(no subject)
Title: I'm not in love.
Fandom: It's been a bad week.
Characters: Steve Punt, Hugh Dennis.
Prompt: 038, Touch.
Word Count: 356.
Rating: 13-ish.
Summary: 10cc lyrics do not feature in the fic proper.
Author's Notes: Contains teh ghey.
Dislaimer: All of this story is a complete fiction and does not reflect on the people whose public images I have misappropriated thus.
They’re not touchy-feely or remotely romantic. Certainly no one looking at them now as they lark around cheerfully insulting each other in codified in-jokes and drawing their fellow writers into an odd little word of meticulously constructed multi-referential drollery would see anything but the schoolboy-ish antics of a pair of old chums. They wear the other’s presence like an old coat. There are no secret soft looks or cleverly disguised lingering touches.
Steve pokes Hugh in the arm as he makes a point, waving a newspaper before Hugh as proof of his last statement. Hugh swears at him I response and swats his friend’s hand away like a troublesome insect. Mitch just shakes his head at the two of them and grabs the paper from Steve’s hand, on a quest to find a worthy subject of his comedic song-writing skills. There is a natural lull in the conversation and they fall silent; Mitch scours the newspaper grumbling under his breath, Hugh rearranges pages with ideas on, trying to find a better pacing for them and Steve seems to have an idea and starts tapping away at the computer keyboard.
They all jump at the sound of an almighty ‘bang’ and Steve emit’s a shocked ‘bloody Hell’ as he contemplates the smoking computer. Hugh just casually leans over, fingertips brushing across Steve’s shoulder as his hand goes to lean on the back of Steve’s chair. They peer at the non-functional machine together and ignore the slight shake Steve’s voice has as he wonders aloud how on earth that had happened.
No, to an outsider they definitely are not touchy-feely. They’re below the ‘relationship radar’ and seem to like it that way. But after Mitch, Toby and the rest of the writing team have left for the night their kisses are an assault upon the other’s sanity and the grinding press of one body against another as limbs and lips tangle together is telling enough. It’s not romantic and there are no dewy eyes here, but every fierce grope or affectionate cuff to the back of the head speaks volumes of respect and affection in its own way.
Fandom: It's been a bad week.
Characters: Steve Punt, Hugh Dennis.
Prompt: 038, Touch.
Word Count: 356.
Rating: 13-ish.
Summary: 10cc lyrics do not feature in the fic proper.
Author's Notes: Contains teh ghey.
Dislaimer: All of this story is a complete fiction and does not reflect on the people whose public images I have misappropriated thus.
They’re not touchy-feely or remotely romantic. Certainly no one looking at them now as they lark around cheerfully insulting each other in codified in-jokes and drawing their fellow writers into an odd little word of meticulously constructed multi-referential drollery would see anything but the schoolboy-ish antics of a pair of old chums. They wear the other’s presence like an old coat. There are no secret soft looks or cleverly disguised lingering touches.
Steve pokes Hugh in the arm as he makes a point, waving a newspaper before Hugh as proof of his last statement. Hugh swears at him I response and swats his friend’s hand away like a troublesome insect. Mitch just shakes his head at the two of them and grabs the paper from Steve’s hand, on a quest to find a worthy subject of his comedic song-writing skills. There is a natural lull in the conversation and they fall silent; Mitch scours the newspaper grumbling under his breath, Hugh rearranges pages with ideas on, trying to find a better pacing for them and Steve seems to have an idea and starts tapping away at the computer keyboard.
They all jump at the sound of an almighty ‘bang’ and Steve emit’s a shocked ‘bloody Hell’ as he contemplates the smoking computer. Hugh just casually leans over, fingertips brushing across Steve’s shoulder as his hand goes to lean on the back of Steve’s chair. They peer at the non-functional machine together and ignore the slight shake Steve’s voice has as he wonders aloud how on earth that had happened.
No, to an outsider they definitely are not touchy-feely. They’re below the ‘relationship radar’ and seem to like it that way. But after Mitch, Toby and the rest of the writing team have left for the night their kisses are an assault upon the other’s sanity and the grinding press of one body against another as limbs and lips tangle together is telling enough. It’s not romantic and there are no dewy eyes here, but every fierce grope or affectionate cuff to the back of the head speaks volumes of respect and affection in its own way.