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roesslyngTitle: In this mismatched togetherness
Fandom: Stand Still, Stay Silent
Characters/Pairing: Reynir -> Sigrun
Rating: 0+/E for Everyone
Length: 1k
Summary: Sigrun has to rest up for a while. Doctor's orders. Reynir thinks that she might want some company.
Other: Flashfic for Jureeya, just because I would rather write than pack right now. <3
Prompt in the 100-fic challenge is #78, "Drink".
In this mismatched togetherness
Rest, Mikkel had said. That is what Sigrun needs.
She didn't seem to feel the same way. The objections came loudly, and at length, until she ran out of steam – and that took a lot less time than it usually would, which was a sign in itself that she wasn't in the best state. Probably. In the end, when Mikkel guided her with a firm but gentle hand toward the back, she went along with it, muttering under her breath.
All of that, taken by itself, was worrisome.
Even Reynir had been able to see that she'd been pushing herself too hard. All of them had – even he had tried to do what he could! – but Sigrun never seemed to quit. She was an unstoppable force! ...Or almost unstoppable. Until the hit the day before. He hadn't seen the fight – of course he hadn't, he'd been in the tank when it happened, exactly where civilians should be, Captain's orders – but what happened was relayed to him eventually, after Sigrun came back, leaning on Emil, walking unsteadily. A troll had slammed her into a wall, tried to crush her against it. In the end, she'd managed to get loose, getting away just fine and killing the thing in the process, of course, nothing to worry about. That's what she had said, and yet –
And yet –
Well, maybe she wasn't just fine. Mikkel didn't seem to think so. Mikkel tended to be right about these things.
Rest, he had said. She needed to rest up for a while. And sleep, if she could.
Reynir doubted she'd be sleeping. Not during the daytime. Not when there were things she would rather be doing.
He stood outside the door to the sleeping quarters, cupping a mug of hot herbal tea in his hands, trying to work up the nerve to go in. There wasn't any sound coming from inside, but she couldn't be sleeping, he doubted she would be, and she was probably really bored, maybe if he just –
Okay. You can do this, he told himself. Breathe in, breathe out, go in. Okay.
He knocked, twice, then went in.
She was stretched out on one of the lower bunks, staring upward, a frown on her face. When he stepped in, she turned her head toward him. Not asleep, then. She said something – he didn't catch the meaning. Her language was so – it sounded like something he should be able to understand, but he rarely did. As if, were he to listen really hard, really carefully, Norwegian would become clear as day to him. But it never did.
This was going to be difficult. How do I do this? Reynir thought, pressing the door shut. Well. Maybe it was best to just – to just go along with his plan. Actions were important to Sigrun, actions were what she cared about, that's what he had gathered over the little amount of time that he had known her. So maybe she'd just take everything he did for what it was. And if he said something stupid, she probably wouldn't understand him anyway.
"I was worried about you. Um, a little. Not that I should be, I mean, you're good at what you do, it's just that just before you went in here, you looked so pale and upset, and after what I heard about yesterday and everything – I was worried."
She was staring at him, brows furrowing, irritated, impatient. Another word slipped out, and it sounded enough like "What?" that he was pretty sure that's what she meant. Oh no, Reynir thought, as his insides tied themselves in knots. This wasn't working out at all.
Simpler approach. That's what he needed. Right. Okay. Deep breath. He stepped toward her and held out the mug. "Here. For you," he said, trying to speak as clearly as possible.
Sigrun looked from him to the mug. Sniffed. Looked back at him, suspicious, as if she wasn't sure what to make of it, a look that made Reynir want to apologize. Then, at last, her expression softened. Slowly, stiffly, she sat up and took it from him.
"Thanks," she said, her voice so much quieter than usual. Then she pointed to the spot beside her, and muttered an instruction that must have been, "Sit here".
Reynir sank down beside her, barely daring to breathe. He glanced at her – then forced his gaze forward again. Looking at her again – and caught her looking at him, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
His insides leapt into his throat and he grasped for what to say. "I just – I thought maybe you'd want some company, because you've been in here a while, and you usually don't seem to like being alone that much, well I guess I wouldn't really know, but – Um. Sorry?"
"... Uh. Okay?"
No, she hadn't understood a word of that. At least, she looked as if she hadn't. Reynir let out a long breath and tried to will himself to disappear into the mattress. This was embarrassing. He was embarrassing. This entire idea was just – not good. What kind of company could he possibly be for her? Even if they could understand each other, which they didn't, she was so – and he was just – and –
She reached out and touched him. Patted his head, stroking at his hair as if she was petting a cat, or a puppy. Reynir felt himself flush, suddenly realizing that he'd been sitting there twisting his hands in his lap. It must have been obvious that he was so, so nervous.
"It's okay," Sigrun said, or at least that's what it sounded like. Then she kept talking.
He listened. Hardly understood a word. Well – maybe one here, one there. She kept going, pausing every now and then to drink the tea that he had brought her. Kept her voice low, quiet, sounding tired. Whatever Sigrun was saying, it didn't sound like anything urgent, and that was good.
Maybe she just wanted to talk. Maybe she was just bored, like he'd expected she would be. Maybe she just wanted company. And maybe – Reynir dared, for a moment to think it – maybe she didn't mind his company.
Maybe.
He stayed quiet, and listened to her voice, and drank in every word.
