Street-Wise Hercules
Title: Street-Wise Hercules
Fandom: Bones RPF
Pairing: Emily Deschanel/David Boreanaz
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Bones and its respective characters belong to Hart Hanson, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox. No copyright infringement is intended. David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel, meanwhile, belong to themselves (*Ahem*. And each other.), and will hopefully not be too creeped out by the hordes of squealing fangirls analyzing and dissecting their every move. And then writing about it.
Author's notes: I have to admit, RPF usually squicks me out. But there are a few couples that I just can't resist 'shipping, and David/Emily is definetely one of them. Seriously, how can you deny all that chemistry? This fic takes place during Emily's sprained ankle, and I will warn you now: serious cheese lies ahead. But I just couldn't help myself.
Mucho thanks to kitty_cat89 for looking this over.
~*~
"Em! What's the hold-up?"
Emily groaned, grabbing once again for her crutch. Damn - if only it were two inches closer... Ignoring her co-star, she grabbed the one crutch that was actually within her reach and held it in her outstretched arm, balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. Unfortunately, instead of bringing it closer as planned, she only succeeded in knocking it out of the way. Emily's sigh got lost in the crash of metal-on-metal.
"Damn," she muttered. Then, louder: "Get your ass in here and help me, 'ya big lug!" Sunlight filtered in as the door immediately swung open, only to be blocked by the broad shadow of David's body.
"Weren't you the one that expressly forbid me from ever entering your trailer without knocking?" he asked. Emily rolled her eyes.
"Fine - rule waived while I'm on the crutches. Now help me up."
"So, exactly how long is this damsel-in-distress thing going to last?" David asked, bending to retrieve the stray crutch. He placed it in Emily's hand, standing in front of her and watching intently as she tucked the foam pads under her armpits.
"Says the guy who whined incessantly for a week when he stubbed his toe," she retorted. Wobbling slightly, she rose to her feet. Even at full height, her eyes were only level with David's chest. Instinctively, his large hand shot out to catch her shoulder, steadying her. Emily grinned up at him.
"My hero," she teased softly. Wow, was he standing close. Their breath mingled, and she smelled his mouthwash; the chili he'd had for lunch; the Bubble Yum he was alwas chomping on like a 12-year-old girl. With each inhale, her chest brushed against his, and she didn't deny that a small thrill ran up her spine at the contact.
The moment had already stretched far longer than necessary, and they both knew it. Nevertheless, they remained rooted in place, David's hand still warm on Emily's shoulder. In fact, if anything, he seemed to lean just a hairswidth forward. Or maybe it was just her imagination.
"Ten minutes or Hanson says he's firing all of our asses!" TJ's unmistakeable voice boomed from outside the trailer, with a few raps to the door just for good measure. Even though no one was there to see them, they jumped apart guiltily. Emily's knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell backwards on her rear with an undignified squeal, the crutches once again clattering uselessly to the floor. David laughed, his deep voice resonating through the small trailer.
"Shut up," Emily warned. Leaning down, he retrieved them for her again, hand at her elbow as she rose to stand.
"Maybe I do need a hero after all," she giggled, letting him lead her over to the steps. One foot in front of the other, his fingers warm at her elbow as they made their way - him walking, her hobbling - to the set. At the base of the lab platform, they separated, Emily off to shoot a girl-bonding moment with Michela - seated, of course. She concentrated on not tripping on any cables as David bounded easily up the steps of the platform.
"Em!" he called, just as she reached the doorway to Brennan's office. She twisted around awkwardly, almost toppling over. He was leaning against the railing fiddling with Booth's trademark poker chip, looking for all the world like his character. But the awkward, lopsided grin was all David.
"If you need one," he said earnestly, "...I'm here."
Fandom: Bones RPF
Pairing: Emily Deschanel/David Boreanaz
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Bones and its respective characters belong to Hart Hanson, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox. No copyright infringement is intended. David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel, meanwhile, belong to themselves (*Ahem*. And each other.), and will hopefully not be too creeped out by the hordes of squealing fangirls analyzing and dissecting their every move. And then writing about it.
Author's notes: I have to admit, RPF usually squicks me out. But there are a few couples that I just can't resist 'shipping, and David/Emily is definetely one of them. Seriously, how can you deny all that chemistry? This fic takes place during Emily's sprained ankle, and I will warn you now: serious cheese lies ahead. But I just couldn't help myself.
Mucho thanks to kitty_cat89 for looking this over.
~*~
"Em! What's the hold-up?"
Emily groaned, grabbing once again for her crutch. Damn - if only it were two inches closer... Ignoring her co-star, she grabbed the one crutch that was actually within her reach and held it in her outstretched arm, balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. Unfortunately, instead of bringing it closer as planned, she only succeeded in knocking it out of the way. Emily's sigh got lost in the crash of metal-on-metal.
"Damn," she muttered. Then, louder: "Get your ass in here and help me, 'ya big lug!" Sunlight filtered in as the door immediately swung open, only to be blocked by the broad shadow of David's body.
"Weren't you the one that expressly forbid me from ever entering your trailer without knocking?" he asked. Emily rolled her eyes.
"Fine - rule waived while I'm on the crutches. Now help me up."
"So, exactly how long is this damsel-in-distress thing going to last?" David asked, bending to retrieve the stray crutch. He placed it in Emily's hand, standing in front of her and watching intently as she tucked the foam pads under her armpits.
"Says the guy who whined incessantly for a week when he stubbed his toe," she retorted. Wobbling slightly, she rose to her feet. Even at full height, her eyes were only level with David's chest. Instinctively, his large hand shot out to catch her shoulder, steadying her. Emily grinned up at him.
"My hero," she teased softly. Wow, was he standing close. Their breath mingled, and she smelled his mouthwash; the chili he'd had for lunch; the Bubble Yum he was alwas chomping on like a 12-year-old girl. With each inhale, her chest brushed against his, and she didn't deny that a small thrill ran up her spine at the contact.
The moment had already stretched far longer than necessary, and they both knew it. Nevertheless, they remained rooted in place, David's hand still warm on Emily's shoulder. In fact, if anything, he seemed to lean just a hairswidth forward. Or maybe it was just her imagination.
"Ten minutes or Hanson says he's firing all of our asses!" TJ's unmistakeable voice boomed from outside the trailer, with a few raps to the door just for good measure. Even though no one was there to see them, they jumped apart guiltily. Emily's knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell backwards on her rear with an undignified squeal, the crutches once again clattering uselessly to the floor. David laughed, his deep voice resonating through the small trailer.
"Shut up," Emily warned. Leaning down, he retrieved them for her again, hand at her elbow as she rose to stand.
"Maybe I do need a hero after all," she giggled, letting him lead her over to the steps. One foot in front of the other, his fingers warm at her elbow as they made their way - him walking, her hobbling - to the set. At the base of the lab platform, they separated, Emily off to shoot a girl-bonding moment with Michela - seated, of course. She concentrated on not tripping on any cables as David bounded easily up the steps of the platform.
"Em!" he called, just as she reached the doorway to Brennan's office. She twisted around awkwardly, almost toppling over. He was leaning against the railing fiddling with Booth's trademark poker chip, looking for all the world like his character. But the awkward, lopsided grin was all David.
"If you need one," he said earnestly, "...I'm here."