Fic: Telling Tales (Spartacus, Nasir/Agron)
Title: Telling Tales
Fandom: Spartacus Vengeance
Characters: Agron/Nasir
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Modern day AU. Underneath your clothes, there's an endless story. Or the boys compare tattoos and want to know more.
Author Notes: Inspired by this awesome picture. Thanks einfach_mich
“Take a picture, mate. It'll last longer.”
Agron blinked, startled out of his deep distracting thoughts. The guy who'd served him at the bar the past few nights was standing over him, smirking. His arms were crossed, his pinstripe white shirt buttoned back to his elbows, revealing some familiar and impressive ink. Ah, that would explain the zone-out. Which had been so obvious, the guy had come over to say something about it. Fuck.
Agron managed an embarrassed grin. “It's the arm art, man. Impressive.”
The barman grinned back and glanced down. It really was an intriguing forearm of tattoos he had on show. The detailed camera near the elbow always made Agron smile for some reason. It wasn't the one he lingered over most though - that honour went to the interweaving mass of sinewy lines that cascaded down to the man's wrist, the source of it hidden by his sleeve. Scattered purposefully and intriguingly amongst the lines were music notes.
Tattoos told stories. Agron had been wondering about the tales behind these particular ones for a while now. As well as wondering about the man who wore them and just how many more stories he was hiding under his clothes.
“Thanks. My cousin takes care of me. He's crazy good,” the barman told him easily. “You got any?”
Agron nodded and bent to roll up the right leg of his jeans. Just below his knee was a bucking horse, the Brisbane Broncos logo at its feet. Donar did excellent work. He'd done a fantastic job on the Duro tattoo over Agron's heart. Agron wouldn't have trusted anybody else with it.
“First love, you know?”
“I know.” The guy held out his hand. “Nasir.”
Agron shook the offered hand, noting the strong grip. “Agron. Can I get you a pint, or you still on the clock?”
“I can spare some time.”
Nasir was smiling wide and sly as he sat down. Agron grinned back. He didn't need to see a tattoo to get that telegraphed message. Especially since one of Nasir's feet was now firmly pressed against his ankle and beginning to move teasingly. It seemed he wasn't the only one looking to uncover some stories.
Fandom: Spartacus Vengeance
Characters: Agron/Nasir
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Modern day AU. Underneath your clothes, there's an endless story. Or the boys compare tattoos and want to know more.
Author Notes: Inspired by this awesome picture. Thanks einfach_mich
“Take a picture, mate. It'll last longer.”
Agron blinked, startled out of his deep distracting thoughts. The guy who'd served him at the bar the past few nights was standing over him, smirking. His arms were crossed, his pinstripe white shirt buttoned back to his elbows, revealing some familiar and impressive ink. Ah, that would explain the zone-out. Which had been so obvious, the guy had come over to say something about it. Fuck.
Agron managed an embarrassed grin. “It's the arm art, man. Impressive.”
The barman grinned back and glanced down. It really was an intriguing forearm of tattoos he had on show. The detailed camera near the elbow always made Agron smile for some reason. It wasn't the one he lingered over most though - that honour went to the interweaving mass of sinewy lines that cascaded down to the man's wrist, the source of it hidden by his sleeve. Scattered purposefully and intriguingly amongst the lines were music notes.
Tattoos told stories. Agron had been wondering about the tales behind these particular ones for a while now. As well as wondering about the man who wore them and just how many more stories he was hiding under his clothes.
“Thanks. My cousin takes care of me. He's crazy good,” the barman told him easily. “You got any?”
Agron nodded and bent to roll up the right leg of his jeans. Just below his knee was a bucking horse, the Brisbane Broncos logo at its feet. Donar did excellent work. He'd done a fantastic job on the Duro tattoo over Agron's heart. Agron wouldn't have trusted anybody else with it.
“First love, you know?”
“I know.” The guy held out his hand. “Nasir.”
Agron shook the offered hand, noting the strong grip. “Agron. Can I get you a pint, or you still on the clock?”
“I can spare some time.”
Nasir was smiling wide and sly as he sat down. Agron grinned back. He didn't need to see a tattoo to get that telegraphed message. Especially since one of Nasir's feet was now firmly pressed against his ankle and beginning to move teasingly. It seemed he wasn't the only one looking to uncover some stories.