fic, Lost: When You're Down And Out (Miles/Daniel), for chem15try
Title: When You're Down And Out
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Miles/Daniel
Words: 589
Summary: If you had asked him on the freighter, he’d have laughed in your face. Because really. Sharing a bed with Daniel Faraday in the seventies in the worst tropical heat ever existed?
Spoilers: er, up until mid-S5? 5x08 at most.
Disclaimer: Again, Lost isn't mine.
A/N: originally written for ozmissage for the five acts meme; the prompts were kissing, sharing a bed, hot nights, domesticity (which here is really sort of, but duh). Using for chem15try #12, transition state. Title from Simon & Garfunkel.
Miles is actually fine with it, all things considered.
If you had asked him on the freighter, he’d have laughed in your face. Because really. Sharing a bed with Daniel Faraday in the seventies in the worst tropical heat ever existed?
Yeah. Not really. Thank you so much, just not his thing.
Except that circumstances change people, or something like that, and it’s not like the Dharma people here decided that they could give them separate places. No, they gave them one house with three rooms. Now, Juliet got one because she’s the only woman and all that jazz and of course Sawyer bunked in with Jin, he’s the one he’s known longest anyway.
And that’s how he ended up with Daniel, who has stopped being in shock over Charlotte for maybe three days now or so, and Miles really would like to know what the fuck he should do. Daniel hangs around all day looking at that journal and trying not to stare at the younger version of Charlotte who conveniently lives almost next door, and during the night he just sticks to his side of the bed.
But this particular night the heat is insufferable and there’s something about the way Daniel lies still that makes Miles almost snap. It bothers him enough that he decides to do something, anything, and the first idea he has is reaching out a hand towards Daniel’s hip.
He expected him to flinch. He doesn’t. He actually arches back.
A-ha. Miles decides to be bold and even if his senses scream that he doesn’t need fucking body heat of anything, he reaches forward and moves closer until his arm lies across Daniel’s stomach.
Daniel actually moves and presses back against him.
This is fucking unbelievable.
“You don’t… you don’t have to,” Daniel mutters, even if it sounds like he’s saying it because it’s proper and not because he wants to.
“Genius, I know I don’t have to. Shut up,” Miles answers back, his voice less harsh than he had planned, and if Daniel moves backwards a bit, well, Miles asked for it.
“I… I mean it. Don’t, don’t feel like you should…”
Miles rolls his eyes and pushes on Daniel’s side so that he rolls over and they’re face to face.
“I don’t fucking feel like I should anything. I just give a damn about you. That so hard to get? One would think it can’t be harder than string theory or whatever it is.”
Daniel bites his lip, his cheek flushed, obviously not knowing what to do with it even if his eyes tell another story (translation: that he’s fucking happy to hear it), and Miles decides that really, at this point, he can safely allow himself not to give a damn and just act.
He moves closer and kisses Daniel, and for a second he thinks he royally fucked things up; then Daniel surges a bit up and presses back in a way that is both eager and tentative, obviously not expecting this. And Miles, well, Miles figures that he’s doing something right, praise somebody, and he doesn’t let go until he has thoroughly made his point.
And considering that, when they part, for the first time in weeks Daniel looks something close to okay instead of close to outright suicide wannabe, he figures that he isn’t doing a bad job.
When he throws his arm around Daniel again and complains something about the fucking heat, he’s pleased to hear the ghost of a laugh echoing in the room.
End.
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Miles/Daniel
Words: 589
Summary: If you had asked him on the freighter, he’d have laughed in your face. Because really. Sharing a bed with Daniel Faraday in the seventies in the worst tropical heat ever existed?
Spoilers: er, up until mid-S5? 5x08 at most.
Disclaimer: Again, Lost isn't mine.
A/N: originally written for ozmissage for the five acts meme; the prompts were kissing, sharing a bed, hot nights, domesticity (which here is really sort of, but duh). Using for chem15try #12, transition state. Title from Simon & Garfunkel.
Miles is actually fine with it, all things considered.
If you had asked him on the freighter, he’d have laughed in your face. Because really. Sharing a bed with Daniel Faraday in the seventies in the worst tropical heat ever existed?
Yeah. Not really. Thank you so much, just not his thing.
Except that circumstances change people, or something like that, and it’s not like the Dharma people here decided that they could give them separate places. No, they gave them one house with three rooms. Now, Juliet got one because she’s the only woman and all that jazz and of course Sawyer bunked in with Jin, he’s the one he’s known longest anyway.
And that’s how he ended up with Daniel, who has stopped being in shock over Charlotte for maybe three days now or so, and Miles really would like to know what the fuck he should do. Daniel hangs around all day looking at that journal and trying not to stare at the younger version of Charlotte who conveniently lives almost next door, and during the night he just sticks to his side of the bed.
But this particular night the heat is insufferable and there’s something about the way Daniel lies still that makes Miles almost snap. It bothers him enough that he decides to do something, anything, and the first idea he has is reaching out a hand towards Daniel’s hip.
He expected him to flinch. He doesn’t. He actually arches back.
A-ha. Miles decides to be bold and even if his senses scream that he doesn’t need fucking body heat of anything, he reaches forward and moves closer until his arm lies across Daniel’s stomach.
Daniel actually moves and presses back against him.
This is fucking unbelievable.
“You don’t… you don’t have to,” Daniel mutters, even if it sounds like he’s saying it because it’s proper and not because he wants to.
“Genius, I know I don’t have to. Shut up,” Miles answers back, his voice less harsh than he had planned, and if Daniel moves backwards a bit, well, Miles asked for it.
“I… I mean it. Don’t, don’t feel like you should…”
Miles rolls his eyes and pushes on Daniel’s side so that he rolls over and they’re face to face.
“I don’t fucking feel like I should anything. I just give a damn about you. That so hard to get? One would think it can’t be harder than string theory or whatever it is.”
Daniel bites his lip, his cheek flushed, obviously not knowing what to do with it even if his eyes tell another story (translation: that he’s fucking happy to hear it), and Miles decides that really, at this point, he can safely allow himself not to give a damn and just act.
He moves closer and kisses Daniel, and for a second he thinks he royally fucked things up; then Daniel surges a bit up and presses back in a way that is both eager and tentative, obviously not expecting this. And Miles, well, Miles figures that he’s doing something right, praise somebody, and he doesn’t let go until he has thoroughly made his point.
And considering that, when they part, for the first time in weeks Daniel looks something close to okay instead of close to outright suicide wannabe, he figures that he isn’t doing a bad job.
When he throws his arm around Daniel again and complains something about the fucking heat, he’s pleased to hear the ghost of a laugh echoing in the room.
End.