it's a beautiful night / we're looking for something dumb to do
Title ♪ none yet
Fandom ♪ iCarly RPS fffff what is my life anymore D:
Pairing/Characters ♪ Jerry Trainor/Nathan Kress
Rating ♪ T, if that.
Warnings ♪ RPS, slash
Summary ♪ Jerry and Nathan have staring contests sometimes, with varying levels of success. Drabbly more than anything.
Disclaimer ♪ The amount that I do not own these boys is quite difficult to measure with human instruments. I would hazard a rough guesstimate at over 9,000. Not even close to ownership. Which is a regrettable state of affairs, because Jerry? Unf.
Notes ♪ So, I basically listened to the Glee cast's "Marry You" and the Bale Out on repeat at two in the morning while I wrote this a couple different nights. Mornings. W/e. In any case, inspired by this interview and this ensuing conversation:
omgwtfrobots 11:46 pm
All of Jerry and Nathan's staring contests end in makeouts.
So they couldn't show those.
Jerry probably could not contain himself. :|
The passion, etc.
apostrophus 11:47 pm
Yesssssssss.
omgwtfrobots 11:47 pm
Had to take Nathan in a manly and aggressive fashion against a wall or something.
Or at least, like I said, make out with him.
I wrote it almost more for myself, because I just haven't written anything in so long, but I decided to share, in case you guys'd like it. :3 Beware of a thousand run-on sentences and purrrrrrrrrrpleee. Apologies.
one
"One, two, three, go!"
They stare at each other, unblinking, and it isn't long before Nathan starts giggling, because Jerry's suddenly cross-eyed and buck-toothed, and looking for all the world like he's at a funeral, there is nothing funny about this thank you very much. Nathan can't help but snort, which is sort of embarrassing but mostly hilarious, and finally they're both laughing hysterically. An irate voice comes from on-set -- would they keep it down, please -- but they're laughing too hard to stop, Nathan is making these stupid whimpering noises that sound like a Chihuahua having an asthma attack and they're about to get told off for ten minutes if they don't stop, so Jerry has to clamp his hand over Nathan's mouth in an effort to stifle them. For a second all they can do is shake with suppressed laughter, Nathan huddled into Jerry's lanky frame, almost fetus-like, before it slowly stutters to a halt and Jerry lets go, wordlessly grinning and shaking his head. Nathan grins back, brain a bit wobbly around the edges, buzzing from laughter and contact and keeping quiet. His heart is pounding, but he chalks it up solely to the laughing, nothing else.
two
"One, two, three, go!"
Nathan's eyes start burning, drying, parched. Yet he wills himself not to blink, not to look away. Jerry's eyes bore into him, and he almost squirms, feeling like the stare is poking around his innards, soft and fleshy and vulnerable. He's defenseless now; Jerry's dark eyes can glean everything. There's no laughing and glancing to the side, no winking, no hiding behind anything, even a defense so feeble as his eyelids. Just Jerry's eyes, suddenly blank, inscrutable, holding none of their usual amusement, reading him like an open book. Nathan grows hot under his gaze and his breath hitches in his throat and finally he can't bear it any longer: he blinks.
Jerry leans back, still looking at him, eyes unreadable, but the corners of his mouth quirked upward and his eyebrows slightly furrowed, asking silently and what am I supposed to do with you? Nathan's mouth goes dry, because he doesn't know, he has no fucking clue, what he should do. He knows what he wants him to do, vaguely, from the little he's let himself think about it, but the two are probably nowhere near coinciding. Jerry shifts, eyes glinting, and Nathan has to fight the urge to squeak; he bolts, pulse hammering against his temples.
three
"One, two, three, go!"
Somehow, the eighteenth birthday in Nathan's back pocket makes this round so much easier, like he can finally put this on the table, not prance around it, cross one thing off the giant list of Why This Is Impossible. Nathan stares at Jerry and Jerry stares at Nathan and nothing happens, they're caught in some trans-dimensional pocket where they can finally look at each other without having to shy away. Nathan's neck flushes but he won't blink, because there's a spark in Jerry's eyes that he's only seen in half-dark corners and during early mornings when no one's really had enough sleep, that same spark that keeps Nathan up at night, bothered and sweaty and fidgeting, tossing and turning and clutching at his blankets in a vain effort to ignore the heat in the pit of his stomach.
But he can only stare as long as his eyes hold out, so when he feels them start to water, he panics a little; this can't be over so soon, it can't. This is the closest he's come to winning, and seeing the smirk twitch on Jerry's face, already so sure of victory, Nathan leans in and is incredibly stupid and kisses him full on the mouth, which is no way to solve most of the problems here, but it does get Jerry to blink, so at least there's that.
Kissing Jerry is sort of like what Nathan imagined, not particularly neat or textbook romantic, but somehow so much better than he could have anticipated, all energy and pleased hums and teeth and coffee-taste, and when Jerry laces his fingers through Nathan's belt loops to jerk him closer, he feels he might just die on the spot, and his tombstone will say here lies Nathan Karl Kress, who was so stupidly in love and also stupid that he ended up dying when he and Jerry kissed. But he can't afford to die, not now, that would be so dumb, so he pulls back, feeling a little bit like he's downed a whole goblet of Communion wine, guilty and holy and buzzed and satisfied all at once. Jerry's languid, slouched sprawl in his chair and smug halfway-grin on his face are sort of awkwardly compelling, though, just like the rest of him, so Nathan leans in again, propping his forehead against Jerry's and smushing their noses a little, so that he gives an annoyed whine and pushes back, eyebrows furrowing. It doesn't last long, though, their stupid head-butting thing, and soon Jerry soon concedes defeat to start placing soft kisses on his lips, his nose, his jaw line, and Nathan can't help but feel that staring contests aren't really going to be about staring any more.
go!
