Sucked into yet another fandom... Libertines slash

[vixalicious]

Title: I Get Along
Pairing: Pete/Carl
Rating: PG-13
A/N: For sparktastic...let's call it an homage to the prisonverse over at barred_men. Completely unbeta'd, so please point out any mistakes so I can fix them.


Today, like most days, Carl is just trying to survive. He’s trying to be the very model of a modern prisoner, or something like that, possibly something less Gilbert & Sullivan. He’s thinking of stolen moments that carry him through, the quiet creations in the chapel, the furtive touching at night in their cell, the comfort of waking up with Pete wrapped around him.

He just wants to have his music, his songs, his Pete, just wants to make it through another day, make it through until it can be just him and Pete and their words, away from all the other shite here. He’s going to behave, he’s going to keep Pete out of trouble, and they’re all going to live happily ever after if it fucking kills them both.

He looks up, notices the approach of Wolf, the sleaziest of the guards, the one who’s always trying to provoke everyone, goad them into acting out so that he can have the sadistic joy of breaking them down. Carl dodges, weaves, through the rec yard to avoid him. He focuses on being good, snippets of memories of his mum telling him when he was young that he should play nice and sound bites from American news of that bloke that just wanted everyone to get along chorusing through his head. Get along, get along, get along.

Then he sees them, three men standing in a half circle, the kind that get their own kicks from feeding the addictions of others. And the addiction they’re currently amusing themselves with is Pete. He watches as one hand slides down Pete’s bicep, a creepily seductive move that promises 'I’ve got what you need if you give me what I want.' Carl fights back the urge to bury his knuckles in the fucker’s teeth. Get along, get along, get along.

Pete shudders involuntarily, and shakes the hand off his arm. Insulted, the man delivers a quick slam to Pete’s gut.

Ah, fuck ‘em, Carl thinks as he jumps into the fray, fists flying.

ETA: BTW, if you've never heard of The Libertines, and have no idea what this is about, then right-click-save here *crosses fingers, never done this kind of link before*

Comments

[sparktastic.livejournal.com]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Love ya, babe.

Scarily, this appears to be what the round robin's about, but from an alternate perspective. Do you want to hold off posting this to barred_men until the first installment of the round robin goes up? Just so as not to steal any thunder. *g*

[vixalicious]

:) Love ya back.

I won't post it anywhere else unless you want me to - it was just something that was ricocheting around my brain yesterday while I was in the drive thru line at Taco Bell, listening to Up the Bracket.