Post by KrazyRandomness on Dec 11, 2009 0:50:01 GMT -5
SLASH SLASH SLASH WARNING WARNING WARNING SLASH SLASH SLASH SLASH
This story has slash/yoai/homosexuality in it. You have been warned. If you do not like, hit the back button. DO NOT COMPLAIN. I HAVE WARNED YOU!!!!!!
Psycho has never been one to question authority. It was simple; all you do was listen to Smart Guy and you wouldn’t get hit. The younger weasel was usually paired up with Wheezy on missions and that never bothered him. He never argued because he didn’t want a plunger in his mouth. Again.
Still, watching the taller and slimmer weasel has always been one of Psycho’s favorite past times. The paler weasel found it amusing how Wheezy could seem to stand still for hours, only moving to light up another cigarette. Sometimes, Psycho would ask what they taste like. Wheezy would simply blink his bloodshot eyes before raising a brow at him. Then, he would chuckle and shake his head.
There was one day, however, when Wheezy simple gave him a cigarette. Psycho had blinked at it. How it was black instead of Wheezy’s usual white or brown cigars. It told Psycho one thing: that was one of Wheezy’s special cigarettes.
The first time Psycho had noticed Wheezy smoking one, Wheezy slowly looked over at him before replying, “Djarum blacks, mon ami.”
This was when Wheezy was still known for going into French when cussing or speaking. The years that have passed made him lose his accent and the weasel rarely is ever heard speaking his native tongue.
Psycho has sniffed it before putting it in his mouth, feeling it. Didn’t feel too different from a tooth pick, really. Wheezy had smiled before lighting it, letting Psycho get used to the feel. Psycho had made a cloud before he started coughing. Wheezy merely rolled his eyes, chuckling before taking the cigarette away.
There were other times when Psycho would fear for Wheezy. Like how the blue weasel could be so still before having a coughing fit. His eyes would shut tightly as her reached for his neck, rasping. Psycho usually didn’t touch him then, knowing Wheezy would glare at him later for it.
Like always, Wheezy stopped coughing and continued to smoke.
Now, however, standing next to Wheezy in the rain, Psycho couldn’t help, but question Smart Guy and all his memories with Wheezy. The weasel wrapped his arms around him, trying to warm up. The swirls in his eyes sped up as he tried to find warmth.
Psycho then chose to close his eyes and see if darkness would take him.
It didn’t. And the reason it didn’t was because Psycho felt warm.
Blinking, the weasel opened his eyes, glancing around. He jumped when he realized Wheezy’s arm was around him, a cigarette in his hand.
“Don’t worry, mon amour…rain will let up soon…” he murmured.
“…That’s the first time you spoke French in years….” Psycho stated.
Wheezy shrugged, making Psycho come closer to his masculine smell. The psychotic weasel slowly blinked before he asked, “What does ‘amour’ mean…I know ‘mon’ means ‘my’, but…”
“It means…love.”
To that, Wheezy chuckled.
This story has slash/yoai/homosexuality in it. You have been warned. If you do not like, hit the back button. DO NOT COMPLAIN. I HAVE WARNED YOU!!!!!!
Psycho has never been one to question authority. It was simple; all you do was listen to Smart Guy and you wouldn’t get hit. The younger weasel was usually paired up with Wheezy on missions and that never bothered him. He never argued because he didn’t want a plunger in his mouth. Again.
Still, watching the taller and slimmer weasel has always been one of Psycho’s favorite past times. The paler weasel found it amusing how Wheezy could seem to stand still for hours, only moving to light up another cigarette. Sometimes, Psycho would ask what they taste like. Wheezy would simply blink his bloodshot eyes before raising a brow at him. Then, he would chuckle and shake his head.
There was one day, however, when Wheezy simple gave him a cigarette. Psycho had blinked at it. How it was black instead of Wheezy’s usual white or brown cigars. It told Psycho one thing: that was one of Wheezy’s special cigarettes.
The first time Psycho had noticed Wheezy smoking one, Wheezy slowly looked over at him before replying, “Djarum blacks, mon ami.”
This was when Wheezy was still known for going into French when cussing or speaking. The years that have passed made him lose his accent and the weasel rarely is ever heard speaking his native tongue.
Psycho has sniffed it before putting it in his mouth, feeling it. Didn’t feel too different from a tooth pick, really. Wheezy had smiled before lighting it, letting Psycho get used to the feel. Psycho had made a cloud before he started coughing. Wheezy merely rolled his eyes, chuckling before taking the cigarette away.
There were other times when Psycho would fear for Wheezy. Like how the blue weasel could be so still before having a coughing fit. His eyes would shut tightly as her reached for his neck, rasping. Psycho usually didn’t touch him then, knowing Wheezy would glare at him later for it.
Like always, Wheezy stopped coughing and continued to smoke.
Now, however, standing next to Wheezy in the rain, Psycho couldn’t help, but question Smart Guy and all his memories with Wheezy. The weasel wrapped his arms around him, trying to warm up. The swirls in his eyes sped up as he tried to find warmth.
Psycho then chose to close his eyes and see if darkness would take him.
It didn’t. And the reason it didn’t was because Psycho felt warm.
Blinking, the weasel opened his eyes, glancing around. He jumped when he realized Wheezy’s arm was around him, a cigarette in his hand.
“Don’t worry, mon amour…rain will let up soon…” he murmured.
“…That’s the first time you spoke French in years….” Psycho stated.
Wheezy shrugged, making Psycho come closer to his masculine smell. The psychotic weasel slowly blinked before he asked, “What does ‘amour’ mean…I know ‘mon’ means ‘my’, but…”
“It means…love.”
To that, Wheezy chuckled.