Fandom ♪ iCarly RPS fffff what is my life anymore D:
Pairing/Characters ♪ Jerry Trainor/Nathan Kress
Rating ♪ T, if that.
Warnings ♪ RPS, slash
Summary ♪ Jerry and Nathan have staring contests sometimes, with varying levels of success. Drabbly more than anything.
Disclaimer ♪ The amount that I do not own these boys is quite difficult to measure with human instruments. I would hazard a rough guesstimate at over 9,000. Not even close to ownership. Which is a regrettable state of affairs, because Jerry? Unf.
Notes ♪ So, I basically listened to the Glee cast's "Marry You" and the Bale Out on repeat at two in the morning while I wrote this a couple different nights. Mornings. W/e. In any case, inspired by this interview and this ensuing conversation:
omgwtfrobots 11:46 pm
All of Jerry and Nathan's staring contests end in makeouts.
So they couldn't show those.
Jerry probably could not contain himself. :|
The passion, etc.
apostrophus 11:47 pm
Yesssssssss.
omgwtfrobots 11:47 pm
Had to take Nathan in a manly and aggressive fashion against a wall or something.
Or at least, like I said, make out with him.
I wrote it almost more for myself, because I just haven't written anything in so long, but I decided to share, in case you guys'd like it. :3 Beware of a thousand run-on sentences and purrrrrrrrrrpleee. Apologies.
one
"One, two, three, go!"
They stare at each other, unblinking, and it isn't long before Nathan starts giggling, because Jerry's suddenly cross-eyed and buck-toothed, and looking for all the world like he's at a funeral, there is nothing funny about this thank you very much. Nathan can't help but snort, which is sort of embarrassing but mostly hilarious, and finally they're both laughing hysterically. An irate voice comes from on-set -- would they keep it down, please -- but they're laughing too hard to stop, Nathan is making these stupid whimpering noises that sound like a Chihuahua having an asthma attack and they're about to get told off for ten minutes if they don't stop, so Jerry has to clamp his hand over Nathan's mouth in an effort to stifle them. For a second all they can do is shake with suppressed laughter, Nathan huddled into Jerry's lanky frame, almost fetus-like, before it slowly stutters to a halt and Jerry lets go, wordlessly grinning and shaking his head. Nathan grins back, brain a bit wobbly around the edges, buzzing from laughter and contact and keeping quiet. His heart is pounding, but he chalks it up solely to the laughing, nothing else.
two
"One, two, three, go!"
Nathan's eyes start burning, drying, parched. Yet he wills himself not to blink, not to look away. Jerry's eyes bore into him, and he almost squirms, feeling like the stare is poking around his innards, soft and fleshy and vulnerable. He's defenseless now; Jerry's dark eyes can glean everything. There's no laughing and glancing to the side, no winking, no hiding behind anything, even a defense so feeble as his eyelids. Just Jerry's eyes, suddenly blank, inscrutable, holding none of their usual amusement, reading him like an open book. Nathan grows hot under his gaze and his breath hitches in his throat and finally he can't bear it any longer: he blinks.
Jerry leans back, still looking at him, eyes unreadable, but the corners of his mouth quirked upward and his eyebrows slightly furrowed, asking silently and what am I supposed to do with you? Nathan's mouth goes dry, because he doesn't know, he has no fucking clue, what he should do. He knows what he wants him to do, vaguely, from the little he's let himself think about it, but the two are probably nowhere near coinciding. Jerry shifts, eyes glinting, and Nathan has to fight the urge to squeak; he bolts, pulse hammering against his temples.
three
"One, two, three, go!"
Somehow, the eighteenth birthday in Nathan's back pocket makes this round so much easier, like he can finally put this on the table, not prance around it, cross one thing off the giant list of Why This Is Impossible. Nathan stares at Jerry and Jerry stares at Nathan and nothing happens, they're caught in some trans-dimensional pocket where they can finally look at each other without having to shy away. Nathan's neck flushes but he won't blink, because there's a spark in Jerry's eyes that he's only seen in half-dark corners and during early mornings when no one's really had enough sleep, that same spark that keeps Nathan up at night, bothered and sweaty and fidgeting, tossing and turning and clutching at his blankets in a vain effort to ignore the heat in the pit of his stomach.
But he can only stare as long as his eyes hold out, so when he feels them start to water, he panics a little; this can't be over so soon, it can't. This is the closest he's come to winning, and seeing the smirk twitch on Jerry's face, already so sure of victory, Nathan leans in and is incredibly stupid and kisses him full on the mouth, which is no way to solve most of the problems here, but it does get Jerry to blink, so at least there's that.
Kissing Jerry is sort of like what Nathan imagined, not particularly neat or textbook romantic, but somehow so much better than he could have anticipated, all energy and pleased hums and teeth and coffee-taste, and when Jerry laces his fingers through Nathan's belt loops to jerk him closer, he feels he might just die on the spot, and his tombstone will say here lies Nathan Karl Kress, who was so stupidly in love and also stupid that he ended up dying when he and Jerry kissed. But he can't afford to die, not now, that would be so dumb, so he pulls back, feeling a little bit like he's downed a whole goblet of Communion wine, guilty and holy and buzzed and satisfied all at once. Jerry's languid, slouched sprawl in his chair and smug halfway-grin on his face are sort of awkwardly compelling, though, just like the rest of him, so Nathan leans in again, propping his forehead against Jerry's and smushing their noses a little, so that he gives an annoyed whine and pushes back, eyebrows furrowing. It doesn't last long, though, their stupid head-butting thing, and soon Jerry soon concedes defeat to start placing soft kisses on his lips, his nose, his jaw line, and Nathan can't help but feel that staring contests aren't really going to be about staring any more.
go!