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Entry tags:
EOL: Shine
Fandom: Engines of Light
Pairing: Volkov/Matt
Warnings: None
Rating: PG13
Summary: Something just because it's the end.
"You weren't so bad, you know, Cairns," Volkov said, leaning back against something that was a decent back support, if a little lumpy. He glanced down at the joint in his hand, then handed it over to Matt, who obviously wanted it more.
"You weren't so bad for a commie bastard," Matt said, glancing at Salasso, who was just about knocked out, though still awake enough to more or less get what was going on. "And for a Grey, you were a damn good friend, Salasso," he added, just so he wasn't leaving the saur out.
"Funny how we all die together, in the end."
Matt wasn't sure that Salasso would understand the bitter humour, but he understood it alright. Dying with Volkov, who he'd opposed all the way, respected sometimes, and always hated.
But then, they do say there's a thin line between love and hate.
"How long is it since you've had someone, Cairns?" Volkov asked, leaning back against what appeared to be a metal lump, for all he knew or cared, accepting the joint again. "A century or so?"
"Might have been for you, but not for me," he said, comfortably, too relaxed now to bother rising to the little sting. "Susan and me messed around a little..."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"You're her fucking ancestor!"
"So?" Matt shifted a little, grabbed the joint back from Volkov, and then, seeing Salasso stirring a little, passed it over to him. "Everyone's supposed to be related in the end, right? Thanks to all the years on Mingulay and then all this fucking around with faster-than-light travel, she's a long way down the line from me."
The other Cosmonaut shrugged, and had to concede the truth in that. "Gonna have one last fuck around with her next time she visits?"
"Nope." Matt grinned at Volkov, glancing around at the camp. "Her parents'd kill me."
"You're going to die anyway."
"It'd be more painful at Elizabeth and Gregor's hands, I think. Least this way I get a firing squad. Always wanted that kind of glorious execution. We'll go down in history."
"We already have. Several times."
"And that's a medal that never loses its shine, sure." Matt stretched out his legs, chanced a glance at Salasso, who was once more apparently comatose, and then met Volkov's eyes. "Why're you asking, anyway? Want a go with me?"
Volkov sneered a little, caught, "You were a woman, back on Croatan..."
"Yeah, and I wish I'd stayed there, I wish I'd never had to leave the women." Matt didn't rise to the bait. He wasn't ashamed of it; he'd wished, painfully, for years now, that he could go back to that uncomplicated society.
"Does that mean you...?"
"Not on your life."
Volkov grinned. Matt took a moment to grin back, but then he got up on his knees, ignoring Salasso, who was conveniently passed out still.
"Let's find out, you commie bastard. Come here."
Pairing: Volkov/Matt
Warnings: None
Rating: PG13
Summary: Something just because it's the end.
"You weren't so bad, you know, Cairns," Volkov said, leaning back against something that was a decent back support, if a little lumpy. He glanced down at the joint in his hand, then handed it over to Matt, who obviously wanted it more.
"You weren't so bad for a commie bastard," Matt said, glancing at Salasso, who was just about knocked out, though still awake enough to more or less get what was going on. "And for a Grey, you were a damn good friend, Salasso," he added, just so he wasn't leaving the saur out.
"Funny how we all die together, in the end."
Matt wasn't sure that Salasso would understand the bitter humour, but he understood it alright. Dying with Volkov, who he'd opposed all the way, respected sometimes, and always hated.
But then, they do say there's a thin line between love and hate.
"How long is it since you've had someone, Cairns?" Volkov asked, leaning back against what appeared to be a metal lump, for all he knew or cared, accepting the joint again. "A century or so?"
"Might have been for you, but not for me," he said, comfortably, too relaxed now to bother rising to the little sting. "Susan and me messed around a little..."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"You're her fucking ancestor!"
"So?" Matt shifted a little, grabbed the joint back from Volkov, and then, seeing Salasso stirring a little, passed it over to him. "Everyone's supposed to be related in the end, right? Thanks to all the years on Mingulay and then all this fucking around with faster-than-light travel, she's a long way down the line from me."
The other Cosmonaut shrugged, and had to concede the truth in that. "Gonna have one last fuck around with her next time she visits?"
"Nope." Matt grinned at Volkov, glancing around at the camp. "Her parents'd kill me."
"You're going to die anyway."
"It'd be more painful at Elizabeth and Gregor's hands, I think. Least this way I get a firing squad. Always wanted that kind of glorious execution. We'll go down in history."
"We already have. Several times."
"And that's a medal that never loses its shine, sure." Matt stretched out his legs, chanced a glance at Salasso, who was once more apparently comatose, and then met Volkov's eyes. "Why're you asking, anyway? Want a go with me?"
Volkov sneered a little, caught, "You were a woman, back on Croatan..."
"Yeah, and I wish I'd stayed there, I wish I'd never had to leave the women." Matt didn't rise to the bait. He wasn't ashamed of it; he'd wished, painfully, for years now, that he could go back to that uncomplicated society.
"Does that mean you...?"
"Not on your life."
Volkov grinned. Matt took a moment to grin back, but then he got up on his knees, ignoring Salasso, who was conveniently passed out still.
"Let's find out, you commie bastard. Come here."