hah, this is spam-tastic.
The ending feels contrived. I'm really bad at endings. Guh.
This is the Shell/Robin morning after thing I promised Scully I'd write. And Smoke. And all you lot, actually. I can rewrite it if I screwed up characters too much. like how I screwed up Robin. And your mom last night. /Mike
Also, everyone, I 'd like you to meet Gary. He's Shell's accidental metrosexual chick-magnet roommate. He kicks ass. He's also permanently self-satisfied.
--
Shell woke smoothly to the feeling of not having had nearly enough alcohol last night, as he remembered it with disappointing clarity. He would have liked to forget it - not because it had been particularly embarrassing or stupid or a bad decision, but because he would have liked to be surprised upon walking into the kitchen and finding Robin or a self-satisfied roommate. Also, now he would have no excuse for walking out naked as he was wont to do.
…Not that this really mattered.
A trip to the bathroom and faceful of cold water later, with one sad-looking towel in tow, he emerged groggily from his bedroom and blinked a few times at Robin and Gary the self-satisfied roommate. "Where's the coffee?" he demanded, and was rewarded by a look of horror that crossed Robin's face and sent the man backwards in his chair with rebound. He didn't fall, to Shell's further disappointment.
"In the coffeepot, as usual," Gary quipped in amusement. "Over a year now, and you still don't know your way around the kitchen in the morning?" He shook his head in derision. "You sure have poor taste," he informed Robin, who couldn't have looked more outraged if he'd tried to.
There was a long, awkward (and in Gary's case, self-satisfied as usual) silence in which Shell tossed back a cup of dark coffee. Feeling substantially more awake and capable of dealing with a werewolf with a crisis and a disturbingly attractive…
He never said that he was completely capable of dealing with it.
"Gary, out," he ordered, glaring at Gary with extra vehemence to compensate for the sudden fluster that he was not at all comfortable with in this context. The roommate did not help, giving him this long look that Shell was pretty sure read thusly: "I know exactly why you want me gone, and that's totally cool, I mean we all need to get laid sometimes, and this Robin guy ain't so bad. Just keep it off the table. I eat meals there." Before any retort could be made, though, Gary stood up with a flourish, swaggered out, and winked just before closing the door after him.
Robin glowered at the remaining resident. "What the hell happened last night?" he demanded, averting his eyes decisively away from the towel that presumably was little deterrent to his active imagination.
Shell had been up until this moment intending to explain things, and then make a strategic retreat to take a shower and actually get dressed. But two things stopped him: first, the incredibly strained looked Robin currently wore as he looked away, and secondly the irritation at his instant hostility. "You're not that damn stupid," Shell replied with the same satisfaction that Gary generally delivered his speech. "You tell me."
To his further satisfaction, Robin's face stained a rather brilliant red and the werewolf - fucking stupid werewolf - and an expression formed on his face vaguely reminiscent of pure horror. But not quite - there was something else which Shell was hoping was related somehow to attraction. "Did we really?"
Shell rolled his eyes. "You aren't allowed to get that drunk again," he said.
"We did." Robin buried his face in his hands. "Well, I'm a right fool, and…guh."
"I don't do the whole rape thing," Shell replied irritably, not really wanting to break Robin's brain. Just torment him a bit. "I prefer to fuck someone who can actually, yanno, respond. So no, we didn't. Disappointed?"
Robin lifted his face to glare, still flushed. "What, because I've just realised I'm gay I'm obviously attracted to you?"
"No." Shell snorted scornfully. "It's because you're trying so fucking hard not to stare at my crotch. Kinda gives it away." He snickered as Robin finally looked up to his face, ready to deny everything. Denial was getting rather tiresome, though, so he set down his coffee mug and sidestepped the table, leaning down to kiss Robin hard on the mouth.
"Your point's made," Robin muttered a few seconds later, going if possible even redder. "Now get off."
Shell considered. "Nah. It's too much fun watching you get flustered trying to defend yourself." He sat pointedly on Robin's lap and grinned evilly. "Besides, everyone knows that cats stick around where they're least appreciated."
"That's not the problem here," Robin muttered. "And you know it."
"Honestly, I don't see the any damn problems here," Shell told him. "You're attracted to me. Obviously after having kissed you twice I'm not indifferent to you. There doesn't have to be any drama shit unless you want there to be."
"The problem is -” Robin began heatedly, then broke off as he appeared to think about it. "The problem is that towel, that's what," he finished lamely.
"You want it off?" Shell inquired lasciviously. Robin socked him upside the head, and he toppled off the werewolf's lap and onto the floor, towel somehow remaining in a functional location. The werewolf was in a somewhat less functional position (i.e. still in his chair), and Shell scowled up at him. "If this were any decent movie you would have fucking fallen down too."
There was something that looked suspiciously like a laugh threatening to force its way out of Robin's mouth, judging by the twitchings of his mouth. "This isn't a movie, Shell. Get the hell up."
"How about you do it for me?"
Robin looked pensive for a moment, and then unexpectedly reached out a hand. "You're a bastard and a damned feline," he said seriously.
"Sticks and stones, as they say," Shell scoffed. "Gary said the table's off-limits. I for one don't exactly enjoy the kitchen floor. My vote's we beat it back to my room."
For another moment Robin didn't respond. Finally he stood up, an inch over Shell, and laughed. "I should have known you'd be an easy lay," he said in a mocking tone. Any offense Shell might have taken was negated by the fact that he had not expected Robin to be able to make such a comment in this time and place. So there was hope for him yet.
"I said I don't enjoy the kitchen floor," Shell repeated gruffly. "But I'll settle for what I can get, so either we go now or I jump you right here. Your choice."
"Oh, linoleum. Huge turn-on," Robin replied dryly.
