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.ficlet: Off Time - D/M (PG)
Title: Off Time
By: HF
Email: aesc36 @gmail.com
Pairing: D/M
Rating/Warnings: PG, nothing horrifying.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.
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wordclaim50 challenge #31, "first time," though it was written with other purposes in mind.
Notes: Written mostly on the back of a take-out menu while waiting for pizza and trying to keep a nosy kid from looking over my shoulder. (Hope you learned a little something, kid. Love,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aesc.) For nekosmuse, on her birthday.
OFF TIME
The first time Martin had come over for dinner, Danny had tried to persuade Martin into the living room with a glass of water and an order to find something on the TV. Martin had rematerialized in the kitchen a few minutes later, hoisting himself up on the countertop with the declaration that the news depressed him and the only shows on these days were crime dramas, which were also depressing and too much like work.
You probably have the case solved in, like, ten minutes, Danny had said.
Yeah, Martin had agreed, filching an apple from its bowl.
Get your ass off my countertop, Danny had told him, gesturing with a dish towel for emphasis.
Martin had looked at him blandly, taken a bite out of his apple and shrugged the command off, and Danny let it slide.
They had this dance the next ten times they’d eaten together, and by the eleventh – this one – Danny’s come to realize that it doesn’t matter how many times he tells Martin that counters aren’t for sitting on, Martin will always sit on them while Danny cooks. (And it’s always Danny who cooks and it’s always Martin who cleans.) Legs swinging meditatively and he’s tossing a red pepper from hand to hand, watching every move Danny makes, from refrigerator to sink to cutting board, back to the refrigerator again.
Most times Danny likes being looked at – likes it a bit too much for his own good, he knows, he always has – but he doesn’t really like it when people watch him cook. He’s never been able to explain it, either to the few people he’s had over at his apartment or to himself. But Martin, though... the pressure of his gaze is gentle, warm on Danny’s back, like Martin’s seeing more than movement.
The thought brings him up short.
Eleven evenings together, informal agreement to have something not takeout whenever they have off time and aren’t too exhausted. Sam had come a couple times, Danny extending the invitation to her for some reason that probably had something to do with cowardice on his part, though she hasn’t come lately. But Martin’s still showing up on Danny’s doorstep at six precisely, still sitting on Danny’s counters and eating Danny’s apples.
He turns around, question on his lips – he’s not sure what it is, maybe to ask Martin to quit mangling the pepper – and Martin’s still looking at him.
Looking, really looking, blue eyes open and honest, relaxed like Martin hasn’t been caught staring. His tie is undone and his sleeves rolled up, hair sloppy after a long and frustrating day, loose and casual, which Martin almost never is.
Except, Danny realizes abruptly, when he’s here. And that has to mean something.
It doesn’t have to mean anything at all, could be his own selective perception, but Danny needs it to mean something. And he’s not sure if he’d ever have found the courage to do what he’s doing now – stepping closer, allowing Martin to take his wrist to pull him hard against the counter – if he hadn’t had that need, something he’s lived with for four years now, and wanting something this badly, for this long, makes him not care.
Can’t care, because Martin’s here, sigh that tastes of apples and satisfaction as he presses Danny’s mouth open.
Martin’s knees bracket Danny’s legs, barely brushing against his thighs as Martin hitches himself forward on the countertop, using his grip on Danny’s wrist as leverage. And then his fingers are in Danny’s hair, low where it’s gotten a bit long and brushes against his collar, the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. Earns a shiver that Danny can’t keep back and Martin laughs against his lips, low, little more than breath.
In the thousands of fantasies he’s had of this moment, he’s never really imagined how Martin kisses, too busy thinking about what would come next: pulling Martin’s clothes off, taking him to bed and keeping him there.
But this, this.
Methodical, like Martin always is – lips firm against his, thorough, not rushing things, kiss becoming deeper, something meaningful before Danny realizes it. And later – much later – he’ll wonder how he stumbled on courage enough to do this, how Martin had come to his own decisions about the two of them, but for now he can’t get past what this is like, kissing Martin, thoughts and sensations tangled together and disbelieving.
And there’s one other thing that sort of amazes him, though he doesn’t know why.
Martin’s mouth, he thinks, Martin’s mouth is warm.
-end-
*facepalm* This feels like it belongs to something longer. Dammit.
By: HF
Email: aesc36 @gmail.com
Pairing: D/M
Rating/Warnings: PG, nothing horrifying.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.
Advertisements: first kiss, domesticity. Coincidentally answers
wordclaim50 challenge #31, "first time," though it was written with other purposes in mind.Notes: Written mostly on the back of a take-out menu while waiting for pizza and trying to keep a nosy kid from looking over my shoulder. (Hope you learned a little something, kid. Love,
aesc.) For nekosmuse, on her birthday.OFF TIME
The first time Martin had come over for dinner, Danny had tried to persuade Martin into the living room with a glass of water and an order to find something on the TV. Martin had rematerialized in the kitchen a few minutes later, hoisting himself up on the countertop with the declaration that the news depressed him and the only shows on these days were crime dramas, which were also depressing and too much like work.
You probably have the case solved in, like, ten minutes, Danny had said.
Yeah, Martin had agreed, filching an apple from its bowl.
Get your ass off my countertop, Danny had told him, gesturing with a dish towel for emphasis.
Martin had looked at him blandly, taken a bite out of his apple and shrugged the command off, and Danny let it slide.
