Work Text:
Battle To End All Battles
by PEJA
daltonavon@yahoo.com
http://www.squidge.org/~peja
It was supposed to be the battle to end all battles. The end once and for all, deciding who would have the final word.
John Crichton wiped his sweat slickened hands down his thighs, then ran the back of his hand over his beaded forehead, dashing the rivulets of salted liquid away from they blinded him and repeated the drying off on his pant leg, the thoughtless action busy work for his already over tense brain.
In the darkness, the crunching sounds of Crais' footsteps, treading across the roughened plating were sonic loud in John's ears. He felt an almost overwhelming need to break out into one of those sickly sweet commercial lyrics that sometimes caught in his active mind and tended to focus him instead of distract him.
It did not come as any great shock when "Hot dogs, Armour dogs. what kind of kids eat Armour hotdogs." whispered past his lips, breaking free from the swirling chaos that was his thoughts. He grasped his weapon, hefting it as if searching for the correct balance as he continued to sing in soft whispers, "Fat kids, Skinny Kids, kids that play on rocks," He paused, his mind searching for the words, then settling on a quick, "hmm,hum.hum.hm...Even kids with chicken poxs, love hot dogs. Armour hot dogs, " He moved into step behind his prey, raising his weapon to gain full arch and drove the bouquet of wild flowers down on Crais heads, sounding his musical war hoop, "the dogs kids love to bite..." as the petals scattered around Crais' astonished head.
the other man roared his protest against the floral tag, spinning around into Johns arms, only to find himself locked in the other man's embrace as John claimed Crais' forfeit....and his lips with the grace of a man who knew he held everything he would ever need in this life.
END
what, you thought I would hurt Crais?