Comment Fic Collection #2 - Cowboy Hats, Dark Alleys, and Historical Markers
Just like the last time I did comment fic...I'm reposting the stories so I can pretend I'm more organized or something. Thanks to verav, godess_jessie and slartibartfast for the prompts!
FANDOMS: Psych, Torchwood and due South
PARINGS: Shawn/Lassiter, Jack/Ianto and Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio (but, sadly, not all in the same fic)
RATING: PG-13ish for all
WARNINGS: Some language, some groping with dashes of roleplay and voyeurism, all unbeta-ed. #1 contains spoilers for Psych 4x03: High Noon-ish.
SUMMARY: I love my friends for putting thoughts into my mind. :)
#1 - In which Shawn attempts to deputize Carlton (Shawn/Lassiter)
for verav "Shawn/Lassiter, sheriffs badge, Binky."
Carlton walked into his apartment and paused. Somehow, he wasn't really all that surprised to see Shawn with his feet propped up on the dining room table. The cowboy hat wasn't even all that surprising, nor was the leather vest with the Sheriff's badge still attached. (Shawn had been working the items into his outfit every day for the past week since they closed the case on Old Sonora.) What was a bit surprising (and made Carlton's blood run south) was the lack of any other articles of clothing on Shawn's body. The younger man was smirking at him as Carlton very slowly took off his suit jacket and draped it over the nearest armchair.
"Well howdy there, Binky!" he drawled as he let his feet drop to the floor. Lassiter swallowed heavily. He'd been wrong when he'd assumed Shawn wasn't wearing anything but the vest and the hat. The gun belt hung low on Shawn's bare hips as his stood. "The cows beat you home." Carlton blinked at him before his eyes wandered below the belt.
"Huh?" he grunted absently, staring at what definitely looked like a bottle of lube tucked into the gun holster. Carlton shook himself and turned his focus back to Shawn's grinning face. The grin disappeared as Shawn's expression turned suspiciously serious.
"I was gonna deputize ya..." The detective watched in interest as Shawn pulled a silver badge from the holster. "...but if yer gonna be late..." Shawn apparently couldn't keep in a small smile as he swaggered toward Lassiter. "Well, I suppose we can let it slide just this once." Carlton looked down to watch as Shawn reached out to pin the star to Carlton's dress shirt.
As much as the detective wanted to let Shawn continue with the roleplay, his pants were really becoming way too tight and all his patience was quickly fleeing toward the window. He reached out and grabbed Shawn by the vest, kissing him fiercely and not caring that he'd knocked the hat from Shawn's head.
Shawn pressed in close to him and Carlton groaned, his mouth falling open to Shawn's invading tongue. They managed to move a few feet to the left until they found the couch, Carlton sinking down onto it as Shawn knelt on the floor and insinuated his way between his legs. His fingers immediately began tugging on the buttons of Lassiter's shirt. After the third button slid open, he pulled back slightly with a frown and Carlton grunting in annoyance at the end of the kiss.
"Your badge is gonna fall off," Shawn murmured. Carlton looked down to see the badge was barely hanging onto the shirt. He reached down and grabbed it, yanking it off completely.
"We don't need no stinkin' badges," he said with a grin as he tossed the badge away and reached for Shawn again. Shawn stopped fiddling with the fourth button and pulled back from the other man's reach.
"Please tell me you did not just go there," he groaned. Carlton frowned and tried reaching for him again.
"I had to, Shawn. It was right there." Shawn leaned back further.
"True; but there are lines, Lassie. Lines mortal men just aren't meant to cross." Carlton rolled his eyes. "You can't just..MMPH!" Kissing Shawn was always the easiest way to get him to shut up.
Although, it wasn't always a foolproof plan.
"Binky..." Shawn gasped against his lips. "You want a quick draw or a standoff?" That made Carlton sit back as he gaped at Shawn.
"I'm not even going to pretend I know what the hell you're talking about, Spencer. But I swear to god if you call me 'Binky' one more time..." Shawn was grinning as he pulled the bottle of lube from the holster.
"You'll shoot me...Binky?"
/end
#2 - In which Jack and Ianto are observed in a dark alley (Jack/Ianto)
for godess_jessie "Jack/Ianto, Voyeurism, through voyeur's eyes"
Tim usually didn't take this particular route to work, but he was early for a change and figured the change of scenery might raise his mood a bit. As he was passing the alley between his least favorite pub and Jeremy's most favorite cafe, something slammed heavily and loudly into a row of trash bins, causing Tim to jump and press his back to the brick wall of the pub around the corner of the alley.
"Got it!" a voice cried, from somewhere near the other end of the alley.
"Nice work, Ianto!" a second man said; American, by the sound of it. Curiosity got the better of Tim and he glanced around the edge of the building into the alley.
