Happy (stupid late) birthday Canadiangoddess and Faunaana!
I don't know what my muses are up to lately. So sorry these are late, ladies. I hope they're worth it! And I hope this next year is so much better than the last. ♥
For canadiangoddess:
Kane RPS -- Waiter!AU - first to say ‘I love you’:
Steve's mouth clicks shut and he holds his breath, fear coiling up through him, sudden and consuming, because god, sweet fucking hell he hadn't meant to say that, hadn't meant to think it, no matter how true it was; nothing good has ever come from uttering those words, not for him, not unless it was family and Jesus, Jesus. He closes his eyes and waits (waits and waits and waits) and the only thing he hears for a small eternity is the blood rushing in his ears, until he's almost ready to back away and just go, just leave and find a nice dark hole to curl up and die in.
He doesn't expect the way Christian presses closer, warm and gentle, hands sliding up to cup Steve's face, thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks, or the soft kiss, easy and lingering.
Kane RPS -- Waiter!AU - birthday cake gone terribly, horribly, wrong:
"I didn't even know you could make cake batter explode," Chris says, more impressed than angry, though Steve thinks that could be due to the blast radius in the kitchen, or maybe just how much of Steve is covered in batter.
"I'm gonna kill Padalecki." Steve meant to be angry, and threatening, but Chris just laughs, trailing a finger through the batter on his arm before sucking it off, and maybe Steve can hold off on killing Ginormotron a little longer...
Kane RPS -- Spy!AU - 'Just because I got bumped and fell into oncoming traffic does not mean someone is out to get me':
"Seriously," Christian mutters, equal parts confusion and annoyance, and he nearly shoves Steve back just to make a point, "is this how you, I mean, I tripped; someone bumped into me and I tripped--"
"No," Steve says, something tight and anxious in his voice. "This is how it's down, how people die and disappear and no one thinks twice, and I know, I know because it's what I would do."
Kane RPS -- Goth!AU - Kane/Carlson - it’s the tiniest pieces (tattoos) that get him off:
Steven takes in the body below him, biting his lip and tracing a finger idly along a rib as he tries to decide where to start; Christian shifts a little under him, obviously trying not to gasp, and there, at the dip of his collar bone, fitted between a traditional kabuki mask and an intricate dragon caught in the thorns of the rose it's consuming, that's where Steve will start. The tattoo is made of words --small, to be sure, and nearly illegible-- twisting and curling around themselves, around the edges of the other tattoos, spelling out the words of the first song Steve ever wrote for Christian, ever sang to him in his ear in the dark, and Steve leans down now, biting there and sucking lightly, reclaiming and re-marking at once. It's these marks, littered amongst Christian's other tattoos and mostly small, that Steven likes the best, that hum under his own skin balls to bone and turn him on...
Leverage/Firefly - Eliot+River - keeping the violence at bay out in the black:
"It's still violence you know," River says, hanging impossibly upside down from the bulwark to stare at Eliot's handiwork, "when the knife slides in swift and sure and the guts spill out all over the table, and your hands are red, are red, are red, are red..."
"Maybe," Eliot says back, surprising himself with how much he ain't growling, not even pausing to look up as his blade thunks just a little too hard into the cutting board while he slowly adds strawberries to the pile of chopped cherries, raspberries and pomegranite (and without makin' a fuss over how much he should be doing somethin' else with these). "But this way Jayne ain't losin' his guts, with a bonus of bein' tastier."
Leverage/Alice - Hatter’s first impression of Parker/Alice that very first time in Wonderland:
Time passes different, 'tween 'ere and there, passes funny an' uneven, so I'd heard the stories, heard about the famous Alice an' all those madcap adventures, heard'm from me uncle's own lips at the very same tea table she's supposed to 'ave sat at. Never thought I'd see'r, not real like, whole an' standin' in Wonderland, as once your 'ere you're either 'ere forever or you never come back.
