Fic: Help Japan 3-sentence prompts for Kadams27!
At last! I'm so sorry this has taken so, so long, but here are the 3-sentence prompts that kadams27 bid on over at help_japan! Ratings and warnings are in the LJ cut only.
There's a lot of Kane RPS, a little J2 and a little bit of Leverage. Enjoy!!
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - You told your Momma what about us:
"What," Chris demands, his voice broken and torn between snarling and pleading and fear, "what is it you told your mama?"
"That we're over," Steven says without ever pausing or looking up from shoving a pile of his stuff into his duffel, his voice sounding small and far away, too far to make it through the deafening silence that wants to swallow Christian whole.
"Funny," Chris says, wanting to walk away but rooted where he is, and no way now to hold to his anger, "you tellin' her without ever tellin' me."
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Oh Chris, when will you learn:
Chris has got a bottle of Jack in one hand when Steve comes in, his boots near the wall suspiciously close to the windows (not that Chris would be aiming for them or anything, though at least it wasn't the television tonight). Steve sighs, but he doesn't ask; he knows already -- from Aldis no less, and Chris really must be a mess if the kid's calling Steve worried -- that Chris went to the bar to try and talk to her, to try and make her consider staying.
Maybe one of these days Christian would pull his head out of his ass and realize that he doesn't need to look past stage right to find love, but for now, Steve will settle for commiseration.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - They love you more than me, they bought you a freaking guitar:
"Wait a minute," Steve says, stopping dead in his tracks with his eyebrows climbing up toward his hairline, "wait, wait, wait... are you actually pissed?"
Christian huffs, deflating so fast he's almost engulfed in his hoodie, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, and if Steve didn't know better, he'd swear Christian was blushing. "It doesn't matter," Chris says, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking faster before mumbling something Steve thinks might be just a stupid guitar.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas:
Tomorrow they'll ask - about the cut on his lip, about the bruises, the hickey on his neck and the way he can't quite sit - but that's tomorrow, when he's back on set. Tomorrow, he'll laugh, and not answer, and let them wonder, and feed them the line like he's a goddamn walking commercial for Vegas.
Right now he's riding Steve, fucking him into the sheets, rocking back and down and tightening, only to lift again...
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Arrested:
It takes most of the day for him to realize he's cuffed to the bed, the realization hitting just after it hits him that he's in a hospital bed; he panics, disoriented, trying desperately to think through the pain long enough to remember what state he's in, to remember what happened.
He wishes he hadn't. He wishes he'd never woken up.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Lose the attitude Chris:
No sooner have the words left his lips than he's catching a quick right hook that sends him sprawling back into the table, and it takes Steve a minute to stop seeing stars before he realizes he can taste blood. He doesn't know what crawled up Christian's ass and bit him, or what Chris is on, but he's done, he's just plain done giving a shit and being shat on for it. Someone, Jason maybe, has gotten between him and Chris, is telling Chris to back up and cool off, but Steve doesn't wait, doesn't want to hear it, so he just leaves.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Rome is beautiful but I miss you:
The call goes straight to voicemail, and Steve barely listens to the message (still automated, Chris never could figure out how to program his damn phone), just waiting for the beep. "Hey," he says at the phone, trying desperately to make the words come out in order instead of all at once and backwards. "I just wanted, uh.... to, to tell you that Rome is... fuck, just... I miss you, ok?"
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Insecure Chris cos Steve is in Rome with Jensen:
He picks up the phone, then puts it down, then picks it up again, then puts it down and walks all the way to his kitchen before he turns on his heel to look at it again. It ain't no use, of course; the time difference is bad enough, but Steve's with Jensen... at a convention... and Chris of all people knows what it's like to party after a long day of panels and performing and...
"Just fucking call, dammit..."
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - "All that I ever wanted was inside of you":
He whispers the words as he thrusts, slow, so slow, until he's buried completely, and he rolls his hips until they're pressed so close together there's no end of one of them before the other begins. They tremble together, almost holding their breath, almost just waiting, just feeling. One of them moans --though neither would ever know which-- his breath hitching, and they can wait no longer, each touch, each kiss more desperate than the last.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - "I'll take my fingertips on a trip of your body":
Steve just touches him, grinning when Christian pulls against the handcuffs in a vain attempt to touch back; he lets his fingers wander over stubble, skimming feather light over his lips before moving down Chris' throat, his chest. He hums in approval at the small whimper in response to dragging his thumbs over Chris' nipples, likes it enough to do it again, but continues on down Chris' body, ghosting only a hair's breadth from his cock before continuing down Chris' legs.
