FIC: An interlude
A quick ficlet I wrote for booshbattle!
Rating: PG (for language)
Prompt: Jon/Elliot (during the FF assignment), some holiday
Notes: I blame this on the heat of the past few days. D: Also, I'm not sure this really qualifies as a 'holiday', but it's as close as I could get to one during the FF assignment! :D This is pointless and very fluffy.
When Mike had invited them to his house in the country for the weekend, Elliot had said it would be a good idea to accept, saying something about finally getting the opportunity to bug Mike’s home. But looking at Elliot floating on his back in the large swimming pool, on one of the hottest days of the summer, Jon reflects that work probably wasn’t the only reason Elliot had been so eager to leave London for two days.
Jon wades up to him and flicks water at his face, but Elliot just grins, limbs spread out, with his long hair fanning through the water like a black cloud around his head. His bruises from the fight he got into last week are starting to fade, green and purple splotches still stark against his pale skin.
“You look like a battered mermaid.”
“I don’t care. Christ, I can’t believe this house,” Elliot says, eyes sliding shut, “I should’ve become a drug dealer.”
“Well, technically I’m one, and I don’t have a giant swimming pool in my back garden.”
“Fuck, I really wish you did,” Elliot says, and he sounds so wistful that Jon snorts out a laugh.
“You only wanted to come here because of the pool, didn’t you? The surveillance, that’s secondary to floating around in your pants.”
“No reason why you can’t mix business with pleasure.”
“That’s your personal manifesto, isn’t it?” Jon laughs, “You should get it tattooed across your heart.”
He reaches out to trace the skin above Elliot’s nipple as he says it, but Elliot grabs his wrist and gives it a strong tug, and Jon loses his footing, flopping forward across Elliot’s body and momentarily dunking them both. Jon swallows what feels like a litre of water in the process and emerges spluttering and coughing, his vision suddenly blurry and Elliot’s laughter ringing in his ears.
“Fuck-... my glasses, you tit!”
“Chill, they’re over here,” Elliot says from behind him, and Jon turns to see an Elliot-shaped smudge, and squints to try and bring him into focus.
“Give ‘em here, I can’t see a fucking thing.”
Elliot presses up against him, and from this close, it’s easier to focus on his face. He’s holding Jon’s glasses and shaking the water off of them, then takes a second to glance through the lenses and grimaces.
“Fucking hell, you really are blind.”
“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Jon says grumpily and Elliot laughs, reaching up to put Jon’s glasses back in place. His fingers linger on the sides of Jon’s face, stroking over his bristly cheeks, tracing the contours of his ears before sliding into his hair. There’s something soft in his smile, and if it was anyone else, Jon might even call it tender. He can feel it bubbling up inside again, the urge to say something stupid, but thankfully Elliot kisses him before the words can slip out.
Jon draws him closer, mindful of the bruises on his ribs, and kisses him back, slow and deep and thorough, until Mike’s voice breaks the silence, calling out from the house.
“You two better not be fucking in there!”
Elliot pulls back, lips swollen, eyes bright, with that smile of his that can only mean trouble.
“No, but we will be once he’s asleep, won’t we?” he murmurs, pressing his groin against Jon’s.
Jon wants to disagree, but he already knows that would just be a useless lie.
Rating: PG (for language)
Prompt: Jon/Elliot (during the FF assignment), some holiday
Notes: I blame this on the heat of the past few days. D: Also, I'm not sure this really qualifies as a 'holiday', but it's as close as I could get to one during the FF assignment! :D This is pointless and very fluffy.
When Mike had invited them to his house in the country for the weekend, Elliot had said it would be a good idea to accept, saying something about finally getting the opportunity to bug Mike’s home. But looking at Elliot floating on his back in the large swimming pool, on one of the hottest days of the summer, Jon reflects that work probably wasn’t the only reason Elliot had been so eager to leave London for two days.
Jon wades up to him and flicks water at his face, but Elliot just grins, limbs spread out, with his long hair fanning through the water like a black cloud around his head. His bruises from the fight he got into last week are starting to fade, green and purple splotches still stark against his pale skin.
“You look like a battered mermaid.”
“I don’t care. Christ, I can’t believe this house,” Elliot says, eyes sliding shut, “I should’ve become a drug dealer.”
“Well, technically I’m one, and I don’t have a giant swimming pool in my back garden.”
“Fuck, I really wish you did,” Elliot says, and he sounds so wistful that Jon snorts out a laugh.
“You only wanted to come here because of the pool, didn’t you? The surveillance, that’s secondary to floating around in your pants.”
“No reason why you can’t mix business with pleasure.”
“That’s your personal manifesto, isn’t it?” Jon laughs, “You should get it tattooed across your heart.”
He reaches out to trace the skin above Elliot’s nipple as he says it, but Elliot grabs his wrist and gives it a strong tug, and Jon loses his footing, flopping forward across Elliot’s body and momentarily dunking them both. Jon swallows what feels like a litre of water in the process and emerges spluttering and coughing, his vision suddenly blurry and Elliot’s laughter ringing in his ears.
“Fuck-... my glasses, you tit!”
“Chill, they’re over here,” Elliot says from behind him, and Jon turns to see an Elliot-shaped smudge, and squints to try and bring him into focus.
“Give ‘em here, I can’t see a fucking thing.”
Elliot presses up against him, and from this close, it’s easier to focus on his face. He’s holding Jon’s glasses and shaking the water off of them, then takes a second to glance through the lenses and grimaces.
“Fucking hell, you really are blind.”
“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Jon says grumpily and Elliot laughs, reaching up to put Jon’s glasses back in place. His fingers linger on the sides of Jon’s face, stroking over his bristly cheeks, tracing the contours of his ears before sliding into his hair. There’s something soft in his smile, and if it was anyone else, Jon might even call it tender. He can feel it bubbling up inside again, the urge to say something stupid, but thankfully Elliot kisses him before the words can slip out.
Jon draws him closer, mindful of the bruises on his ribs, and kisses him back, slow and deep and thorough, until Mike’s voice breaks the silence, calling out from the house.
“You two better not be fucking in there!”
Elliot pulls back, lips swollen, eyes bright, with that smile of his that can only mean trouble.
“No, but we will be once he’s asleep, won’t we?” he murmurs, pressing his groin against Jon’s.
Jon wants to disagree, but he already knows that would just be a useless lie.