zackastor

[zackastor]

You find a note attached to your front door. In lowercase letters it reads: you are the stull cemetary.

Zack's eyes narrow as he grabs the note pasted onto the front door of the cabin. Rex pats up behind him, panting from their morning run. Zack ignores the canine gently bumping his head against his leg as he studies the writing. Stull cemetary. The writing's unfamiliar. The soldier's mouth tightens, his jaw muscles working. His expression stern, he folds up the note, slides it into his pocket and heads inside.

[zackastor]

why did the council let liam back into Redwood? seems like a volatile situation.

Figure because most of them knew him from before, so they trust him. Considering he hasn't caused much trouble yet, I figure he's gonna keep quiet down the line. Whatever happened that made him leave was probably some personal shit. Doesn't mean I trust him or buy his story, but I don't think he's gonna mess with Redwood.

[zackastor]

Do you think you'll ever fully move on from Vivienne?

As much as I did from Hunter.

[zackastor]

Why would you turn Fleet into a weapon? Shouldn't you want to keep him safe and happy and not expose him to bad things?

Fleet's already been exposed to bad things, and he asked me to train him.He wanted to learn how to fight, he made that choice for himself.

[zackastor]

What’s the best part of your day?

Waking up, going for a run and a swim and coming back home to Fleet cooking breakfast.

[zackastor]

Do you think if Fleet keeps on changing, you might not want to be with him anymore?

Look, I don't buy into the whole "love is unconditional" shit, because most of the time, it isn't. But Fleet's changing in a damn good way, and unless he does a 180 and becomes a different person, me being with him ain't gonna change.

[zackastor]

You ever think you'll be free of Viv?

I'm free of her. She ain't living in my place anymore.

[zackastor]

ASK ME ANYTHING

Don't think I gotta explain the concept. You get it.

[zackastor]

Are you comfortable having ex cons and murderers in redwood?

Don't really give much of a shit about if anybody went to prison. Plenty of non ex-cons that could put a knife in your back. And plenty of people in Redwood got blood on their hands. All depends on the reasons, doesn't it?

[zackastor]

Do you miss being a soldier?

Ain't nothing I'm doing here that I didn't do as a soldier as well. Except for the listening to people ordering me around.

[zackastor]

"Mh. You remember the goat rib, but you don't remember that?" Zack chided, his gaze trailing to where Fleet's soft, pearl-pink lips were pressed against the dark ink on his wrist, before flicking back up to meet the other man's half lidded, dark eyes. Fleet gave out information easily, even without being asked. Little details, like the foods he enjoyed eating as a kid, or how he cried because the lights were too bright in a scene of Music Camp. Sometimes significant things too, spliced in light-heartedly even if they weren't, that needed to be followed up on. Zack was more reserved.

"The corsage. You made out of cedar and pinecones.h" Zack wasn't sure if Fleet still had it tucked away somewhere. It was probably long dried up by this point. "I thought about chucking the damn thing into the lake when you gave it to me. Thought why the hell should I bring you anything? I ain't your boyfriend." Zack's thumb ran circles right below Fleet's ear, feeling the steady pulse against his thumb. "And you wore the thing the entire night when I gave it to you."

And Fleet had done so with a sense of confident, unabashed pride. No trying to hide it, no shame, but displaying the fact that he was there with Zack quietly and constantly. At the time, Zack had figured what was between him and Fleet was sex. Not like Fleet'd been the first young and pretty guy trying to get close to him, though this time there was no money anbody could be after. Even though Zack hadn't quite realized it at the time, and it'd taken until Fleet's first visit at the cabin for it to settle in, the corsage had been a way of asking for more. It'd been a start, too.

Thinking about it now felt so sentimental that Zack almost grimaced. Instead, however, he grabbed Fleet's hips. As muscular as Fleet had gotten, there was still softness giving easily below Zack's fingers pressing down, pushing Fleet down firmly on his lap, meeting it with a soft jerk of his own hips. "Did you make it just to have me give it to you?" Zack asked, fingers slipping down to Fleet's thighs and squeezing them, thumbs pressed into the dip where they met the younger man's hips. "When did it start for you, kid?"

"It's an unorthodox method, but you're so handsome, tiger, you could take the boys you like to exhume bodies and it would probably still work for you." Fleet was, as always, half-joking and half-serious, a midway that worked well with his reticent, reserved husband; he found it an exciting challenge, lavishing love and attention on Zack but never crossing the line that would make it too much, make Zack start to reject the displays of affection. It was a constant work in progress, to gradually teach a man who'd been starved of love how to start being fed on it. And it was probably the work (aside from the Slaying, of course) that Fleet was most proud of in his whole life.