Chris cusses at him, breath gone to gravel with want.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - These arms that hold me:
He just keeps thinking, We have sound check in a few hours; the thought spins round and round his head, making about as much sense as the way the world feels slanted and cold except where he can feel Steve against him. Steve feels hot, too hot, a furnace of color and sound that he tries to hold on to. Maybe if he just gets a little sleep, just a short nap, and he'll be ready for sound check...
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - When love isn't enough:
People will tell you - hell, they'll sing it to you - that "all you need is love," like love is something so big and so fucking wonderful it'll fix everything, overcome anything, that all you have to do is put your heart out there with love and a little effort, and you'll get everything you ever really wanted.
Yeah, well, it's bullshit.
If it weren't, I wouldn't be sitting here alone on the front porch of a house I can't bear to walk into anymore, watching the love of my life kick up dirt behind a truck because he can't get away fast enough, because that thing that no one tells you, that thing nobody can admit... sometimes love means walking the fuck away.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Just leave the ducks behind Chris:
Chris is obviously drunk, and a little high, and so punch drunk from being on tour that he's got the giggles, but he's still trying to carry all of the rubber ducks off stage -- all of them, and mostly in vain because every time he bends down to pick up one, at least two more fall out of his arms.
"C'mon, man," Steve says, laughing, pulling Chris' elbow to at least get him standing straight up, "just leave them."
"But... but..." Chris tries to say, until he seems to realize what it is he's doing and he drops them all to double over laughing himself to tears.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Take your shirt off Steve:
Steve hesitates for just a second, but obeys, his t-shirt sliding up to reveal bruises and scrapes, and the man can't quite hide his hiss of pain as he brings his arms over his head to pull the shirt away completely. He doesn't look Chris in the eyes, hell, doesn't take them off the floor, like he's ashamed, like it's his own fault.
Christian can feel the anger coiling low in his belly, but he bites it back and swallows it; he can't do anything about it now, not here, with Steve, and he's not leaving Steve now.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Who gave you the lovebite?:
Chris scrubs a hand over his face, trying desperately to climb out of his bunk on the tour bus without falling on his face, and debates the benefits of still being drunk over being hung over; he doesn't remember a whole lot of last night after hitting the bar, and considering how sore he is, he ain't sure he wants to, at least until he catches sight of not one, not two, but three separate bruises on Steve's neck and shoulder.
"What the hell man?" Chris demands, already pouting and tugging on Carlson's collar for a better view.
Steve blinks, then frowns, then bats at Christian's hands and tries not to laugh when he says, "It was you, idiot."
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Not the blue shirt:
The shirt's torn open in a succession of scrambling tears by hands unconcerned by the buttons that go flying, pinging off the mirror and the dresser and the suitcase, lost in the sound of a sleeve ripping and Steve's muffled protests.
"Was my favorite," he says once Chris has stopped kissing him. Not that the man gives him room to complain, hands sliding down the front of his pants to fight with Steve's boxers.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Don't argue with me:
"Seriously," Chris grinds out, his voice only made all more gravelly from agitation and being sick, "you're seriously, actually going to... over this, this piece of shit?" And he's had it, is just fucking well done with all this bullshit, so he pushes back away from the table and gets up before he flips his shit instead. Steve might say something when he walks away, but he isn't listening.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - You're too sweet:
Steve stares down at the strap --hand made, no less, and he's gotta wonder how long Kane's been at it when no one's been looking-- and feels his throat close, his chest almost too tight to breathe. "You're too sweet," he says, his voice nearly not working, and for just a second Chris smiles that shy little smile that no one believes he smiles, cheeks flushing bright; Steve shakes his head, thrusting the strap back at Christian and letting go like it's burned him, and takes a step back, and another. "You can't... just... not me..."
J2 - Lets make the fangirls talk:
People think it's because they're oblivious --okay, not all people, but to be fair, in this particular instance the ones who write stories about it don't count anyway-- or because they just have no concept of personal space, that they're cramped together on set and everything else for so long it just doesn't matter anymore.
But the truth is they know; they know and they go out of their way, go so far as to plan. It's not like they're stupid enough to pass on a perfectly good way to ensure continued viewership.
J2 - Eric's going to kill us when he sees that:
"Understatement of the decade," Jens says, his face turning so deeply red it's a wonder he doesn't pass out where he stands. Jared would love to argue, he really would, but just now he's wondering how hard it would be to disappear into the night with the hood of the latest Impala from set.
Honestly, how were they supposed to know it would crumple and dent while Jared fucked Jens into it?
