![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
monsterboiTitle: Stick Them with the Pointy End
Fandom: Sirius the Jaeger
Rating: T
Length: 1096 Words
Content notes: Takes place some time after Yuliy and Phillip reconcile in Tokyo but before the events of Sakhalin. Warnings for obvious language and mentions of violence.
Author notes: Doubles as a fill for my bingo card. Fills the prompt, "Midnight."
Summary: There's a weird look on Fallon's face as Philip hefts the metal bars into his tiny hands and turns them over with a half-dazed expression. Before Fallon has a chance to warn the kid, though, their Sirius compatriot ambles sleepily into the kitchen and catches Philip with his weapon.
"It's the middle of the night," Fallon says flatly as he leans against the countertop, eyeing Philip from across the kitchen. "Your shift ended hours ago, so sleep."
Philip shoots him a half-cocked glance and grunts, "Can't. Too wired."
Sighing, Fallon runs a hand through his thick hair and smiles wryly at him. "Care for some tea, then? Maybe chamomile will change your mind."
"Sure," Philip answers at length, not bothering to plop back into his chair but choosing instead to turn towards the briefcase set atop the table. His blue eyes glint with curiosity and mischief, and if left unchecked, Fallon suddenly realizes, there could be trouble.
"How did Yuliy's case get down here?" he asks and turns to look over his shoulder, missing the faucet with the teapot in hand and catching his forearm beneath the stream of cold water instead. He jolts a bit and retracts his hand, filling the teapot. "Wait, is this about that sparring match earlier? I mean, is that why you can't seem to sleep?"
"How the hell does this thing even work?" Philip mutters as he pops the case open without a second thought, prompting a sharp gasp from the larger man behind him. He hefts the metal bars into his tiny hands and turns them over with a dazed expression, half-concentration and half-disgust. "Why would HQ issue a melee weapon to a reckless guy like him, anyway? He's always goin' off on his own and ignoring orders..."
Fallon abandons his tea momentarily to touch Philip's fingers and urge him, "Yuliy has had a lot more experience than you have, kiddo."
"Look, pops," Philip starts, whipping his head around.
"Now, you know it's true," Fallon gently admonishes him, trying to ease the weapon from those stubborn fingers once more, but to no avail. He relents with another sharp inhale and a cocked brow. "Your sparring match with Yuliy attests to that. He's been through a lot and so have you, but he's been training since he could walk."
Growling with frustration, Philip attempts a clumsy imitation of Yuliy's battle stance and flips the linked bars around in an effort to snap them to rigid attention, and fails spectacularly once more. He twirls it again and one of the blades swing open from one end, slashing in an upward arc that shaves a few bangs from Fallon's hairline.
"Oops..." Philip says sheepishly, grinning a little now at the wide-eyed expression on his comrade's firm features. "Well, you needed a haircut anyway, right?"
Before Fallon has the chance to scold the kid for embracing the recklessness he just accused their Sirius friend of, Yuliy suddenly opens the icebox and pulls a strip of cured meat from within to stuff into his mouth, surprising both of them. He chews for a moment in contemplation before taking a rough swallow and approaching Philip from behind.
"Your form is off, for starters," he moves Philip's stiff legs by gently kicking at his feet until they slide into position. "If you don't find your center of gravity before unsheathing, it'll throw you right back onto your ass."
Fallon snorts as Yuliy's front presses against Philip's backside, with him taking Philip's wrists in hand so as to position him further. Splutters and tears fill Fallon as he tries not to laugh, doubling over the counter.
"All you have to do then is give your wrists a snap, like this," Yuliy says as he assists Philip, pressing further against him and leaning over his shoulder, his breath tickling Philip's neck as he does so. His arms are much stronger than Philip's, easily snapping the weapon to attention and straightening it. "See? Your scrawny arms just aren't enough to attempt it, though. It takes real practice to --"
"Who asked you?!" Philip explodes finally, sending Fallon into a fit of laughter at last.
Yuliy smiles back at Philip, and beneath that veneer of generosity, Philip swears he sees something almost impish.
