More innuendo than you can shake a stick at.
...and by stick, I mean-
Title: With Apologies to Whitney Houston
Characters: Lestrade/John
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Two men being utterly in love? Mentions of firearms, knives, and naughty thoughts.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: Sadly, not mine. Not mine in even the vaguest sense of the word.
Author's Notes: A fill for this excellent prompt, that requests an AU where John and Lestrade are a pair of bodyguards that are in an established relationship. There's more in the original post, and then someone mentioned gun cleaning, and then I was lost.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”
John slaps the bore snake in his hand onto the table with a scowl.
"Every time. Every. Time. No. No, because, A, it is, in fact, a SIG Sauer P226, and B, it is in pieces on our kitchen table. Is there any chance I will someday be able to clean my firearm without you saying that?"
"Not while I'm living." Greg smirks as he smacks a kiss at John's temple before plopping down opposite.
"Don't give me that look. No, I will not clean your gun for you. Do it yourself. Now, maybe, before we have to clean up for dinner?"
"But you're so much better at it than I am. And if I'm cleaning my gun, how am I supposed to watch you clean yours?"
"Stop."
"Those capable, surgeon's hands..."
"Stop it, I'm serious."
"All that gun oil, making sure you've got proper lubrication..."
John grabs the detached barrel to wag it menacing manner, "When I reassemble this, you're going to be very sorry."
"Shall I switch to knives, then? I love a man who knows his way around a hard shaft."
"Shall I switch your death from being quick and painless to slow and agonizing?"
"And here I was thinking you liked it when I was buried to the hilt."
Greg's grin is utter cheek. John's groan is pure irritation.
"That was awful. Never repeat that." John picks up a rag to wipe the oil off his hands, and shoots a look across the table. "You're in a good mood today. I take it we finally got paid for the Yao job?"
"Oh yeah. You remember that hair pin? The jade one Soo Lin ended up with?" At John's nod, "Guess how much it's worth."
John rolls his eyes. "Just tell me."
"Nine."
"Nine? I got shot at for nine pounds?"
"Million."
"What?"
"Pounds."
"You're joking."
"Nope. Apparently it was some ancient Chinese relic."
"Yeah, but are we going to see any of it?"
"Soo Lin did mention a hefty bonus for all the dramatic life saving we did."
John's smile is both incredulous and delighted, and it takes up half his face; Greg is helpless to do anything except smile back. "The thing needs to be certified, though. Verified that it is what it is. Might be a while, but, still."
"That's brilliant!"
"You're brilliant."
"No, stop! Sit down. I will not let you drag me onto this table. It's filthy."
Greg settles back into his chair with a pout, "Now you're just being cruel."
Which only makes John laugh at him. "No, I'm being smart; we've still got bills to pay. Speaking of, did that government bloke ever call back?"
"Ran into him today, actually."
"What, really?"
"Well, it was more like I was directed to him through a series of ominous and disturbing coincidences."
John doesn't say anything, but he does throw Greg a look of disbelief as he starts putting his gun back together.
"It was weird. Weirder yet, the guy I meet is this utter ponce with, I'm not joking, an umbrella. Apparently he wants some protection for his little brother- and by little, I mean mid-thirties- who is currently engaged in some sort of mystery solving chess game with a criminal mastermind."
"...Sounds dreadful."
"Probably. But you should see what he's willing to pay us."
"Is it worth it?"
A shrug. "Hell if I know. Now look, you've gotten me all depressed. Know what would cheer me up?"
"Is the answer sex?"
"The question is sex. The answer is yes."
John stands and slides his newly cleaned and assembled gun into his pocket. And grins.
“Well then, my answer is both.”
THE END!
Title: With Apologies to Whitney Houston
Characters: Lestrade/John
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Two men being utterly in love? Mentions of firearms, knives, and naughty thoughts.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: Sadly, not mine. Not mine in even the vaguest sense of the word.
Author's Notes: A fill for this excellent prompt, that requests an AU where John and Lestrade are a pair of bodyguards that are in an established relationship. There's more in the original post, and then someone mentioned gun cleaning, and then I was lost.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”
John slaps the bore snake in his hand onto the table with a scowl.
"Every time. Every. Time. No. No, because, A, it is, in fact, a SIG Sauer P226, and B, it is in pieces on our kitchen table. Is there any chance I will someday be able to clean my firearm without you saying that?"
"Not while I'm living." Greg smirks as he smacks a kiss at John's temple before plopping down opposite.
"Don't give me that look. No, I will not clean your gun for you. Do it yourself. Now, maybe, before we have to clean up for dinner?"
"But you're so much better at it than I am. And if I'm cleaning my gun, how am I supposed to watch you clean yours?"
"Stop."
"Those capable, surgeon's hands..."
"Stop it, I'm serious."
"All that gun oil, making sure you've got proper lubrication..."
John grabs the detached barrel to wag it menacing manner, "When I reassemble this, you're going to be very sorry."
"Shall I switch to knives, then? I love a man who knows his way around a hard shaft."
"Shall I switch your death from being quick and painless to slow and agonizing?"
"And here I was thinking you liked it when I was buried to the hilt."
Greg's grin is utter cheek. John's groan is pure irritation.
"That was awful. Never repeat that." John picks up a rag to wipe the oil off his hands, and shoots a look across the table. "You're in a good mood today. I take it we finally got paid for the Yao job?"
"Oh yeah. You remember that hair pin? The jade one Soo Lin ended up with?" At John's nod, "Guess how much it's worth."
John rolls his eyes. "Just tell me."
"Nine."
"Nine? I got shot at for nine pounds?"
"Million."
"What?"
"Pounds."
"You're joking."
"Nope. Apparently it was some ancient Chinese relic."
"Yeah, but are we going to see any of it?"
"Soo Lin did mention a hefty bonus for all the dramatic life saving we did."
John's smile is both incredulous and delighted, and it takes up half his face; Greg is helpless to do anything except smile back. "The thing needs to be certified, though. Verified that it is what it is. Might be a while, but, still."
"That's brilliant!"
"You're brilliant."
"No, stop! Sit down. I will not let you drag me onto this table. It's filthy."
Greg settles back into his chair with a pout, "Now you're just being cruel."
Which only makes John laugh at him. "No, I'm being smart; we've still got bills to pay. Speaking of, did that government bloke ever call back?"
"Ran into him today, actually."
"What, really?"
"Well, it was more like I was directed to him through a series of ominous and disturbing coincidences."
John doesn't say anything, but he does throw Greg a look of disbelief as he starts putting his gun back together.
"It was weird. Weirder yet, the guy I meet is this utter ponce with, I'm not joking, an umbrella. Apparently he wants some protection for his little brother- and by little, I mean mid-thirties- who is currently engaged in some sort of mystery solving chess game with a criminal mastermind."
"...Sounds dreadful."
"Probably. But you should see what he's willing to pay us."
"Is it worth it?"
A shrug. "Hell if I know. Now look, you've gotten me all depressed. Know what would cheer me up?"
"Is the answer sex?"
"The question is sex. The answer is yes."
John stands and slides his newly cleaned and assembled gun into his pocket. And grins.
“Well then, my answer is both.”
THE END!