An Eye for Beauty [5/?]
Title: An Eye for Beauty [5/?]
Author: sadeinightshade
Rating: NC-17
Primary Pairing: Linbu
Secondary Pairing(s): Vam
Minor Pairing(s): Tiny bit of Minde; Burton/Jonne
Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes that eye needs to be opened.
Notes: This one isn’t entirely my fault, if you’ll see the dedication and disclaimer. It should be a fun write, but I’m not entirely sure how long it’ll take. You should know me by now. XP
Dedication: To elterriblefizzy, for entertaining the simple notion that Burton must be a porn star. A late night phone call can do a lot for a slasher in need.
Disclaimer: I own no-one in this story. The premise of the story can be accredited to elterriblefizzy. The only thing that I own is the story itself and anyone that you truly don’t recognize (not sure that’ll happen, though). It is, of course, not intended to mar the reputations of any of the parties involved, so no disrespect if they ever get a hold of it. I don’t know them, can’t own them, and I make no money from any of this, so don’t sue.
----
It took a while for Burton to get well. The others-for Jonne and Migé had shouldered their way, quite easily, into the plans-suspected that the two were using it as an excuse to stay together for a while. For a few days, however, they discovered that Burton still wasn’t quite up to snuff. To look at him, it was easy to tell that he’d been ill. But he looked content, like he was walking on air aside from the occasional coughing. And there was Linde, almost never too far behind.
“Mother hen,” Migé smirked.
“He needs to keep it up, then,” Jonne smiled. “Look at them… Aren’t they cute?”
“You think a lot of things are cute, don’t you?” Bam snorted.
Jonne stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. “No, not really,” he said, glancing briefly between Bam and Ville. When he turned away, he was smirking. “You two are, though.”
Bam flushed while Ville chuckled, stroking Bam’s hair back gently. “He’s cute. I don’t know about me.”
“You are,” Bam murmured, looking up into Ville’s eyes. “Trust me, you are. There’s no arguing about that.”
“Aw,” Jonne and Migé crooned and then Jonne darted out of reach while Ville dealt Migé a punch to the shoulder.
--
They sat together on the hotel steps like teenagers with nowhere better to be and not a care in the world, leaning against one another, back to back so that no cigarette smoke would be inadvertently blown into Linde’s face. Burton had learned that Linde would occasionally snatch a cigarette from his grasp and leave him with his hand hovering for a moment before he handed it back.
“I shouldn’t be letting you smoke anyway,” Linde said, not for the first time. “You’ll mess up your throat.”
“Letting me?” Burton asked, turning to face Linde properly. “You let me smoke, hm?”
“Mhmm,” Linde nodded.
His eyes shone in such a way that Burton rolled his. There was no arguing with Linde, he knew. It would just go in a massive circle because they were both fairly stubborn. He wondered sometimes why Linde put up with him. Somehow he knew that Linde thought the exact same thing. In truth, they’d gotten annoyed with each other a couple of times since they’d met, but they got over it somehow. Quickly. They’d just stared each other down for a while and then found themselves smiling. They did have their differences, their similarities, and clashes over both. But, they were sensible. No use truly arguing over petty things.
Maybe that was how they dealt with one another.
Burton’s thoughts were caught short when somehow, for some reason, a single fat raindrop landed on the smoldering tip of his cigarette. He lifted it to his eyes, frowning, and then looked to the sky. He went rather blank for a moment when a second warm drop spattered against his forehead.
“Did you hear anyone say anything about rain?” he asked.
“No,” Linde said, “but maybe we should go back inside.”
“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled, turning to face the younger man. “I just won’t have a cigarette.”
“Well, that’s good and all, but,” grunted the blonde as he got to his feet, “you’re still sick.”
“Yes, mother,” Burton said with a smile as he tipped his head back and shut his eyes.
--
The fact of the matter was that Linde didn’t need to see Burton walking around in a wet, clinging shirt. The thought alone made him shiver. Yet, to look at Burton when the rain began its rhythmic splashing against the marble and concrete of the hotel steps, he knew that there was no moving him. He didn’t want to, anyway. He liked the rain and Burton seemed to as well. He looked content where he sat.
Almost hesitantly, he settled himself on the cool steps again, where Burton had leaned back on his elbows, eyes still closed. The rain fell harder, but Burton didn’t seem to care. Linde swallowed and then looked away. Burton was becoming soaked and, just as he thought, his shirt was becoming clingy. Water slid down his face, his neck, his arms in tiny rivers until his skin was so wet that it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. Linde found himself peeking over again, found those shining brown eyes on him. He blushed, but he didn’t look away. Not that time. He was beginning to get used to Burton just staring at him, observing, but he was also becoming self-conscious. His shirt was beginning to cling to him as well.
He lowered his head after a while, but soon he felt a crooked finger lifting his chin again. Burton was suddenly close to him. Very close. He could feel his breath ghosting over his skin, smelling of mint tea-for that was what he’d managed to make him drink before they went outside-and faintly of cigarette.