But there she is, blonde and bright eyed, mad as me uncle as like she never left; as for me, I always thought she'd be taller -- she was just a wee thing, and not a year had passed for 'er since she was here followin' rabbits.
Leverage/Alice - Parker/Alice’s first impression of Hatter that very first time in Wonderland:
She watches him with careful eyes -- so like his uncle, he has a quick smile and a quicker temper, but not so mad, with hair and eyes that almost look normal and the most amazing collection of hats (all gifts from his uncle of course) which he lets her try on (sometimes more than one at once) before taking her by the hand to reintroduce her to the Flowers. But later, at tea, it's too confusing to talk to Hatter and Hatter because both will talk, and the younger will egg his uncle on until he's doing cartwheels with the Hare and the Kettle Mouse leaping between his legs as he goes and juggling teapots. So she decides to call him David, and he thinks her mad, but she's the only one that ever does it, because somehow no one ever seems to mind that the Hatters never seem to make it through tea with anything resembling their original intentions.
Leverage/Justified - Eliot/Raylan - stitching your name under my skin:
Eliot wants to hate him, wants to want to beat the ever loving shit out of him and leave him in an alley to crawl his way towards either months of misery or death, but instead Eliot can't seem to get enough, can't seem to press close enough, can't not want this, whatever it is, just can't seem to shake it. Raylan tightens around him, lifting his hips and pulling at him, and Eliot couldn't hold back the groan that climbs up out of him if someone held a gun to his head, and he doesn't understand, can't begin to even try and fathom how or when or why it stopped being just about great sex and adrenaline. He drags his fingers hard against Raylan's skin, scratching hard enough to leave welts, to draw just a little blood, because he has to leave his mark, however temporary, he has to because he can't begin to hope (could never ask, would never dream, not once, not ever) to write his name on his very bones.
Leverage/Justified - Eliot/Raylan - we’ve got to stop meeting like this:
Raylan barely manages to get the words out, not a few moments after the last bullet is fired and the last punch is thrown, and for just a moment he's not sure Eliot ain't gonna fight him too considering they're comin' at this from different sides (again) and technically what Eliot's after is a serious piece of evidence.
Seems the retrieval specialist has realized that Raylan's willing to be convinced otherwise, although if Raylan had been given room to speak he'd have happily pointed out that the alley behind the crime scene with his boss and back up on the way maybe wasn't the time or the place; problem being, of course, Eliot's licking and biting his way into Raylan's mouth, their belts already undone, and unless Raylan wants to go face first into a pile of reeking garbage he'd be smarter just to roll with it. He's surprised that Eliot goes to his knees given the filth, but Eliot rolls his eyes up to glare at him through his hair --a look that says no time to fuck around-- and wraps his lips around Raylan's cock, putting any sane, coherent thought straight out of Raylan's head, especially once he starts sucking, teeth dragging just so, tongue swirling and Christ but Raylan would give him the world.
Wolverine/Firefly - Logan/River - and the blood that never washes clean:
He wakes, screaming, and he'd bolt upright if he could but he can't, on account of River straddling his chest, her legs pinning his arms and her face a scant inch from his own, her eyes watching him wide and unafraid and knowing.
"In dreams we always remember, and waking we always forget," she intones, almost like a prayer, a wisdom stolen and terrible in just how truthful it is falling from her lips. "Can't wash away blood you can't even know to look at, couldn't wash it clean even if you remembered how, knowing doesn't help, not even a little, believe you me."
Why yes, that is a quote from Sandman. Don't look at me. I certainly don't know why River can quote one of the Endless...
For faunaana:
I'm changing things up a little this time... because she was vague about the pairings for her prompts, you'll get each prompt two ways: J2 and C/S. Both ratings will be listed in the cut tag, first for J2, then for C/S (that's their reading order for each prompt as well).
pirates:
J2:
Jared still remembers the first time this happened, when Jensen thought it was an insult before taking it as a challenge before realizing quite simply that Jared's brain doesn't turn off, not ever, and certainly not when there's chains of code and something interesting to break or break into floating around in cyberspace just waiting for him; he makes an aborted whimper-moan when Jensen does that thing with his tongue and his fingers take just a few seconds longer than usual to hit the keys he needs to send the worm off a-hunting before putting in the commands to check his torrents.
