[for the man who has everything] - [Bill, Len] - [Quarters]
Bill had never been good at gift-giving. It was one thing, giving something impersonal to somebody you didn't know especially well: a bunch of flowers here, a bottle of wine. Tickets to the theatre. But giving things to his people, his special people...that was different.
The easiest thing was to wait for the ideas to fall into one's lap.
Leonard was out. Bill wasn't sure what business he had, being out, when Bill had something to give him for this most confusing of birthdays, but he could guess where he had gone. His absence gave Bill time to prepare things: to find a stunningly suitable sweater from the bank Kirk had programmed into the replicators for them; to wave De off to Botany and attempt to ignore the half-knowing twist to his mouth as he departed. When Leonard returned with, as Bill expected, his precious Proper Coffee, Bill was ready.
"There you are."
He was smiling, warm and soft and suggestive of something as yet undeclared, as he reached out, took the cups from Leonard's unsuspecting hands and set them down.
"I've got something for you," he explained, fingers curling around Leonard's wrists, gently guiding him backwards. "And - " he cut off Leonard's protest - "I can't give it to you if you've got your hands full of coffee."
The wall was flush against Leonard's back in a matter of seconds; the deck firm under Bill's knees not a moment later. Bill looked up to catch Leonard's eyes, dark-washed-heat over confusion. He smiled, slowly. And set his hands to the buckle of Leonard's belt.
The easiest thing was to wait for the ideas to fall into one's lap.
Leonard was out. Bill wasn't sure what business he had, being out, when Bill had something to give him for this most confusing of birthdays, but he could guess where he had gone. His absence gave Bill time to prepare things: to find a stunningly suitable sweater from the bank Kirk had programmed into the replicators for them; to wave De off to Botany and attempt to ignore the half-knowing twist to his mouth as he departed. When Leonard returned with, as Bill expected, his precious Proper Coffee, Bill was ready.
"There you are."
He was smiling, warm and soft and suggestive of something as yet undeclared, as he reached out, took the cups from Leonard's unsuspecting hands and set them down.
"I've got something for you," he explained, fingers curling around Leonard's wrists, gently guiding him backwards. "And - " he cut off Leonard's protest - "I can't give it to you if you've got your hands full of coffee."
The wall was flush against Leonard's back in a matter of seconds; the deck firm under Bill's knees not a moment later. Bill looked up to catch Leonard's eyes, dark-washed-heat over confusion. He smiled, slowly. And set his hands to the buckle of Leonard's belt.