Battlefield Terra - Not A Relationship Anyway

by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)

Summary:

"Jesus, no way to find a decent fourth," Jack says, disgusted, as another lily-livered wannabe hard-ass retreats from their table. Boxcars and Deuce snort (well, Boxcars snorts, Deuce giggles.)

"To Droog," Boxcars says blandly, and raises his beer. Deuce imitates him. "Ponciest asshole who ever got murdered by a dead broad."

Jack rolls his eyes and flips his cards over, checks that there aren’t any with marks he hasn’t put there himself.
--
Anonymous said: BT Noir, the time he realized this thing with Strider wasn't going away (and he didn't want it to).

Notes:

psst BT chapter 8 is complete, undergoing betareading, and will be ready to post p soon! :D (not today or tomorrow soon tho, don't dream that hard kids :p)

"Jesus, no way to find a decent fourth," Jack says, disgusted, as another lily-livered wannabe hard-ass retreats from their table. Boxcars and Deuce snort (well, Boxcars snorts, Deuce giggles.)

"To Droog," Boxcars says blandly, and raises his beer. Deuce imitates him. "Ponciest asshole who ever got murdered by a dead broad."

Jack rolls his eyes and flips his cards over, checks that there aren't any with marks he hasn't put there himself.

"Ever find out how that one happened?"

"Mm." Where'd his Seven of Hearts get to? "Fucked with his nanites."

"You can do that?" Deuce says, eyes a little wide. "Hey, Slick, hey, how'd someone do that, I thought it was tamper-proof!"

"Tamper-proof just means no one's cracked it before, stupid," he replies. It's been a while since he was called Slick. He doesn't mind, though. He got used to Jack but being Slick was cool with him. More freedom than his current assignment, that's for sure.

Boxcars or whatever his codename is nowadays is looking at him. Jack lets it slide for five seconds, and then he sneers. "What?"

"You getting laid regularly or what? 'Cause you seem pretty relaxed, so it's that or you're getting old."

"Don't make me get kicked out of this fucking bar stabbing you."

Boxcars nods, hums distractedly, swallows another mouthful of beer. Deuce blinks up at him, and then at Jack.

"Haha, he's right, you sound way relaxed! Got a girlfriend? Huh? Huh?"

Jack grunts a warning at him, eyes narrow, but Deuce has always been blind to any social cue that didn't come in the form of a sharp slap in the face, and even those he shrugs off pretty easy. Jack isn't sure what his damage is.

"Like I have time for a girlfriend. What are we, thirteen?" He snorts. "Got an arrangement with some asshole. We fuck, we go our own ways. All the pros, none of the cons."

Boxcars takes another long sip of his drink. "Been going at it long?"

"Like I even keep track!" Jack glares at him. "Seriously what the fuck, you wanna braid my hair next? Draw little flowers, tell you how big his dick is? Tough, I don't fucking pay attention to his dick when he's riding mine. Seriously, fuck him."

"Uh huh."

He looks away. Jack's hackles go down. "I dunno, six or seven years," he finishes, distracted by his cards.

Deuce bursts out laughing into his glass, and splutters when a bubble pops in his face. "Ahaha, that's like the longest relationship you've ever had! By like, at least five or six times."

Jack stares. And stares. And then, predictably, decides that he doesn't mind getting banned from this bar, after all.

Fucking hell. He didn't even notice it'd been that long. It's just routine now. Sexy routine. Sexy routine where he gets his dick sucked for the low price of bleeding some guy, which is like getting paid to take a vacation. The brawling is also pretty neat...

Seven fucking years. Thank god it's not actually a relationship, or he'd have to end it.

Notes:

an IC ask from last year:

 

theunvanquishedzims said: BT!Hass: Did you guys do anything special when Nanna died? Because with Dad I'd just see a quiet cremation, with you I'd imagine you sticking the ashes in a booby-trapped underground temple, and if Burt or Romy got involved I can picture a mausoleum being involved somewhere.

 

BT!Hass: Neither, my dear! Alas plenty of people wanted to pay dear Anna their respects, so we chose to bury her in a public ceremony on the mainland with her first husband.

Since it would have been so very stressful for the children, and they would have met way too many politicians who did not understand that now as a time for grieving and contemplation instead of schmoozing, we did not allow them to attend, and had a private ceremony of our own afterwards on the island. It turned out to be a right good thing, though! Why, wouldn’t you believe it, poor Minister Drooger had a heart attack right on top of her casket! And it just so happens his nanomachines were suffering from some kind of unfortunate computing failure at the time.

Turned out the favored brooch we’d buried dear Anna with was a trick electromagnet toy she used to startle children by making their worldly possession move, by some clumsiness of the morticians still activated, and as he leaned in too close trying to catch himself (suffering, as I said, from a heart attack at the time) it wiped his control bracelet’s memory right clean. Truly an unexpected tragedy.

Here we thought he was merely expressing a rather ill-timed desire to kiss my dear Anna’s face at least once before they put her into the ground, hohoho! By the time Romy pulled him back up he was already dead. Caused a lot of funny talk, tragic as it was!

Bah, if you can’t laugh at death, what can you laugh at.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 13 of Battlefield Terra