In which I love on caarirose
Because I wanted to cheer caarirose up, I decided to write her a few prompts... Ok, the prompts are from raggedy_edge but that's only cos Caari was vague.
:hugs caarirose to bits: We love ya darlin'.
Same song and dance as my other 3 sentence prompts have. Prompt and rating in the cut tag...
RPS, Kane/Carlson, a little bit of twang:
Steve's up to his arms in hot water so dirty by now he can't even see his own hands, scrubbing at dishes he can't see without cleaning them --because obviously, that's what the dishwasher is for-- and wondering to himself, just a little, why he ever left Hawaii; he hums to himself, trying to hold the song together long enough to get out of work and maybe write it down, when he realizes he's being watched.
"Sorry, 's just y'got my old job," the guy says, words elongating in a comfortable drawl that pulls everything together and makes Steve forget what he's meant to be doing, and Steve looks up into the bluest eyes he's possibly ever seen. "Hi," the guy says, smirking a little as he sticks out a hand, "I'm Christian."
RPS, Kane/Carlson, sing me a real song:
"Jesus, just stop, stop fuckin' lyin' man," Christian says, and if he'd been holding any goddamn thing besides his guitar he'd have thrown it by now. It wasn't about landing a label --hell, it wasn't even about getting on a goddamn fuckin' stage-- but lately it's all Steve seems to talk about, to the point he'll even change the subject if Christian so much as looks at him too long. He stomps out of the room, but it isn't long before music draws him back, fingers tripping over chords Chris doesn't recognize and words so soft he almost can't hear them, and he stares from the doorway at the way Steve's hands shake just a little, his face flushed red when he finally looks up.
RPS, Kane/Carlson, a little stiff:
It's been a long ass day when he finally gets home --not as long as it might have been, but no one had to go to the hospital so Chris counts it a win-- and anyone would have forgiven him for forgetting that it's Thursday, that today Steve is waiting in his apartment for him, but there ain't a chance in hell of that. Steve greets him with a tight hug, feels the wince that Chris could swear he held back, and pulls him inside, tugging at his clothes until Chris finds himself shirtless, stretched on his stomach on his bed. Steve straddles him, hands sliding warm against his back, finding all the tight places before he finally adds slow pressure, working out the knots and the pain until Christian feels utterly boneless.
:hugs caarirose to bits: We love ya darlin'.
Same song and dance as my other 3 sentence prompts have. Prompt and rating in the cut tag...
RPS, Kane/Carlson, a little bit of twang:
Steve's up to his arms in hot water so dirty by now he can't even see his own hands, scrubbing at dishes he can't see without cleaning them --because obviously, that's what the dishwasher is for-- and wondering to himself, just a little, why he ever left Hawaii; he hums to himself, trying to hold the song together long enough to get out of work and maybe write it down, when he realizes he's being watched.
"Sorry, 's just y'got my old job," the guy says, words elongating in a comfortable drawl that pulls everything together and makes Steve forget what he's meant to be doing, and Steve looks up into the bluest eyes he's possibly ever seen. "Hi," the guy says, smirking a little as he sticks out a hand, "I'm Christian."
RPS, Kane/Carlson, sing me a real song:
"Jesus, just stop, stop fuckin' lyin' man," Christian says, and if he'd been holding any goddamn thing besides his guitar he'd have thrown it by now. It wasn't about landing a label --hell, it wasn't even about getting on a goddamn fuckin' stage-- but lately it's all Steve seems to talk about, to the point he'll even change the subject if Christian so much as looks at him too long. He stomps out of the room, but it isn't long before music draws him back, fingers tripping over chords Chris doesn't recognize and words so soft he almost can't hear them, and he stares from the doorway at the way Steve's hands shake just a little, his face flushed red when he finally looks up.
RPS, Kane/Carlson, a little stiff:
It's been a long ass day when he finally gets home --not as long as it might have been, but no one had to go to the hospital so Chris counts it a win-- and anyone would have forgiven him for forgetting that it's Thursday, that today Steve is waiting in his apartment for him, but there ain't a chance in hell of that. Steve greets him with a tight hug, feels the wince that Chris could swear he held back, and pulls him inside, tugging at his clothes until Chris finds himself shirtless, stretched on his stomach on his bed. Steve straddles him, hands sliding warm against his back, finding all the tight places before he finally adds slow pressure, working out the knots and the pain until Christian feels utterly boneless.