JDM/Chris - Do as you're told boy:
But Chris doesn't, wriggling like an uncoordinated fish flopping vainly on the bottom of a boat, his arms and legs swinging like he wants to fight, but without any of the man's usual control. It's all Jeff can do to keep him from throwing his head back against the side of the tub, and earns him a swat to the side of his head for his trouble.
"The hell is wrong with you," Jeff grouses out loud, and wonders how long he ought to be riding this out instead of calling 9-1-1...
Leverage - Nate/Eliot - was that so hard to admit?:
They stare at each other over the bottle of bourbon, and Eliot wishes he hadn't just said that, not when Nate looks like he's just about ready to bolt, eyes all unfocused and staring someplace else, or maybe waiting for Eliot to leave. "Ain't goin' anywhere," he says on the hunch, and tries not to watch Nate too hard and spook him.
"You say that now," Nate says, barely audible and heavy with something Eliot can't put his finger on, "you say that now."
Chris/Jensen - Happy birthday darlin':
The words come out with a thick Texas drawl, mostly on account of how drunk Jensen is, but he's not too drunk to do it on purpose, to know how the words would rumble out of him and straight through Chris to his cock. Still, his hand slides up Chris' back and around only to drift down Christian's belly and under the hem of his boxers, his fingers still clever enough to find Chris' cock hard and wanting and make something of it.
And if it's more than he bargained because Chris was already ready to pounce... well, it is Chris' birthday...
Leverage - Nate/Eliot - Seriously?:
Nate's raises his eyebrows slowly as the pieces fall into place, and now that he's figured it out he isn't really sure how it is he had ever missed it in the first place. "You're jealous," he sputters, "of the mark, the pencil necked, slimy, two-faced, hate mongering mark?"
Eliot doesn't answer, doesn't say a word or even turn to glare at him, but he does slam the truck door a little harder than necessary and stomps a little too hard as he walks away; Nate has to blink, because he could swear Eliot's ears were turning pink...
RPS, JDM/Chris - it's always been you:
The words stick in his throat, despite the shots he's been doing and all the encouragement from their friends and really that whiskey might've come round hard the other way and made it worse cos his thoughts ain't so much goin' in order anymore and now Jeff's sitting there, staring with one eyebrow raised at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything that makes a damn lick of sense.
Instead Chris jumps up and beelines for the toilets, then changes his mind at the last second and heads outside. He needs air, and space, and fuck, the fuck is he thinking?
There's a lot of Kane RPS, a little J2 and a little bit of Leverage. Enjoy!!
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - You told your Momma what about us:
"What," Chris demands, his voice broken and torn between snarling and pleading and fear, "what is it you told your mama?"
"That we're over," Steven says without ever pausing or looking up from shoving a pile of his stuff into his duffel, his voice sounding small and far away, too far to make it through the deafening silence that wants to swallow Christian whole.
"Funny," Chris says, wanting to walk away but rooted where he is, and no way now to hold to his anger, "you tellin' her without ever tellin' me."
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Oh Chris, when will you learn:
Chris has got a bottle of Jack in one hand when Steve comes in, his boots near the wall suspiciously close to the windows (not that Chris would be aiming for them or anything, though at least it wasn't the television tonight). Steve sighs, but he doesn't ask; he knows already -- from Aldis no less, and Chris really must be a mess if the kid's calling Steve worried -- that Chris went to the bar to try and talk to her, to try and make her consider staying.
Maybe one of these days Christian would pull his head out of his ass and realize that he doesn't need to look past stage right to find love, but for now, Steve will settle for commiseration.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - They love you more than me, they bought you a freaking guitar:
"Wait a minute," Steve says, stopping dead in his tracks with his eyebrows climbing up toward his hairline, "wait, wait, wait... are you actually pissed?"
Christian huffs, deflating so fast he's almost engulfed in his hoodie, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, and if Steve didn't know better, he'd swear Christian was blushing. "It doesn't matter," Chris says, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking faster before mumbling something Steve thinks might be just a stupid guitar.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas:
Tomorrow they'll ask - about the cut on his lip, about the bruises, the hickey on his neck and the way he can't quite sit - but that's tomorrow, when he's back on set. Tomorrow, he'll laugh, and not answer, and let them wonder, and feed them the line like he's a goddamn walking commercial for Vegas.
Right now he's riding Steve, fucking him into the sheets, rocking back and down and tightening, only to lift again...
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Arrested:
It takes most of the day for him to realize he's cuffed to the bed, the realization hitting just after it hits him that he's in a hospital bed; he panics, disoriented, trying desperately to think through the pain long enough to remember what state he's in, to remember what happened.
