Be sure to tag each post with #teamamber and #prompt # (ex: #prompt 1)
Do NOT tag these posts with #shernanigans
Prompt Three: Resorting to Drastic Measures
By: lillianabigailsturm [Team Sextras]
I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the second part in time ;_; But I wanted to share it anyways, because reasons, and it builds on my last bit while continuing with the same theme, and…yes.
TW: Sexism, Rape [Mentions of]
His Da came home for the funeral of course, and he didn’t say anything about Seb’s e-mail - though he supposed his Da had other things on his mind. Everyone there came up to them, telling them how sorry they were for their loss, and how awful it must be for ‘poor Seb’ knowing that he’d mistaken his Mother for a deer. He nodded along, head hung, and let Cordelia usher him inside.
Sitting him down in the library with a mug of tea she sat opposite, leaving their baby sister on the floor with her puzzle and staring at him as he blew the steam away from his face. “You’ve never missed a shot in your life, Seb,” She looked up through her fringe, seeing through him the way only an older sibling could.
“No need to remind me Delia, I already feel bad enough,” He sneered.
“No you don’t.”
Looking up, he blinked, surprised to see her smiling at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not. …I had a plan to leave in…well, three years. But…thank you. ‘Cause I’m not sure I’d have made it that long.”
“Well…if I knew what you were talking about, I’d say ‘you’re welcome’.”
Staring at each other, the pair suddenly burst out laughing, “God, we sound like one of those bad American mobster families on the telly.”
Life…well, it didn’t go back to normal after that, obviously, but it was nice. Their Father hired a housekeeper/nanny to look after them, and things went well. Cordelia went to art college at eighteen, and Seb joined the army - following in his Uncle’s footsteps - two years later, when he was eighteen.
The Army did well for him, combining his twin passions: order and guns, and he flourished there. The easy camaraderie ill-fitting but, over time, he learned to fake it; learned to not flick off a hand that settled on his shoulder, to laugh as if some idiotic joke was funny, and to make up stories of some of his ‘conquests’. So, when he was forced out of service due to some minor mishap - some knucklehead had stolen the latest picture his baby sister had sent and started going on about how fit she was [what did that even mean?], how fuckable she looked, and Seb snapped, beating the other man’s face in until three guys managed to pull him off the brat - saying that the only reason he was getting off so easily was because of his ‘excellent service’, Seb felt numb.
Six months after he returned he was running low on food, had no job prospects, and his future looked rather bleak, when little Amelia turned up at his door, tears leaking out of her eyes and pressing one hand to her mouth. “Ams? Jesus. What’s wrong?”
“George. H-h-he - oh God,” She broke down, collapsing into Seb’s arms and letting him hold her as she sobbed. And, for the first time in a very long while, as he held his sister in the doorway of his dingy little bedsit, Seb felt lost.
The next day He had showed up - like an Angel, or…well - and spouted off all the things he knew about Seb’s family and life - all while Seb stood there shaking with anger - before offering him work.
Seb was ready to turn Him down when he remembered that he needed to help Amy prosecute her rapist and that he had no money with which to do so. And, as if to add it’s own two cents, his stomach suddenly growled long and low.
So, he tilted his head and drawled, “When do I start, Boss?”