"The blades are activated through a simple push-button procedure," he continues and twines his figners around Philip's, guiding him to the middle of the staff to press the small button there. With a sharp sound, the blades protrude on either end and Yuliy adds with a whisper against Philip's ear, "Oh, and just for future reference, the pointy ends go into the vampire. That's the most effective use over flailing around with it like you were a minute ago."
Philip's face is so red that it shames the shade of Fallon's hair.
"So, based upon that analysis," Yuliy adds as he takes the weapon from Philip's stunned hands and returns it to its sheathed form with a simple snap of his wrists, "HQ didn't issue you a melee weapon because you don't have the physical means to wield one."
Steams shoots out of Philip's ears as he whirls around and grasps handfuls of Yuliy's shirt, jerking him forward. "Where the hell do you get off saying that?! I'm damn good in battle!"
Yuliy smiles a little softer this time and engages in a gesture normally reserved for Fallon alone, ruffling Philips's messy hair affectionately. Only when Yuliy does it, Philip feels more endeared than annoyed.
"That's true," he agrees and laughs. "You are a good marksman, one of the best."
Fallon wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to regain his composure and croaks, "See? You're good for something aside from amusement after all, kiddo!"
Philip's shoulders slump in utter defeat, and as the teapot starts whistling from its perch atop the stove, he casts his exhausted gaze up at the Sirius with a sigh. "Want some tea?"
"Sure," Yuliy accepts with a bright smile. "Here, let me," he says as he pulls out a chair for his sleepy friend.
"Aww," coos Fallon as he fetches a few cups from the cupboard, "it's so nice to see you two getting along so well! Warms my heart!"
Philip clicks his tongue and deadpans, "You need a heart first, old man."
Frowning, Fallon returns to the table with a silver tray full of sweets and three cups of tea. "Have some biscuits or macaroons, then, your bland personality could use a little sweetening."
The silence doesn't last long between them, and soon enough, there's laughter filling the kitchen to the rafters. Even Yuliy spares a few hearty chuckles and a clap on Philip's back, and when Fallon steps back for a moment to admire his handiwork in bringing them all together in this brief happiness, he can't help grinning wider than before.
This is what family feels like.
Fandom: Sirius the Jaeger
Rating: T
Length: 1096 Words
Content notes: Takes place some time after Yuliy and Phillip reconcile in Tokyo but before the events of Sakhalin. Warnings for obvious language and mentions of violence.
Author notes: Doubles as a fill for my bingo card. Fills the prompt, "Midnight."
Summary: There's a weird look on Fallon's face as Philip hefts the metal bars into his tiny hands and turns them over with a half-dazed expression. Before Fallon has a chance to warn the kid, though, their Sirius compatriot ambles sleepily into the kitchen and catches Philip with his weapon.
"It's the middle of the night," Fallon says flatly as he leans against the countertop, eyeing Philip from across the kitchen. "Your shift ended hours ago, so sleep."
Philip shoots him a half-cocked glance and grunts, "Can't. Too wired."
Sighing, Fallon runs a hand through his thick hair and smiles wryly at him. "Care for some tea, then? Maybe chamomile will change your mind."
"Sure," Philip answers at length, not bothering to plop back into his chair but choosing instead to turn towards the briefcase set atop the table. His blue eyes glint with curiosity and mischief, and if left unchecked, Fallon suddenly realizes, there could be trouble.
"How did Yuliy's case get down here?" he asks and turns to look over his shoulder, missing the faucet with the teapot in hand and catching his forearm beneath the stream of cold water instead. He jolts a bit and retracts his hand, filling the teapot. "Wait, is this about that sparring match earlier? I mean, is that why you can't seem to sleep?"
"How the hell does this thing even work?" Philip mutters as he pops the case open without a second thought, prompting a sharp gasp from the larger man behind him. He hefts the metal bars into his tiny hands and turns them over with a dazed expression, half-concentration and half-disgust. "Why would HQ issue a melee weapon to a reckless guy like him, anyway? He's always goin' off on his own and ignoring orders..."
Fallon abandons his tea momentarily to touch Philip's fingers and urge him, "Yuliy has had a lot more experience than you have, kiddo."
"Look, pops," Philip starts, whipping his head around.
