fic, gary/petey: The Dignity of Work
So, I wrote a thing. And here it is.
Title: The Dignity of Work
Pairing: Gary/Pete
Rating: Teen
Notes: This was originally inspired by two prompts at the anonymous Bully kink meme: humiliation and dominant Petey with Gary. It turned out to not only be completely not kinky, but also didn't even fit either prompt all that great; plus it was too long to fit into a comment. Apparently I fail at anonymous comment fic in both the anonymous and comment fic departments.
Title comes from a Herman Melville quote. "They talk of the dignity of work. The dignity is in leisure."
WARNINGS: nautical innuendo
Pete Kowalski was sitting on his bed reading Moby Dick when he heard the doorknob rattle. He looked up as the door to his room opened. Gary strode through and kicked the door closed behind himself.
"Come on, little Petey, up and at 'em! Time's a-wasting, and we've still got places to go, people to see, morons to harass..."
Pete raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't my door just locked?"
Gary slipped his screwdriver back into his pocket. "No."
"Um," Pete said.
Gary picked some invisible lint off his vest. "Anyway, dusk is swiftly approaching on this, the last day of the weekend, and I thought maybe we could head over to the carnival. You know, play some rigged games, laugh at some freaks -- and I don't just mean the ones in the freak show, although they're fun too -- maybe ride the Ferris wheel and throw things off at the people on the ground?"
Pete's face twisted with awkward confliction. "I'd like to, Gary, I really would, but I've still got, like, fifty more pages of this to read by tomorrow, and then I have to write that essay..." Pete trailed off as Gary sat down next to him. Gary craned his head over Pete's shoulder. Pete felt Gary's cheek brush his hair.
"'At length, by dint of much wriggling, and loud and incessant expostulations upon the unbecomingness of his hugging a fellow male in that matrimonial sort of style, I succeeded in extracting a grunt,'" Gary shot a dubious look at the book resting in Pete's lap. "What the hell is this you're reading, Femme Boy? The world's longest nautically themed gay romance novel?"
Pete felt the tips of his ears start to burn as he snapped the book shut. "No. It's for class."
Gary pulled back enough to look Pete in the face. He smiled meanly. Pete felt his heart start to pound.
"Oh, really?" Gary asked. "Because to me, it looks like you're reading dirty stories about sailors." Gary let his hand rest on Pete's leg just above the knee, fingers just barely brushing the soft skin of his inner thigh through his school slacks.
"Is that the kind of thing you're into, Petey?" Gary was slowly trailing his hand up Pete's thigh. "Seamen? Swabbing the poop deck?"
Gary's hand tightened on Pete's leg as he laughed at his own stupid joke, fingertips digging briefly into the skin. Pete bit back a whimper.
"Come on, Gary, knock it off."
"Ooh, Captain! Come into my cabin and let me touch your harpoon," Gary moaned in a mocking falsetto. His hand slid further up Pete's leg. "Well, little Petey? Is that what you're into?"
Pete's eyes were wide. "What? No," he tried to say forcefully. It came out as more of a hoarse whisper. "That's not even-- harpoons?" He could smell Gary, deodorant and soap overlaid with salt. Pete felt sweat prickle up across his back. He wanted to shift away, but couldn't bring himself to dislodge Gary's hand.
"It's okay if you are," Gary said. His fingers brushed slowly back and forth along the inseam of Pete's pants, palm resting over the point on his thigh where his pulse was pounding. Pete felt his body react despite the mortification crawling along under his skin. Face burning, afraid to speak, Pete thought he couldn't take any more.
He shoved Gary, hard.
Gary stumbled as he slid off the bed, caught himself before he fell to the ground. Pete prepared himself for an angry backlash, but instead Gary started to laugh.
"Aww, what's the matter, Femme Boy? Did I hit a nerve?"
Suddenly angry and sick of playing Gary's same old game, Pete picked up his book and aimed straight for Gary's head.
Instead, the book hit him in the chest and bounced harmlessly to the floor. Of course, he thought. Then again, the action was really more gesture than assault; Pete figured he'd made his point.
Though, just to be sure, Pete stood up. "You know what, Gary? Screw you."
Gary stood there facing Pete from two feet away, and stared. His eyebrows were raised, but his smirk was gone. "Screw me?" Gary barked out a laugh. "I bet you'd like that, huh?" His condescending affect shivered with a hint of uncertainty.
Pete drew a deep breath. "Yeah, you think so?" He squared his shoulders. In for a penny, in for a pound, he figured. "You want to know what I think?" he asked as he stepped up into Gary's personal space.
Gary frowned and took a half step back. "Not particularly," he said.
"I think," Pete said, stepping forward again, "I think that you're full of crap."
Gary floundered for a moment, hands sketching broad, angry gestures while he worked his way through a momentary fit of aphasia. "Oh, really? And just where--"
"Let me finish," Pete interrupted with shaky bravado and a shove to Gary's chest. "You stop by my room at least once a day, completely uninvited, just to harass me. You, you're constantly picking on me for anything and everything, including my shirts-- as if I don't know that it was your ugly red sweater that somehow worked its way into my wash and dyed all my whites pink."