"Well, hurry up then."
This is the Shell/Robin morning after thing I promised Scully I'd write. And Smoke. And all you lot, actually. I can rewrite it if I screwed up characters too much. like how I screwed up Robin. And your mom last night. /Mike
Also, everyone, I 'd like you to meet Gary. He's Shell's accidental metrosexual chick-magnet roommate. He kicks ass. He's also permanently self-satisfied.
--
Shell woke smoothly to the feeling of not having had nearly enough alcohol last night, as he remembered it with disappointing clarity. He would have liked to forget it - not because it had been particularly embarrassing or stupid or a bad decision, but because he would have liked to be surprised upon walking into the kitchen and finding Robin or a self-satisfied roommate. Also, now he would have no excuse for walking out naked as he was wont to do.
…Not that this really mattered.
A trip to the bathroom and faceful of cold water later, with one sad-looking towel in tow, he emerged groggily from his bedroom and blinked a few times at Robin and Gary the self-satisfied roommate. "Where's the coffee?" he demanded, and was rewarded by a look of horror that crossed Robin's face and sent the man backwards in his chair with rebound. He didn't fall, to Shell's further disappointment.
"In the coffeepot, as usual," Gary quipped in amusement. "Over a year now, and you still don't know your way around the kitchen in the morning?" He shook his head in derision. "You sure have poor taste," he informed Robin, who couldn't have looked more outraged if he'd tried to.
There was a long, awkward (and in Gary's case, self-satisfied as usual) silence in which Shell tossed back a cup of dark coffee. Feeling substantially more awake and capable of dealing with a werewolf with a crisis and a disturbingly attractive…
He never said that he was completely capable of dealing with it.
"Gary, out," he ordered, glaring at Gary with extra vehemence to compensate for the sudden fluster that he was not at all comfortable with in this context. The roommate did not help, giving him this long look that Shell was pretty sure read thusly: "I know exactly why you want me gone, and that's totally cool, I mean we all need to get laid sometimes, and this Robin guy ain't so bad. Just keep it off the table. I eat meals there." Before any retort could be made, though, Gary stood up with a flourish, swaggered out, and winked just before closing the door after him.
Robin glowered at the remaining resident. "What the hell happened last night?" he demanded, averting his eyes decisively away from the towel that presumably was little deterrent to his active imagination.
Shell had been up until this moment intending to explain things, and then make a strategic retreat to take a shower and actually get dressed. But two things stopped him: first, the incredibly strained looked Robin currently wore as he looked away, and secondly the irritation at his instant hostility. "You're not that damn stupid," Shell replied with the same satisfaction that Gary generally delivered his speech. "You tell me."
To his further satisfaction, Robin's face stained a rather brilliant red and the werewolf - fucking stupid werewolf - and an expression formed on his face vaguely reminiscent of pure horror. But not quite - there was something else which Shell was hoping was related somehow to attraction. "Did we really?"
Shell rolled his eyes. "You aren't allowed to get that drunk again," he said.
"We did." Robin buried his face in his hands. "Well, I'm a right fool, and…guh."
"I don't do the whole rape thing," Shell replied irritably, not really wanting to break Robin's brain. Just torment him a bit. "I prefer to fuck someone who can actually, yanno, respond. So no, we didn't. Disappointed?"
Robin lifted his face to glare, still flushed. "What, because I've just realised I'm gay I'm obviously attracted to you?"
"No." Shell snorted scornfully. "It's because you're trying so fucking hard not to stare at my crotch. Kinda gives it away." He snickered as Robin finally looked up to his face, ready to deny everything. Denial was getting rather tiresome, though, so he set down his coffee mug and sidestepped the table, leaning down to kiss Robin hard on the mouth.
"Your point's made," Robin muttered a few seconds later, going if possible even redder. "Now get off."
Shell considered. "Nah. It's too much fun watching you get flustered trying to defend yourself." He sat pointedly on Robin's lap and grinned evilly. "Besides, everyone knows that cats stick around where they're least appreciated."
"That's not the problem here," Robin muttered. "And you know it."
"Honestly, I don't see the any damn problems here," Shell told him. "You're attracted to me. Obviously after having kissed you twice I'm not indifferent to you. There doesn't have to be any drama shit unless you want there to be."
"The problem is -” Robin began heatedly, then broke off as he appeared to think about it. "The problem is that towel, that's what," he finished lamely.
"You want it off?" Shell inquired lasciviously. Robin socked him upside the head, and he toppled off the werewolf's lap and onto the floor, towel somehow remaining in a functional location. The werewolf was in a somewhat less functional position (i.e. still in his chair), and Shell scowled up at him. "If this were any decent movie you would have fucking fallen down too."
There was something that looked suspiciously like a laugh threatening to force its way out of Robin's mouth, judging by the twitchings of his mouth. "This isn't a movie, Shell. Get the hell up."
"How about you do it for me?"
Robin looked pensive for a moment, and then unexpectedly reached out a hand. "You're a bastard and a damned feline," he said seriously.
"Sticks and stones, as they say," Shell scoffed. "Gary said the table's off-limits. I for one don't exactly enjoy the kitchen floor. My vote's we beat it back to my room."
For another moment Robin didn't respond. Finally he stood up, an inch over Shell, and laughed. "I should have known you'd be an easy lay," he said in a mocking tone. Any offense Shell might have taken was negated by the fact that he had not expected Robin to be able to make such a comment in this time and place. So there was hope for him yet.
"I said I don't enjoy the kitchen floor," Shell repeated gruffly. "But I'll settle for what I can get, so either we go now or I jump you right here. Your choice."
"Oh, linoleum. Huge turn-on," Robin replied dryly.
"Well, hurry up then."