Fic: Marshall's Pants [R]
Title: Marshall's Pants
Author: pipisafoat
Rating: R
Pairings: Marshall/Mary, Marshall/OFC
Warnings: Mentions of (minor) character death, mentions of bisexuality (no m/m relationships)
Spoilers: None
Summary: "Marshall’s pajamas pants were always a way for him to communicate with people."
Author's Notes: 10 x 100 word drabbles, each with an individual graphic as per a challenge I've undertaken. Crossposted to thefoatbook. Completely blaming this on randomrattle!
He was 8 years old the first time it happened. His cousin came over to spend the night, and his father decided that it was time to teach Marshall that there was more to not sleeping naked than Dad's whim. As he came out of the bathroom that night, Alyssa screamed and ran away from him. In the morning, Dad explained that big boys couldn’t run around in the nude, and the two of them went to the store. Though he gave in to his father’s demands for pajama pants, he insisted that he be allowed to buy leopard print.
At age 12, the leopard print and its zebra counterpart no longer fit comfortably. Marshall and his uncle went shopping as a birthday present, and he bought several new pairs of pajama pants for his nephew. Among them was a pair of pants that was decorated with Christmas trees, and the stars on top of the trees actually lit up. Uncle Paul tried to argue that the lights would only annoy Marshall, but the boy was insistent. A week later, the pants were hung on the wall in the closet.
That day, he also bought grandfather clock and Tweety pants.
Marshall’s pajamas pants were always a way for him to communicate with people. When his mother babied him too much, he put on the naked women. If he ran out of candy but still craved something sweet, he wore the Hershey bar pants. The day his parents refused to let him keep the stray Lab puppy, thirteen year old Marshall hopped on a bus and purchased some pants with paw prints and dogs on them. Two years later, he came home with purple pajama pants with a matching top bearing a Gay Pride flag, and he came out as bisexual.
19 year old James was taken aback by his first college roommate’s pajama habits. James slept naked and kept a pair of boxers by his bed for when he got up, but Marshall put on crazy pajama pants the second he was out of classes and didn’t take them off until he had to leave the following morning. The pants were all colors, with every pattern and print James could think of. He never understood how the other boy didn’t overheat in them at night, but at least he had a great idea for what to get Marshall for Christmas.
His first hand job actually came almost a year after he lost his virginity to his prom date. He was staying at a friend’s house to let James and his girlfriend Samantha have the room for the night. The friend had a few more friends over, and they all got drunk together. When a girl he didn’t know climbed into bed with him that night and stuck her hand down his pants, he didn’t try to protest or push her away. However, she rejected his advances in the morning when the sun revealed his pajama pants to be Lego print.
Allison was his first serious girlfriend, a music major who planned to become a high school band teacher. On their first anniversary, he took her out to a fancy restaurant. To celebrate their second year, they got an apartment and a cat together. For their third year, the same year Allison got her dream job in the same city as Marshall’s graduate school, she gave him black pajama pants with white notes and musical keys all over them.
She left him two months later for one of her students. Marshall kept the pants, locked in a box under his bed.
He got a call one night, a cry for help from the local PD. A suspect was headed his way, could he run outside, jump in his truck, and head the guy off?
They were all too late, pulling into the alley on opposite sides. The cops took off on foot, chasing the suspect up a fire escape and into the building. Marshall called an ambulance and cradled the victim on his lap, on the cow print pajamas he hadn’t had time to change out of. He threw up on top of her bloodstains after she died in his arms.
Three weeks after being assigned to work with Mary Shannon, they had their first overnight adventure. She knocked on his door just as soon as he’d put on his Frosted Flakes pajama pants, and he cursed under his breath as he unlocked the chain.
“What the hell are you wearing, Marshall?”
He sighed. “The pajamas don’t make me any less competent than I was in jeans.”
She grinned at him. “You sure about that? Cereal is for eating, not for wearing. Unless you’re two years old?”
He was relieved when the laughter faded, and she kept him as her partner.
It was cold, they’d had a terrible month, and despite Marshall’s growing affection for his partner, they were sharing a bed platonically. When Mary started talking about work, when he started shaking from it, she wrapped her arms around him and held him.
In the morning, he prayed she wouldn’t wake up until he could move, but she did. She froze as she noticed his erection mid-stretch, and fear of rejection without proposition coursed through his veins. Thirty minutes later, over breakfast, she harassed him about his pajamas, black silk pants that said “Silk makes masturbation sex” around the waistband.
She came over on Saint Patrick’s Day with a case of his favorite beer and laughed at him for having pajamas on this early. He pranced a bit and showed them off, bright green pants with orange words, “Kiss me; I’m Irish!” She argued the point, he admitted he wasn’t Irish, and she kissed him anyway, said he was worth more than one kiss.
He smiled at her, kissed her back, and opened a beer. Later that night, she pushed him onto his back on the couch, whispered “I meant it, you dolt,” in his ear, and kissed him again.
