Presumption Reaps Rewards
Title: Presumption Reaps Rewards.
Pairing: Matt/Brian feat. Zacky.
Rating: R.
Summary: Brian's sick and Zacky helps.
Genre: Deceitful?
Disclaimer: Not in possession of hat. Or fic.
Author's note: This was written so... so quickly. On a whim. I had so many plot bunnies and this one just danced naked in front of me.
Brian looked sick.
Flesh was drained of the usual tanned tint, leaving him pasty, though a dark flush lingered across the sharp juts of cheekbones. Dark lashes brushed to the splotchy cheeks, eyes heavy, closed, as the softest little whimpers left drawn lips.
And Matt could only watch.
A strong hand held a strong hand, long and indescribably talented fingers laced as he watched his friend with growing concern. Zacky could see it in the lines of his face, in the dark brows pulled tight together, the creases of his forehead, the way his plush lower lip was drawn between white teeth.
But at least he looked healthy.
The stranger could only hover, cell in one hand and car keys in the other, held loosely in front of him as he watched with an edge of worry slowly drowned out by a soft urge to do something.
The especially muscular one -- for they were both big guys, though one had a few pounds on the other -- had denied any need for an ambulance as people rushed over. The smaller -- Zacky thought his name was Bri? Brian? Judging by what the big guy (Matt?) had been murmuring to him -- had 'passed out', because he was too masculine to claim he had fainted, of course. But his state wasn't becoming any better. He had whacked his head pretty impressively on the way down, and the worried onlooker could have sworn he saw blood trickling down his neck.
"Babe, it's gonna be alright.. babe.. babe, look at me.."
If it wasn't for the quiet urgency in Matt's voice Zacky would've raised a brow at the endearment. Though by now, with kisses to a damp forehead and unnaturally fair cheeks, their companionship was rather obvious.
In other words - they were blatantly screwing.
But rather than playing the haughty straight guy, Zacky found something quite adorable about the whole display. He had been standing around for a good five minutes, staying while the rest of the crowd had faded, gnawing at his pierced lip as he simply watched, shifting his weight from time to time.
In fact, he was so busy wondering why the hell he was still standing here, sure it couldn't possibly be that the two cuddly men were phenomenally fucking sexy, that he almost didn't catch that hazel gaze lifting to his green and the slightly louder words carrying the same sort of fear directed to his ears.
"We need to get him to a hospital."
A nod. "I'll call an am-"
Though he was cut off with a shake of a head. "No time. He's out. Do you have a car?"
Of course, that was a stupid question considering the keys with the Mercedes tag in his hand, but Zacky didn't dwell on it too deeply as he watched, with vague awe, as Matt lifted Brian from the floor with an ease that showed practice.
Kinky.
Words weren't exactly needed as he lead the way to his vehicle. It wasn't far as he had been returning from the bank when the guy had fallen with a rather nasty crack that reverberated over the soft sound of the single iPod bud in his ear.
A press of a button and a sharp beep and a door was opened, the bulky and rather unconscious male laid across the back seat as he started to stir.
Not for the first time during the whole situation, Zacky felt vaguely uncomfortable as he watched the soft exchange of words that lead to the obviously concussed man being sat up in his seat, slumping, Matt having to pull the belt across his broad chest and buckle it for him as he knelt. Though despite the awkwardness, the pride still lingered.
He liked this sense of purpose.
He liked helping out.
And that warped little part of him that read too much erotica thought that maybe he would be rewarded for his chivalrous behaviour.
So perhaps it was his libido rather than his sense of what was right and good that lead him to sliding into the driver's seat to start up the ignition with a frankly beautiful purr. He was just chucking his wallet into the dip in the centre console when Matt opened the passenger door, sliding in next to him.
"He's fading in and out of consciousness, we really need to get him to a hospital," were the softly spoken words as Zacky looked up in slight surprise. He had assumed the tone was something reserved especially for the ill boyfriend, but apparently the husky words seemed the norm for the hulk of a man radiating delicious warmth beside him.
Maybe it was that heat tickling his insides that had him refusing to question the seating arrangements as he pulled the slick vehicle out from the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the closest hospital. It was only four or five blocks away, but they hardly made it before a shaky voice was heard from the back.
"I need a fuckin' door opened..."
It was the first time Zacky had heard Brian speak, and he was rather pleasantly surprised by the low Californian drawl. Sadly, it didn't last too long as realisation finally struck at Matt's words.
"If you value your upholstery I'd do what he says..."
Oh. Now... that struck hard. Pulling over sharply, he glanced over his shoulder, and as expected, the man didn't look too sharp.
"Shit."
Without a second thought his door was opened, jumping from the vehicle to open the back door.
But...
Shit.
It was away from him before he could reach it, leaving him groping at the air where his door handle should be, stumbling for a moment as he stared wide eyed at the retreating car.
His retreating car.
And fuck, he could've sworn he heard laughter.
The presumptuous got the best rewards...
---
It was surprising, really, how well two big guys could move. But they did, as Matt proved by his slick slip to the driver's seat, and now Brian testified to as he climbed into the passenger, rubbing at the back of his head.
"Next time you take the fall, bitch," he mumbled, dragging a hand through the pale make-up across his face with a wrinkled nose and a look of severe distaste.
Matt just looked at him, flashing him a thoroughly victorious grin as he chucked the retrieved wallet into his boyfriend's lap, careful to touch his thigh in the process, sure to earn a delighted shiver in response.
"But baby," he cooed, only mildly sarcastic as he sat his gaze back on the road, "you've always had a pretty thick skull."
He only just managed to duck the blow aimed at his head, attempting a speedy recovery in the wake of laughter.
