El watches over Sands out of habit as much as anything else. The TV, however, does nothing to hold the mariachi's attention the way it does for the teenager in front of it. El paces and makes rounds through the apartment; a sort of triangle including the front door, checking on Sands at the TV, and down the hall to listen at the door where Murdoc sleeps in Sands' body.
Finally, he stops at the kitchen and gets a bottle of beer before stopping the rounds and dropping onto the couch. "This much television will ruin your mind."
Sands is aware of El's pacing. He wonders if the mexican is nervous about something. Or has cabin fever. He's probably uneasy about the body switch. Or he's tried of being in the apartment. Both are options as far as he's concerned. Sands hopes El wont try to talk him out of leaving his cartoons.
"Bugs Bunny never ruined anything." He stuffs more noodles in his mouth. "Quiet. He's about to fool Elmer into shooting the Duck again."
It's a little of both things. El is tired of holing up in the apartment and he'd rather not deal with Sands until everything is back to normal. It's far too bizarre and he'd rather it was all over with.
He watches the screen and finds the argument more repetitive than humorous. Besides that, hasn't everyone seen this before? "He will do it a few more times, I'm sure. ... You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
It only makes sense that Sands would enjoy seeing again, but El can't imagine being comfortable outside of his own skin, regardless of the circumstances.
Sands wants to look at El when he's talking to him. It's something people take for granted, really. His neck is starting to hurt at this point so he jumps up from his make shift throne and drops beside El as if he was trying to break the furniture. He has far too much energy right now. Rice spill on the cushions and he picks each one up and drops it into the ash tray.
"Why shouldn't I?" Noodles are slurped up as his mismatches eyes await an answer.
It's hard to look into those strange eyes and know that it's Sands behind them. El has to continually remind himself.
"Because this isn't you. Doesn't that bother you?" It bothers El. Maybe more than he's willing to admit. He doesn't even notice his own body language as he leans slightly away from Sands to avoid the proximity.
"It's cute when you think like one of the good guys. Even if that's so, I'll be their golden boy in a few years. They'll be so hot to get their hands on me-" Sands is crawling into El's lap as he speaks. The last part is said against the mariachi's lips.
"It'll be like a Texan running through a house full of whores to get at a fat boys ass. Huunn."
'Unconforable' fails to be a strong enough word for the stomach twisting feeling of having this young boy crawl into his lap and breathe hot breath against his mouth. El sneers and begins to push Sands off of him and get to his feet.
"Stop that! He's practically a child, Sheldon." Whether El is out to protect Murdoc's innocence or what little remains of his own is unclear. He's appalled that Sands would even consider such a thing, though not completely surprised.
Sands is stronger in this body and doesn't get off that easily. "I want to see you! I don't care how, El! I wanna fuck you once and see your face. I have to know! I have to know, El, just once. Please."
He growls, trying to stay in El's lap and twisting his fists into the gunslinger's shirt. "I promise you this wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to his body, not even close."
The Mexican gives up trying to fight Sands off of him for now. He's quietly very thankful that it isn't Sands voice and mouth pleading with him. At least this makes the begging a lot easier to resist.
"And what would I see?" El sighs, since explaining will probably do him no good anyway. "I think the teenager's hormones are getting to you."
Since El isn't trying to push him off he calm down. But he's ready to start fighting again at any moment.
"Wear a fucking blindfold like I did." The bitterness in that suggestion is thick enough to walk on. "Of course they are. I'm hard as a rock all day. It's crazy. No wonder he can't think straight, it takes 70% of his bodily fluids to fill this thing.
Sands is staring between them at the crotch of Murdock's pants. He's obviously thrilled to be there. "The other day I played chopsticks on Lucifer's piano with it."
The bitter tone makes him feel almost ashamed. It's not as if El doesn't understand Sands' reasoning, it's just that the strangeness of all of it and the moral implications are too much for the mariachi.
He follows those mismatched eyes down between them and shakes his head at Sands' complaints. It's possible that there's the hint of a smirk at one corner of his mouth. None of that should have been funny.
"I am very sorry for your ... discomfort. That doesn't change that I have no interest in this boy."
"You haven't seen the wibble yet. I've been practicing in the mirror. Look." He uses both fingers to point at the chin and pouts like nothing else. It's weird to have to work at it instead of just accidentally doing it when he's trying to look agent like.
