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Fill for my own promt.
Tintin’s side
Fluffy general fic. Takes place before ‘Moon series’ with various allusions to preceding adventures.
When you sleep, your face is the priceless gift
Archibald watched over sleeping Tintin with soft smile.
Another case closed, another grateful police force, another article with banner headline on first page. And new potential enemies and few new bruises as well. Honestly, that boy is unbelievable. Unstoppable. Captain sniggered, and clasped his arm around Tintin more firmly. They decided to take train instead of plane, and his boy fell asleep as soon as they left station, lulled by rhythmical bumping of train, Snowy already slumbering on his lap. Tintin was leaning on him, with his head laid on Captain’s shoulder. Archibald could lay him down on seat, since they were alone in compartment, but … such a movement might wake the boy. Instead, Captain shifted carefully, to make himself as comfortable pillow as possible. Tintin deserved rest.
Archibald all but melted when the Angel sleeping in his arms mumbled from sleep and pressed himself further in his embrace, hand gripping Captain’s sweater. Snowy yawned, shoot an annoyed glance at Tintin and laid himself more cozily, this time on Archibald’s lap. Captain swallowed a laugh. He could swear that this dog did not like him at all when they firstly met. He looked from window and watched the autumnally melancholic landscape whizzing along for good amount of time in comfortable silence, listening to soft, calm and regular breathing of two being, he love more than anything in the world.
They were heading back to home. To their home.
And that was something Archibald still couldn’t believe. He was afraid to, because it was too wonderful to be truth.
Before he met Tintin, there was no place he would call home. He lived here and there, more of sleeping over than actually staying. He departed to sea and to that bittersweet forgiveness of bottle. Without hope, without love, without future.
And then, suddenly and without any warning, that boy came crashing through his porthole, knocking him over and turning his whole world upside down. Dragging him across half of the globe (and the second half will surely come) and into situations, which simply would not happen to anybody else. For example: being a ritual sacrifice of Incas. Tintin saved him countless of times and helped him acquire back family heritage and lost pride, without actually wanting anything in return. That boy is amazing, bold and brave. He thrown himself into fire to save two thugs who wanted to kill them before, he jumped out of airplane to sinking meteorite without second thoughts, he unravels mysteries and chases villains to the end of the world and even beyond if he have to. He has been shot, beaten up, kidnapped, whacked on head, sentenced to death (three times!), yet he always manages to escape on the very last moment using only his wits and bits and pieces he find along the way. He ends up in gunfight at least once a month, and escapes from hospital every time, whether it is just a mild case of flu or nearly fatal injury. But he is unable to hold his own liquor. (He is dead-drunk after single glass of beer and extremely friendly when tipsy.) Captain chuckled. Tintin is not ashamed of him and his clumsiness and gruff manners, he even manages to withstand his quick temper with a smile. And when he calls for help, which happens exceptionally rarely, he calls him. Him, of all the people!
Archibald tries to be better man, solely for the approving look of those green eyes, he tries to give up alcohol completely, he tries so much it hurt, yet … He had failed, more than once. But every time, there was understanding and forgiveness, those surprisingly strong arms helped him up again and steered him towards right direction.
Train stopped with a jolt and Tintin woke up. Withdrawing himself slightly he looked around sleepily, hand still clutched on Captain’s sweater.
“Shush, boy.” Archibald stroked Tintin tenderly. “Sleep.”
“But …”
“I’ll wake ya when we arrive.”
“Hnn.” The ginger snuggled back and within seconds he was again in the realm of dreams.
Captain shut his eyes tightly. He had to, or else he would start crying, tears of joy were prickling insistently in his eyes. Oh, how he hated when he got into such a sentimental mood, but …
Tintin was gift. Priceless gift.
Tintin’s side
Fluffy general fic. Takes place before ‘Moon series’ with various allusions to preceding adventures.
When you sleep, your face is the priceless gift
Archibald watched over sleeping Tintin with soft smile.
Another case closed, another grateful police force, another article with banner headline on first page. And new potential enemies and few new bruises as well. Honestly, that boy is unbelievable. Unstoppable. Captain sniggered, and clasped his arm around Tintin more firmly. They decided to take train instead of plane, and his boy fell asleep as soon as they left station, lulled by rhythmical bumping of train, Snowy already slumbering on his lap. Tintin was leaning on him, with his head laid on Captain’s shoulder. Archibald could lay him down on seat, since they were alone in compartment, but … such a movement might wake the boy. Instead, Captain shifted carefully, to make himself as comfortable pillow as possible. Tintin deserved rest.
Archibald all but melted when the Angel sleeping in his arms mumbled from sleep and pressed himself further in his embrace, hand gripping Captain’s sweater. Snowy yawned, shoot an annoyed glance at Tintin and laid himself more cozily, this time on Archibald’s lap. Captain swallowed a laugh. He could swear that this dog did not like him at all when they firstly met. He looked from window and watched the autumnally melancholic landscape whizzing along for good amount of time in comfortable silence, listening to soft, calm and regular breathing of two being, he love more than anything in the world.
They were heading back to home. To their home.
And that was something Archibald still couldn’t believe. He was afraid to, because it was too wonderful to be truth.
Before he met Tintin, there was no place he would call home. He lived here and there, more of sleeping over than actually staying. He departed to sea and to that bittersweet forgiveness of bottle. Without hope, without love, without future.
And then, suddenly and without any warning, that boy came crashing through his porthole, knocking him over and turning his whole world upside down. Dragging him across half of the globe (and the second half will surely come) and into situations, which simply would not happen to anybody else. For example: being a ritual sacrifice of Incas. Tintin saved him countless of times and helped him acquire back family heritage and lost pride, without actually wanting anything in return. That boy is amazing, bold and brave. He thrown himself into fire to save two thugs who wanted to kill them before, he jumped out of airplane to sinking meteorite without second thoughts, he unravels mysteries and chases villains to the end of the world and even beyond if he have to. He has been shot, beaten up, kidnapped, whacked on head, sentenced to death (three times!), yet he always manages to escape on the very last moment using only his wits and bits and pieces he find along the way. He ends up in gunfight at least once a month, and escapes from hospital every time, whether it is just a mild case of flu or nearly fatal injury. But he is unable to hold his own liquor. (He is dead-drunk after single glass of beer and extremely friendly when tipsy.) Captain chuckled. Tintin is not ashamed of him and his clumsiness and gruff manners, he even manages to withstand his quick temper with a smile. And when he calls for help, which happens exceptionally rarely, he calls him. Him, of all the people!
Archibald tries to be better man, solely for the approving look of those green eyes, he tries to give up alcohol completely, he tries so much it hurt, yet … He had failed, more than once. But every time, there was understanding and forgiveness, those surprisingly strong arms helped him up again and steered him towards right direction.
Train stopped with a jolt and Tintin woke up. Withdrawing himself slightly he looked around sleepily, hand still clutched on Captain’s sweater.
“Shush, boy.” Archibald stroked Tintin tenderly. “Sleep.”
“But …”
“I’ll wake ya when we arrive.”
“Hnn.” The ginger snuggled back and within seconds he was again in the realm of dreams.
Captain shut his eyes tightly. He had to, or else he would start crying, tears of joy were prickling insistently in his eyes. Oh, how he hated when he got into such a sentimental mood, but …
Tintin was gift. Priceless gift.
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Date: 23/09/2012 16:34 (UTC)From:(no subject)
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Date: 25/09/2012 22:49 (UTC)From:(no subject)
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