Dawn hadn't fully broken across the city and the alley, blocked off by buildings as it was, was dim. Tim could just barely make out two figures hunched over something on the opposite side of the bins. One of them appeared to be wearing a long coat; the other looked like he was wearing nothing more than a suit.
"I'll go for the car," the Welshman said. The one in the suit began to move toward the end of the alley, not getting far before the man in the coat grabbed him and shoved him up against the side of the building. Tim tensed, wondering if he should make his presence known or go immediately for help. He squinted through the dimness at the pair, trying to make his decision. His jaw dropped open and his cheeks flushed as he realized the two men were kissing, rather heatedly.
"What about the Hoix?" he just barely heard one of the men gasp.
"The sedative'll hold," the American replied.
"In that case..." Tim blinked and suddenly the man in the coat was pinned against the wall, laughing huskily.
"I thought you needed to get back in time to start the coffee..."
"Gwen's never in before ten," was the murmured reply. Tim was getting a little too turned on watching the two men moving together against the brick wall. One of the men moaned and Tim drew in a shaky breath as he swore he heard the distinctive sound of a zipper. He'd witnessed random gropes in back alleys before, even participated in a few, but this just seemed a little too...personal.
Tim backed out of the alley slowly, deciding to give the two men their privacy. With a glance at his watch, he headed back in the direction of his flat. It was early yet, maybe he could catch Jeremy before he even got out of bed...
/end
#3 - In which Kowalski makes a very long drive (Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio)
for slartibartfast "Fraser/Ray K/Ray V. ;) Prompt? Uhm... road trip."
"Fraser, we are not stopping again," Kowalski insisted from behind the wheel.
"But Ray, according to the historical marker..." Fraser began from the back seat.
"Give it up, Benny," Vecchio piped up from the passenger seat. "Stanley's gonna be pissy if we're late."
"Fuck you, Vecchio," Kowalski muttered with no real heat.
"It's all right, Ray," Fraser said amicably. "I'll make sure we have enough time scheduled into the return trip." Kowalski groaned and refused to even glance in Vecchio's direction, knowing the other Ray would be smirking at him.
--Ten minutes later--
Kowalski spotted the next sign and bit back a groan, hoping Mr. Observant in the back seat wouldn't notice it.
"Ray..."
"No, Fraser. N. O. We are going to keep going until we are there."
"Oh come on, Stanley," Vecchio said. "The convention doesn't even start until tomorrow." Kowalski shot him a glare and deliberately stepped down on the accelerator.
--Twenty minutes later--
"Not a word, Vecchio," Kowalski ground out through a clenched jaw. "Not one.
Fucking. Word." He got out of the car, slamming the driver's door behind him. A flat tire? Seriously? "Traitor," Kowalski muttered as he kicked the flat.
Six hours into a four hour drive (thanks to the first two historical markers Fraser had insisted on stopping at) and they were finally less than thirty minutes from the hotel. Of course that'd be the perfect time for a tire to go. And, Kowalski supposed, it just wouldn't be a flat without the driving rain to go along with it. (He muttered as much a he stomped to the trunk to dig for the spare.)
He was getting ready to toss Vecchio's suitcase to the asphalt (there was a nice puddle just off to his left...) when he felt someone step up behind him. He looked over his right shoulder as Fraser put a gentle hand on his back. Someone sighed to his left and Kowalski blinked the rain out of his eyes to turn to look at him. Vecchio rolled his eyes and grabbed the suitcase out of his hands, finding the driest spot on the pavement to set it.
Fraser pushed gently past Kowalski to move his own bag and reach the spare while Vecchio squeezed in to grab the jack.
"I can do it," Kowalski said stubbornly, reaching for the tire iron. Fraser pushed his hand away.
"You've been driving all day," he argued softly.
"We'll let you hold the nuts, Stanley," Vecchio suggested as he and Fraser moved toward the flat tire. "You're good at holding nuts."
"Hardy har ha, Raimundo. Keep it up and I won't be going anywhere near your nuts for a very long time," Kowalski snapped. The two Rays glared at each other as Fraser sighed and set the tire down.
"I will change the tire," he said, holding a hand out for the jack. Kowalski and Vecchio both glared at him.
"Shut up, Fraser," Kowalski said while Vecchio echoed with a "Shut up, Benny."
--Three hours later--
Kowalski sighed in contentment as Vecchio pressed a kiss against the back of his neck. Fraser was already moving back to the bed after completing the clean-up routine Kowalski and Vecchio hadn't been able to rid him of in nearly three years.
The next three days were going to be full of lectures and workshops and all sorts of presentations on how to be a better law enforcement officer. Kowalski had already prepared himself to be bored out of his mind. But as Fraser slid under the duvet next to him and Vecchio's hand stroked lazily across his chest, Kowalski decided he really didn't mind all that much. His nights certainly weren't going to be tedious.