Fandom: Stand Still, Stay Silent
Characters/Pairing: Reynir -> Sigrun
Rating: 0+/E for Everyone
Length: 1k
Summary: Sigrun has to rest up for a while. Doctor's orders. Reynir thinks that she might want some company.
Other: Flashfic for Jureeya, just because I would rather write than pack right now. <3
Prompt in the 100-fic challenge is #78, "Drink".
In this mismatched togetherness
Rest, Mikkel had said. That is what Sigrun needs.
She didn't seem to feel the same way. The objections came loudly, and at length, until she ran out of steam – and that took a lot less time than it usually would, which was a sign in itself that she wasn't in the best state. Probably. In the end, when Mikkel guided her with a firm but gentle hand toward the back, she went along with it, muttering under her breath.
All of that, taken by itself, was worrisome.
Even Reynir had been able to see that she'd been pushing herself too hard. All of them had – even he had tried to do what he could! – but Sigrun never seemed to quit. She was an unstoppable force! ...Or almost unstoppable. Until the hit the day before. He hadn't seen the fight – of course he hadn't, he'd been in the tank when it happened, exactly where civilians should be, Captain's orders – but what happened was relayed to him eventually, after Sigrun came back, leaning on Emil, walking unsteadily. A troll had slammed her into a wall, tried to crush her against it. In the end, she'd managed to get loose, getting away just fine and killing the thing in the process, of course, nothing to worry about. That's what she had said, and yet –
And yet –
Well, maybe she wasn't just fine. Mikkel didn't seem to think so. Mikkel tended to be right about these things.
Rest, he had said. She needed to rest up for a while. And sleep, if she could.
Reynir doubted she'd be sleeping. Not during the daytime. Not when there were things she would rather be doing.
He stood outside the door to the sleeping quarters, cupping a mug of hot herbal tea in his hands, trying to work up the nerve to go in. There wasn't any sound coming from inside, but she couldn't be sleeping, he doubted she would be, and she was probably really bored, maybe if he just –
Okay. You can do this, he told himself. Breathe in, breathe out, go in. Okay.
He knocked, twice, then went in.
She was stretched out on one of the lower bunks, staring upward, a frown on her face. When he stepped in, she turned her head toward him. Not asleep, then. She said something – he didn't catch the meaning. Her language was so – it sounded like something he should be able to understand, but he rarely did. As if, were he to listen really hard, really carefully, Norwegian would become clear as day to him. But it never did.
This was going to be difficult. How do I do this? Reynir thought, pressing the door shut. Well. Maybe it was best to just – to just go along with his plan. Actions were important to Sigrun, actions were what she cared about, that's what he had gathered over the little amount of time that he had known her. So maybe she'd just take everything he did for what it was. And if he said something stupid, she probably wouldn't understand him anyway.
"I was worried about you. Um, a little. Not that I should be, I mean, you're good at what you do, it's just that just before you went in here, you looked so pale and upset, and after what I heard about yesterday and everything – I was worried."
She was staring at him, brows furrowing, irritated, impatient. Another word slipped out, and it sounded enough like "What?" that he was pretty sure that's what she meant. Oh no, Reynir thought, as his insides tied themselves in knots. This wasn't working out at all.
Simpler approach. That's what he needed. Right. Okay. Deep breath. He stepped toward her and held out the mug. "Here. For you," he said, trying to speak as clearly as possible.
Sigrun looked from him to the mug. Sniffed. Looked back at him, suspicious, as if she wasn't sure what to make of it, a look that made Reynir want to apologize. Then, at last, her expression softened. Slowly, stiffly, she sat up and took it from him.
"Thanks," she said, her voice so much quieter than usual. Then she pointed to the spot beside her, and muttered an instruction that must have been, "Sit here".
Reynir sank down beside her, barely daring to breathe. He glanced at her – then forced his gaze forward again. Looking at her again – and caught her looking at him, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
His insides leapt into his throat and he grasped for what to say. "I just – I thought maybe you'd want some company, because you've been in here a while, and you usually don't seem to like being alone that much, well I guess I wouldn't really know, but – Um. Sorry?"
"... Uh. Okay?"
No, she hadn't understood a word of that. At least, she looked as if she hadn't. Reynir let out a long breath and tried to will himself to disappear into the mattress. This was embarrassing. He was embarrassing. This entire idea was just – not good. What kind of company could he possibly be for her? Even if they could understand each other, which they didn't, she was so – and he was just – and –
She reached out and touched him. Patted his head, stroking at his hair as if she was petting a cat, or a puppy. Reynir felt himself flush, suddenly realizing that he'd been sitting there twisting his hands in his lap. It must have been obvious that he was so, so nervous.
"It's okay," Sigrun said, or at least that's what it sounded like. Then she kept talking.
He listened. Hardly understood a word. Well – maybe one here, one there. She kept going, pausing every now and then to drink the tea that he had brought her. Kept her voice low, quiet, sounding tired. Whatever Sigrun was saying, it didn't sound like anything urgent, and that was good.
Maybe she just wanted to talk. Maybe she was just bored, like he'd expected she would be. Maybe she just wanted company. And maybe – Reynir dared, for a moment to think it – maybe she didn't mind his company.
Maybe.
He stayed quiet, and listened to her voice, and drank in every word.