"Christ, how long does it take to download all of Doctor Who?" Jared mutters, his voice hitching, and he feels bad because he should at least be polite enough not to say something as un-sex related as television downloads (no matter how hot Tennant is in those glasses and chucks).
Jensen pulls off, thumb circling lightly to hold his place, and he looks up at Jared to say, quite firmly, "Illegal downloading is wrong."
**Yes, I did just make a Leverage reference. Shut up.
C/S:
Christian thinks he should probably say something when he sees Steve leaning with his shoulder against the door frame, hair curling a little and golden in the sunlight (held back by an Egyptian blue bandana) and the perfect balance to the eyeliner he's wearing (which should be ridiculous, it should, but it's not, it's really fucking hot), and a cream linen shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel framed by an open blue vest. Chris' eyes finally slide away from the collection of necklaces against exposed skin to where the ensemble is neatly tucked into a blue sash and leather (Christ on a crutch!) pants, a belt loosely looped about to support a scabbard and a toy sword; Chris licks his lips and swallows hard, trying to get his voice (or Jesus, his brain) to work.
"Aye," Steve says, waggling his eyebrows like he can't quite keep a straight face, "ye shiver me timbers..."
cowboys:
J2:
Jared looks ridiculous with yellow and red stripes of face paint under his eyes, a headband made of construction paper with leaves on the back instead of feathers, and a tomahawk made out of cardboard that bends a little in the blade because it was cut out of a box. One of his nephews is also an indian, with twice as many leaves and twice as many lines of face paint ("Cos I'mma chief!"), and he stalks through the backyard with one hand over his eyes like he's looking real hard for someone; Jared's other nephew is straddling Jensen's back, a cowboy had three sizes too big tipped back on his head and pulling on his necklace like it's reins before kicking Jensen's legs cos he didn't get the message it was time to move.
"How did I end up being the horse?"
C/S:
Steven don't lower the gun, don't blink neither, cos he's heard tell of this one, this Cherokee wearin' a white man's skin, though for sure he seems smaller'n the tales make him out to be, seems more like just any man the way he looks over at'm, blue eyes wide with somethin' that ain't quite fear but ain't anger or hatred neither.
"Please," the man says, his voice rasping, raisin' his hands open palmed, an' for the first time Steven sees the dark red blotch in his shirt near his belly, "jus' need water."
Steven licks his lips --he'd been expectin' the Cherokee to go after his horses, no matter how close they were now to bein' back at the Morgan ranch, and here the man is hurt and bleedin' and nearly fallin' just to be close enough to the firelight to be seen-- and reaches down with one hand, the gun only barely faltering when he grabs his canteen and tosses it towards him.
homeless boys:
J2:
"We're not homeless," Jared says reasonably, optimistically even, and when he smiles in the candlelight Jensen could almost believe him, "cos we're squatting, so it's definitely home for now."
"Home," Jensen says, but he can't bring himself to make the disparaging comment that came next, his hands fisting in his pockets where Jared can't see them; how can this be home when all they've got is an empty floor, a handful of boxes, some candles, and rations consisting of potato chips and jerky?
But Jared can tell, his smile dimming just a little, and he walks over and cups Jensen's face, brushing their lips together like he's promising it'll be alright.
C/S:
Steve's eyes are closed as he curls over the guitar, letting himself sink into the music as Christian sings, trusting Chris to keep his eyes open to thank people when they throw money into the guitar case.
"California, huh?" says the guy who runs hardware shop across the street, gesturing at the sign --Chris thinks he might be a veteran, he's got that look in his eyes-- and he drops a ten in the case.
