(no subject)
Title: Untitled Fluff
Fandom: DC
Pairing: Deadshot/Catman
Rating: PG
Written: Oct 2011
Word Count: 477
Summary: In which Lawton isn't a perv.
For some strange reason, Lawton likes to watch the cat sleep.
It wasn’t a weird, perverted streak he has or anything, but somehow it was soothing to listen to the rhythmic inhale, exhale of breath and watching the cat’s back rise and fall along with it.
Peacefully curling into himself, the cat looks so different from his usual attire, the obvious rage and strength radiating from his eyes, growling at his opponent, and Lawton feels it should be alerting. That there must be some kind of a trap in this.
But there isn’t.
And once the cat’s asleep, he’s asleep and he won’t wake up until someone directly shakes him to.
Tonight the cat had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace while doing who knows what cats do, and as usual he’s all curled up, not noticing when Lawton enters the room.
The warm orange blaze of fire envelops the sleeping body in front of it, casting long shadows of his eyelashes and hair that had fallen into his face.
Seeing this and that they’re alone, Lawton creeps up carefully, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that if someone catches him at this moment, he would not hear the end of it, but ignores the thought fully for now.
Once he’s merely a feet away from the cat, he crouches down to silently reach out to pet the golden red hair just like he’s wanted to for the past few days? Weeks? Months?
The hair is softer than Lawton’s imagined it to be, and he’s surprised at how nice they feel in his rough fingers.
He is so not going to hear the end of this.
Convinced that the cat won’t wake up, Lawton’s moves become bolder, this time actually running his fingers through the hair.
He accidentally brushes against the scalp and almost jumps when the cat stirs a little, but did the cat just purr?
Lawton pulls his hand back like it’s been burnt and curses because he did not just like how the cat sounded right now, and did he mention that he’s not going to hear the end of it?
Continuing to curse, not caring who hears him he stalks out the door in quick, wide steps to just escape from the scene whole.
He stops abruptly during the stairs to his bedroom however, only to turn back to where he came from.
The cat’s still damn asleep like there’s nothing to worry in the world (or Lawton’s to be precise), and he throws a random blanket that was laid on the reading chair nearby onto the body.
Lawton turns to leave again, cursing in a way the Virgins in the Bible would weep in terror, straight back to his dark bedroom, but not before picking up a drink, a strong one, from the kitchen because he definitely needed one.
Fandom: DC
Pairing: Deadshot/Catman
Rating: PG
Written: Oct 2011
Word Count: 477
Summary: In which Lawton isn't a perv.
For some strange reason, Lawton likes to watch the cat sleep.
It wasn’t a weird, perverted streak he has or anything, but somehow it was soothing to listen to the rhythmic inhale, exhale of breath and watching the cat’s back rise and fall along with it.
Peacefully curling into himself, the cat looks so different from his usual attire, the obvious rage and strength radiating from his eyes, growling at his opponent, and Lawton feels it should be alerting. That there must be some kind of a trap in this.
But there isn’t.
And once the cat’s asleep, he’s asleep and he won’t wake up until someone directly shakes him to.
Tonight the cat had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace while doing who knows what cats do, and as usual he’s all curled up, not noticing when Lawton enters the room.
The warm orange blaze of fire envelops the sleeping body in front of it, casting long shadows of his eyelashes and hair that had fallen into his face.
Seeing this and that they’re alone, Lawton creeps up carefully, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that if someone catches him at this moment, he would not hear the end of it, but ignores the thought fully for now.
Once he’s merely a feet away from the cat, he crouches down to silently reach out to pet the golden red hair just like he’s wanted to for the past few days? Weeks? Months?
The hair is softer than Lawton’s imagined it to be, and he’s surprised at how nice they feel in his rough fingers.
He is so not going to hear the end of this.
Convinced that the cat won’t wake up, Lawton’s moves become bolder, this time actually running his fingers through the hair.
He accidentally brushes against the scalp and almost jumps when the cat stirs a little, but did the cat just purr?
Lawton pulls his hand back like it’s been burnt and curses because he did not just like how the cat sounded right now, and did he mention that he’s not going to hear the end of it?
Continuing to curse, not caring who hears him he stalks out the door in quick, wide steps to just escape from the scene whole.
He stops abruptly during the stairs to his bedroom however, only to turn back to where he came from.
The cat’s still damn asleep like there’s nothing to worry in the world (or Lawton’s to be precise), and he throws a random blanket that was laid on the reading chair nearby onto the body.
Lawton turns to leave again, cursing in a way the Virgins in the Bible would weep in terror, straight back to his dark bedroom, but not before picking up a drink, a strong one, from the kitchen because he definitely needed one.