Captain Scarlet. Ochre/Magenta. Misc A. 04. Betrayal.
TITLE: Girl pants
AUTHOR: Sage Harper
FANDOM: Captain Scarlet
PAIRING: Ochre/Magenta
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: Misc. A
PROMPT: 04. Betrayal
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1,263
SUMMARY: “You did something absurdly sexy, for days. And you never once thought to tell me.”
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: A spin off of sorts from Kiki’s fic.
DISCLAIMER: Characters created by Gerry & Sylvia Anderson - just borrowing and will put them back when I'm finished.
Rick struggled to find words encapsulating his feelings; as he sat there, on the edge of the bed, pouting. A proper petulant toddler pout. Which on anyone else would have been a terrible look, but he wore it rather well.
“I feel, so, betrayed.”
“You,” Pat shot back, “where do you get off with that?”
Even though he had on some level anticipated it, Rick didn’t bother moving to avoid the projectile, or catching it before the scrap of flimsy pink lace slapped at his face. He thought it was the decent thing to let Pat have the warped satisfaction of throwing a pair of panties at his head.
“You did,” he began, very reasonably, “something absurdly sexy, for days. And you never once thought to tell me.”
“Well gee maybe I would have, if you hadn’t pulled the stupid prank!” a white silky thong sailed over ended up dangling from Rick’s epaulette “… Oh wait, if it wasn’t for that we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“That’d be a shame.” Rick thought, not realising he had verbalised it until another pair, was pelted even harder. Full briefs, hot pink with a leopard print. Those were Rick’s particular favourite.
Pat picked up the package beside him, a multi-pack of boxer shorts, tore into it with more venom than entirely necessary and dumped the contents into his underwear drawer. Making a deliberate point of not looking at his field partner.
“Pat, I can tell you’re really mad at me.”
“No shit! I can see why you ended up a cop.”
“But it was just a joke.”
Pat turned on his heel, informing Rick in great detail of his opinion of said event and the individual who had perpetrated it until he ran out of breath. It made sense, Rick supposed, swearing and hitting stuff, it ran in Pat’s nationality.
“Y’know if this had been anyone else I might have seen the funny side,” Pat concluded. “But I just, ah what do you care.”
Rick came to stand beside him, playing his own part in emptying the female underwear from the drawer, and replacing it with more masculine equivalent. The reverse of what he had done almost a week before, to set the chain of events into motion. And he was grateful for that, because then he was able to catch what Pat next uttered.
“I thought it would be different now. That you cared, enough not to do stuff like this. To at least have some idea of how much it would humiliate me, and how uncomfortable it would be, those things really chafe. But you’re not stupid, you must know.” He still didn’t look at Rick. “So why do it? I’ve been trying to figure it out for almost a week, and the only conclusion that makes any sense is that actually you don’t care. To you I’m just some guy from work who you fuck now and then.”
“That’s not true.” Rick says it so loud and ardently it seems to echo in the silence that follows.
“You don’t have to bullshit me.” Pat shrugs. “I just want to know where I stand; I’ll be fine either way.”
“I love you.”
For a second Rick almost looks around, wondering where such a statement came from. But of course he knows he said. It’s not that much of a surprise, he has said it before. Sort of. But not to preface it with ‘and’ or follow it by ‘too’. That was something new.
“And yes back then I didn’t think, figured you wouldn’t be that mad really, that’d just be funny. But obviously it didn’t work out like that. So for that I apologise.” He smiles softly. “A proper apology, no qualifying or bullshitting; I’m wrong, I’m sorry, and I love you.”
For an excruciating moment Pat just looks at him, considering his answer.
“You’re feeling guilty?” it’s not really a question.
“Apparently I’m quite susceptible to that,” Rick admits.
“Well you should have taken that into account before you screwed over a cradle Catholic.” Pat plucks the thong from its perch. “But we know you were never destine to be the brains of this outfit.”
“So you’re not mad at me?”
“Have you tried being mad at someone after you’ve thrown women’s underwear at them and it’s now dangling from their person.”
“Uh not recently.”
After a moment Rick frowns.
“I never took you for the going commando type,” he says.
“I don’t normally wear girl pants either.” Pat shrugs. “I just figured it would be the kind of lateral problem solving you would do. At least to tide me over until the new underwear I bought could get shipped out here.”
“Good plan.”
“Y’know I might do it even now, sometimes.” Pat keeps his tone deliberately casual. “It is quite, liberating, I guess.”
Out of the corner of his eye he watches Rick fail to keep down a smirk.