"Thanks man," Christian says in return on the next bridge, giving him a wide smile, "we're halfway there already, man, you should come with..."
lazy sunday mornings:
J2:
"Jay, c'mon, I can't--" Jensen says, and really he'd say more if he could, but he can't because Jared is literally sprawled over him as though the rest of the bed doesn't exist, and snoring loud enough just behind Jensen's ear to wake the dead, not to mention Sadie and Harley, who are now scratching and scrabbling outside the bedroom door wanting their morning snuggles. "God bless Sundays."
Jared just snuffles and mutters something entirely intangible, burying his face against the back of Jensen's neck but finally moving over just enough that Jensen can actually breathe.
C/S:
Steve feels the bed dip, but it doesn't process and he just shifts a little so that his hair falls across his face and blocks out the sun (Christ, is it dawn, it's shining straight into his eyes) and vaguely considers reaching back to find where he kicked the sheets cos he's only in his boxers and the AC's kicked on again dammit; except there's something warm pressing up against him, shoulder to knees, and he's pretty ok with that, even with his brain taking a minute to register that it's Chris. The kissing helps with that, starting just below his ear and drifting down his neck, though it doesn't last long and really Steve is just being used as a breathing body pillow, Chris' body melding more to his as he finally starts to relax.
"Thank fuck for Sunday morning," he mumbles, into Steve's skin, already falling asleep.
J2:
"Never, ever, ever, again," Jensen intones, sliding a little more behind Jared.
"Yeah... wait, what are you doing?"
"You're big, there's gotta be bear in your blood somewhere.... right?"
C/S:
Christian has never seen anything quite like this; sure he's been places, not many but enough, gorgeous in their own right and all go mostly unseen because he's there for a gig or a role or he's really just passing through. But this... they've got a week on Hawaii --he can't remember which island it really it is-- and they're surrounded by foliage and birds when the trees break and really they're on a cliff next to a freakin' waterfall staring out at the ocean.
"There," Steve says, pointing down the beach a ways, once they can see the sand, "that's where we'll make camp."
For canadiangoddess:
Kane RPS -- Waiter!AU - first to say ‘I love you’:
Steve's mouth clicks shut and he holds his breath, fear coiling up through him, sudden and consuming, because god, sweet fucking hell he hadn't meant to say that, hadn't meant to think it, no matter how true it was; nothing good has ever come from uttering those words, not for him, not unless it was family and Jesus, Jesus. He closes his eyes and waits (waits and waits and waits) and the only thing he hears for a small eternity is the blood rushing in his ears, until he's almost ready to back away and just go, just leave and find a nice dark hole to curl up and die in.
He doesn't expect the way Christian presses closer, warm and gentle, hands sliding up to cup Steve's face, thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks, or the soft kiss, easy and lingering.
Kane RPS -- Waiter!AU - birthday cake gone terribly, horribly, wrong:
"I didn't even know you could make cake batter explode," Chris says, more impressed than angry, though Steve thinks that could be due to the blast radius in the kitchen, or maybe just how much of Steve is covered in batter.
"I'm gonna kill Padalecki." Steve meant to be angry, and threatening, but Chris just laughs, trailing a finger through the batter on his arm before sucking it off, and maybe Steve can hold off on killing Ginormotron a little longer...
Kane RPS -- Spy!AU - 'Just because I got bumped and fell into oncoming traffic does not mean someone is out to get me':
"Seriously," Christian mutters, equal parts confusion and annoyance, and he nearly shoves Steve back just to make a point, "is this how you, I mean, I tripped; someone bumped into me and I tripped--"
"No," Steve says, something tight and anxious in his voice. "This is how it's down, how people die and disappear and no one thinks twice, and I know, I know because it's what I would do."