Gary opened his mouth as if to argue, but Pete kept going. "Oh, don't even try to pretend you didn't do it on purpose, I know you did, you know I know it, but for some crazy reason you harass me about it anyway. You just, you just can't miss a chance to get on my case about anything, can you?" Pete started to laugh nervously. Gary was looking a bit wide-eyed.
"Every chance you get, you put me down for being too, too girly, or whatever. Like you didn't just five minutes ago all but ask me on a date." Pete wasn't sure, but he thought Gary almost looked scared.
"I mean, I'm not the one who goes sneaking around the dorms at weird hours, looking for you when I know you'll be alone. I'm definitely not the one asking you if we can, what, ride the Ferris wheel together?" Pete's cheeks pinked with indignation. "In fact, in the entire time I've known you, I don't think I've ever asked you for a single goddamned thing."
Pete took one last step forward, boxed Gary in against the wall. He put one hand on the wall between Gary and the door and leaned in. "And then there's, it's, you just," Pete stopped, took a breath, and traced his fingers along the bottom edge of Gary's vest before sliding them underneath, letting his hand rest on Gary's hip over the thin fabric of his shirt. "You have no respect for my personal space."
Gary twisted his head down, trying to make eye contact. "Petey," he said.
Pete stared down at Gary's shirt, watching his chest rise and fall. He slid his hand upward, felt Gary take a stuttering breath in. He let his nails drag lightly back down Gary's side, just for the gratification of feeling him shake. "What?" Pete asked, glancing up.
Gary's eyes were fixed on Pete's mouth. "I don't know," he said.
"Huh," replied Pete as he leaned in and slowly ghosted his lips across Gary's. Then he did it again, letting himself press more firmly against Gary for a brief moment, before pulling back just to make Gary follow.
Pete felt Gary's hands come down on his hips as Gary licked his way into Pete's mouth. Pete pressed his hand against the small of Gary's back and thought he heard Gary stifle a moan. Gary's hips hitched against his, just once; Pete could feel Gary's erection. His veins bubbled with both arousal and vindication.
Pete pulled slowly away as he reached for the doorknob with his free hand. "No, but, seriously," he said, the hand still pressed against Gary's back guiding him partway to the open door; another good shove had him all the way through it.
Pete took a split second to memorize the way Gary looked in that moment: lips swollen, shirt disheveled, cheeks flushed, and face quickly darkening from confusion to something much meaner. This was the face of Pete's victory.
"Get out of here, I have work to do." Pete slammed the door before he lost his nerve.
This time he remembered to set the chain when he locked the door.
Title: The Dignity of Work
Pairing: Gary/Pete
Rating: Teen
Notes: This was originally inspired by two prompts at the anonymous Bully kink meme: humiliation and dominant Petey with Gary. It turned out to not only be completely not kinky, but also didn't even fit either prompt all that great; plus it was too long to fit into a comment. Apparently I fail at anonymous comment fic in both the anonymous and comment fic departments.
Title comes from a Herman Melville quote. "They talk of the dignity of work. The dignity is in leisure."
WARNINGS: nautical innuendo
Pete Kowalski was sitting on his bed reading Moby Dick when he heard the doorknob rattle. He looked up as the door to his room opened. Gary strode through and kicked the door closed behind himself.
"Come on, little Petey, up and at 'em! Time's a-wasting, and we've still got places to go, people to see, morons to harass..."
Pete raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't my door just locked?"
Gary slipped his screwdriver back into his pocket. "No."
"Um," Pete said.
Gary picked some invisible lint off his vest. "Anyway, dusk is swiftly approaching on this, the last day of the weekend, and I thought maybe we could head over to the carnival. You know, play some rigged games, laugh at some freaks -- and I don't just mean the ones in the freak show, although they're fun too -- maybe ride the Ferris wheel and throw things off at the people on the ground?"
Pete's face twisted with awkward confliction. "I'd like to, Gary, I really would, but I've still got, like, fifty more pages of this to read by tomorrow, and then I have to write that essay..." Pete trailed off as Gary sat down next to him. Gary craned his head over Pete's shoulder. Pete felt Gary's cheek brush his hair.
"'At length, by dint of much wriggling, and loud and incessant expostulations upon the unbecomingness of his hugging a fellow male in that matrimonial sort of style, I succeeded in extracting a grunt,'" Gary shot a dubious look at the book resting in Pete's lap. "What the hell is this you're reading, Femme Boy? The world's longest nautically themed gay romance novel?"
Pete felt the tips of his ears start to burn as he snapped the book shut. "No. It's for class."
Gary pulled back enough to look Pete in the face. He smiled meanly. Pete felt his heart start to pound.
"Oh, really?" Gary asked. "Because to me, it looks like you're reading dirty stories about sailors." Gary let his hand rest on Pete's leg just above the knee, fingers just barely brushing the soft skin of his inner thigh through his school slacks.
"Is that the kind of thing you're into, Petey?" Gary was slowly trailing his hand up Pete's thigh. "Seamen? Swabbing the poop deck?"