And here Zack was requiting that effort, as he did from time to time on his own schedule, fingers locked into Fleet's curls as he confirmed that yes, even back then Fleet had been special. A kiss, intimate and lovingly familiar, and Zack kept on with his list as he pulled Fleet into his lap into the same position he'd commanded on one of the first of those visits, one they'd settled into as a favourite while they'd been courting.

A sprig of cedar. A crown on your wrist. Mark you up like me.

Fleet shivered in pleasure, only partially brought about by the feel of Zack's strong hands holding him, the lips against his neck. "I love it," he said, his own voice dipping to match, throaty and heated. Fleet took hold of Zack's hand, bringing it up so he could kiss the crown tattooed on the inside of his man's wrist, and murmured, "...why the cedar? It's perfect, where I grew up there was tons of cedar and I had those little cedar balls in all my clothes drawers to scent my clothes, I used to get wherever I lived cedar smudged for cleansing, the whole works, but ... what does it mean to you?"

There was something there that Fleet felt was significant, but it was slipping his mind at the moment -- and getting Zack to tell him, to recount their little stories and ephemera from his point of view, was one of Fleet's favourite things anyhow.

[zackastor]

"You could always join up with the hunters. Put that crossbow to some use." Zack said, nodding at Alden's signature weapon, clearly well-kept even if it hadn't seen much action. Even though Alden had retired from the Hunters and returned mainly to his blacksmith duties, the guy never struck Zack as someone who enjoyed staying cooped up behind walls. And he'd been a good enough Hunter out there, too.

Not that the hunter's weren't doing fine. Zack's eyes narrowed slightly at the questions, bearing down on the other man's back. His voice was firm when he answered. "No trouble. Mike's been doing fine. Did you see something?" Zack hadn't just taken Mike out on hunts for the fun of it, or solely to keep an eye on him. It'd been a chance to watch him, and make damn sure he knew how things worked around here. Maybe it was the general threat of getting his ass kicked out, or maybe it'd been the beatdown Zack had given him, but Mike had kept in line. There'd been comments, aimed at getting a reaction, but hell, Zack could handle that.

Didn't mean Zack trusted him. Not one damn bit. But with the Daybreakers gone, and Mike being on good behavior, Zack had eased up on the leash and allowed Mike some leeway. See what he'd do with it. But he was damn well ready to change that, if he had to. Zack breathed out slowly, forcing the tension to release from his shoulders. "I'm heading out today. Ranch lookouts spotted a deer herd heading in Redwood's direction. Figured I should do something about that. Could use some help."

"Takes a special breed to willingly be awake so early in the mornin'," Alden replies, his words sounding suspiciously close to a compliment. It takes all types to make the world go round. He's thankful there are morning people because who else would get shit done while he's sleeping and vice versa? He and Zack may not always see eye to eye, but it seems they have similar tastes in weapons, well maintained hunting bow slung across Zack's back.

"A little of both. Mostly just feelin' restless and needed somethin' to do," he confesses, and with all of his arrows used, he walks over to the targets and starts to pull them out so he can reuse them. "What about you? You headed about soon? How's things been goin' with the blonde asshole anyways? He givin' you any trouble while you're out there?"

[zackastor]

"You'd be wrong." There was no animosity in Zack's voice as he greeted Alden with a curt nod and stepped into the training yard, his hunting bow and quiver slung across his shoulder. After years of service, waking up at the crack of dawn had been pretty much beaten into his body. Always at the same time, like clockwork, no matter how many hours of sleep he got. And with Fleet, he often enough didn't get the eight hours. Not that Zack minded. It worked for them - and he liked the peace and quiet of the twilight morning hours.

Zack's eyes trailed over the targets, arrows embedded in them. Not bulls-eyes, but pretty close. "Looks like you didn't forget how to shoot." Zack commented easily, eyes trailing over to Alden. Not everybody was awake at this time at their own volition. "You planning on going hunting? Or did you just feel like shooting a couple of things?"

OPEN STARTER // training yard

Although these days he spends more time making weapons than using them, he knows it's important to practice once in a while. It's the reason he slunk away to the training yard in the early, twilight hours of the morning. So early that it's still practically night, he sets up a few targets and lifts his crossbow. Holding his breath to steady his aim he fires. He doesn't get a bullseye on the first try, but it's close. He only manages to fire off two more shots before he hears soft footsteps padding toward him. "Never took ya for a mornin' person," he greets them with a small nod of his head.