/end
FANDOMS: Psych, Torchwood and due South
PARINGS: Shawn/Lassiter, Jack/Ianto and Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio (but, sadly, not all in the same fic)
RATING: PG-13ish for all
WARNINGS: Some language, some groping with dashes of roleplay and voyeurism, all unbeta-ed. #1 contains spoilers for Psych 4x03: High Noon-ish.
SUMMARY: I love my friends for putting thoughts into my mind. :)
#1 - In which Shawn attempts to deputize Carlton (Shawn/Lassiter)
for verav "Shawn/Lassiter, sheriffs badge, Binky."
Carlton walked into his apartment and paused. Somehow, he wasn't really all that surprised to see Shawn with his feet propped up on the dining room table. The cowboy hat wasn't even all that surprising, nor was the leather vest with the Sheriff's badge still attached. (Shawn had been working the items into his outfit every day for the past week since they closed the case on Old Sonora.) What was a bit surprising (and made Carlton's blood run south) was the lack of any other articles of clothing on Shawn's body. The younger man was smirking at him as Carlton very slowly took off his suit jacket and draped it over the nearest armchair.
"Well howdy there, Binky!" he drawled as he let his feet drop to the floor. Lassiter swallowed heavily. He'd been wrong when he'd assumed Shawn wasn't wearing anything but the vest and the hat. The gun belt hung low on Shawn's bare hips as his stood. "The cows beat you home." Carlton blinked at him before his eyes wandered below the belt.
"Huh?" he grunted absently, staring at what definitely looked like a bottle of lube tucked into the gun holster. Carlton shook himself and turned his focus back to Shawn's grinning face. The grin disappeared as Shawn's expression turned suspiciously serious.
"I was gonna deputize ya..." The detective watched in interest as Shawn pulled a silver badge from the holster. "...but if yer gonna be late..." Shawn apparently couldn't keep in a small smile as he swaggered toward Lassiter. "Well, I suppose we can let it slide just this once." Carlton looked down to watch as Shawn reached out to pin the star to Carlton's dress shirt.
As much as the detective wanted to let Shawn continue with the roleplay, his pants were really becoming way too tight and all his patience was quickly fleeing toward the window. He reached out and grabbed Shawn by the vest, kissing him fiercely and not caring that he'd knocked the hat from Shawn's head.
Shawn pressed in close to him and Carlton groaned, his mouth falling open to Shawn's invading tongue. They managed to move a few feet to the left until they found the couch, Carlton sinking down onto it as Shawn knelt on the floor and insinuated his way between his legs. His fingers immediately began tugging on the buttons of Lassiter's shirt. After the third button slid open, he pulled back slightly with a frown and Carlton grunting in annoyance at the end of the kiss.
"Your badge is gonna fall off," Shawn murmured. Carlton looked down to see the badge was barely hanging onto the shirt. He reached down and grabbed it, yanking it off completely.
"We don't need no stinkin' badges," he said with a grin as he tossed the badge away and reached for Shawn again. Shawn stopped fiddling with the fourth button and pulled back from the other man's reach.
"Please tell me you did not just go there," he groaned. Carlton frowned and tried reaching for him again.
"I had to, Shawn. It was right there." Shawn leaned back further.
"True; but there are lines, Lassie. Lines mortal men just aren't meant to cross." Carlton rolled his eyes. "You can't just..MMPH!" Kissing Shawn was always the easiest way to get him to shut up.
Although, it wasn't always a foolproof plan.
"Binky..." Shawn gasped against his lips. "You want a quick draw or a standoff?" That made Carlton sit back as he gaped at Shawn.
"I'm not even going to pretend I know what the hell you're talking about, Spencer. But I swear to god if you call me 'Binky' one more time..." Shawn was grinning as he pulled the bottle of lube from the holster.
"You'll shoot me...Binky?"
/end
#2 - In which Jack and Ianto are observed in a dark alley (Jack/Ianto)
for godess_jessie "Jack/Ianto, Voyeurism, through voyeur's eyes"
Tim usually didn't take this particular route to work, but he was early for a change and figured the change of scenery might raise his mood a bit. As he was passing the alley between his least favorite pub and Jeremy's most favorite cafe, something slammed heavily and loudly into a row of trash bins, causing Tim to jump and press his back to the brick wall of the pub around the corner of the alley.
"Got it!" a voice cried, from somewhere near the other end of the alley.
"Nice work, Ianto!" a second man said; American, by the sound of it. Curiosity got the better of Tim and he glanced around the edge of the building into the alley.