“But from now on, assuming we stay on good terms, you’ll be the first and only one to know.”
Pat frowns, noticing the familiar garments now laid in the drawer.
“I kept those ones,” Rick says. “Because I knew you liked them best, and you don’t look bad in them either.”
Pat smiles any residual bad feeling melting anyway. He pulls Rick close, and won’t admit how much he’s missed this; the solid warmth of him, how the long leisurely make out sessions make all his senses alive and his mind spin, how instantly and completely his body remembers exactly what’s needed to elicit an equal response.
They hear conversation in the next room, lilting Australian inflection and warm Great Lakes baritone, fumbling with clothes and other personal effects, laughter, the door closing, footsteps receding.
Pat breaks away, waits from Rick’s grumble of discontent to subside before speaking.
“What are we going to do with all this surplus to requirement underwear?”
“Dunno, didn’t think that far ahead.” Rick still won’t move more than needed to speak and draw a lungful. “You got anyone in mind who could give them a good home?”
“Well, Brad though your prank was pretty funny.”
“Nice to know someone appreciates my efforts.”
Pat figures that refuting the statement, by way of showing which of Rick’s efforts he specifically appreciates, requires a practical demonstration.
Once they’ve got their breath back Rick hoists the bag of offending items while Pat takes an empty sports holdall, then they casually amble to Grey’s quarters.
“I bet he has them organised alphabetically by colour,” Rick smirks.
“Cross matched by brand and style,” Pat concurs.
On opening the drawer they aren’t entirely accurate, but none the less there are no bounds to Grey’s compulsion for neat orderliness.
“Poor baby is clearly not getting enough good lovin’.” Rick shakes his head in pity as he works efficiently. “Seriously, you’d think anyone who was would have a better sense of prioritising and time management.”
“Put like that maybe it’s a good thing we fight. Otherwise we’d never get time to do laundry or check our emails.”
“That’s second on your list,” Rick teases, “OK, I think we’re done. He’ll probably be upset that we didn’t have time to Feng Shui his new smalls, but we can only do our best. Now to wait for the fun …”
He glances at Pat.
“What?” although he knows that look all too well.
“You do know I’m still not wearing any underwear.”
Rick smirks, hustles him back into the room, kisses him pressed up against the door.
The world is a better place with Pat on his side.
AUTHOR: Sage Harper
FANDOM: Captain Scarlet
PAIRING: Ochre/Magenta
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: Misc. A
PROMPT: 04. Betrayal
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1,263
SUMMARY: “You did something absurdly sexy, for days. And you never once thought to tell me.”
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: A spin off of sorts from Kiki’s fic.
DISCLAIMER: Characters created by Gerry & Sylvia Anderson - just borrowing and will put them back when I'm finished.
Rick struggled to find words encapsulating his feelings; as he sat there, on the edge of the bed, pouting. A proper petulant toddler pout. Which on anyone else would have been a terrible look, but he wore it rather well.
“I feel, so, betrayed.”
“You,” Pat shot back, “where do you get off with that?”
Even though he had on some level anticipated it, Rick didn’t bother moving to avoid the projectile, or catching it before the scrap of flimsy pink lace slapped at his face. He thought it was the decent thing to let Pat have the warped satisfaction of throwing a pair of panties at his head.
“You did,” he began, very reasonably, “something absurdly sexy, for days. And you never once thought to tell me.”
“Well gee maybe I would have, if you hadn’t pulled the stupid prank!” a white silky thong sailed over ended up dangling from Rick’s epaulette “… Oh wait, if it wasn’t for that we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“That’d be a shame.” Rick thought, not realising he had verbalised it until another pair, was pelted even harder. Full briefs, hot pink with a leopard print. Those were Rick’s particular favourite.
Pat picked up the package beside him, a multi-pack of boxer shorts, tore into it with more venom than entirely necessary and dumped the contents into his underwear drawer. Making a deliberate point of not looking at his field partner.
“Pat, I can tell you’re really mad at me.”
“No shit! I can see why you ended up a cop.”
“But it was just a joke.”
Pat turned on his heel, informing Rick in great detail of his opinion of said event and the individual who had perpetrated it until he ran out of breath. It made sense, Rick supposed, swearing and hitting stuff, it ran in Pat’s nationality.
“Y’know if this had been anyone else I might have seen the funny side,” Pat concluded. “But I just, ah what do you care.”