Somehow he knew that this had nothing to do with those clinging shirts.
--
Around Linde, the porn star in Burton seemed to retreat. He so easily got lost in those eyes, just like then, drowning in them.
“Burton,” whispered Linde.
Burton smiled, the pad of his thumb gently caressing Linde’s cheek when he whispered back, “Janne. Call me Janne.”
He rarely, if ever, let anyone call him by his first name. Migé and Jonne, he was used to. Ville almost never addressed him by name, and neither did Bam. But it rolled off of Linde’s tongue in a way that made him feel fairly content.
“Janne,” he murmured.
He could see the smile in Linde’s eyes. He could nearly feel his lips. They were so close that he could almost taste him. He wasn’t sure which of them had made the final move, but soon he did feel those lips. He felt himself bringing Linde closer and felt Linde’s hand rest against the back of his neck.
--
Linde had shocked himself when he finally closed the tiny gap between them. He was surprised when one of Burton’s arms curled around him, drew him closer. He was surprised at how timid the kiss was. It was almost as if Burton thought that he might frighten Linde away until Linde lifted his hand, placed it against the soft, damp skin of his neck. He felt Burton smile against his lips before both relaxed into the kiss, lips parting, sharing breath for a moment before either gave in and further deepened it, tongues entwining tentatively at first, but soon more confidently.
Even that lasted only so long before their eyes crept open and they drew away from each other without truly pulling away. Their first kiss, shared under a stormy sky.
--
Jonne darted inside. He was dripping wet, but his eyes were sparkling happily. He smiled and pointed outside at the others’ questioning looks and they saw the pair just separating. The only reason they didn’t cheer-because Jonne could tell they wanted to, because he did, too-was because of the milling families and businessmen and women.
“Now Linde’s probably going to get sick,” Bam chuckled.
“I think,” Jonne mused, “that if Linde was going to get sick, he’s had a week to do it.”
“You never know, though,” Migé chuckled. “Besides, if he gets sick, Burton has to take care of him instead. They won’t be able to get rid of each other.”
“Good,” the other three said as one.
“But I’m still waiting on that fuckin’ road block,” Bam sighed.
“There’s always one of those,” Jonne frowned, “but they’ll be okay, I think.”
“You think a lot for a blonde,” Ville smirked, playfully, of course.
“Fuck you, Valo,” Jonne pouted and then stuck his tongue out at the older man.
Author: sadeinightshade
Rating: NC-17
Primary Pairing: Linbu
Secondary Pairing(s): Vam
Minor Pairing(s): Tiny bit of Minde; Burton/Jonne
Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes that eye needs to be opened.
Notes: This one isn’t entirely my fault, if you’ll see the dedication and disclaimer. It should be a fun write, but I’m not entirely sure how long it’ll take. You should know me by now. XP
Dedication: To elterriblefizzy, for entertaining the simple notion that Burton must be a porn star. A late night phone call can do a lot for a slasher in need.
Disclaimer: I own no-one in this story. The premise of the story can be accredited to elterriblefizzy. The only thing that I own is the story itself and anyone that you truly don’t recognize (not sure that’ll happen, though). It is, of course, not intended to mar the reputations of any of the parties involved, so no disrespect if they ever get a hold of it. I don’t know them, can’t own them, and I make no money from any of this, so don’t sue.
----
It took a while for Burton to get well. The others-for Jonne and Migé had shouldered their way, quite easily, into the plans-suspected that the two were using it as an excuse to stay together for a while. For a few days, however, they discovered that Burton still wasn’t quite up to snuff. To look at him, it was easy to tell that he’d been ill. But he looked content, like he was walking on air aside from the occasional coughing. And there was Linde, almost never too far behind.
“Mother hen,” Migé smirked.
“He needs to keep it up, then,” Jonne smiled. “Look at them… Aren’t they cute?”
“You think a lot of things are cute, don’t you?” Bam snorted.
Jonne stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. “No, not really,” he said, glancing briefly between Bam and Ville. When he turned away, he was smirking. “You two are, though.”
Bam flushed while Ville chuckled, stroking Bam’s hair back gently. “He’s cute. I don’t know about me.”
“You are,” Bam murmured, looking up into Ville’s eyes. “Trust me, you are. There’s no arguing about that.”
“Aw,” Jonne and Migé crooned and then Jonne darted out of reach while Ville dealt Migé a punch to the shoulder.
--
They sat together on the hotel steps like teenagers with nowhere better to be and not a care in the world, leaning against one another, back to back so that no cigarette smoke would be inadvertently blown into Linde’s face. Burton had learned that Linde would occasionally snatch a cigarette from his grasp and leave him with his hand hovering for a moment before he handed it back.
“I shouldn’t be letting you smoke anyway,” Linde said, not for the first time. “You’ll mess up your throat.”