Dawn hadn't fully broken across the city and the alley, blocked off by buildings as it was, was dim. Tim could just barely make out two figures hunched over something on the opposite side of the bins. One of them appeared to be wearing a long coat; the other looked like he was wearing nothing more than a suit.
"I'll go for the car," the Welshman said. The one in the suit began to move toward the end of the alley, not getting far before the man in the coat grabbed him and shoved him up against the side of the building. Tim tensed, wondering if he should make his presence known or go immediately for help. He squinted through the dimness at the pair, trying to make his decision. His jaw dropped open and his cheeks flushed as he realized the two men were kissing, rather heatedly.
"What about the Hoix?" he just barely heard one of the men gasp.
"The sedative'll hold," the American replied.
"In that case..." Tim blinked and suddenly the man in the coat was pinned against the wall, laughing huskily.
"I thought you needed to get back in time to start the coffee..."
"Gwen's never in before ten," was the murmured reply. Tim was getting a little too turned on watching the two men moving together against the brick wall. One of the men moaned and Tim drew in a shaky breath as he swore he heard the distinctive sound of a zipper. He'd witnessed random gropes in back alleys before, even participated in a few, but this just seemed a little too...personal.
Tim backed out of the alley slowly, deciding to give the two men their privacy. With a glance at his watch, he headed back in the direction of his flat. It was early yet, maybe he could catch Jeremy before he even got out of bed...
/end
#3 - In which Kowalski makes a very long drive (Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio)
for slartibartfast "Fraser/Ray K/Ray V. ;) Prompt? Uhm... road trip."
"Fraser, we are not stopping again," Kowalski insisted from behind the wheel.
"But Ray, according to the historical marker..." Fraser began from the back seat.
"Give it up, Benny," Vecchio piped up from the passenger seat. "Stanley's gonna be pissy if we're late."
"Fuck you, Vecchio," Kowalski muttered with no real heat.
"It's all right, Ray," Fraser said amicably. "I'll make sure we have enough time scheduled into the return trip." Kowalski groaned and refused to even glance in Vecchio's direction, knowing the other Ray would be smirking at him.
--Ten minutes later--
Kowalski spotted the next sign and bit back a groan, hoping Mr. Observant in the back seat wouldn't notice it.
"Ray..."
"No, Fraser. N. O. We are going to keep going until we are there."
"Oh come on, Stanley," Vecchio said. "The convention doesn't even start until tomorrow." Kowalski shot him a glare and deliberately stepped down on the accelerator.
--Twenty minutes later--
"Not a word, Vecchio," Kowalski ground out through a clenched jaw. "Not one.
Fucking. Word." He got out of the car, slamming the driver's door behind him. A flat tire? Seriously? "Traitor," Kowalski muttered as he kicked the flat.
Six hours into a four hour drive (thanks to the first two historical markers Fraser had insisted on stopping at) and they were finally less than thirty minutes from the hotel. Of course that'd be the perfect time for a tire to go. And, Kowalski supposed, it just wouldn't be a flat without the driving rain to go along with it. (He muttered as much a he stomped to the trunk to dig for the spare.)
He was getting ready to toss Vecchio's suitcase to the asphalt (there was a nice puddle just off to his left...) when he felt someone step up behind him. He looked over his right shoulder as Fraser put a gentle hand on his back. Someone sighed to his left and Kowalski blinked the rain out of his eyes to turn to look at him. Vecchio rolled his eyes and grabbed the suitcase out of his hands, finding the driest spot on the pavement to set it.
Fraser pushed gently past Kowalski to move his own bag and reach the spare while Vecchio squeezed in to grab the jack.
"I can do it," Kowalski said stubbornly, reaching for the tire iron. Fraser pushed his hand away.
"You've been driving all day," he argued softly.
"We'll let you hold the nuts, Stanley," Vecchio suggested as he and Fraser moved toward the flat tire. "You're good at holding nuts."
"Hardy har ha, Raimundo. Keep it up and I won't be going anywhere near your nuts for a very long time," Kowalski snapped. The two Rays glared at each other as Fraser sighed and set the tire down.
"I will change the tire," he said, holding a hand out for the jack. Kowalski and Vecchio both glared at him.
"Shut up, Fraser," Kowalski said while Vecchio echoed with a "Shut up, Benny."
--Three hours later--
Kowalski sighed in contentment as Vecchio pressed a kiss against the back of his neck. Fraser was already moving back to the bed after completing the clean-up routine Kowalski and Vecchio hadn't been able to rid him of in nearly three years.
The next three days were going to be full of lectures and workshops and all sorts of presentations on how to be a better law enforcement officer. Kowalski had already prepared himself to be bored out of his mind. But as Fraser slid under the duvet next to him and Vecchio's hand stroked lazily across his chest, Kowalski decided he really didn't mind all that much. His nights certainly weren't going to be tedious.
/end