FIC: The End of the World as We Know It (1/1) Harry/Perry (G)
TITLE: The End of the World as We Know It
AUTHOR: CrimsonQuills (crimonsquills AT gmail DOT com)
FANDOM: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
CATEGORY: Slash
PAIRING: Harry/Perry
RATING: G
WARNINGS: Sweetness.
SUMMARY: Perry has something to tell Harry.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not making money.
NOTES: Last August, I told kijikun I would write her a prezzie for her birthday. I never delivered. My muses apparently recently woke up, so I offered her a much belated gift fic. This is it. I hope you enjoy! :-)
When Harry gets home, the lights are down low and Perry is sitting on the floor between the couch and the fireplace. There's a fire crackling away in said fireplace, and is that a pizza box next to Perry's hip?
Harry drops his keys in the basket, his bag next to the couch, and his jacket over the back of the couch--hey, at least it isn't going straight onto the floor anymore--and sinks down onto his knees almost reverently next to the pizza box. Perry lifts the cardboard lid before Harry can bring himself to reach out, and the rich scents of tomato sauce and basil and cheese and pepperoni waft out and tantalize Harry's taste buds. He lifts out a slice and actually closes his eyes and moans when he bites into it, because there's beef and bacon on it, too, and that's the unmistakable texture of double cheese and there's even pineapple and Perry thinks pineapple on pizza is disgusting.
When Harry opens his eyes--necessary to taking another bite--Perry is holding out a bottle of his favorite beer. Harry stills. "Am I being fired?" he asked warily, taking the bottle.
"What? No, of course not." Perry almost visibly swallows the 'idiot' on the end of that sentence.
Harry doesn't ask if Perry's breaking up with him; if they weren't going to be together after this, Perry wouldn't bother to soften the presumed blow with spectacular pizza and alcohol. So he goes with the next possibility to spring to mind. "Is the world ending? Everything seemed normal outside, but this is L.A., so it might be hard to tell." He takes another bite, a big one, because if the world is ending, he wants to enjoy this pizza. It's not so much that Perry won't let him get extra cheese or more than two meat toppings as it is that Harry can't stand the graphically detailed lectures about clogged arteries anymore.
Perry is rolling his eyes. "No, the world is not ending. Do you really hate follow up meetings so much that they make the apocalypse seem like an immediate possibility?"
"Follow up meetings are evil and you know it," Harry says around a mouthful of pizza. "It's why you make me do them. I can't decide if the people who won't pay are the worst ones, or if it's the people who will pay, who are happy to pay, and who keep throwing more pay in because they just remembered something and no, they can't tell you over the phone, you'll have to come back and oh, isn't it relevant that Fifi the toy poodle was at the vet at the time? Toy poodle. She carried the damn thing around the whole time I was there, too. What is it with L.A. and dogs the size of purses? Or dogs in purses. Don't dogs in L.A. have legs?"
Perry snorts and doesn't bother to point. "Okay, so obviously some dogs in L.A. have legs," Harry says, waggling the stump of his finger. "And he was fucking fast, you did not see that dog move! But that's not the point. The point is, what's the point of carrying your dog around? Why not just buy a stuffed animal? It'd last longer and be less trouble. Although the way some people clutch those dogs, I wouldn't be surprised if they had them stuffed after they keeled over and just kept carrying Fifi's preserved carcass around."
Harry folds himself into a more comfortable sitting position as he talks, back to the fire and facing Perry, who keeps the beer coming, and geez, Harry hopes that Perry ate earlier because he's going to finish this entire pizza himself. He's on the second to last slice, and it occurs to him as he's waving said slice around to emphasize his point that he had kind of a question that never got answered. "So what's the occasion?" he asks. "Beer, pizza, roaring fire. I forget an anniversary or something?"
Perry is half smiling, the way he does when Harry hasn't done something colossally stupid recently, which is kind of weird because Harry's been talking with his mouth full most of this time. "I was consulting on that show today, Knight Moves."
"That's the one with the woman detective with the red sunglasses and the D cups, right?" There's something wrong with the fact that 'red sunglasses' was the first part of that sentence to come out of Harry's mouth, but he's sleeping with Perry now, so he guesses it's allowed.
