(no subject)
Title: Capture the Moment
Pairing: Aidan Turner/Dean O'Gorman
Warnings: RPF!
Disclaimer: Not mine, not at all.
Summary: Aidan’s done a dozen photoshoots before, but this one has got him all riled up.
Word Count: 700
It’s not the first time Aidan’s worn a costume the likes of this, trench warfare hanging off of his skin like a comfortable noose. He can’t help but make the associations and as he slips on the ammo and the khaki, he feels like he’s back on the Being Human set, like he ought to be keeping an eye out for Tovey.
The flash brings him back to earth.
Adam’s on set right now and Aidan’s on deck, given all the time in the world to watch the way Dean wields a camera. He’s careful with the equipment and almost reverent in a way that’s got him almost jealous of the equipment. Really, after all the months of filming, Aidan actually knows fairly well what the feel of Dean’s hands on his skin feel like, but he wants more and it’s stupid to be jealous of a camera.
And yet, here he is. Here he is, watching the glide of Dean’s thumb over the focus and the steady grip. There’s a sureness and a confidence on his face that’s absolutely beyond breathtaking and fuck him, but he’s getting too caught up in all this.
He takes a deep breath, about the time that he’s being called onto set.
“Not so bad,” Adam promises with a sunny smile - which looks horribly out of place in contrast to what he’s wearing. The young soldier and him…whatever he’s supposed to portray.
He steps onto the canvas on the floor and looks up, catching Dean’s eye.
“Not quite like the last time you photographed us,” Aidan jokes to try and break the ice, thinking of their dwarfish fat suits and twelve months of the year and Dean expertly wielding the camera then, too. “Bit more serious, I’d say.”
Dean doesn’t reply. Aidan feels his nerves building along with the tension he’s feeling until it’s so thick that he’s practically choking on it. He starts to overthink every single second and is only given mercy when Dean makes a gesture with his fingers.
“I think we’ll start here.”
They run through several angles and poses at a distance, but soon Dean’s close and he’s repositioning Aidan cautiously and carefully. Every touch lingers and burns against Aidan’s skin and he’s going to go mad, plain and simple.
Inevitably, Dean lets the strap around his neck hold the camera and reaches both hands out to fix Aidan’s collar, both hands sliding down to his shoulders to give them a squeeze. “What’s got you so tense? You’d think you never posed for a picture before and I know that’s not true,” he says, smiling with such easy charm that Aidan wonders if everyone gets that smile or if it’s just him.
And speaking of just him, a cursory look around them shows that the rest of the shoot have gone home. It’s only the two of them with the lighting equipment and the cameras and the costumes.
“It’s not exactly a regular photoshoot,” Aidan points out, noticing that Dean’s hands haven’t exactly left his shoulders. “It’s … you.”
“Me,” Dean echoes.
“You,” Aidan agrees, more stubborn now. “You’ve got this way of throwing me off and it’s like you don’t even know you’re doing it. I mean! I mean, look at you! You’re smiling at me like there’s some joke I’m not a part of and moving me around with your hands like I’m your puppet and…” The sheer ridiculousness of his rant catches up with him and soon, Aidan’s laughing along with Dean, the both of them twined together like this.
Aidan, who’s dressed as a soldier. Dean, always playing the tease.
“I don’t know what I’m doing?” Dean picks out one of the choice phrases from Aidan’s rant.
“Maybe not,” Aidan murmurs, when Dean slides his hands back up to his neck and his thumbs reverently and gently cup his chin. “Maybe I’ll take that part back.”
“See that you do,” Dean says, but he’s grinning and this time, Aidan knows it’s a smile that’s only meant for him. It’s one he’s seen for months of filming, turned his way when none of the others are looking.
And the sure kiss that follows?
Yeah. Aidan knows that’s all his.
Pairing: Aidan Turner/Dean O'Gorman
Warnings: RPF!
Disclaimer: Not mine, not at all.
Summary: Aidan’s done a dozen photoshoots before, but this one has got him all riled up.
Word Count: 700
It’s not the first time Aidan’s worn a costume the likes of this, trench warfare hanging off of his skin like a comfortable noose. He can’t help but make the associations and as he slips on the ammo and the khaki, he feels like he’s back on the Being Human set, like he ought to be keeping an eye out for Tovey.
The flash brings him back to earth.
Adam’s on set right now and Aidan’s on deck, given all the time in the world to watch the way Dean wields a camera. He’s careful with the equipment and almost reverent in a way that’s got him almost jealous of the equipment. Really, after all the months of filming, Aidan actually knows fairly well what the feel of Dean’s hands on his skin feel like, but he wants more and it’s stupid to be jealous of a camera.
And yet, here he is. Here he is, watching the glide of Dean’s thumb over the focus and the steady grip. There’s a sureness and a confidence on his face that’s absolutely beyond breathtaking and fuck him, but he’s getting too caught up in all this.
He takes a deep breath, about the time that he’s being called onto set.
“Not so bad,” Adam promises with a sunny smile - which looks horribly out of place in contrast to what he’s wearing. The young soldier and him…whatever he’s supposed to portray.
He steps onto the canvas on the floor and looks up, catching Dean’s eye.
“Not quite like the last time you photographed us,” Aidan jokes to try and break the ice, thinking of their dwarfish fat suits and twelve months of the year and Dean expertly wielding the camera then, too. “Bit more serious, I’d say.”
Dean doesn’t reply. Aidan feels his nerves building along with the tension he’s feeling until it’s so thick that he’s practically choking on it. He starts to overthink every single second and is only given mercy when Dean makes a gesture with his fingers.
“I think we’ll start here.”
They run through several angles and poses at a distance, but soon Dean’s close and he’s repositioning Aidan cautiously and carefully. Every touch lingers and burns against Aidan’s skin and he’s going to go mad, plain and simple.
Inevitably, Dean lets the strap around his neck hold the camera and reaches both hands out to fix Aidan’s collar, both hands sliding down to his shoulders to give them a squeeze. “What’s got you so tense? You’d think you never posed for a picture before and I know that’s not true,” he says, smiling with such easy charm that Aidan wonders if everyone gets that smile or if it’s just him.
And speaking of just him, a cursory look around them shows that the rest of the shoot have gone home. It’s only the two of them with the lighting equipment and the cameras and the costumes.
“It’s not exactly a regular photoshoot,” Aidan points out, noticing that Dean’s hands haven’t exactly left his shoulders. “It’s … you.”
“Me,” Dean echoes.
“You,” Aidan agrees, more stubborn now. “You’ve got this way of throwing me off and it’s like you don’t even know you’re doing it. I mean! I mean, look at you! You’re smiling at me like there’s some joke I’m not a part of and moving me around with your hands like I’m your puppet and…” The sheer ridiculousness of his rant catches up with him and soon, Aidan’s laughing along with Dean, the both of them twined together like this.
Aidan, who’s dressed as a soldier. Dean, always playing the tease.
“I don’t know what I’m doing?” Dean picks out one of the choice phrases from Aidan’s rant.
“Maybe not,” Aidan murmurs, when Dean slides his hands back up to his neck and his thumbs reverently and gently cup his chin. “Maybe I’ll take that part back.”
“See that you do,” Dean says, but he’s grinning and this time, Aidan knows it’s a smile that’s only meant for him. It’s one he’s seen for months of filming, turned his way when none of the others are looking.
And the sure kiss that follows?
Yeah. Aidan knows that’s all his.