Work Text:
Unconventional
by sashaquayum
The entire place stinks. It’s this strange mixture of fire, fear, sweat and, funnily enough, cologne. He walks towards the centre of the battle field, knowing that Bobby would be there waiting for him on the other side. It seems to take forever to get there, to fight through the bodies lying dead on the ground. Crunch. He stops and looks down. Lifts his right boot. Sitting there is a half crushed ice rose. He looks up quickly taking in the expansive setting. Trying to find the culprit who left it there. He can’t. He squats down and picks it up, holding the cold object in his hand, remembering the last time Bobby had given him one of these. A long time ago.
“Find something?”
His head snaps up. “No. Nothing.”
He stands up, carefully putting the rose in his pocket.
When he loses the battle to Bobby later on he blames it on the fact that all he could think was he gave me a rose again. As he lies there, incapable of moving, waiting to be blown up by Jean he notes that Bobby’s battle techniques are brilliant if unconventional.
end