The Ties That Bind
Hah. Yeah. Short domestic Plaude fluff. Because I need it, because c_quinn needs it, and...well, it makes me a little bit happy.
Title: The Ties That Bind
Word Count: 413
Pairing: Plaude, clearly.
Summary: Oh, just...domestic fluffiness. As mentioned.
Rating: PG at worst. Sorry.
Disclaimer: Never has been mine, never will be.
“You look ridiculous.”
Peter rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, because what I’m wearing is so different from what you’re wearing.”
“Well,” the man grumbles, leaning closer to the mirror. “I’m wearin’ it under protest, not to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder.”
“Great,” Peter smiles, pulls him around, reaches up to kiss a freshly shaved cheek. “Because you’d win, hands down, and I’d be really embarrassed.”
And then he laughs, as Claude growls something about flattery and tries to turn back to the mirror.
“No, you’re doing it wrong,” he says, hand on Claude’s arm.
Reaches up to fiddle with blue silk, shakes his head at the smirk and perfunctory, “Been a while since I heard that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, realizes he has to undo the whole thing. “How do you not know how to tie a tie, anyway?”
The man gives him a how do you not know how to mind your own business look and Peter tries to salvage the moment.
“You know what I like about ties?” he murmurs, slides strips of smooth silk around each other, head ducked in concentration as Claude glowers at a point over his shoulder.
“They detract attention from your hair?”
“No,” he glances up again, “I thought you liked it shorter?”
The man gives a half-hearted, almost petulant shrug and Peter holds back a laugh.
“Anyway,” he finishes looping ends around each other and pulls the longer tail to tighten it. “I-“
“I thought you liked me breathin’,” Claude grumps, and Peter grins.
“If you can complain, then you’re breathing fine,” he says, keeping his hold on the cool material. “So, ties?”
One of the fonder kinds of growled sigh, and a sign he can continue.
“What I like about them is,” he steps a little closer, “That they’re like a ready made handle.”
“What’re you-“
Vaguely suspicious eyes widen only slightly as his head is pulled down and lips are captured mid-exasperated question.
And perhaps, Peter realizes, somewhat hazily, that wasn’t the best move to make, if he had a vested interest in being on time, which he kind of did.
But there’s Claude’s hands sliding up under his jacket and Claude’s tongue teasing his lips open and Claude’s body pressing steady and permanent against his, guiding him back against the bathroom door.
Yeah…he thinks, reaching his other hand up to unknot blue silk as his body arches automatically against Claude’s warmth, We’re going to be a little late.
Title: The Ties That Bind
Word Count: 413
Pairing: Plaude, clearly.
Summary: Oh, just...domestic fluffiness. As mentioned.
Rating: PG at worst. Sorry.
Disclaimer: Never has been mine, never will be.
“You look ridiculous.”
Peter rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, because what I’m wearing is so different from what you’re wearing.”
“Well,” the man grumbles, leaning closer to the mirror. “I’m wearin’ it under protest, not to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder.”
“Great,” Peter smiles, pulls him around, reaches up to kiss a freshly shaved cheek. “Because you’d win, hands down, and I’d be really embarrassed.”
And then he laughs, as Claude growls something about flattery and tries to turn back to the mirror.
“No, you’re doing it wrong,” he says, hand on Claude’s arm.
Reaches up to fiddle with blue silk, shakes his head at the smirk and perfunctory, “Been a while since I heard that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, realizes he has to undo the whole thing. “How do you not know how to tie a tie, anyway?”
The man gives him a how do you not know how to mind your own business look and Peter tries to salvage the moment.
“You know what I like about ties?” he murmurs, slides strips of smooth silk around each other, head ducked in concentration as Claude glowers at a point over his shoulder.
“They detract attention from your hair?”
“No,” he glances up again, “I thought you liked it shorter?”
The man gives a half-hearted, almost petulant shrug and Peter holds back a laugh.
“Anyway,” he finishes looping ends around each other and pulls the longer tail to tighten it. “I-“
“I thought you liked me breathin’,” Claude grumps, and Peter grins.
“If you can complain, then you’re breathing fine,” he says, keeping his hold on the cool material. “So, ties?”
One of the fonder kinds of growled sigh, and a sign he can continue.
“What I like about them is,” he steps a little closer, “That they’re like a ready made handle.”
“What’re you-“
Vaguely suspicious eyes widen only slightly as his head is pulled down and lips are captured mid-exasperated question.
And perhaps, Peter realizes, somewhat hazily, that wasn’t the best move to make, if he had a vested interest in being on time, which he kind of did.
But there’s Claude’s hands sliding up under his jacket and Claude’s tongue teasing his lips open and Claude’s body pressing steady and permanent against his, guiding him back against the bathroom door.
Yeah…he thinks, reaching his other hand up to unknot blue silk as his body arches automatically against Claude’s warmth, We’re going to be a little late.