Kane RPS -- Goth!AU - Kane/Carlson - it’s the tiniest pieces (tattoos) that get him off:
Steven takes in the body below him, biting his lip and tracing a finger idly along a rib as he tries to decide where to start; Christian shifts a little under him, obviously trying not to gasp, and there, at the dip of his collar bone, fitted between a traditional kabuki mask and an intricate dragon caught in the thorns of the rose it's consuming, that's where Steve will start. The tattoo is made of words --small, to be sure, and nearly illegible-- twisting and curling around themselves, around the edges of the other tattoos, spelling out the words of the first song Steve ever wrote for Christian, ever sang to him in his ear in the dark, and Steve leans down now, biting there and sucking lightly, reclaiming and re-marking at once. It's these marks, littered amongst Christian's other tattoos and mostly small, that Steven likes the best, that hum under his own skin balls to bone and turn him on...
Leverage/Firefly - Eliot+River - keeping the violence at bay out in the black:
"It's still violence you know," River says, hanging impossibly upside down from the bulwark to stare at Eliot's handiwork, "when the knife slides in swift and sure and the guts spill out all over the table, and your hands are red, are red, are red, are red..."
"Maybe," Eliot says back, surprising himself with how much he ain't growling, not even pausing to look up as his blade thunks just a little too hard into the cutting board while he slowly adds strawberries to the pile of chopped cherries, raspberries and pomegranite (and without makin' a fuss over how much he should be doing somethin' else with these). "But this way Jayne ain't losin' his guts, with a bonus of bein' tastier."
Leverage/Alice - Hatter’s first impression of Parker/Alice that very first time in Wonderland:
Time passes different, 'tween 'ere and there, passes funny an' uneven, so I'd heard the stories, heard about the famous Alice an' all those madcap adventures, heard'm from me uncle's own lips at the very same tea table she's supposed to 'ave sat at. Never thought I'd see'r, not real like, whole an' standin' in Wonderland, as once your 'ere you're either 'ere forever or you never come back.
But there she is, blonde and bright eyed, mad as me uncle as like she never left; as for me, I always thought she'd be taller -- she was just a wee thing, and not a year had passed for 'er since she was here followin' rabbits.
Leverage/Alice - Parker/Alice’s first impression of Hatter that very first time in Wonderland:
She watches him with careful eyes -- so like his uncle, he has a quick smile and a quicker temper, but not so mad, with hair and eyes that almost look normal and the most amazing collection of hats (all gifts from his uncle of course) which he lets her try on (sometimes more than one at once) before taking her by the hand to reintroduce her to the Flowers. But later, at tea, it's too confusing to talk to Hatter and Hatter because both will talk, and the younger will egg his uncle on until he's doing cartwheels with the Hare and the Kettle Mouse leaping between his legs as he goes and juggling teapots. So she decides to call him David, and he thinks her mad, but she's the only one that ever does it, because somehow no one ever seems to mind that the Hatters never seem to make it through tea with anything resembling their original intentions.
Leverage/Justified - Eliot/Raylan - stitching your name under my skin:
Eliot wants to hate him, wants to want to beat the ever loving shit out of him and leave him in an alley to crawl his way towards either months of misery or death, but instead Eliot can't seem to get enough, can't seem to press close enough, can't not want this, whatever it is, just can't seem to shake it. Raylan tightens around him, lifting his hips and pulling at him, and Eliot couldn't hold back the groan that climbs up out of him if someone held a gun to his head, and he doesn't understand, can't begin to even try and fathom how or when or why it stopped being just about great sex and adrenaline. He drags his fingers hard against Raylan's skin, scratching hard enough to leave welts, to draw just a little blood, because he has to leave his mark, however temporary, he has to because he can't begin to hope (could never ask, would never dream, not once, not ever) to write his name on his very bones.
Leverage/Justified - Eliot/Raylan - we’ve got to stop meeting like this:
Raylan barely manages to get the words out, not a few moments after the last bullet is fired and the last punch is thrown, and for just a moment he's not sure Eliot ain't gonna fight him too considering they're comin' at this from different sides (again) and technically what Eliot's after is a serious piece of evidence.
