Those Waking Moments
Title: Those Waking Moments
Fandom: Queer As Folk RPS
Pairing/Characters: Randy/Gale
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 510
Description: They wake up half a block away from each other, lying in their separate rooms, hungover as hell.
Challenge: None
Disclaimer: Erm, yeah they don't actually do this.
Those Waking Moments
First
They wake up half a block away from each other, lying in their separate rooms, hungover as hell. A warning. They wake up sore and stinking of booze, trying to remember what happened the night before.
Rolling out of bed they make their tired way through the daily ritual of feeling alive. Coffee for one, juice for the other, slippered feet and socked toes pad over wooden floor and bathroom tiles. Both have to be at work by nine.
If, during their morning routine, either one thinks back to last night, all that meets them is blankness. They have no idea what they’ve done.
Second
They wake up in Gale’s car, spooned together on the back seat, faces pressed into material that smells of smoke and sex. A reminder. They wake up stiff-necked and cold, muscles that have been crunched into one position for too long burning as they’re finally stretched out.
Awkward and unsure of what to say, Gale does up his zipper and asks Randy whether he wants a ride to work. Randy doesn’t answer but he pulls on his shirt and slides into the passenger seat anyway. On the silent drive to the set neither one tries to make conversation. They are thinking back to the night before. This time they are met with memories.
Laughter. Gale staying too long at Randy’s after work, drinking too much to drive home. Attempting it anyway. Randy, also unsteady on his feet, trying to stop him. Laughing as he tackles him flat on the back seat of the car. Stillness. Kisses. More.
Third
They wake up in Brian and Justin’s clothes, tangled and half-torn. A metaphor. They wake up muddled and confused, characters bleeding into real life until neither is quite sure who they are supposed to be.
Silently, they collect their costumes from the floor, both knowing there’s going to be hell to pay from the wardrobe mistress. They observe each other’s cuts and bruises without speaking and they don’t meet each other’s gaze until Gale is about to leave the dressing room. He’s opening the door when their eyes connect, last night flashing between them.
They argue on set, it continues off camera, long after everyone else has left. Bitter fury. Randy throws the first punch. Gale soon follows until they are tumbling backwards, fighting on the floor like teenagers. And in their memories neither is sure when the fighting ends and the fuck begins.
Fourth
They wake up in bed, side by side, their shoulders touching. A reflection. They wake up warm and happy, eyes meeting with that secret smile and lazy hands skimming over smooth skin. Neither one speaks about the night before, there is no need, they can remember it just as well without words.
Warmth. Softness. Slow delicate kisses from nape to collar bone. Bodies moving in unison, so slowly that the movements linger like whispers. Their backs arch into sheets, lips meeting. There is no sense of urgency this time. Both of them know this will happen again.
They wake up together.
Fandom: Queer As Folk RPS
Pairing/Characters: Randy/Gale
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 510
Description: They wake up half a block away from each other, lying in their separate rooms, hungover as hell.
Challenge: None
Disclaimer: Erm, yeah they don't actually do this.
Those Waking Moments
First
They wake up half a block away from each other, lying in their separate rooms, hungover as hell. A warning. They wake up sore and stinking of booze, trying to remember what happened the night before.
Rolling out of bed they make their tired way through the daily ritual of feeling alive. Coffee for one, juice for the other, slippered feet and socked toes pad over wooden floor and bathroom tiles. Both have to be at work by nine.
If, during their morning routine, either one thinks back to last night, all that meets them is blankness. They have no idea what they’ve done.
Second
They wake up in Gale’s car, spooned together on the back seat, faces pressed into material that smells of smoke and sex. A reminder. They wake up stiff-necked and cold, muscles that have been crunched into one position for too long burning as they’re finally stretched out.
Awkward and unsure of what to say, Gale does up his zipper and asks Randy whether he wants a ride to work. Randy doesn’t answer but he pulls on his shirt and slides into the passenger seat anyway. On the silent drive to the set neither one tries to make conversation. They are thinking back to the night before. This time they are met with memories.
Laughter. Gale staying too long at Randy’s after work, drinking too much to drive home. Attempting it anyway. Randy, also unsteady on his feet, trying to stop him. Laughing as he tackles him flat on the back seat of the car. Stillness. Kisses. More.
Third
They wake up in Brian and Justin’s clothes, tangled and half-torn. A metaphor. They wake up muddled and confused, characters bleeding into real life until neither is quite sure who they are supposed to be.
Silently, they collect their costumes from the floor, both knowing there’s going to be hell to pay from the wardrobe mistress. They observe each other’s cuts and bruises without speaking and they don’t meet each other’s gaze until Gale is about to leave the dressing room. He’s opening the door when their eyes connect, last night flashing between them.
They argue on set, it continues off camera, long after everyone else has left. Bitter fury. Randy throws the first punch. Gale soon follows until they are tumbling backwards, fighting on the floor like teenagers. And in their memories neither is sure when the fighting ends and the fuck begins.
Fourth
They wake up in bed, side by side, their shoulders touching. A reflection. They wake up warm and happy, eyes meeting with that secret smile and lazy hands skimming over smooth skin. Neither one speaks about the night before, there is no need, they can remember it just as well without words.
Warmth. Softness. Slow delicate kisses from nape to collar bone. Bodies moving in unison, so slowly that the movements linger like whispers. Their backs arch into sheets, lips meeting. There is no sense of urgency this time. Both of them know this will happen again.
They wake up together.