[zackastor]

"I take all the people I like to go bury bodies. You gotta admit, it works pretty damn well." A content sound rumbled in Zack's chest, vibrating in his throat against Fleet's lips. There was something about Fleet's weight beside him - in moments like these, sitting on the sofa, but also when Fleet climbed into their shared bed, or they were simply walking or standing next to each other. There was a presence, a heaviness to it. A realness. It felt comforting like warm water heating up his body, and often, when his husband got close enough that Zack could smell the neroli soap mixing with that sweet-and-salty Fleet scent, the heat balled up inside his belly.

Zack cupped the back of Fleet's head, threading his fingers through Fleets hair and feeling them snag on his fingers. His tone was even, almost matter-of-factly when he responded. "You are special." Because, of course, it hadn't been just the dog. That'd been the start, the moment Zack realized there was more to the manicured, pretty boy he'd sneered at. Every part of the man sitting right now in front of him had been there too, back then, waiting to be worked out and refined.

Zack opened his slitted eyes, turning so he could look at Fleet's face and kiss him with the casualness of marriage and that spark of hunger that let his tongue trail over the inside of his husbands lips. "Wasn't just the dog. Plenty of other things, too. Prom, the visits. Testing my limits. You made damn sure to leave an impression, didn't you?" Zack sloped one arm around Fleet's waist, pulling him onto his lap, feeling the weight of compact muscle press down on him. Zack leaned in, pressing his lips to Fleets neck, nipping at the skin just above his voice box. On prom night, Fleet had asked that Zack spare him there, until he had the chance to sing, but still allowing Zack to ruin his voice. Give Zack his body in a way he didn't for anyone else, not with such trust.

Zack felt his hand press into the spot at Fleet's side, pushing it below the fabric to trail alongside the burn mark. "A sprig of cedar." Zack murmured, up against Fleet's skin. "That's what I'm gonna tattoo on you. And a crown on your wrist. Mark you up like me."

Fleet gave Zack a flirty little flick of his eyebrows, over his shoulder about that goat rib being his ticket in, before he went into the house, getting stuff ready by the time Zack made his way inside. In his purposeful, deliberate, confident way; they'd been sharing this home for over a year now, and Fleet still got a thrill every time he saw his husband come through that door on his mile-long legs. Knew that Zack not only expected to find Fleet in their home, but enjoyed it.

"You make me sound so mercenary," Fleet said, but laughed. Acting was a mercenary profession, after all. "You're not totally wrong. I knew if Kurt and Blaine were a hit with the fans then that was gonna explode, considering what a phenomenon Music Camp was already. I guess it all proved a little overwhelming for Emmit." He dipped his chin, giving Zack a significant look. "But then again, he wasn't consecrated to singing and acting in the cradle, like I was."

He could tell that Zack was looking at polished, bright-eyed Blaine with his slicked-down hair and prim chipperness, and then up at the real thing standing in front of him: Fleetwood, more heavily-muscled through the arms and chest, beardy and tousled, gazing at Zack through the same long lashes but more sultry, more real.

And Zack answered the unasked question by slitting his own green eyes, mentioning the dog. Ronnie's dog that had gone crazy, that they'd killed and buried without anybody knowing. Fleet not shying away from the dirty job like Zack had expected him to. "You started liking me because I demonstrated I knew how to sneaky-bury a dead dog?" Fleet repeated, through a spreading grin as he moved closer to his husband, reaching up to loop his arms around Zack's neck. "Is that -- mmmm--" he started to press kisses along Zack's jawline, firm below his own beard, "--is that your typical method of sussing out whether or not you're interested in a hot boy who insists on encroaching on your personal space? Or am I just special?"

[zackastor]

Do you ever feel like having sex with Vivienne, secretly?

... No. Used to, not anymore. Done doing my damn marital duty. Not sure if Viv ever really wanted it either.

[zackastor]

Do you ever wish you could have fixed things with Hunter before he died?

Can't fix something I didn't damn break in the first place.

... I did want my brother to be there for me, after what happened, hell, part of me thought he would be, but he chose not to. That ain't something I could've changed. And there's no point in wishing now. Hunter's dead and he's not coming back. Doesn't matter what I wanted, or if he regretted it, because he never tried to fix shit before he died.

I ain't wishing for anything.

[zackastor]

DRUNK CONFESSIONS

send in asks for my character to answer while inebriated. Happy askmeme weekend!