"That's the one," Perry confirms. "There was a guest star on set today. An old buddy of mine. An old fuck-buddy, actually." Maybe Perry stops, or maybe time just slows down, because okay, they'd never made any promises, but Perry had stopped bringing guys home after they'd started sleeping together, and Harry had assumed... Maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe Perry just stopped bringing guys home. Only why would Perry be telling him about it?
Time starts up again, or Perry gets back to talking. "And this guy... He's fucking gorgeous. Beyond TV gorgeous. He's movie star gorgeous, and hung like a horse on top of it." Perry is staring into the middle distance, still with that half smile on his face, and Harry is starting to feel sick, but he doesn't interrupt because Perry doesn't pull his punches, but he doesn't say cruel shit for no reason, either. "Filming being what it is, he's got hours between shots, and Frank is chatting me up, and he's good at it, Harry, there's a reason I fucked the man more than twice. He's obviously hoping for a repeat, pulling some of his best moves, and you know what I'm thinking?"
Perry stops, and Harry is apparently supposed to actually respond. "No, Perry. What are you thinking?" he manages, and Perry must notice that Harry's voice is kind of flat, because he looks Harry right in the eye when he goes on, dead serious.
"I'm thinking, 'I'm bored. I'm so fucking bored, I'd rather be doing follow up meetings with Harry than standing here, talking to this drop dead gorgeous man.'"
"Oh," Harry says softly. He puts the remains of the second-to-last slice of pizza down and wipes his fingers on his pants because he's pretty sure that--
"And after that," Perry says, "I think, 'I'm in love with Harry.'"
Definitely a good idea to put the pizza down. Harry crawls over and straddles Perry's outstretched legs and kisses him. It's slow. Sweet. Perry's hands come to rest on Harry's hips, and his mouth is warm and soft and wet and God, this may be the best kiss ever. Harry doesn't really want it to end, but he's kind of hoping Perry will say it again, so he pulls back for a second.
Perry delivers. "I love you."
Harry grins. "I love you, too." And really, that part wasn't ever in question, was it? But Perry smiles at him like maybe he likes hearing it, too, so they say it a couple more times, and Harry doesn't even get around to eating the last piece of pizza.
--End--
AUTHOR: CrimsonQuills (crimonsquills AT gmail DOT com)
FANDOM: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
CATEGORY: Slash
PAIRING: Harry/Perry
RATING: G
WARNINGS: Sweetness.
SUMMARY: Perry has something to tell Harry.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not making money.
NOTES: Last August, I told kijikun I would write her a prezzie for her birthday. I never delivered. My muses apparently recently woke up, so I offered her a much belated gift fic. This is it. I hope you enjoy! :-)
When Harry gets home, the lights are down low and Perry is sitting on the floor between the couch and the fireplace. There's a fire crackling away in said fireplace, and is that a pizza box next to Perry's hip?
Harry drops his keys in the basket, his bag next to the couch, and his jacket over the back of the couch--hey, at least it isn't going straight onto the floor anymore--and sinks down onto his knees almost reverently next to the pizza box. Perry lifts the cardboard lid before Harry can bring himself to reach out, and the rich scents of tomato sauce and basil and cheese and pepperoni waft out and tantalize Harry's taste buds. He lifts out a slice and actually closes his eyes and moans when he bites into it, because there's beef and bacon on it, too, and that's the unmistakable texture of double cheese and there's even pineapple and Perry thinks pineapple on pizza is disgusting.
When Harry opens his eyes--necessary to taking another bite--Perry is holding out a bottle of his favorite beer. Harry stills. "Am I being fired?" he asked warily, taking the bottle.
"What? No, of course not." Perry almost visibly swallows the 'idiot' on the end of that sentence.
Harry doesn't ask if Perry's breaking up with him; if they weren't going to be together after this, Perry wouldn't bother to soften the presumed blow with spectacular pizza and alcohol. So he goes with the next possibility to spring to mind. "Is the world ending? Everything seemed normal outside, but this is L.A., so it might be hard to tell." He takes another bite, a big one, because if the world is ending, he wants to enjoy this pizza. It's not so much that Perry won't let him get extra cheese or more than two meat toppings as it is that Harry can't stand the graphically detailed lectures about clogged arteries anymore.
