Work and Play
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Yorkeses
Prompt: Intimacy
Notes: For the Lover100 challenge.
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Dale doesn't want to work.
011: Intimacy
It was the little things she did. Little quirks. Little habits. They set him off far too easily.
That was his fault, for the most part, though. After all, he did allow them to. But when she furrowed her brow just so, tossed her hair just right, he couldn’t help himself. He watched her and groaned inwardly.
"Is something wrong, darling?"
His back snapped straight. "Uh, no. No. I was just… Just watching you, darling. I think you have something I don’t."
She examined his piece of the portico and shook her head. "You have the same thing I do."
"Oh. Er. Silly me."
He smiled a very unconvincing smile. She half snorted and grinned.
"You’re more ridiculous than Victor’s cat."
He blushed a bit. "And that’s pretty damn ridiculous."
"Dale, shut up."
"Yes, dear."
She turned back to her work with a roll of her eyes. He forgot to turn back to his own and continued to watch her.
"Dale."
"Sorry."
He pulled the tools and the parts out of her hands and set them with his on their makeshift table. She put up a token resistance. Mostly just giggled. He jumped to his feet and pulled her with him. Dragged her into the next car. Tossed her onto their makeshift bed.
"Dale! What if someone comes in?" she demanded.
"Maneater had better hope he doesn’t come back to this one, my love," Dale replied. "I’ll kill him."
She sighed and flopped onto her back. Nested into the blankets. He stared a moment then reached for her. She pulled him down beside her.
"So pretty," he whispered. "So warm."
She blushed deeply. Gave him a mournful look. He kissed her gently. Pulled her close. Stroked her hair. Lost himself quite happily in her eyes.
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Yorkeses
Prompt: Intimacy
Notes: For the Lover100 challenge.
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Dale doesn't want to work.
011: Intimacy
It was the little things she did. Little quirks. Little habits. They set him off far too easily.
That was his fault, for the most part, though. After all, he did allow them to. But when she furrowed her brow just so, tossed her hair just right, he couldn’t help himself. He watched her and groaned inwardly.
"Is something wrong, darling?"
His back snapped straight. "Uh, no. No. I was just… Just watching you, darling. I think you have something I don’t."
She examined his piece of the portico and shook her head. "You have the same thing I do."
"Oh. Er. Silly me."
He smiled a very unconvincing smile. She half snorted and grinned.
"You’re more ridiculous than Victor’s cat."
He blushed a bit. "And that’s pretty damn ridiculous."
"Dale, shut up."
"Yes, dear."
She turned back to her work with a roll of her eyes. He forgot to turn back to his own and continued to watch her.
"Dale."
"Sorry."
He pulled the tools and the parts out of her hands and set them with his on their makeshift table. She put up a token resistance. Mostly just giggled. He jumped to his feet and pulled her with him. Dragged her into the next car. Tossed her onto their makeshift bed.
"Dale! What if someone comes in?" she demanded.
"Maneater had better hope he doesn’t come back to this one, my love," Dale replied. "I’ll kill him."
She sighed and flopped onto her back. Nested into the blankets. He stared a moment then reached for her. She pulled him down beside her.
"So pretty," he whispered. "So warm."
She blushed deeply. Gave him a mournful look. He kissed her gently. Pulled her close. Stroked her hair. Lost himself quite happily in her eyes.