Pre-story disclaimer: this incorporates time-period violence and discrimination. This does not, in any way, reflect my personal opinions on topics touched on in the story. Furthermore, there will be themes that are not especially suitable for younger children. I'll let you decide if you should read it or not.

Additionally, you can feel free to express your hate in the comments section, I'm not going to stop you. Just know that it's your own opinion and I don't have to listen to it. Peace, love, all that stuff, hope you enjoy the story xx

. . . .

viva indifference

we drowned our love to save it from the fires

. . . .

Radiator Springs, 1970

The world faded in slowly, blurry at the edges and vividly colored. He'd woken up because of the throbbing headache he had acquired from a hangover, and the dire need to brush his teeth. He would stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, eyes tracing over the painted canvas and thinking.

Waking up in this situation wasn't unusual for him. It had happened a few times before, after nights of drinking and hushed, bubbly laughter. He looked to his left, and found exactly what he had expected to find: a sleeping Fillmore, with kiss marks red on his neck and jaw.

Slowly, silently, Sarge slid out from under the warm covers, put on what little clothes he needed to jump the fence and sprint back to his own house, and made for the door. He parted the beaded curtains that separated inside from out, and sighed. The guilt stung at him, but he needed to leave if he was going to ensure their secrecy.

"Leaving already?"

Sarge turned to find Fillmore grinning at him sleepily from the bed across the room, head propped up on one hand.

"Well, I can't stay,"

Fillmore's grin grew wider. "Sure you can, dude." He snatched an alarm clock from the table next to him. "It's only five! We have, like, two more hours!"

"Fillmore, everyone in the café saw us leave together. If the police didn't suspect something before, then they definitely suspect something now." Sarge looked him over, "Besides, they'll arrest us the moment they get a look at you,"

"You aren't looking much better yourself," Fillmore sighed as he stood, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, "And there's only one cop in this town. What could he do?"

"Contact the nearest mental hospital?" Sarge snapped. "You know how it is out there! They round up people like us and—a-and hurt us until we aren't ourselves anymore. It's not safe."

Fillmore's expression darkened. "Th' Sherriff wouldn't do that. He's a good man,"

"Will you say the same when he sends you to prison?"

Fillmore was silent for a moment. "Look, dude, I understand your mistrust of everyone around ya. But there are good people in this town; I don't think that they'd give a damn if they found out,"

Sarge opened his mouth to retort, but closed it once he found that nothing was going to come out.

"Fine." He sighed.

He looked away as Fillmore drew closer, not at all wanting to admit his defeat.

"C'mon, man, you can pretend that you don't like me later,"

Sarge looked back at him, sighing. "Fine," He repeated.

Fillmore kissed him, smiling slightly. "Come back to bed,"

And, despite all other issues he might have had, he did.

. . .

That's where I'm gonna end it. If you want smut you're gonna have to scroll down to the very first post on my fandom blog. For the love of god, I am not reliving that experience again.

Song: Viva Indifference by Frank Iero and the Patience