Historical Fanfic No One Asked For: Blue Coat Red Coat
Steve found his mark in the barn.
He held his wounded belly, chest rising and falling. A wounded, wild animal. He looked up at Steve with all the defiance a dying man could muster. Steve held his bayonet at the ready. He should’ve shot. The man was a rebel, a traitor to the king. But that look in those steel eyes– they spoke of desperation, of a life suppressed and denied freedom. Steve wasn’t daft. In those eyes, Steve saw himself, clear and free of England’s patriotism. He wore the colors of oppression, the symbol of a king who let others die in his stead, he grew up reciting prayers altered to fit a king angered by the Catholic Church. He was a lie, and all it took was that flash, unfiltered, raw and so very clear in the blue coat’s gaze. So Steve lowered his bayonet, dropped to his knees and pulled out his bandages.
The man flinched away, but his throat betrayed him with mangled whines of pain. He let Steve undo the buttons on his jacket and rip open his cotton shirt. The wound glistened in the barn. Orange flames from Steve’s lantern painted the man’s chest in wild flashes of color. Steve pulled out a flask of water, cleaning the wound. He’d need ale to prevent infection, but Steve couldn’t move him like this.
“W-why? So you c-can take me prisoner? Torture me for information?” The man spit in Steve’s face. “Fuck you.”
“No.” Steve wiped the saliva off his cheek. “Because fuck the king. That’s why.”
The man’s eyes rounded, his sharp gaze was less wolf and more human. His skin even warmed as he relaxed against the hay.
“Those’re traitor’s words,” he said before coughing. “You’re a captain.” He pointed to the gorget over Steve’s sternum.
“Yeah well, maybe I’ve seen enough people die for a man who’s too scared to fight his own battles.”
The man tried to laugh, but it came out garbled and wet. He rested his head back, adam’s apple bobbing. “Welcome to the rebellion, red coat.”
“What’s your name, blue coat?”
The man flashed a smile, his canines glinting in the lantern light. With a wince, he sat up more, holding the bandages where Steve packed the wound. “Get me outta here alive, and I’ll think about telling you.”