Author: pipisafoat
Rating: R
Pairings: Marshall/Mary, Marshall/OFC
Warnings: Mentions of (minor) character death, mentions of bisexuality (no m/m relationships)
Spoilers: None
Summary: "Marshall’s pajamas pants were always a way for him to communicate with people."
Author's Notes: 10 x 100 word drabbles, each with an individual graphic as per a challenge I've undertaken. Crossposted to thefoatbook. Completely blaming this on randomrattle!
He was 8 years old the first time it happened. His cousin came over to spend the night, and his father decided that it was time to teach Marshall that there was more to not sleeping naked than Dad's whim. As he came out of the bathroom that night, Alyssa screamed and ran away from him. In the morning, Dad explained that big boys couldn’t run around in the nude, and the two of them went to the store. Though he gave in to his father’s demands for pajama pants, he insisted that he be allowed to buy leopard print.
At age 12, the leopard print and its zebra counterpart no longer fit comfortably. Marshall and his uncle went shopping as a birthday present, and he bought several new pairs of pajama pants for his nephew. Among them was a pair of pants that was decorated with Christmas trees, and the stars on top of the trees actually lit up. Uncle Paul tried to argue that the lights would only annoy Marshall, but the boy was insistent. A week later, the pants were hung on the wall in the closet.
That day, he also bought grandfather clock and Tweety pants.
Marshall’s pajamas pants were always a way for him to communicate with people. When his mother babied him too much, he put on the naked women. If he ran out of candy but still craved something sweet, he wore the Hershey bar pants. The day his parents refused to let him keep the stray Lab puppy, thirteen year old Marshall hopped on a bus and purchased some pants with paw prints and dogs on them. Two years later, he came home with purple pajama pants with a matching top bearing a Gay Pride flag, and he came out as bisexual.
19 year old James was taken aback by his first college roommate’s pajama habits. James slept naked and kept a pair of boxers by his bed for when he got up, but Marshall put on crazy pajama pants the second he was out of classes and didn’t take them off until he had to leave the following morning. The pants were all colors, with every pattern and print James could think of. He never understood how the other boy didn’t overheat in them at night, but at least he had a great idea for what to get Marshall for Christmas.
His first hand job actually came almost a year after he lost his virginity to his prom date. He was staying at a friend’s house to let James and his girlfriend Samantha have the room for the night. The friend had a few more friends over, and they all got drunk together. When a girl he didn’t know climbed into bed with him that night and stuck her hand down his pants, he didn’t try to protest or push her away. However, she rejected his advances in the morning when the sun revealed his pajama pants to be Lego print.
Allison was his first serious girlfriend, a music major who planned to become a high school band teacher. On their first anniversary, he took her out to a fancy restaurant. To celebrate their second year, they got an apartment and a cat together. For their third year, the same year Allison got her dream job in the same city as Marshall’s graduate school, she gave him black pajama pants with white notes and musical keys all over them.
She left him two months later for one of her students. Marshall kept the pants, locked in a box under his bed.
He got a call one night, a cry for help from the local PD. A suspect was headed his way, could he run outside, jump in his truck, and head the guy off?
They were all too late, pulling into the alley on opposite sides. The cops took off on foot, chasing the suspect up a fire escape and into the building. Marshall called an ambulance and cradled the victim on his lap, on the cow print pajamas he hadn’t had time to change out of. He threw up on top of her bloodstains after she died in his arms.
Three weeks after being assigned to work with Mary Shannon, they had their first overnight adventure. She knocked on his door just as soon as he’d put on his Frosted Flakes pajama pants, and he cursed under his breath as he unlocked the chain.
“What the hell are you wearing, Marshall?”
He sighed. “The pajamas don’t make me any less competent than I was in jeans.”
She grinned at him. “You sure about that? Cereal is for eating, not for wearing. Unless you’re two years old?”
He was relieved when the laughter faded, and she kept him as her partner.
It was cold, they’d had a terrible month, and despite Marshall’s growing affection for his partner, they were sharing a bed platonically. When Mary started talking about work, when he started shaking from it, she wrapped her arms around him and held him.
In the morning, he prayed she wouldn’t wake up until he could move, but she did. She froze as she noticed his erection mid-stretch, and fear of rejection without proposition coursed through his veins. Thirty minutes later, over breakfast, she harassed him about his pajamas, black silk pants that said “Silk makes masturbation sex” around the waistband.
She came over on Saint Patrick’s Day with a case of his favorite beer and laughed at him for having pajamas on this early. He pranced a bit and showed them off, bright green pants with orange words, “Kiss me; I’m Irish!” She argued the point, he admitted he wasn’t Irish, and she kissed him anyway, said he was worth more than one kiss.
He smiled at her, kissed her back, and opened a beer. Later that night, she pushed him onto his back on the couch, whispered “I meant it, you dolt,” in his ear, and kissed him again.