fic: sweet as sin
Title: sweet as sin
Author: puchuupoet
Pairing: Marcel/Lucifer (Top Chef/Supernatural)
Word Count: 450
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: For cecilylee, who encourages me to keep writing this sort of crack. Pretty sure there's more to come :p
Comes after It All Burns Cold.
The phone rattles against the metal table, the vibration echoing loudly in the empty kitchen. Marcel briefly looks at it before resuming his work, packing his knives and making sure he's not leaving anything important behind as he heads home.
The screen's flashing at him when he picks it up, and even though the contact is a recent addition he's able to recognize the flashing digits out of the corner of his eye.
EatThisApple616: Bored. Work colleagues taking forever to get here. Lunch hasn't happened either *sigh*
Marcel narrows his eyes at the tweet as he bumps the front door open with his hip. His current cell phone plan didn't cover all the places he was currently dividing his time between and it had been Lucifer's idea to try out Twitter. Like many tools of evil, Lucifer had taken to it with much more glee than Marcel had been able to muster.
@FailedFoodieS2 Where are u?
Marcel's tempted to drop the phone in the closest trash can, but he knows all that will accomplish is losing his contact list and a handful of pictures. Lucifer will just snap his fingers and pull a new phone out from behind Marcel's ear, that smug smile on his face. Not that it's happened before.
He ignores his phone until he reaches his car, clutching everything in one arm as he unlocks a rear door. Marcel's usually more fastidious about the state of the vehicle, but this time he just dumps it all on the back seat. He blames this sudden looseness on Lucifer's presence, this casual drag against Marcel's skin that sticks around even after the fallen whatever-he-is has left and gone back to trying to take over the world. Or something.
They agreed not to talk shop as much as possible; only just to benefit from each other's professional knowledge. Which means Lucifer is eating better than he has in a long while and Marcel's wrists have been rubbed raw and healed too many times to count now. Honestly, he had been expecting more fire and brimstone from the guy, not this sharp contrast of tenderness and force, but really, he's not going to complain.
L, I'll be there soon, just got off from work. M
Marcel drops the phone in the cup holder once he gets into the car. He's just finished buckling in when it beeps at him, and Marcel swears it sounds angrier than usual.
@FailedFoodieS2 TWITTER UR DOIN IT RONG
"Fucker," Marcel mutters, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat this time. He doesn't have time for this shit. He can picture the shit-eating grin Lucifer has after that last tweet, and the image just makes him speed towards home even faster.
Author: puchuupoet
Pairing: Marcel/Lucifer (Top Chef/Supernatural)
Word Count: 450
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: For cecilylee, who encourages me to keep writing this sort of crack. Pretty sure there's more to come :p
Comes after It All Burns Cold.
The phone rattles against the metal table, the vibration echoing loudly in the empty kitchen. Marcel briefly looks at it before resuming his work, packing his knives and making sure he's not leaving anything important behind as he heads home.
The screen's flashing at him when he picks it up, and even though the contact is a recent addition he's able to recognize the flashing digits out of the corner of his eye.
EatThisApple616: Bored. Work colleagues taking forever to get here. Lunch hasn't happened either *sigh*
Marcel narrows his eyes at the tweet as he bumps the front door open with his hip. His current cell phone plan didn't cover all the places he was currently dividing his time between and it had been Lucifer's idea to try out Twitter. Like many tools of evil, Lucifer had taken to it with much more glee than Marcel had been able to muster.
@FailedFoodieS2 Where are u?
Marcel's tempted to drop the phone in the closest trash can, but he knows all that will accomplish is losing his contact list and a handful of pictures. Lucifer will just snap his fingers and pull a new phone out from behind Marcel's ear, that smug smile on his face. Not that it's happened before.
He ignores his phone until he reaches his car, clutching everything in one arm as he unlocks a rear door. Marcel's usually more fastidious about the state of the vehicle, but this time he just dumps it all on the back seat. He blames this sudden looseness on Lucifer's presence, this casual drag against Marcel's skin that sticks around even after the fallen whatever-he-is has left and gone back to trying to take over the world. Or something.
They agreed not to talk shop as much as possible; only just to benefit from each other's professional knowledge. Which means Lucifer is eating better than he has in a long while and Marcel's wrists have been rubbed raw and healed too many times to count now. Honestly, he had been expecting more fire and brimstone from the guy, not this sharp contrast of tenderness and force, but really, he's not going to complain.
L, I'll be there soon, just got off from work. M
Marcel drops the phone in the cup holder once he gets into the car. He's just finished buckling in when it beeps at him, and Marcel swears it sounds angrier than usual.
@FailedFoodieS2 TWITTER UR DOIN IT RONG
"Fucker," Marcel mutters, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat this time. He doesn't have time for this shit. He can picture the shit-eating grin Lucifer has after that last tweet, and the image just makes him speed towards home even faster.