Seems the retrieval specialist has realized that Raylan's willing to be convinced otherwise, although if Raylan had been given room to speak he'd have happily pointed out that the alley behind the crime scene with his boss and back up on the way maybe wasn't the time or the place; problem being, of course, Eliot's licking and biting his way into Raylan's mouth, their belts already undone, and unless Raylan wants to go face first into a pile of reeking garbage he'd be smarter just to roll with it. He's surprised that Eliot goes to his knees given the filth, but Eliot rolls his eyes up to glare at him through his hair --a look that says no time to fuck around-- and wraps his lips around Raylan's cock, putting any sane, coherent thought straight out of Raylan's head, especially once he starts sucking, teeth dragging just so, tongue swirling and Christ but Raylan would give him the world.
Wolverine/Firefly - Logan/River - and the blood that never washes clean:
He wakes, screaming, and he'd bolt upright if he could but he can't, on account of River straddling his chest, her legs pinning his arms and her face a scant inch from his own, her eyes watching him wide and unafraid and knowing.
"In dreams we always remember, and waking we always forget," she intones, almost like a prayer, a wisdom stolen and terrible in just how truthful it is falling from her lips. "Can't wash away blood you can't even know to look at, couldn't wash it clean even if you remembered how, knowing doesn't help, not even a little, believe you me."
Why yes, that is a quote from Sandman. Don't look at me. I certainly don't know why River can quote one of the Endless...
For faunaana:
I'm changing things up a little this time... because she was vague about the pairings for her prompts, you'll get each prompt two ways: J2 and C/S. Both ratings will be listed in the cut tag, first for J2, then for C/S (that's their reading order for each prompt as well).
pirates:
J2:
Jared still remembers the first time this happened, when Jensen thought it was an insult before taking it as a challenge before realizing quite simply that Jared's brain doesn't turn off, not ever, and certainly not when there's chains of code and something interesting to break or break into floating around in cyberspace just waiting for him; he makes an aborted whimper-moan when Jensen does that thing with his tongue and his fingers take just a few seconds longer than usual to hit the keys he needs to send the worm off a-hunting before putting in the commands to check his torrents.
"Christ, how long does it take to download all of Doctor Who?" Jared mutters, his voice hitching, and he feels bad because he should at least be polite enough not to say something as un-sex related as television downloads (no matter how hot Tennant is in those glasses and chucks).
Jensen pulls off, thumb circling lightly to hold his place, and he looks up at Jared to say, quite firmly, "Illegal downloading is wrong."
**Yes, I did just make a Leverage reference. Shut up.
C/S:
Christian thinks he should probably say something when he sees Steve leaning with his shoulder against the door frame, hair curling a little and golden in the sunlight (held back by an Egyptian blue bandana) and the perfect balance to the eyeliner he's wearing (which should be ridiculous, it should, but it's not, it's really fucking hot), and a cream linen shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel framed by an open blue vest. Chris' eyes finally slide away from the collection of necklaces against exposed skin to where the ensemble is neatly tucked into a blue sash and leather (Christ on a crutch!) pants, a belt loosely looped about to support a scabbard and a toy sword; Chris licks his lips and swallows hard, trying to get his voice (or Jesus, his brain) to work.
"Aye," Steve says, waggling his eyebrows like he can't quite keep a straight face, "ye shiver me timbers..."
cowboys:
J2:
Jared looks ridiculous with yellow and red stripes of face paint under his eyes, a headband made of construction paper with leaves on the back instead of feathers, and a tomahawk made out of cardboard that bends a little in the blade because it was cut out of a box. One of his nephews is also an indian, with twice as many leaves and twice as many lines of face paint ("Cos I'mma chief!"), and he stalks through the backyard with one hand over his eyes like he's looking real hard for someone; Jared's other nephew is straddling Jensen's back, a cowboy had three sizes too big tipped back on his head and pulling on his necklace like it's reins before kicking Jensen's legs cos he didn't get the message it was time to move.
