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26 July 2007 @ 00:30
Bottle Rocket - Routine - Anthony/Dignan  
Title: Routine
Character(s)/Pairing: Anthony/Dignan (Bottle Rocket)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 762
Summary and/or Authors Notes (if applicable): This jumps around a bit and is sort of unfinished. I wanted to go into a lot more detail, but got a bit stumped, so decided to leave it as is. There was meant to be smut at the end, too!
Warnings (if applicable):



Dignan seemed to handle life in prison pretty well. He was like the guy in Shawshank Redemption, walking and talking like he didn't have a care in the world. The main difference was, he didn't have a best friend in there, aside from one scrawny kid he called 'Rooster'. Rooster didn't speak, just tended to stand and gawp, so Anthony was never entirely sure if it was his chosen pseudonym. He did know that Dignan was getting his share of beatings and maybe worse. After all, he was a decidedly pretty face amongst the rabble; a blue eyed, blonde haired catch. Rooster couldn't have been much use at times like those either, except if Dignan maybe wanted something immovable to lean on afterwards.

Still, whenever they met on either side of the wire fence surrounding the yard, Dignan always had a wide smile for him. He tried going inside once, to the actual inmate/visitor meeting room, but seeing Dignan in amongst all that greyness scared him. Outside, in the late sunshine, at least he could pretend. It was almost like they were just kids at school on the basketball court.

One time, when Dignan limped up to the fence with a split lip marring his grin and a black eye hiding one of his blue irises, Anthony threw caution to the wind and reached his fingers through the wire, brushing the tips gently against the bruised cheekbone. Dignan closed his good eye and leaned closer, pressing his forehead against the mesh and smiling.

Always smiling.

There were times when Anthony woke in a complete sweat at home, alone, with only one thing on his mind. Dignan. And sex. The two things were inherently linked in his mind, and had been since school. Short cropped blonde hair the colour of corn fields and dark blue eyes squinting at him in evening sunshine. Dignan, throwing stones up at his bedroom window with a persuasive smile that promised only mischief. Dignan, holding the bridge of his nose on the football pitch and laughing as blood poured over his lips, wiping the grin off the face of the jock who'd just punched him. Dignan, taking him up to the top of the hills on a warm summer night and offering him a bottle of whiskey like the devil offering temptation.

He never dreamt about Dignan in the prison setting, which was definitely a good thing. Just thinking about it always made his insides twist and flutter in anxiety. So, he stuck to the memories.

Dignan. Standing in the grounds of the mental hospital in khaki pants and t-shirt, car keys dangling from one hand. Smiling at him like a lunatic.



After his release, some years later, Dignan had a strong predeliction for routine. He woke on the dot at 5am, and began to get antsy at 9pm. He had to do press-ups every morning, and he did his laundry on set days. There were just a few signs to show that he was actually out of prison.

One, the shower was a complete luxury to him and the first time Anthony offered to run a bath for him he nearly had a small heart attack. Two, he eyed up every-day food like kids' cereal and chocolate like a starving man. Three, he began to get back into the re-runs of 'm*a*s*h*' and 'the a-team' he'd always loved. And four, and this was Anthony's favourite of them all, he could no longer sleep alone. Sleeping alone, Dignan said, reminded him of solitary. He didn't say much more and Anthony didn't push, content to let his best friend and cohort share his double bed.

He didn't seem much different, considering what he'd been through. A little older, in a little better shape, but paler and a little quieter. He had a few new scars and watched Anthony intensely each night as he locked the house up before they went upstairs. Contrary to Anthony's constant fears, though, he hadn't lost his love of human contact. The first thing he did on being picked up from outside the prison, was wrap Anthony up in a tight bear hug.

He spent a lot of time lying in bed and watching Dignan sleep, partly because he was fascinated by the pale shoulders that moved with each slow breath, but also because he occasionally had to shake those shoulders when Dignan started to twitch and jerk with nightmares.

He felt incredibly proud the first time he managed to get Dignan to sleep right past that 5am internal alarm, curled up against his side.

 
 
 
hmcgirl on 1st October 2007 18:39 (UTC)
This was so sweet!