Fic: Closing Time. RPS JM/DB #38
Another fanfic100 thing. I told you I would make up for all the angst last time. *smooch* Bwah, took me an hour to find a title for this one. Oh, and the icon is by the ever so lovely bittersweet_art. *snogs her*
Title: Closing Time
Fandom: Real People
Characters: James Marsters/David Boreanaz
Prompt: #38 Touch
Word Count: ca. 800
Rating: Adult
Author's Notes: Again unbeta’d. Set during S5. Written for pet_23, hope it pleases you, sweetie.
It wasn't like it was the first time they touched. David was a touchy feely guy, always hugging his friends, even kissing them sometimes on the cheek or forehead. It was done with a smile and a laugh, with a glint in his eye that made you feel warm inside and you just couldn't help smiling back and perhaps lean into the touch, just a little bit. It didn't mean anything.
As soon as the director yelled cut you could expect being tackled to the ground or driven up against the wall and tickled until tears sprung from your eyes and you crumpled down in a heap of useless muscles, caught in his strong arms just before you hit the ground. If you lingered there a moment longer than necessary it was only to catch your breath. It didn't mean anything.
Sometimes they walked to their trailers together after a good nights work, sharing a beer, taking turns with the shower. Sitting close wearing only towels around their waists while drops of water dried on their skin, both smelling of the same shampoo. Watching TV while smoking a joint or two. It didn't mean anything.
On occasion he'd been too tired to move, too tired to do anything other than close his eyes and lean back on the couch, his head sometimes lolling to the side until it rested on David's shoulder. David who was dozing off as well, his arm around James' shoulder, their bare thighs pressed together. A couple of hours later they would wake up and scramble to their feet, sometimes grunting their goodbyes and going home, sometimes just stumbling into the low bed to continue their snoring. It didn't mean anything.
And so what if they'd shared a kiss? They had been drunk and high on weed and the fuckers had axed their show and what the hell else is there to do? It was only a kiss and then David had passed out, leaving James to lie there watching him for an hour until his eyes stung and he just closed them for a moment. When he woke up David was showering and they never mentioned it again. It didn't mean anything.
But then it was the last day of shooting and there were no smiles, no laughter, no goofing around. Maybe that was why it was so different, feeling that big hand reach down and clutch his own, trembling fingers lacing together in the dark and rainy alley. He looked up to find David's dark eyes watching him, face unreadable, and he gave him a small smile as he squeezed his hand back just as Joss called out for them and he reluctantly let go, saving the memory of that touch in his mind in case that was all he would ever get. Could feel the heat of those strong fingers even as his own turned icy in the freezing rain, through hours of cold and exhaustion, still lingering as he stumbled to his trailer and got out of the wet clothes that he would never have to wear again. Tingling his skin as he took a hot shower, trying to get some warmth back into his bones. Fading slowly as he got dressed and with a last glance back left his trailer, heading for a future of uncertainty. It didn't mean anythi...
In the dark of the parking lot he was grabbed and turned around, back pressed into the side of his car as warm lips crushed down on his and fingers, those fingers, raked through his still damp hair, pulling him closer. An arm around his waist, hips pressing up against his, a thigh begging its way between his own. Just a moment of shock and then he was kissing him back with all the longing he'd suppressed for months, clinging to that strong frame like it was his branch of rescue in the turmoil of swirling water he'd felt he was being pulled into moments before. They moved back and he found himself stumbling up the steps to his trailer, David half-pushing him, half-lifting him up and in and then they were toppling over, landing on the low bed they'd shared so many times before but never like this. Never like this. As the buttons on his jeans were popped open, his t-shirt tugged over his head, he closed his eyes and allowed himself for the first time to hope that perhaps, perhaps...
Title: Closing Time
Fandom: Real People
Characters: James Marsters/David Boreanaz
Prompt: #38 Touch
Word Count: ca. 800
Rating: Adult
Author's Notes: Again unbeta’d. Set during S5. Written for pet_23, hope it pleases you, sweetie.
It wasn't like it was the first time they touched. David was a touchy feely guy, always hugging his friends, even kissing them sometimes on the cheek or forehead. It was done with a smile and a laugh, with a glint in his eye that made you feel warm inside and you just couldn't help smiling back and perhaps lean into the touch, just a little bit. It didn't mean anything.
As soon as the director yelled cut you could expect being tackled to the ground or driven up against the wall and tickled until tears sprung from your eyes and you crumpled down in a heap of useless muscles, caught in his strong arms just before you hit the ground. If you lingered there a moment longer than necessary it was only to catch your breath. It didn't mean anything.
Sometimes they walked to their trailers together after a good nights work, sharing a beer, taking turns with the shower. Sitting close wearing only towels around their waists while drops of water dried on their skin, both smelling of the same shampoo. Watching TV while smoking a joint or two. It didn't mean anything.
On occasion he'd been too tired to move, too tired to do anything other than close his eyes and lean back on the couch, his head sometimes lolling to the side until it rested on David's shoulder. David who was dozing off as well, his arm around James' shoulder, their bare thighs pressed together. A couple of hours later they would wake up and scramble to their feet, sometimes grunting their goodbyes and going home, sometimes just stumbling into the low bed to continue their snoring. It didn't mean anything.
And so what if they'd shared a kiss? They had been drunk and high on weed and the fuckers had axed their show and what the hell else is there to do? It was only a kiss and then David had passed out, leaving James to lie there watching him for an hour until his eyes stung and he just closed them for a moment. When he woke up David was showering and they never mentioned it again. It didn't mean anything.
But then it was the last day of shooting and there were no smiles, no laughter, no goofing around. Maybe that was why it was so different, feeling that big hand reach down and clutch his own, trembling fingers lacing together in the dark and rainy alley. He looked up to find David's dark eyes watching him, face unreadable, and he gave him a small smile as he squeezed his hand back just as Joss called out for them and he reluctantly let go, saving the memory of that touch in his mind in case that was all he would ever get. Could feel the heat of those strong fingers even as his own turned icy in the freezing rain, through hours of cold and exhaustion, still lingering as he stumbled to his trailer and got out of the wet clothes that he would never have to wear again. Tingling his skin as he took a hot shower, trying to get some warmth back into his bones. Fading slowly as he got dressed and with a last glance back left his trailer, heading for a future of uncertainty. It didn't mean anythi...
In the dark of the parking lot he was grabbed and turned around, back pressed into the side of his car as warm lips crushed down on his and fingers, those fingers, raked through his still damp hair, pulling him closer. An arm around his waist, hips pressing up against his, a thigh begging its way between his own. Just a moment of shock and then he was kissing him back with all the longing he'd suppressed for months, clinging to that strong frame like it was his branch of rescue in the turmoil of swirling water he'd felt he was being pulled into moments before. They moved back and he found himself stumbling up the steps to his trailer, David half-pushing him, half-lifting him up and in and then they were toppling over, landing on the low bed they'd shared so many times before but never like this. Never like this. As the buttons on his jeans were popped open, his t-shirt tugged over his head, he closed his eyes and allowed himself for the first time to hope that perhaps, perhaps...