“Letting me?” Burton asked, turning to face Linde properly. “You let me smoke, hm?”
“Mhmm,” Linde nodded.
His eyes shone in such a way that Burton rolled his. There was no arguing with Linde, he knew. It would just go in a massive circle because they were both fairly stubborn. He wondered sometimes why Linde put up with him. Somehow he knew that Linde thought the exact same thing. In truth, they’d gotten annoyed with each other a couple of times since they’d met, but they got over it somehow. Quickly. They’d just stared each other down for a while and then found themselves smiling. They did have their differences, their similarities, and clashes over both. But, they were sensible. No use truly arguing over petty things.
Maybe that was how they dealt with one another.
Burton’s thoughts were caught short when somehow, for some reason, a single fat raindrop landed on the smoldering tip of his cigarette. He lifted it to his eyes, frowning, and then looked to the sky. He went rather blank for a moment when a second warm drop spattered against his forehead.
“Did you hear anyone say anything about rain?” he asked.
“No,” Linde said, “but maybe we should go back inside.”
“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled, turning to face the younger man. “I just won’t have a cigarette.”
“Well, that’s good and all, but,” grunted the blonde as he got to his feet, “you’re still sick.”
“Yes, mother,” Burton said with a smile as he tipped his head back and shut his eyes.
--
The fact of the matter was that Linde didn’t need to see Burton walking around in a wet, clinging shirt. The thought alone made him shiver. Yet, to look at Burton when the rain began its rhythmic splashing against the marble and concrete of the hotel steps, he knew that there was no moving him. He didn’t want to, anyway. He liked the rain and Burton seemed to as well. He looked content where he sat.
Almost hesitantly, he settled himself on the cool steps again, where Burton had leaned back on his elbows, eyes still closed. The rain fell harder, but Burton didn’t seem to care. Linde swallowed and then looked away. Burton was becoming soaked and, just as he thought, his shirt was becoming clingy. Water slid down his face, his neck, his arms in tiny rivers until his skin was so wet that it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. Linde found himself peeking over again, found those shining brown eyes on him. He blushed, but he didn’t look away. Not that time. He was beginning to get used to Burton just staring at him, observing, but he was also becoming self-conscious. His shirt was beginning to cling to him as well.
He lowered his head after a while, but soon he felt a crooked finger lifting his chin again. Burton was suddenly close to him. Very close. He could feel his breath ghosting over his skin, smelling of mint tea-for that was what he’d managed to make him drink before they went outside-and faintly of cigarette.
Somehow he knew that this had nothing to do with those clinging shirts.
--
Around Linde, the porn star in Burton seemed to retreat. He so easily got lost in those eyes, just like then, drowning in them.
“Burton,” whispered Linde.
Burton smiled, the pad of his thumb gently caressing Linde’s cheek when he whispered back, “Janne. Call me Janne.”
He rarely, if ever, let anyone call him by his first name. Migé and Jonne, he was used to. Ville almost never addressed him by name, and neither did Bam. But it rolled off of Linde’s tongue in a way that made him feel fairly content.
“Janne,” he murmured.
He could see the smile in Linde’s eyes. He could nearly feel his lips. They were so close that he could almost taste him. He wasn’t sure which of them had made the final move, but soon he did feel those lips. He felt himself bringing Linde closer and felt Linde’s hand rest against the back of his neck.
--
Linde had shocked himself when he finally closed the tiny gap between them. He was surprised when one of Burton’s arms curled around him, drew him closer. He was surprised at how timid the kiss was. It was almost as if Burton thought that he might frighten Linde away until Linde lifted his hand, placed it against the soft, damp skin of his neck. He felt Burton smile against his lips before both relaxed into the kiss, lips parting, sharing breath for a moment before either gave in and further deepened it, tongues entwining tentatively at first, but soon more confidently.
Even that lasted only so long before their eyes crept open and they drew away from each other without truly pulling away. Their first kiss, shared under a stormy sky.
--
Jonne darted inside. He was dripping wet, but his eyes were sparkling happily. He smiled and pointed outside at the others’ questioning looks and they saw the pair just separating. The only reason they didn’t cheer-because Jonne could tell they wanted to, because he did, too-was because of the milling families and businessmen and women.
“Now Linde’s probably going to get sick,” Bam chuckled.
“I think,” Jonne mused, “that if Linde was going to get sick, he’s had a week to do it.”
“You never know, though,” Migé chuckled. “Besides, if he gets sick, Burton has to take care of him instead. They won’t be able to get rid of each other.”
“Good,” the other three said as one.
“But I’m still waiting on that fuckin’ road block,” Bam sighed.
“There’s always one of those,” Jonne frowned, “but they’ll be okay, I think.”
“You think a lot for a blonde,” Ville smirked, playfully, of course.
“Fuck you, Valo,” Jonne pouted and then stuck his tongue out at the older man.