TRON:Legacy Alan/Sam; The Way I Feel Inside
Title: The Way I Feel Inside
Series: TRON:Legacy
Author: camesawconquerd
Pairing: Alan/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~500ish
Spoilers: Hope you've watched the movies. If not what are you doing here D: ?
Warnings: Nothing too terrible this round. Just something short and sweet.
Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing. Ever. At all. I just throw words on a text document and hope it comes out okay. Tron and whatever are copyright to other people and not me.
Summary: Sam should learn not to miss meetings. It's not nice to scare old men like that. ;)
Notes: Just something I threw together for centerspire I needed a mental break from some projects and said: "give me a pairing I'll give you a fic." She said Alan/Sam - this is what she got. I'M SO SORRY. Title is the same as a song by The Zombies; cut tag is lyrics from said song. I like themes.
Alan glanced at the clock watching the numbers roll by. It was fifteen minutes, then forty five, then an hour, hour and a half... he was warring between a sense of outright anger and just generalized annoyance. Sam was 27, and in his own words: he could take care of himself. A mantra he had been repeating since he was 14.
Not that Sam saying it had made Alan believe it. He hadn't bought it then and he sure as hell didn't buy it now.
There was a low rumble outside and without checking he knew it was Sam. That bike had an unmistakable sound, maybe because he was so used to listening for it after hours. When the door opened there he was, face red from exertion and hair disheveled from where he had been wearing his helmet. Thank God for small miracles Alan thought. Sam was shrugging out of his jacket before he even noticed Alan was there.
"Evening, Alan," he said when he noticed Alan's presence. He dropped his stuff on the counter and then thinking better of actually going any closer just asserted himself there in the makeshift kitchen. Something coiled around his imagination that sounded absurdly like, stay out of striking distance.
"You missed the meeting," Alan commented, taking another couple of steps forward and watching with vested interest as Sam stiffened.
"I uh...hm." Sam shoved his hands into his back pockets and tried to look anywhere but at Alan. "I must have forgotten."
"You usually do," Alan replied, holding out a thumb drive to Sam, "meeting notes. You might want them for tomorrow." There was a palpable silence as Sam reached out and took the drive, pocketing it and starting to open his mouth, but Alan cut him off, "you will be there tomorrow."
It might have been a question at some other time but when Alan said it then it was a demand. It was a 'you will or else' moment. Sam sputtered, trying to regain the lost ground as Alan invaded his personal space and stopped trying to maintain any vestiges of appropriate conduct or professionalism.
"I just got distracted! I was at the arcade, I-" Sam started but Alan cut him off, leaned in, wrapping an arm around Sam's waist and dragging him close.
It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, for all Sam knew they had been consumed in a vacuum and any minute gravity would cease to exist. He raised his eyes enough to meet Alan's and was almost surprised by the lack of anger. Which meant the look he had was somthing else, something indefinable. "A...Alan?"
But it wasn't words that Alan used then, it wasn't language with its silly consonants and tricky vowels and their subtle, vindictive rules - no it was touch. It was the careful brush of fingers along the back of Sam's neck, it was the soft imperceptible brush of lashes on his cheek. It was the way Alan shifted them bodily to align in just the right way.
"I lost your father there, don't let me lose you too," he mumbled. And that was the warning before he went the rest of the way and kissed Sam on the mouth. But unlike the careful touches prior, this was hard, this was needy and demanding and desperate. It was the real threat that he wouldn't vocalize, but more than that it was the question. It was: 'stay here with me.'
And Sam kissed back because he was making the promise that he would.
Series: TRON:Legacy
Author: camesawconquerd
Pairing: Alan/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~500ish
Spoilers: Hope you've watched the movies. If not what are you doing here D: ?
Warnings: Nothing too terrible this round. Just something short and sweet.
Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing. Ever. At all. I just throw words on a text document and hope it comes out okay. Tron and whatever are copyright to other people and not me.
Summary: Sam should learn not to miss meetings. It's not nice to scare old men like that. ;)
Notes: Just something I threw together for centerspire I needed a mental break from some projects and said: "give me a pairing I'll give you a fic." She said Alan/Sam - this is what she got. I'M SO SORRY. Title is the same as a song by The Zombies; cut tag is lyrics from said song. I like themes.
Alan glanced at the clock watching the numbers roll by. It was fifteen minutes, then forty five, then an hour, hour and a half... he was warring between a sense of outright anger and just generalized annoyance. Sam was 27, and in his own words: he could take care of himself. A mantra he had been repeating since he was 14.
Not that Sam saying it had made Alan believe it. He hadn't bought it then and he sure as hell didn't buy it now.
There was a low rumble outside and without checking he knew it was Sam. That bike had an unmistakable sound, maybe because he was so used to listening for it after hours. When the door opened there he was, face red from exertion and hair disheveled from where he had been wearing his helmet. Thank God for small miracles Alan thought. Sam was shrugging out of his jacket before he even noticed Alan was there.
"Evening, Alan," he said when he noticed Alan's presence. He dropped his stuff on the counter and then thinking better of actually going any closer just asserted himself there in the makeshift kitchen. Something coiled around his imagination that sounded absurdly like, stay out of striking distance.
"You missed the meeting," Alan commented, taking another couple of steps forward and watching with vested interest as Sam stiffened.
"I uh...hm." Sam shoved his hands into his back pockets and tried to look anywhere but at Alan. "I must have forgotten."
"You usually do," Alan replied, holding out a thumb drive to Sam, "meeting notes. You might want them for tomorrow." There was a palpable silence as Sam reached out and took the drive, pocketing it and starting to open his mouth, but Alan cut him off, "you will be there tomorrow."
It might have been a question at some other time but when Alan said it then it was a demand. It was a 'you will or else' moment. Sam sputtered, trying to regain the lost ground as Alan invaded his personal space and stopped trying to maintain any vestiges of appropriate conduct or professionalism.
"I just got distracted! I was at the arcade, I-" Sam started but Alan cut him off, leaned in, wrapping an arm around Sam's waist and dragging him close.
It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, for all Sam knew they had been consumed in a vacuum and any minute gravity would cease to exist. He raised his eyes enough to meet Alan's and was almost surprised by the lack of anger. Which meant the look he had was somthing else, something indefinable. "A...Alan?"
But it wasn't words that Alan used then, it wasn't language with its silly consonants and tricky vowels and their subtle, vindictive rules - no it was touch. It was the careful brush of fingers along the back of Sam's neck, it was the soft imperceptible brush of lashes on his cheek. It was the way Alan shifted them bodily to align in just the right way.
"I lost your father there, don't let me lose you too," he mumbled. And that was the warning before he went the rest of the way and kissed Sam on the mouth. But unlike the careful touches prior, this was hard, this was needy and demanding and desperate. It was the real threat that he wouldn't vocalize, but more than that it was the question. It was: 'stay here with me.'
And Sam kissed back because he was making the promise that he would.