Interlude (SA/BB)
Title: Interlude
Pairing: SA/BB. Second person POV.
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Don't know or own. Such a pity.
Summary: Generic pub fic.
Author's Notes: Fluff! Total Fluff! Written for the third lotrpschallenge, which involved creating a fic using the results of this meme. Also, used 'jcol', because 'jcole' produced Viggo, Viggo, and David Wenham.
You’re sitting in a pub, drinking pints of beer, and it’s just you four hobbits, out for a night on the town. Then Viggo and Bean and Orli appear, pulling more chairs up to your too small table and Dom pokes you in the side and says, "Go on, Bills. Scooch on over now," so you do.
A few inches at first, just to be a bastard, then again, until you can’t scoot anymore and the legs of your flimsy wooden chair have tangled themselves with Sean’s. It takes you a moment to realize that, though-you blame it on the alcohol and the fact that Dom is scooting his chair right along with yours and he hasn’t stopped, so why should you?-and by the time you do, you’re sitting partway on Sean’s chair, his leg pressed to yours, from hip to knee and maybe a little beyond.
"Woah there," he says, dropping an arm over you shoulders. He’s laughing. His eyes are squinched up, but the words are loose and almost slurred.
"Good goin’, Bills," Dom says from your other side. He’s laughing, too. At you, not with you, like Sean is. "Push Astin right off his chair, why don’t you." To emphasize his words, he gives you a push, the force of which only moves you an inch further onto Sean’s chair, but bends more of you than that over his lap.
"Not if I can push him off first," Elijah calls gleefully from Sean’s other side and gives Sean a shove of his own, sending you back from whence you came.
Dom pushes and Elijah shoves, pressing you and Sean together until it’s almost painful. Until Sean says, "Hey, hey, enough now," and moves his hand away from your shoulder to push at Dom while he uses his other to disengage Elijah. They fall away, giggling, and then there’s no reason not to settle back into your own chair, so you do, just as Sean settles back into his own. His arm leaves your shoulders all together and he wraps his hands around his pint glass, bringing it to his mouth so that he can take a long drink.
On the surface, at least, the interlude is at an end.
You think that the two of you, maybe, are the only ones to notice that the legs of your chairs are still entangled. That you’re both sitting closer to the adjoining edges of your chairs than before, because you’re still pressed together from hip to knee and maybe a little beyond. When he laughs, his leg shakes against yours, and it feels as if you’re sharing a joke that only the two of you know.
And maybe you are, because as the night progresses, neither of you move away.
-End-
Pairing: SA/BB. Second person POV.
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Don't know or own. Such a pity.
Summary: Generic pub fic.
Author's Notes: Fluff! Total Fluff! Written for the third lotrpschallenge, which involved creating a fic using the results of this meme. Also, used 'jcol', because 'jcole' produced Viggo, Viggo, and David Wenham.
You’re sitting in a pub, drinking pints of beer, and it’s just you four hobbits, out for a night on the town. Then Viggo and Bean and Orli appear, pulling more chairs up to your too small table and Dom pokes you in the side and says, "Go on, Bills. Scooch on over now," so you do.
A few inches at first, just to be a bastard, then again, until you can’t scoot anymore and the legs of your flimsy wooden chair have tangled themselves with Sean’s. It takes you a moment to realize that, though-you blame it on the alcohol and the fact that Dom is scooting his chair right along with yours and he hasn’t stopped, so why should you?-and by the time you do, you’re sitting partway on Sean’s chair, his leg pressed to yours, from hip to knee and maybe a little beyond.
"Woah there," he says, dropping an arm over you shoulders. He’s laughing. His eyes are squinched up, but the words are loose and almost slurred.
"Good goin’, Bills," Dom says from your other side. He’s laughing, too. At you, not with you, like Sean is. "Push Astin right off his chair, why don’t you." To emphasize his words, he gives you a push, the force of which only moves you an inch further onto Sean’s chair, but bends more of you than that over his lap.
"Not if I can push him off first," Elijah calls gleefully from Sean’s other side and gives Sean a shove of his own, sending you back from whence you came.
Dom pushes and Elijah shoves, pressing you and Sean together until it’s almost painful. Until Sean says, "Hey, hey, enough now," and moves his hand away from your shoulder to push at Dom while he uses his other to disengage Elijah. They fall away, giggling, and then there’s no reason not to settle back into your own chair, so you do, just as Sean settles back into his own. His arm leaves your shoulders all together and he wraps his hands around his pint glass, bringing it to his mouth so that he can take a long drink.
On the surface, at least, the interlude is at an end.
You think that the two of you, maybe, are the only ones to notice that the legs of your chairs are still entangled. That you’re both sitting closer to the adjoining edges of your chairs than before, because you’re still pressed together from hip to knee and maybe a little beyond. When he laughs, his leg shakes against yours, and it feels as if you’re sharing a joke that only the two of you know.
And maybe you are, because as the night progresses, neither of you move away.
-End-