He wishes he hadn't. He wishes he'd never woken up.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Lose the attitude Chris:
No sooner have the words left his lips than he's catching a quick right hook that sends him sprawling back into the table, and it takes Steve a minute to stop seeing stars before he realizes he can taste blood. He doesn't know what crawled up Christian's ass and bit him, or what Chris is on, but he's done, he's just plain done giving a shit and being shat on for it. Someone, Jason maybe, has gotten between him and Chris, is telling Chris to back up and cool off, but Steve doesn't wait, doesn't want to hear it, so he just leaves.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Rome is beautiful but I miss you:
The call goes straight to voicemail, and Steve barely listens to the message (still automated, Chris never could figure out how to program his damn phone), just waiting for the beep. "Hey," he says at the phone, trying desperately to make the words come out in order instead of all at once and backwards. "I just wanted, uh.... to, to tell you that Rome is... fuck, just... I miss you, ok?"
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Insecure Chris cos Steve is in Rome with Jensen:
He picks up the phone, then puts it down, then picks it up again, then puts it down and walks all the way to his kitchen before he turns on his heel to look at it again. It ain't no use, of course; the time difference is bad enough, but Steve's with Jensen... at a convention... and Chris of all people knows what it's like to party after a long day of panels and performing and...
"Just fucking call, dammit..."
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - "All that I ever wanted was inside of you":
He whispers the words as he thrusts, slow, so slow, until he's buried completely, and he rolls his hips until they're pressed so close together there's no end of one of them before the other begins. They tremble together, almost holding their breath, almost just waiting, just feeling. One of them moans --though neither would ever know which-- his breath hitching, and they can wait no longer, each touch, each kiss more desperate than the last.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - "I'll take my fingertips on a trip of your body":
Steve just touches him, grinning when Christian pulls against the handcuffs in a vain attempt to touch back; he lets his fingers wander over stubble, skimming feather light over his lips before moving down Chris' throat, his chest. He hums in approval at the small whimper in response to dragging his thumbs over Chris' nipples, likes it enough to do it again, but continues on down Chris' body, ghosting only a hair's breadth from his cock before continuing down Chris' legs.
Chris cusses at him, breath gone to gravel with want.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - These arms that hold me:
He just keeps thinking, We have sound check in a few hours; the thought spins round and round his head, making about as much sense as the way the world feels slanted and cold except where he can feel Steve against him. Steve feels hot, too hot, a furnace of color and sound that he tries to hold on to. Maybe if he just gets a little sleep, just a short nap, and he'll be ready for sound check...
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - When love isn't enough:
People will tell you - hell, they'll sing it to you - that "all you need is love," like love is something so big and so fucking wonderful it'll fix everything, overcome anything, that all you have to do is put your heart out there with love and a little effort, and you'll get everything you ever really wanted.
Yeah, well, it's bullshit.
If it weren't, I wouldn't be sitting here alone on the front porch of a house I can't bear to walk into anymore, watching the love of my life kick up dirt behind a truck because he can't get away fast enough, because that thing that no one tells you, that thing nobody can admit... sometimes love means walking the fuck away.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Just leave the ducks behind Chris:
Chris is obviously drunk, and a little high, and so punch drunk from being on tour that he's got the giggles, but he's still trying to carry all of the rubber ducks off stage -- all of them, and mostly in vain because every time he bends down to pick up one, at least two more fall out of his arms.
"C'mon, man," Steve says, laughing, pulling Chris' elbow to at least get him standing straight up, "just leave them."
"But... but..." Chris tries to say, until he seems to realize what it is he's doing and he drops them all to double over laughing himself to tears.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Take your shirt off Steve:
Steve hesitates for just a second, but obeys, his t-shirt sliding up to reveal bruises and scrapes, and the man can't quite hide his hiss of pain as he brings his arms over his head to pull the shirt away completely. He doesn't look Chris in the eyes, hell, doesn't take them off the floor, like he's ashamed, like it's his own fault.
Christian can feel the anger coiling low in his belly, but he bites it back and swallows it; he can't do anything about it now, not here, with Steve, and he's not leaving Steve now.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Who gave you the lovebite?:
Chris scrubs a hand over his face, trying desperately to climb out of his bunk on the tour bus without falling on his face, and debates the benefits of still being drunk over being hung over; he doesn't remember a whole lot of last night after hitting the bar, and considering how sore he is, he ain't sure he wants to, at least until he catches sight of not one, not two, but three separate bruises on Steve's neck and shoulder.
"What the hell man?" Chris demands, already pouting and tugging on Carlson's collar for a better view.
