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great dane's cheekbones, teenage hormones.
[ It's over, finally. Everything is being cleared out of the building except for the people who will keep it running during this next period of hopefully-peace. People are celebrating, but Heine's just tired. He wants to go... away. Not home, never home. He'll find somewhere new.
(His spine is fucked from a mine they hadn't been able to avoid. One of his legs was nearly shattered from the blast, never quite healed, and it still bothers him, but there are others still worse off. He should be thankful, but he just doesn't care anymore.)
Passing by the dog pens, he pauses, pivoting on his crutches. There are soldiers being reunited with the dogs that saved their lives, their companions and fellow survivors. Most of the dogs have been taken in elsewhere or will be kept for guard duties, except for a few left. He asks about them without thinking it through. Even those still in the pen have been claimed and will be picked up later. Heine looks over the remaining dogs, gaze falling on the biggest one with fluffy brown hair and an equally fluffy tail. Something in his face is familiar, but he can't quite place it. Maybe they'd fought somewhere together, he can't remember.
He hesitates for a while longer. Company isn't necessary. But... Heine sighs through his nose and gets the necessary papers done, not taking up the offer to meet the dog before adopting him. The guy running the process goes to call the dog over to the gate, handing Heine a battered leather leash he can use. Heine doubts he'll be using it, though. It's hard enough to get around on crutches already; leading someone else around on a leash isn't going to make it any easier.
The dog comes over to the exit, and Heine knows that he knows him. But the memory keeps slipping away, and he doesn't have the energy to chase it. ]
Hey. [ If it's possible to mumble one word, he does it. ] ...Randall, right?
(His spine is fucked from a mine they hadn't been able to avoid. One of his legs was nearly shattered from the blast, never quite healed, and it still bothers him, but there are others still worse off. He should be thankful, but he just doesn't care anymore.)
Passing by the dog pens, he pauses, pivoting on his crutches. There are soldiers being reunited with the dogs that saved their lives, their companions and fellow survivors. Most of the dogs have been taken in elsewhere or will be kept for guard duties, except for a few left. He asks about them without thinking it through. Even those still in the pen have been claimed and will be picked up later. Heine looks over the remaining dogs, gaze falling on the biggest one with fluffy brown hair and an equally fluffy tail. Something in his face is familiar, but he can't quite place it. Maybe they'd fought somewhere together, he can't remember.
He hesitates for a while longer. Company isn't necessary. But... Heine sighs through his nose and gets the necessary papers done, not taking up the offer to meet the dog before adopting him. The guy running the process goes to call the dog over to the gate, handing Heine a battered leather leash he can use. Heine doubts he'll be using it, though. It's hard enough to get around on crutches already; leading someone else around on a leash isn't going to make it any easier.
The dog comes over to the exit, and Heine knows that he knows him. But the memory keeps slipping away, and he doesn't have the energy to chase it. ]
Hey. [ If it's possible to mumble one word, he does it. ] ...Randall, right?
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[ Not that Heine's watching it either. He shifts again, pulling himself closer to Randall and sighing—then regretting it as the exhale triggers another coughing session. He makes grabby hands for the water before managing to get the bottle near him by himself. ]
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Ah—! Are you all right? Imagine if you'd gone to work, it wouldn't have been good! Come here, just try to get some rest.
[ He'll wrap his arms around him and all but smother him in a hug if given the chance, easing his coughs back down to silence. ]
no subject
As Randall's palm rubs over his back, Heine lets out a breathy little huff of contentment. It feels good. Being pulled in against his chest is comfortable, too, and for once Heine doesn't fight it. He nuzzles into Randall's chest, quiet so as to not aggravate his throat. ]
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[ His voice is barely a murmur, fond and soft and warm. He relaxes beneath Heine's weight and allows them to press together without a single opening for air to seep between them, radiating warmth and holding Heine loose against him.
And he'll continue to stroke his back, smiling soft. The movie was good, just not good enough on the fifth go-around to distract him from his sick boyfriend. He can bend just enough to reach and press a kiss to the fluffy crown of white hair, resting his cheek against him. ]