before he can finish the sentence as he sees my eyes widen at the mention of the name. "Fuck no," he whispers, leaning back in shock while I gape at him.
“Malarkey? Malarkey has a crush on me?” I blurt out after a moment, and he just shakes his head eagerly.
"No he is not! And if he has, you don't know that from me!"
Oh great, another moment where Malarkey and Skip are the BEST BROS EVER and I'm only two episodes away from "The Breaking Point". I AM ALREADY SO UPSET, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.