Gary's hand tightened on Pete's leg as he laughed at his own stupid joke, fingertips digging briefly into the skin. Pete bit back a whimper.
"Come on, Gary, knock it off."
"Ooh, Captain! Come into my cabin and let me touch your harpoon," Gary moaned in a mocking falsetto. His hand slid further up Pete's leg. "Well, little Petey? Is that what you're into?"
Pete's eyes were wide. "What? No," he tried to say forcefully. It came out as more of a hoarse whisper. "That's not even-- harpoons?" He could smell Gary, deodorant and soap overlaid with salt. Pete felt sweat prickle up across his back. He wanted to shift away, but couldn't bring himself to dislodge Gary's hand.
"It's okay if you are," Gary said. His fingers brushed slowly back and forth along the inseam of Pete's pants, palm resting over the point on his thigh where his pulse was pounding. Pete felt his body react despite the mortification crawling along under his skin. Face burning, afraid to speak, Pete thought he couldn't take any more.
He shoved Gary, hard.
Gary stumbled as he slid off the bed, caught himself before he fell to the ground. Pete prepared himself for an angry backlash, but instead Gary started to laugh.
"Aww, what's the matter, Femme Boy? Did I hit a nerve?"
Suddenly angry and sick of playing Gary's same old game, Pete picked up his book and aimed straight for Gary's head.
Instead, the book hit him in the chest and bounced harmlessly to the floor. Of course, he thought. Then again, the action was really more gesture than assault; Pete figured he'd made his point.
Though, just to be sure, Pete stood up. "You know what, Gary? Screw you."
Gary stood there facing Pete from two feet away, and stared. His eyebrows were raised, but his smirk was gone. "Screw me?" Gary barked out a laugh. "I bet you'd like that, huh?" His condescending affect shivered with a hint of uncertainty.
Pete drew a deep breath. "Yeah, you think so?" He squared his shoulders. In for a penny, in for a pound, he figured. "You want to know what I think?" he asked as he stepped up into Gary's personal space.
Gary frowned and took a half step back. "Not particularly," he said.
"I think," Pete said, stepping forward again, "I think that you're full of crap."
Gary floundered for a moment, hands sketching broad, angry gestures while he worked his way through a momentary fit of aphasia. "Oh, really? And just where--"
"Let me finish," Pete interrupted with shaky bravado and a shove to Gary's chest. "You stop by my room at least once a day, completely uninvited, just to harass me. You, you're constantly picking on me for anything and everything, including my shirts-- as if I don't know that it was your ugly red sweater that somehow worked its way into my wash and dyed all my whites pink."
Gary opened his mouth as if to argue, but Pete kept going. "Oh, don't even try to pretend you didn't do it on purpose, I know you did, you know I know it, but for some crazy reason you harass me about it anyway. You just, you just can't miss a chance to get on my case about anything, can you?" Pete started to laugh nervously. Gary was looking a bit wide-eyed.
"Every chance you get, you put me down for being too, too girly, or whatever. Like you didn't just five minutes ago all but ask me on a date." Pete wasn't sure, but he thought Gary almost looked scared.
"I mean, I'm not the one who goes sneaking around the dorms at weird hours, looking for you when I know you'll be alone. I'm definitely not the one asking you if we can, what, ride the Ferris wheel together?" Pete's cheeks pinked with indignation. "In fact, in the entire time I've known you, I don't think I've ever asked you for a single goddamned thing."
Pete took one last step forward, boxed Gary in against the wall. He put one hand on the wall between Gary and the door and leaned in. "And then there's, it's, you just," Pete stopped, took a breath, and traced his fingers along the bottom edge of Gary's vest before sliding them underneath, letting his hand rest on Gary's hip over the thin fabric of his shirt. "You have no respect for my personal space."
Gary twisted his head down, trying to make eye contact. "Petey," he said.
Pete stared down at Gary's shirt, watching his chest rise and fall. He slid his hand upward, felt Gary take a stuttering breath in. He let his nails drag lightly back down Gary's side, just for the gratification of feeling him shake. "What?" Pete asked, glancing up.
Gary's eyes were fixed on Pete's mouth. "I don't know," he said.
"Huh," replied Pete as he leaned in and slowly ghosted his lips across Gary's. Then he did it again, letting himself press more firmly against Gary for a brief moment, before pulling back just to make Gary follow.
Pete felt Gary's hands come down on his hips as Gary licked his way into Pete's mouth. Pete pressed his hand against the small of Gary's back and thought he heard Gary stifle a moan. Gary's hips hitched against his, just once; Pete could feel Gary's erection. His veins bubbled with both arousal and vindication.
Pete pulled slowly away as he reached for the doorknob with his free hand. "No, but, seriously," he said, the hand still pressed against Gary's back guiding him partway to the open door; another good shove had him all the way through it.
Pete took a split second to memorize the way Gary looked in that moment: lips swollen, shirt disheveled, cheeks flushed, and face quickly darkening from confusion to something much meaner. This was the face of Pete's victory.
"Get out of here, I have work to do." Pete slammed the door before he lost his nerve.
This time he remembered to set the chain when he locked the door.