Steve blinks, then frowns, then bats at Christian's hands and tries not to laugh when he says, "It was you, idiot."
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Not the blue shirt:
The shirt's torn open in a succession of scrambling tears by hands unconcerned by the buttons that go flying, pinging off the mirror and the dresser and the suitcase, lost in the sound of a sleeve ripping and Steve's muffled protests.
"Was my favorite," he says once Chris has stopped kissing him. Not that the man gives him room to complain, hands sliding down the front of his pants to fight with Steve's boxers.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - Don't argue with me:
"Seriously," Chris grinds out, his voice only made all more gravelly from agitation and being sick, "you're seriously, actually going to... over this, this piece of shit?" And he's had it, is just fucking well done with all this bullshit, so he pushes back away from the table and gets up before he flips his shit instead. Steve might say something when he walks away, but he isn't listening.
Kane RPS - Chris/Steve - You're too sweet:
Steve stares down at the strap --hand made, no less, and he's gotta wonder how long Kane's been at it when no one's been looking-- and feels his throat close, his chest almost too tight to breathe. "You're too sweet," he says, his voice nearly not working, and for just a second Chris smiles that shy little smile that no one believes he smiles, cheeks flushing bright; Steve shakes his head, thrusting the strap back at Christian and letting go like it's burned him, and takes a step back, and another. "You can't... just... not me..."
J2 - Lets make the fangirls talk:
People think it's because they're oblivious --okay, not all people, but to be fair, in this particular instance the ones who write stories about it don't count anyway-- or because they just have no concept of personal space, that they're cramped together on set and everything else for so long it just doesn't matter anymore.
But the truth is they know; they know and they go out of their way, go so far as to plan. It's not like they're stupid enough to pass on a perfectly good way to ensure continued viewership.
J2 - Eric's going to kill us when he sees that:
"Understatement of the decade," Jens says, his face turning so deeply red it's a wonder he doesn't pass out where he stands. Jared would love to argue, he really would, but just now he's wondering how hard it would be to disappear into the night with the hood of the latest Impala from set.
Honestly, how were they supposed to know it would crumple and dent while Jared fucked Jens into it?
JDM/Chris - Do as you're told boy:
But Chris doesn't, wriggling like an uncoordinated fish flopping vainly on the bottom of a boat, his arms and legs swinging like he wants to fight, but without any of the man's usual control. It's all Jeff can do to keep him from throwing his head back against the side of the tub, and earns him a swat to the side of his head for his trouble.
"The hell is wrong with you," Jeff grouses out loud, and wonders how long he ought to be riding this out instead of calling 9-1-1...
Leverage - Nate/Eliot - was that so hard to admit?:
They stare at each other over the bottle of bourbon, and Eliot wishes he hadn't just said that, not when Nate looks like he's just about ready to bolt, eyes all unfocused and staring someplace else, or maybe waiting for Eliot to leave. "Ain't goin' anywhere," he says on the hunch, and tries not to watch Nate too hard and spook him.
"You say that now," Nate says, barely audible and heavy with something Eliot can't put his finger on, "you say that now."
Chris/Jensen - Happy birthday darlin':
The words come out with a thick Texas drawl, mostly on account of how drunk Jensen is, but he's not too drunk to do it on purpose, to know how the words would rumble out of him and straight through Chris to his cock. Still, his hand slides up Chris' back and around only to drift down Christian's belly and under the hem of his boxers, his fingers still clever enough to find Chris' cock hard and wanting and make something of it.
And if it's more than he bargained because Chris was already ready to pounce... well, it is Chris' birthday...
Leverage - Nate/Eliot - Seriously?:
Nate's raises his eyebrows slowly as the pieces fall into place, and now that he's figured it out he isn't really sure how it is he had ever missed it in the first place. "You're jealous," he sputters, "of the mark, the pencil necked, slimy, two-faced, hate mongering mark?"
Eliot doesn't answer, doesn't say a word or even turn to glare at him, but he does slam the truck door a little harder than necessary and stomps a little too hard as he walks away; Nate has to blink, because he could swear Eliot's ears were turning pink...
RPS, JDM/Chris - it's always been you:
The words stick in his throat, despite the shots he's been doing and all the encouragement from their friends and really that whiskey might've come round hard the other way and made it worse cos his thoughts ain't so much goin' in order anymore and now Jeff's sitting there, staring with one eyebrow raised at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything that makes a damn lick of sense.
Instead Chris jumps up and beelines for the toilets, then changes his mind at the last second and heads outside. He needs air, and space, and fuck, the fuck is he thinking?