"How did I end up being the horse?"
C/S:
Steven don't lower the gun, don't blink neither, cos he's heard tell of this one, this Cherokee wearin' a white man's skin, though for sure he seems smaller'n the tales make him out to be, seems more like just any man the way he looks over at'm, blue eyes wide with somethin' that ain't quite fear but ain't anger or hatred neither.
"Please," the man says, his voice rasping, raisin' his hands open palmed, an' for the first time Steven sees the dark red blotch in his shirt near his belly, "jus' need water."
Steven licks his lips --he'd been expectin' the Cherokee to go after his horses, no matter how close they were now to bein' back at the Morgan ranch, and here the man is hurt and bleedin' and nearly fallin' just to be close enough to the firelight to be seen-- and reaches down with one hand, the gun only barely faltering when he grabs his canteen and tosses it towards him.
homeless boys:
J2:
"We're not homeless," Jared says reasonably, optimistically even, and when he smiles in the candlelight Jensen could almost believe him, "cos we're squatting, so it's definitely home for now."
"Home," Jensen says, but he can't bring himself to make the disparaging comment that came next, his hands fisting in his pockets where Jared can't see them; how can this be home when all they've got is an empty floor, a handful of boxes, some candles, and rations consisting of potato chips and jerky?
But Jared can tell, his smile dimming just a little, and he walks over and cups Jensen's face, brushing their lips together like he's promising it'll be alright.
C/S:
Steve's eyes are closed as he curls over the guitar, letting himself sink into the music as Christian sings, trusting Chris to keep his eyes open to thank people when they throw money into the guitar case.
"California, huh?" says the guy who runs hardware shop across the street, gesturing at the sign --Chris thinks he might be a veteran, he's got that look in his eyes-- and he drops a ten in the case.
"Thanks man," Christian says in return on the next bridge, giving him a wide smile, "we're halfway there already, man, you should come with..."
lazy sunday mornings:
J2:
"Jay, c'mon, I can't--" Jensen says, and really he'd say more if he could, but he can't because Jared is literally sprawled over him as though the rest of the bed doesn't exist, and snoring loud enough just behind Jensen's ear to wake the dead, not to mention Sadie and Harley, who are now scratching and scrabbling outside the bedroom door wanting their morning snuggles. "God bless Sundays."
Jared just snuffles and mutters something entirely intangible, burying his face against the back of Jensen's neck but finally moving over just enough that Jensen can actually breathe.
C/S:
Steve feels the bed dip, but it doesn't process and he just shifts a little so that his hair falls across his face and blocks out the sun (Christ, is it dawn, it's shining straight into his eyes) and vaguely considers reaching back to find where he kicked the sheets cos he's only in his boxers and the AC's kicked on again dammit; except there's something warm pressing up against him, shoulder to knees, and he's pretty ok with that, even with his brain taking a minute to register that it's Chris. The kissing helps with that, starting just below his ear and drifting down his neck, though it doesn't last long and really Steve is just being used as a breathing body pillow, Chris' body melding more to his as he finally starts to relax.
"Thank fuck for Sunday morning," he mumbles, into Steve's skin, already falling asleep.
J2:
"Never, ever, ever, again," Jensen intones, sliding a little more behind Jared.
"Yeah... wait, what are you doing?"
"You're big, there's gotta be bear in your blood somewhere.... right?"
C/S:
Christian has never seen anything quite like this; sure he's been places, not many but enough, gorgeous in their own right and all go mostly unseen because he's there for a gig or a role or he's really just passing through. But this... they've got a week on Hawaii --he can't remember which island it really it is-- and they're surrounded by foliage and birds when the trees break and really they're on a cliff next to a freakin' waterfall staring out at the ocean.
"There," Steve says, pointing down the beach a ways, once they can see the sand, "that's where we'll make camp."