"Now, you know it's true," Fallon gently admonishes him, trying to ease the weapon from those stubborn fingers once more, but to no avail. He relents with another sharp inhale and a cocked brow. "Your sparring match with Yuliy attests to that. He's been through a lot and so have you, but he's been training since he could walk."
Growling with frustration, Philip attempts a clumsy imitation of Yuliy's battle stance and flips the linked bars around in an effort to snap them to rigid attention, and fails spectacularly once more. He twirls it again and one of the blades swing open from one end, slashing in an upward arc that shaves a few bangs from Fallon's hairline.
"Oops..." Philip says sheepishly, grinning a little now at the wide-eyed expression on his comrade's firm features. "Well, you needed a haircut anyway, right?"
Before Fallon has the chance to scold the kid for embracing the recklessness he just accused their Sirius friend of, Yuliy suddenly opens the icebox and pulls a strip of cured meat from within to stuff into his mouth, surprising both of them. He chews for a moment in contemplation before taking a rough swallow and approaching Philip from behind.
"Your form is off, for starters," he moves Philip's stiff legs by gently kicking at his feet until they slide into position. "If you don't find your center of gravity before unsheathing, it'll throw you right back onto your ass."
Fallon snorts as Yuliy's front presses against Philip's backside, with him taking Philip's wrists in hand so as to position him further. Splutters and tears fill Fallon as he tries not to laugh, doubling over the counter.
"All you have to do then is give your wrists a snap, like this," Yuliy says as he assists Philip, pressing further against him and leaning over his shoulder, his breath tickling Philip's neck as he does so. His arms are much stronger than Philip's, easily snapping the weapon to attention and straightening it. "See? Your scrawny arms just aren't enough to attempt it, though. It takes real practice to --"
"Who asked you?!" Philip explodes finally, sending Fallon into a fit of laughter at last.
Yuliy smiles back at Philip, and beneath that veneer of generosity, Philip swears he sees something almost impish.
"The blades are activated through a simple push-button procedure," he continues and twines his figners around Philip's, guiding him to the middle of the staff to press the small button there. With a sharp sound, the blades protrude on either end and Yuliy adds with a whisper against Philip's ear, "Oh, and just for future reference, the pointy ends go into the vampire. That's the most effective use over flailing around with it like you were a minute ago."
Philip's face is so red that it shames the shade of Fallon's hair.
"So, based upon that analysis," Yuliy adds as he takes the weapon from Philip's stunned hands and returns it to its sheathed form with a simple snap of his wrists, "HQ didn't issue you a melee weapon because you don't have the physical means to wield one."
Steams shoots out of Philip's ears as he whirls around and grasps handfuls of Yuliy's shirt, jerking him forward. "Where the hell do you get off saying that?! I'm damn good in battle!"
Yuliy smiles a little softer this time and engages in a gesture normally reserved for Fallon alone, ruffling Philips's messy hair affectionately. Only when Yuliy does it, Philip feels more endeared than annoyed.
"That's true," he agrees and laughs. "You are a good marksman, one of the best."
Fallon wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to regain his composure and croaks, "See? You're good for something aside from amusement after all, kiddo!"
Philip's shoulders slump in utter defeat, and as the teapot starts whistling from its perch atop the stove, he casts his exhausted gaze up at the Sirius with a sigh. "Want some tea?"
"Sure," Yuliy accepts with a bright smile. "Here, let me," he says as he pulls out a chair for his sleepy friend.
"Aww," coos Fallon as he fetches a few cups from the cupboard, "it's so nice to see you two getting along so well! Warms my heart!"
Philip clicks his tongue and deadpans, "You need a heart first, old man."
Frowning, Fallon returns to the table with a silver tray full of sweets and three cups of tea. "Have some biscuits or macaroons, then, your bland personality could use a little sweetening."
The silence doesn't last long between them, and soon enough, there's laughter filling the kitchen to the rafters. Even Yuliy spares a few hearty chuckles and a clap on Philip's back, and when Fallon steps back for a moment to admire his handiwork in bringing them all together in this brief happiness, he can't help grinning wider than before.
This is what family feels like.
