Chicken Licken - Lost - Daniel/Miles
Title: Chicken Licken
Pairing: Daniel/Miles
Word Count: 753
Rating: PG
A/N: At the lostsquee luau, Queen siluria asked for weather-related fics.
Summary: As a storm rages outside, Miles tells Daniel a story to pass the time.
Outside the freighter window, the sky was grey and matched the stormy sea below it. Waves churned, big and strong enough to make the boat lurch from side to side: Miles wished that he was beyond sea sickness, now, but it still had a strong claim on him. His stomach churned. He could taste acid in the back of his mouth.
"I think the sky's falling," he complained miserably, before he stumbled backwards to sit on his bed. Bottom bunk. He'd known from the beginning that he didn't want to have to try to negotiate the stairs of their bunk bed in the midst of a storm.
"Scientifically speaking, that isn't possible," Daniel said from above him. It had taken him several weeks trapped on this boat with Daniel to work out that he wasn't actually just being a smart-ass when he said shit like that: he was being himself. Wasn't rude, wasn't malicious, wasn't much of anyting really. Daniel just didn't know when to shut up, and maybe Miles knew how to relate to that.
"Chicken Licken," Miles said. "Didn't your mom ever tell you that story?"
Daniel's feet appeared on the rungs of the thin ladder down from the top bunk. He was only wearing his socks; there was a hole at the end that showed off his big toe. It poked through the material as if it was trying to make a break for freedom, and as he glanced at it Miles had to fight back the sudden mental image of leaning forward to cover the bare skin with his lips. "My mom, she - ah, wasn't really into stories," Daniel admitted, his voice halting and hesitant. That didn't necessarily mean anything, Miles supposed. Daniel always sounded hesitant, as if he himself wasn't too sure what was going to come out of his mouth next.
"Really?" he said, though he wasn't surprised by that anyway. "Too into science and shit?"
Daniel shrugged. Once he'd reached the ground he nearly fell from swaying so much; Miles reached out to grab a hold of his wrist and tug him forward until he sat down on the bed beside him. "Not really," Daniel said. "She just... She didn't tell stories."
"What about your dad?"
"I didn't have a dad. Or, well, I didn't know my dad."
"Me neither," Miles murmured; it felt like a lot to admit to anyone, even Daniel. He had to bite back the need to snap at Daniel for making him reveal that to him. He could be as big a bitch to any of the other people on the ship as he liked. He snorted at Frank and rolled his eyes at Charlotte and had even talked about Keamy a little too loudly behind his back once or twice. That kinda stuff he got away with. Upsetting Daniel, however, was the kind of sin that you didn't get forgiven for.
Daniel didn't respond to his admission verbally. Instead he leaned against him firmly and rested his head against Miles's shoulder, allowing a deep sigh to tumble from his lips. Miles half-turned his head until his lips could rest against the top of Daniel's head, pressed lightly against his untidy hair. He breathed it the scent of Daniel, something that was real, as he listened to the sound of the rain thundering outside and felt the up-and-down swaying of the boat. His arm slipped around Daniel's shoulders automatically and he held onto him, the weight somehow comforting.
He didn't think about what they were doing. Some things didn't need to be analysed.
Daniel's hands were firm and insistent, not what Miles would have expected, when he tugged at Miles until they were lying side-by-side on the bed. Miles curled around him, his nose nuzzling against the back of Daniel's neck, and he realised with a lurch that they were fucking spooning. What the hell?
He also realised, moments later, that he didn't feel seasick.
He decided to stay where he was.
"Tell me the story," Daniel asked, sounding as if he was half-asleep: but that was how he sounded all the time.
Miles rested his hand on the flatness of Daniel's belly, feeling the slim line of Daniel's black tie beneath his spread palm. He played with the buttons of Daniel's off-white shirt and felt a quiet rush when Daniel didn't tell him to stop or back off. "Seriously?" he asked.
"Yeah. I've never heard it."
"Freak," Miles muttered, but he settled down comfortably, rested his head on his pillow, and as the storm waged outside he began to tell Daniel the story he remembered from his childhood, sharing memories together until the sun began to shine.