Perry is rolling his eyes. "No, the world is not ending. Do you really hate follow up meetings so much that they make the apocalypse seem like an immediate possibility?"
"Follow up meetings are evil and you know it," Harry says around a mouthful of pizza. "It's why you make me do them. I can't decide if the people who won't pay are the worst ones, or if it's the people who will pay, who are happy to pay, and who keep throwing more pay in because they just remembered something and no, they can't tell you over the phone, you'll have to come back and oh, isn't it relevant that Fifi the toy poodle was at the vet at the time? Toy poodle. She carried the damn thing around the whole time I was there, too. What is it with L.A. and dogs the size of purses? Or dogs in purses. Don't dogs in L.A. have legs?"
Perry snorts and doesn't bother to point. "Okay, so obviously some dogs in L.A. have legs," Harry says, waggling the stump of his finger. "And he was fucking fast, you did not see that dog move! But that's not the point. The point is, what's the point of carrying your dog around? Why not just buy a stuffed animal? It'd last longer and be less trouble. Although the way some people clutch those dogs, I wouldn't be surprised if they had them stuffed after they keeled over and just kept carrying Fifi's preserved carcass around."
Harry folds himself into a more comfortable sitting position as he talks, back to the fire and facing Perry, who keeps the beer coming, and geez, Harry hopes that Perry ate earlier because he's going to finish this entire pizza himself. He's on the second to last slice, and it occurs to him as he's waving said slice around to emphasize his point that he had kind of a question that never got answered. "So what's the occasion?" he asks. "Beer, pizza, roaring fire. I forget an anniversary or something?"
Perry is half smiling, the way he does when Harry hasn't done something colossally stupid recently, which is kind of weird because Harry's been talking with his mouth full most of this time. "I was consulting on that show today, Knight Moves."
"That's the one with the woman detective with the red sunglasses and the D cups, right?" There's something wrong with the fact that 'red sunglasses' was the first part of that sentence to come out of Harry's mouth, but he's sleeping with Perry now, so he guesses it's allowed.
"That's the one," Perry confirms. "There was a guest star on set today. An old buddy of mine. An old fuck-buddy, actually." Maybe Perry stops, or maybe time just slows down, because okay, they'd never made any promises, but Perry had stopped bringing guys home after they'd started sleeping together, and Harry had assumed... Maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe Perry just stopped bringing guys home. Only why would Perry be telling him about it?
Time starts up again, or Perry gets back to talking. "And this guy... He's fucking gorgeous. Beyond TV gorgeous. He's movie star gorgeous, and hung like a horse on top of it." Perry is staring into the middle distance, still with that half smile on his face, and Harry is starting to feel sick, but he doesn't interrupt because Perry doesn't pull his punches, but he doesn't say cruel shit for no reason, either. "Filming being what it is, he's got hours between shots, and Frank is chatting me up, and he's good at it, Harry, there's a reason I fucked the man more than twice. He's obviously hoping for a repeat, pulling some of his best moves, and you know what I'm thinking?"
Perry stops, and Harry is apparently supposed to actually respond. "No, Perry. What are you thinking?" he manages, and Perry must notice that Harry's voice is kind of flat, because he looks Harry right in the eye when he goes on, dead serious.
"I'm thinking, 'I'm bored. I'm so fucking bored, I'd rather be doing follow up meetings with Harry than standing here, talking to this drop dead gorgeous man.'"
"Oh," Harry says softly. He puts the remains of the second-to-last slice of pizza down and wipes his fingers on his pants because he's pretty sure that--
"And after that," Perry says, "I think, 'I'm in love with Harry.'"
Definitely a good idea to put the pizza down. Harry crawls over and straddles Perry's outstretched legs and kisses him. It's slow. Sweet. Perry's hands come to rest on Harry's hips, and his mouth is warm and soft and wet and God, this may be the best kiss ever. Harry doesn't really want it to end, but he's kind of hoping Perry will say it again, so he pulls back for a second.
Perry delivers. "I love you."
Harry grins. "I love you, too." And really, that part wasn't ever in question, was it? But Perry smiles at him like maybe he likes hearing it, too, so they say it a couple more times, and Harry doesn't even get around to eating the last piece of pizza.
--End--