"Operative word 'pretty'?"
Pairing: Matt/Brian feat. Zacky.
Rating: R.
Summary: Brian's sick and Zacky helps.
Genre: Deceitful?
Disclaimer: Not in possession of hat. Or fic.
Author's note: This was written so... so quickly. On a whim. I had so many plot bunnies and this one just danced naked in front of me.
Brian looked sick.
Flesh was drained of the usual tanned tint, leaving him pasty, though a dark flush lingered across the sharp juts of cheekbones. Dark lashes brushed to the splotchy cheeks, eyes heavy, closed, as the softest little whimpers left drawn lips.
And Matt could only watch.
A strong hand held a strong hand, long and indescribably talented fingers laced as he watched his friend with growing concern. Zacky could see it in the lines of his face, in the dark brows pulled tight together, the creases of his forehead, the way his plush lower lip was drawn between white teeth.
But at least he looked healthy.
The stranger could only hover, cell in one hand and car keys in the other, held loosely in front of him as he watched with an edge of worry slowly drowned out by a soft urge to do something.
The especially muscular one -- for they were both big guys, though one had a few pounds on the other -- had denied any need for an ambulance as people rushed over. The smaller -- Zacky thought his name was Bri? Brian? Judging by what the big guy (Matt?) had been murmuring to him -- had 'passed out', because he was too masculine to claim he had fainted, of course. But his state wasn't becoming any better. He had whacked his head pretty impressively on the way down, and the worried onlooker could have sworn he saw blood trickling down his neck.
"Babe, it's gonna be alright.. babe.. babe, look at me.."
If it wasn't for the quiet urgency in Matt's voice Zacky would've raised a brow at the endearment. Though by now, with kisses to a damp forehead and unnaturally fair cheeks, their companionship was rather obvious.
In other words - they were blatantly screwing.
But rather than playing the haughty straight guy, Zacky found something quite adorable about the whole display. He had been standing around for a good five minutes, staying while the rest of the crowd had faded, gnawing at his pierced lip as he simply watched, shifting his weight from time to time.
In fact, he was so busy wondering why the hell he was still standing here, sure it couldn't possibly be that the two cuddly men were phenomenally fucking sexy, that he almost didn't catch that hazel gaze lifting to his green and the slightly louder words carrying the same sort of fear directed to his ears.
"We need to get him to a hospital."
A nod. "I'll call an am-"
Though he was cut off with a shake of a head. "No time. He's out. Do you have a car?"
Of course, that was a stupid question considering the keys with the Mercedes tag in his hand, but Zacky didn't dwell on it too deeply as he watched, with vague awe, as Matt lifted Brian from the floor with an ease that showed practice.
Kinky.
Words weren't exactly needed as he lead the way to his vehicle. It wasn't far as he had been returning from the bank when the guy had fallen with a rather nasty crack that reverberated over the soft sound of the single iPod bud in his ear.
A press of a button and a sharp beep and a door was opened, the bulky and rather unconscious male laid across the back seat as he started to stir.
Not for the first time during the whole situation, Zacky felt vaguely uncomfortable as he watched the soft exchange of words that lead to the obviously concussed man being sat up in his seat, slumping, Matt having to pull the belt across his broad chest and buckle it for him as he knelt. Though despite the awkwardness, the pride still lingered.
He liked this sense of purpose.
He liked helping out.
And that warped little part of him that read too much erotica thought that maybe he would be rewarded for his chivalrous behaviour.
So perhaps it was his libido rather than his sense of what was right and good that lead him to sliding into the driver's seat to start up the ignition with a frankly beautiful purr. He was just chucking his wallet into the dip in the centre console when Matt opened the passenger door, sliding in next to him.
"He's fading in and out of consciousness, we really need to get him to a hospital," were the softly spoken words as Zacky looked up in slight surprise. He had assumed the tone was something reserved especially for the ill boyfriend, but apparently the husky words seemed the norm for the hulk of a man radiating delicious warmth beside him.
Maybe it was that heat tickling his insides that had him refusing to question the seating arrangements as he pulled the slick vehicle out from the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the closest hospital. It was only four or five blocks away, but they hardly made it before a shaky voice was heard from the back.
"I need a fuckin' door opened..."
It was the first time Zacky had heard Brian speak, and he was rather pleasantly surprised by the low Californian drawl. Sadly, it didn't last too long as realisation finally struck at Matt's words.
"If you value your upholstery I'd do what he says..."
Oh. Now... that struck hard. Pulling over sharply, he glanced over his shoulder, and as expected, the man didn't look too sharp.
"Shit."
Without a second thought his door was opened, jumping from the vehicle to open the back door.
But...
Shit.
It was away from him before he could reach it, leaving him groping at the air where his door handle should be, stumbling for a moment as he stared wide eyed at the retreating car.
His retreating car.
And fuck, he could've sworn he heard laughter.
The presumptuous got the best rewards...
---
It was surprising, really, how well two big guys could move. But they did, as Matt proved by his slick slip to the driver's seat, and now Brian testified to as he climbed into the passenger, rubbing at the back of his head.
"Next time you take the fall, bitch," he mumbled, dragging a hand through the pale make-up across his face with a wrinkled nose and a look of severe distaste.
Matt just looked at him, flashing him a thoroughly victorious grin as he chucked the retrieved wallet into his boyfriend's lap, careful to touch his thigh in the process, sure to earn a delighted shiver in response.
"But baby," he cooed, only mildly sarcastic as he sat his gaze back on the road, "you've always had a pretty thick skull."
He only just managed to duck the blow aimed at his head, attempting a speedy recovery in the wake of laughter.
"Operative word 'pretty'?"