RP: Thank You for the Music
Date: June 11th, 2005
Characters: Zacharias Smith, Wayne Hopkins
Location: River Place, Zach's Flat
Status: Private
Summary: A celebration of sorts.
Completion: Complete
His flat didn't look as lonely when he returned home that evening. Perhaps because he'd not had to be in it alone all day. Closing the door behind him, he walked to the couch and sat down, groaning; dirty, exhausted, sore, and completely happy.
He'd not been expecting to like it quite that much. There were a few cuts on his hands, a new bruise on his forearm, and he was very lucky to still have all his fingers. But aside from being hard and at times overwhelming, it was very satisfying. He only hoped that Davies was as pleased with the situation as he was.
Resting his head back against the cushions he sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. Just a few minutes rest, really, that was all he needed.
A door slammed somewhere a few flats down and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking, and sitting up to look at the clock.
A quarter til seven. Lovely.
Zach groaned and pushed himself off the sofa, jerking his shirt off over his head and tossing it into the hamper as he walked into the bathroom. Hopping on one foot, then the other, he pulled his denims off and started the shower. No fucking way he'd be ready in time. Most he could hope for was that Wayne would be late.
He didn't really want him to be late though. He'd been looking forward to tonight all day long.
And he was sort of glad he'd fallen asleep. It had kept those nasty nervous jitters from setting up camp in his stomach.
Washing quickly, he rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for the nearest towel and drying himself. He toweled his hair as he walked to the bedroom, pulling on a pair of soft jeans that he'd had for years, and a very thin white t-shirt. He hoped Wayne hadn't expected him to dress for this.
He was still toweling his hair when he heard the knock. Well, at least he'd gotten clothes on, if not shoes, and his hair was somewhat dry. Nothing for it now.
He padded to the door, barefoot, and opened it, running his fingers through a few tangles in his still-wet hair. "Hey," he said, grinning abashedly. "Come on in, mate. I'm glad you're here."
Characters: Zacharias Smith, Wayne Hopkins
Location: River Place, Zach's Flat
Status: Private
Summary: A celebration of sorts.
Completion: Complete
His flat didn't look as lonely when he returned home that evening. Perhaps because he'd not had to be in it alone all day. Closing the door behind him, he walked to the couch and sat down, groaning; dirty, exhausted, sore, and completely happy.
He'd not been expecting to like it quite that much. There were a few cuts on his hands, a new bruise on his forearm, and he was very lucky to still have all his fingers. But aside from being hard and at times overwhelming, it was very satisfying. He only hoped that Davies was as pleased with the situation as he was.
Resting his head back against the cushions he sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. Just a few minutes rest, really, that was all he needed.
A door slammed somewhere a few flats down and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking, and sitting up to look at the clock.
A quarter til seven. Lovely.
Zach groaned and pushed himself off the sofa, jerking his shirt off over his head and tossing it into the hamper as he walked into the bathroom. Hopping on one foot, then the other, he pulled his denims off and started the shower. No fucking way he'd be ready in time. Most he could hope for was that Wayne would be late.
He didn't really want him to be late though. He'd been looking forward to tonight all day long.
And he was sort of glad he'd fallen asleep. It had kept those nasty nervous jitters from setting up camp in his stomach.
Washing quickly, he rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for the nearest towel and drying himself. He toweled his hair as he walked to the bedroom, pulling on a pair of soft jeans that he'd had for years, and a very thin white t-shirt. He hoped Wayne hadn't expected him to dress for this.
He was still toweling his hair when he heard the knock. Well, at least he'd gotten clothes on, if not shoes, and his hair was somewhat dry. Nothing for it now.
He padded to the door, barefoot, and opened it, running his fingers through a few tangles in his still-wet hair. "Hey," he said, grinning abashedly. "Come on in, mate. I'm glad you're here."