Quick Ficlet (Tatort, PG, M/M)
Feb. 7th, 2021 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalIt didn't take me even a full episode of Tatort Münster to fall for Thiel and Boerne. I'm really not sure why, but I had to write this immediately. My apologies if I've messed up the German (feel free to correct me on it!).
Title: Mausebär
Fandom: Tatort Münster
Pairing: reluctant!Thiel/Boerne
Rating: PG
Summary: Boerne frequently shows up at Thiel’s door. This time, he does it because he’s got a cold and needs comfort.
Notes: I watched my first episode of this show at an online slash con house party and couldn’t get this short scene out of my head until I wrote it down.
Thiel knew that knock. It was unmistakable. In nothing but black undies and a black St. Pauli shirt, he crawled out of bed and trotted over to his front door. If he didn’t answer the door, the light rapping of knuckles against wood would not cease and he wouldn’t get anymore sleep. Of course, if he did answer the door, his visitor would likely see to it that he wouldn’t get back to sleep. Either way, he was in for a long night that didn’t even have anything to do with the latest homicide case.
Opening his apartment door, he found Boerne standing there in his pressed, royal blue pajamas with the white trim. A white blanket was draped around his shoulders, and he clutched at it with one hand to keep it in place. In the other hand, he held a crumpled handkerchief.
According to the digital clock on his microwave, it was 3:47 right now. From the moment he’d seen Boerne whip off a glove at the end of the autopsy and pinch his nostrils closed for a count of ten that afternoon, Thiel should have expected the man to turn up at his door, ill and miserable and needing care. He marveled that it had taken this long, in fact. Boerne’s pride would be his downfall one day.
“Mine leibe, Th-Thiel—” was all Boerne managed to get out before rearing back with a series of tiny gasps. Each one drew the corners of his mouth down and raised his eyebrows. “h’pttttshhew!” he fired into his handkerchief. He rubbed the balled up fabric back and forth at his nose, snuffling in the most pathetic display Thiel had ever seen. Pathetic little rich boy with a case of the sniffles. “hehhh…” Boerne wound up again, eyes shutting tighter, body swaying from the uncontrollable urge. “hepppTShheewww!” This one was louder, stronger, and followed by a series of light, wet coughs he only barely kept in control of. It was worse than just the sniffles.
“Gesundheit.” With a sigh, Thiel grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him into the apartment. Hands on the man’s shoulders from behind, he walked him not to the couch but to the bed. As much as he hated to set this sort of a precedent, a man with a raging head cold like this one needed more than a couple throw blankets and lumpy couch cushions.
And Boerne was in no fit state to object even if he wanted to. He sat down on the edge of the bed and toed off his slippers while Thiel popped over to the kitchen. When Boerne saw the dark bottle and tablespoon, he retreated into his blanket, nuzzling his face into the thick fleece. But Thiel poured a dose of the syrupy medicine and then pulled the blanket aside. He grunted, almost too tired to speak at this point, and touched the metal spoon to Boerne’s soft lips. If he pushed the man too hard, Boerne would push back, and they’d wind up in another of their arguments. But Boerne needed this medicine, and Thiel wasn’t going to back down. After a few seconds, the dark-haired man relented and swallowed the spoonful with a wince at the foul taste.
The instantaneous approval he got was Thiel putting him to bed, drawing the heavy black comforter over him, and then sliding in behind to hold him. Boerne curled into a little ball, sniffling some more, and shivering a little as well. Thiel acted the part of the big spoon, lending his warmth. He reached over and slid the glasses from Boerne’s face, placing them gently on the nightstand. Then he kept his arm there, curved around the other man. “Geh schlafen… mausebär,” Thiel murmured, his voice somehow both gruff and soft at the same time.
Boerne closed his eyes but sneezed again instead of sleeping. “Heh-heppttttshew! Hihhdshhew!”
Title: Mausebär
Fandom: Tatort Münster
Pairing: reluctant!Thiel/Boerne
Rating: PG
Summary: Boerne frequently shows up at Thiel’s door. This time, he does it because he’s got a cold and needs comfort.
Notes: I watched my first episode of this show at an online slash con house party and couldn’t get this short scene out of my head until I wrote it down.
Mausebär
Thiel knew that knock. It was unmistakable. In nothing but black undies and a black St. Pauli shirt, he crawled out of bed and trotted over to his front door. If he didn’t answer the door, the light rapping of knuckles against wood would not cease and he wouldn’t get anymore sleep. Of course, if he did answer the door, his visitor would likely see to it that he wouldn’t get back to sleep. Either way, he was in for a long night that didn’t even have anything to do with the latest homicide case.
Opening his apartment door, he found Boerne standing there in his pressed, royal blue pajamas with the white trim. A white blanket was draped around his shoulders, and he clutched at it with one hand to keep it in place. In the other hand, he held a crumpled handkerchief.
According to the digital clock on his microwave, it was 3:47 right now. From the moment he’d seen Boerne whip off a glove at the end of the autopsy and pinch his nostrils closed for a count of ten that afternoon, Thiel should have expected the man to turn up at his door, ill and miserable and needing care. He marveled that it had taken this long, in fact. Boerne’s pride would be his downfall one day.
“Mine leibe, Th-Thiel—” was all Boerne managed to get out before rearing back with a series of tiny gasps. Each one drew the corners of his mouth down and raised his eyebrows. “h’pttttshhew!” he fired into his handkerchief. He rubbed the balled up fabric back and forth at his nose, snuffling in the most pathetic display Thiel had ever seen. Pathetic little rich boy with a case of the sniffles. “hehhh…” Boerne wound up again, eyes shutting tighter, body swaying from the uncontrollable urge. “hepppTShheewww!” This one was louder, stronger, and followed by a series of light, wet coughs he only barely kept in control of. It was worse than just the sniffles.
“Gesundheit.” With a sigh, Thiel grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him into the apartment. Hands on the man’s shoulders from behind, he walked him not to the couch but to the bed. As much as he hated to set this sort of a precedent, a man with a raging head cold like this one needed more than a couple throw blankets and lumpy couch cushions.
And Boerne was in no fit state to object even if he wanted to. He sat down on the edge of the bed and toed off his slippers while Thiel popped over to the kitchen. When Boerne saw the dark bottle and tablespoon, he retreated into his blanket, nuzzling his face into the thick fleece. But Thiel poured a dose of the syrupy medicine and then pulled the blanket aside. He grunted, almost too tired to speak at this point, and touched the metal spoon to Boerne’s soft lips. If he pushed the man too hard, Boerne would push back, and they’d wind up in another of their arguments. But Boerne needed this medicine, and Thiel wasn’t going to back down. After a few seconds, the dark-haired man relented and swallowed the spoonful with a wince at the foul taste.
The instantaneous approval he got was Thiel putting him to bed, drawing the heavy black comforter over him, and then sliding in behind to hold him. Boerne curled into a little ball, sniffling some more, and shivering a little as well. Thiel acted the part of the big spoon, lending his warmth. He reached over and slid the glasses from Boerne’s face, placing them gently on the nightstand. Then he kept his arm there, curved around the other man. “Geh schlafen… mausebär,” Thiel murmured, his voice somehow both gruff and soft at the same time.
Boerne closed his eyes but sneezed again instead of sleeping. “Heh-heppttttshew! Hihhdshhew!”
