Okay. I am a writer that lies.
Title: Soft in the Middle
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Rating: G
Word Count: 286 words.
Notes: Nicholas/Danny slash. (Yes, I know I said I don't slash them. No, I don't know why I keep writing slash if this is the case.)
There are lots of things Nicholas can't bring himself to say. It's hardwired into his personality, a rigidity no amount of alcohol or self-imposed training can delete. He's spent hours talking to himself about it, muttering in his mind.
Today will be the day. This day. Has to be.
He's read books - manuals, really - listened to songs. He's gone so far as to watch Oprah and then envisaged misusing his highly developed weaponry skills. It's no use. The words don't come. He goes to open his mouth and his throat is blocked, or his tongue is tied and that's it, an open mouth and nothing more.
So Nicholas doesn't use words to tell Danny how he feels. He uses actions. He's always been a man of action, running after criminals, filing reports - always enjoying the filing, not so much the writing, because he's been told off once before about plagiarising professional standards guidelines.
Nicholas places his hand on Danny's chest and stares deeply into his eyes and leans forward, just a little, just to judge if he's doing the right thing. His question is unspoken, but Danny can hear it, because he nods, simply, and waits, patiently. And Nicholas edges past those final three inches to press his lips against Danny's own.
Danny's been licking chunky monkey. Danny's not at all surprised that Nicholas wants to kiss him. Danny winds his hands around Nicholas' back and pulls him tight. Nicholas teases past his teeth with his tongue and revels in the warmth and sensation.
I love you, Nicholas thinks. I love you a lot, Danny Butterman. And when he pulls away, he desperately wants Danny to see it.
"I love you too, Nicholas."
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Rating: G
Word Count: 286 words.
Notes: Nicholas/Danny slash. (Yes, I know I said I don't slash them. No, I don't know why I keep writing slash if this is the case.)
There are lots of things Nicholas can't bring himself to say. It's hardwired into his personality, a rigidity no amount of alcohol or self-imposed training can delete. He's spent hours talking to himself about it, muttering in his mind.
Today will be the day. This day. Has to be.
He's read books - manuals, really - listened to songs. He's gone so far as to watch Oprah and then envisaged misusing his highly developed weaponry skills. It's no use. The words don't come. He goes to open his mouth and his throat is blocked, or his tongue is tied and that's it, an open mouth and nothing more.
So Nicholas doesn't use words to tell Danny how he feels. He uses actions. He's always been a man of action, running after criminals, filing reports - always enjoying the filing, not so much the writing, because he's been told off once before about plagiarising professional standards guidelines.
Nicholas places his hand on Danny's chest and stares deeply into his eyes and leans forward, just a little, just to judge if he's doing the right thing. His question is unspoken, but Danny can hear it, because he nods, simply, and waits, patiently. And Nicholas edges past those final three inches to press his lips against Danny's own.
Danny's been licking chunky monkey. Danny's not at all surprised that Nicholas wants to kiss him. Danny winds his hands around Nicholas' back and pulls him tight. Nicholas teases past his teeth with his tongue and revels in the warmth and sensation.
I love you, Nicholas thinks. I love you a lot, Danny Butterman. And when he pulls away, he desperately wants Danny to see it.
"I love you too, Nicholas."