Pairing: Daniel/Miles
Word Count: 753
Rating: PG
A/N: At the lostsquee luau, Queen siluria asked for weather-related fics.
Summary: As a storm rages outside, Miles tells Daniel a story to pass the time.
Outside the freighter window, the sky was grey and matched the stormy sea below it. Waves churned, big and strong enough to make the boat lurch from side to side: Miles wished that he was beyond sea sickness, now, but it still had a strong claim on him. His stomach churned. He could taste acid in the back of his mouth.
"I think the sky's falling," he complained miserably, before he stumbled backwards to sit on his bed. Bottom bunk. He'd known from the beginning that he didn't want to have to try to negotiate the stairs of their bunk bed in the midst of a storm.
"Scientifically speaking, that isn't possible," Daniel said from above him. It had taken him several weeks trapped on this boat with Daniel to work out that he wasn't actually just being a smart-ass when he said shit like that: he was being himself. Wasn't rude, wasn't malicious, wasn't much of anyting really. Daniel just didn't know when to shut up, and maybe Miles knew how to relate to that.
"Chicken Licken," Miles said. "Didn't your mom ever tell you that story?"
Daniel's feet appeared on the rungs of the thin ladder down from the top bunk. He was only wearing his socks; there was a hole at the end that showed off his big toe. It poked through the material as if it was trying to make a break for freedom, and as he glanced at it Miles had to fight back the sudden mental image of leaning forward to cover the bare skin with his lips. "My mom, she - ah, wasn't really into stories," Daniel admitted, his voice halting and hesitant. That didn't necessarily mean anything, Miles supposed. Daniel always sounded hesitant, as if he himself wasn't too sure what was going to come out of his mouth next.
"Really?" he said, though he wasn't surprised by that anyway. "Too into science and shit?"
Daniel shrugged. Once he'd reached the ground he nearly fell from swaying so much; Miles reached out to grab a hold of his wrist and tug him forward until he sat down on the bed beside him. "Not really," Daniel said. "She just... She didn't tell stories."
"What about your dad?"
"I didn't have a dad. Or, well, I didn't know my dad."
"Me neither," Miles murmured; it felt like a lot to admit to anyone, even Daniel. He had to bite back the need to snap at Daniel for making him reveal that to him. He could be as big a bitch to any of the other people on the ship as he liked. He snorted at Frank and rolled his eyes at Charlotte and had even talked about Keamy a little too loudly behind his back once or twice. That kinda stuff he got away with. Upsetting Daniel, however, was the kind of sin that you didn't get forgiven for.
Daniel didn't respond to his admission verbally. Instead he leaned against him firmly and rested his head against Miles's shoulder, allowing a deep sigh to tumble from his lips. Miles half-turned his head until his lips could rest against the top of Daniel's head, pressed lightly against his untidy hair. He breathed it the scent of Daniel, something that was real, as he listened to the sound of the rain thundering outside and felt the up-and-down swaying of the boat. His arm slipped around Daniel's shoulders automatically and he held onto him, the weight somehow comforting.
He didn't think about what they were doing. Some things didn't need to be analysed.
Daniel's hands were firm and insistent, not what Miles would have expected, when he tugged at Miles until they were lying side-by-side on the bed. Miles curled around him, his nose nuzzling against the back of Daniel's neck, and he realised with a lurch that they were fucking spooning. What the hell?
He also realised, moments later, that he didn't feel seasick.
He decided to stay where he was.
"Tell me the story," Daniel asked, sounding as if he was half-asleep: but that was how he sounded all the time.
Miles rested his hand on the flatness of Daniel's belly, feeling the slim line of Daniel's black tie beneath his spread palm. He played with the buttons of Daniel's off-white shirt and felt a quiet rush when Daniel didn't tell him to stop or back off. "Seriously?" he asked.
"Yeah. I've never heard it."
"Freak," Miles muttered, but he settled down comfortably, rested his head on his pillow, and as the storm waged outside he began to tell Daniel the story he remembered from his childhood, sharing memories together until the sun began to shine.