Rick came to stand beside him, playing his own part in emptying the female underwear from the drawer, and replacing it with more masculine equivalent. The reverse of what he had done almost a week before, to set the chain of events into motion. And he was grateful for that, because then he was able to catch what Pat next uttered.
“I thought it would be different now. That you cared, enough not to do stuff like this. To at least have some idea of how much it would humiliate me, and how uncomfortable it would be, those things really chafe. But you’re not stupid, you must know.” He still didn’t look at Rick. “So why do it? I’ve been trying to figure it out for almost a week, and the only conclusion that makes any sense is that actually you don’t care. To you I’m just some guy from work who you fuck now and then.”
“That’s not true.” Rick says it so loud and ardently it seems to echo in the silence that follows.
“You don’t have to bullshit me.” Pat shrugs. “I just want to know where I stand; I’ll be fine either way.”
“I love you.”
For a second Rick almost looks around, wondering where such a statement came from. But of course he knows he said. It’s not that much of a surprise, he has said it before. Sort of. But not to preface it with ‘and’ or follow it by ‘too’. That was something new.
“And yes back then I didn’t think, figured you wouldn’t be that mad really, that’d just be funny. But obviously it didn’t work out like that. So for that I apologise.” He smiles softly. “A proper apology, no qualifying or bullshitting; I’m wrong, I’m sorry, and I love you.”
For an excruciating moment Pat just looks at him, considering his answer.
“You’re feeling guilty?” it’s not really a question.
“Apparently I’m quite susceptible to that,” Rick admits.
“Well you should have taken that into account before you screwed over a cradle Catholic.” Pat plucks the thong from its perch. “But we know you were never destine to be the brains of this outfit.”
“So you’re not mad at me?”
“Have you tried being mad at someone after you’ve thrown women’s underwear at them and it’s now dangling from their person.”
“Uh not recently.”
After a moment Rick frowns.
“I never took you for the going commando type,” he says.
“I don’t normally wear girl pants either.” Pat shrugs. “I just figured it would be the kind of lateral problem solving you would do. At least to tide me over until the new underwear I bought could get shipped out here.”
“Good plan.”
“Y’know I might do it even now, sometimes.” Pat keeps his tone deliberately casual. “It is quite, liberating, I guess.”
Out of the corner of his eye he watches Rick fail to keep down a smirk.
“But from now on, assuming we stay on good terms, you’ll be the first and only one to know.”
Pat frowns, noticing the familiar garments now laid in the drawer.
“I kept those ones,” Rick says. “Because I knew you liked them best, and you don’t look bad in them either.”
Pat smiles any residual bad feeling melting anyway. He pulls Rick close, and won’t admit how much he’s missed this; the solid warmth of him, how the long leisurely make out sessions make all his senses alive and his mind spin, how instantly and completely his body remembers exactly what’s needed to elicit an equal response.
They hear conversation in the next room, lilting Australian inflection and warm Great Lakes baritone, fumbling with clothes and other personal effects, laughter, the door closing, footsteps receding.
Pat breaks away, waits from Rick’s grumble of discontent to subside before speaking.
“What are we going to do with all this surplus to requirement underwear?”
“Dunno, didn’t think that far ahead.” Rick still won’t move more than needed to speak and draw a lungful. “You got anyone in mind who could give them a good home?”
“Well, Brad though your prank was pretty funny.”
“Nice to know someone appreciates my efforts.”
Pat figures that refuting the statement, by way of showing which of Rick’s efforts he specifically appreciates, requires a practical demonstration.
Once they’ve got their breath back Rick hoists the bag of offending items while Pat takes an empty sports holdall, then they casually amble to Grey’s quarters.
“I bet he has them organised alphabetically by colour,” Rick smirks.
“Cross matched by brand and style,” Pat concurs.
On opening the drawer they aren’t entirely accurate, but none the less there are no bounds to Grey’s compulsion for neat orderliness.
“Poor baby is clearly not getting enough good lovin’.” Rick shakes his head in pity as he works efficiently. “Seriously, you’d think anyone who was would have a better sense of prioritising and time management.”
“Put like that maybe it’s a good thing we fight. Otherwise we’d never get time to do laundry or check our emails.”
“That’s second on your list,” Rick teases, “OK, I think we’re done. He’ll probably be upset that we didn’t have time to Feng Shui his new smalls, but we can only do our best. Now to wait for the fun …”
He glances at Pat.
“What?” although he knows that look all too well.
“You do know I’m still not wearing any underwear.”
Rick smirks, hustles him back into the room, kisses him pressed up against the door.
The world is a better place with Pat on his side.