Sands smiles back. For once he can see that El is amused with him. "So close your eyes." Sands leans in to kiss the man right when the curse lifts and Murdoc jumps back into his own body.
The demonstration of Sands' pouting abilities tugs the corner of El's mouth up just a bit more. Perhaps letting Sands have his way won't be too terrible. It's not as if the body's owner will ever know, and it's easier than fighting with the agent.
El sighs and presses into the kiss, sliding an arm around Sands to place a large hand on his back. The Mexican does, indeed, close his eyes. There's no way this would get anywhere if he had to see Murdoc's mismatched set watching him.
When he suddenly feels the comforting heat of another body under and against him, Muds is sure that he's dreaming. Feeling lips on his, he leans in and deepens the kiss before he can even take in the sudden change in setting. His cock's hard enough to drive nails with and he grinds against the hips he finds himself straddling.
Then, of course, his eyes and mind focus...
He pulls away so fast he nearly falls off of El and onto the floor. "What the fuck?! Get yer damn hands off me, Pedro!"
Murdoc blinks and takes in his surroundings a little more. He can see? This is his body. "Oh shit.. What the hell have you and Sands been doing with my body?!"
Finally, he stops at the kitchen and gets a bottle of beer before stopping the rounds and dropping onto the couch.
"This much television will ruin your mind."
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"Bugs Bunny never ruined anything." He stuffs more noodles in his mouth.
"Quiet. He's about to fool Elmer into shooting the Duck again."
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He watches the screen and finds the argument more repetitive than humorous. Besides that, hasn't everyone seen this before?
"He will do it a few more times, I'm sure. ... You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
It only makes sense that Sands would enjoy seeing again, but El can't imagine being comfortable outside of his own skin, regardless of the circumstances.
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Rice spill on the cushions and he picks each one up and drops it into the ash tray.
"Why shouldn't I?" Noodles are slurped up as his mismatches eyes await an answer.
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"Because this isn't you. Doesn't that bother you?"
It bothers El. Maybe more than he's willing to admit. He doesn't even notice his own body language as he leans slightly away from Sands to avoid the proximity.
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"I am Sands. And I watch them all fall down." He scoots closer to El. Because he's also constantly horny now.
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El raises an eyebrow when the boy moves closer. He takes a long pull from his beer, giving Sands a hard look that warns the agent to back off.
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"It'll be like a Texan running through a house full of whores to get at a fat boys ass. Huunn."
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"Stop that! He's practically a child, Sheldon."
Whether El is out to protect Murdoc's innocence or what little remains of his own is unclear. He's appalled that Sands would even consider such a thing, though not completely surprised.
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"I want to see you! I don't care how, El! I wanna fuck you once and see your face. I have to know! I have to know, El, just once. Please."
He growls, trying to stay in El's lap and twisting his fists into the gunslinger's shirt.
"I promise you this wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to his body, not even close."
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"And what would I see?" El sighs, since explaining will probably do him no good anyway. "I think the teenager's hormones are getting to you."
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"Wear a fucking blindfold like I did." The bitterness in that suggestion is thick enough to walk on.
"Of course they are. I'm hard as a rock all day. It's crazy. No wonder he can't think straight, it takes 70% of his bodily fluids to fill this thing.
Sands is staring between them at the crotch of Murdock's pants. He's obviously thrilled to be there.
"The other day I played chopsticks on Lucifer's piano with it."
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He follows those mismatched eyes down between them and shakes his head at Sands' complaints. It's possible that there's the hint of a smirk at one corner of his mouth. None of that should have been funny.
"I am very sorry for your ... discomfort. That doesn't change that I have no interest in this boy."
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It's weird to have to work at it instead of just accidentally doing it when he's trying to look agent like.
Sands smiles back. For once he can see that El is amused with him.
"So close your eyes." Sands leans in to kiss the man right when the curse lifts and Murdoc jumps back into his own body.
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El sighs and presses into the kiss, sliding an arm around Sands to place a large hand on his back. The Mexican does, indeed, close his eyes. There's no way this would get anywhere if he had to see Murdoc's mismatched set watching him.
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Then, of course, his eyes and mind focus...
He pulls away so fast he nearly falls off of El and onto the floor.
"What the fuck?! Get yer damn hands off me, Pedro!"
Murdoc blinks and takes in his surroundings a little more. He can see? This is his body.
"Oh shit.. What the hell have you and Sands been doing with my body?!"
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