They had this dance the next ten times they’d eaten together, and by the eleventh – this one – Danny’s come to realize that it doesn’t matter how many times he tells Martin that counters aren’t for sitting on, Martin will always sit on them while Danny cooks. (And it’s always Danny who cooks and it’s always Martin who cleans.) Legs swinging meditatively and he’s tossing a red pepper from hand to hand, watching every move Danny makes, from refrigerator to sink to cutting board, back to the refrigerator again.
Most times Danny likes being looked at – likes it a bit too much for his own good, he knows, he always has – but he doesn’t really like it when people watch him cook. He’s never been able to explain it, either to the few people he’s had over at his apartment or to himself. But Martin, though... the pressure of his gaze is gentle, warm on Danny’s back, like Martin’s seeing more than movement.
The thought brings him up short.
Eleven evenings together, informal agreement to have something not takeout whenever they have off time and aren’t too exhausted. Sam had come a couple times, Danny extending the invitation to her for some reason that probably had something to do with cowardice on his part, though she hasn’t come lately. But Martin’s still showing up on Danny’s doorstep at six precisely, still sitting on Danny’s counters and eating Danny’s apples.
He turns around, question on his lips – he’s not sure what it is, maybe to ask Martin to quit mangling the pepper – and Martin’s still looking at him.
Looking, really looking, blue eyes open and honest, relaxed like Martin hasn’t been caught staring. His tie is undone and his sleeves rolled up, hair sloppy after a long and frustrating day, loose and casual, which Martin almost never is.
Except, Danny realizes abruptly, when he’s here. And that has to mean something.
It doesn’t have to mean anything at all, could be his own selective perception, but Danny needs it to mean something. And he’s not sure if he’d ever have found the courage to do what he’s doing now – stepping closer, allowing Martin to take his wrist to pull him hard against the counter – if he hadn’t had that need, something he’s lived with for four years now, and wanting something this badly, for this long, makes him not care.
Can’t care, because Martin’s here, sigh that tastes of apples and satisfaction as he presses Danny’s mouth open.
Martin’s knees bracket Danny’s legs, barely brushing against his thighs as Martin hitches himself forward on the countertop, using his grip on Danny’s wrist as leverage. And then his fingers are in Danny’s hair, low where it’s gotten a bit long and brushes against his collar, the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. Earns a shiver that Danny can’t keep back and Martin laughs against his lips, low, little more than breath.
In the thousands of fantasies he’s had of this moment, he’s never really imagined how Martin kisses, too busy thinking about what would come next: pulling Martin’s clothes off, taking him to bed and keeping him there.
But this, this.
Methodical, like Martin always is – lips firm against his, thorough, not rushing things, kiss becoming deeper, something meaningful before Danny realizes it. And later – much later – he’ll wonder how he stumbled on courage enough to do this, how Martin had come to his own decisions about the two of them, but for now he can’t get past what this is like, kissing Martin, thoughts and sensations tangled together and disbelieving.
And there’s one other thing that sort of amazes him, though he doesn’t know why.
Martin’s mouth, he thinks, Martin’s mouth is warm.
-end-
*facepalm* This feels like it belongs to something longer. Dammit.
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This is exactly how it should happen. Or would happen if the writers had an ounce of intelligence and would just open their eyes to see all the wonderful chemistry these characters have.
Anyway, I'm memorising this fic because it's short, sweet and beautiful.
I'm pretty sure
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And I'm thinking a 1.44MB floppy would be insufficient to the task of storing porn... I'm visualizing multiple 128MB flash drives *g*
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Thank you so, so much.
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their life together or building toward said life
When I was writing this, somewhere between issuing telepathic commands to the nosy little kid to leave me alone, it occurred to me that I have a lot invested in the two of them. Like, even if it's the alternate universe that lives in my head, they need to be happy because that makes me happy.
That probably also makes me crazy, but, eh, what can you do.
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Hate to go all cliché on you, but it's very *them*.
I love how you go into details, but do it subtly— never actually losing track of the bigger picture. (*feels she's making very little sense here*)
And then his fingers are in Danny’s hair, low where it’s gotten a bit long and brushes against his collar, the sensitive skin at the back of his neck.
This line? Love, for reasons I can't pinpoint.
Written mostly on the back of a take-out menu while waiting for pizza and trying to keep a nosy kid from looking over my shoulder.
Somehow, that sounds like fun.
ps. Mind if I friend you?
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I'm glad the fic stayed on track... I do tend to get distracted with the prettiness of details, especially when they involve pretty boys kissing and Doing Things :)
Somehow, that sounds like fun.
I was wondering what I would say if the kid asked me what I was writing. "Two hot male characters from a popular television crime drama kissing" was my personal favorite option.
Mind if I friend you?
Not at all! Welcome in :)
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Love the detail of the apples.
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And apples are good. Danny would agree with this.
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The imagery is the best part, Martin all rumpled and adorable, sitting on the counter and watching Danny. *squees*
Love. Love, love, love.
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Yes, well, it's the least I could do after you made me wibble all day yesterday with your Martin and Danny and sparring nonsense. *wibbles* Martin. Danny. Sparring. OMG. *faint*
Martin all rumpled and adorable, sitting on the counter and watching Danny. *squees*
Rumpled!Martin is a wonderful thing :D
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*p.s. Your new icon broke my heart*
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the way he relaxes in Danny's house.
I think for Martin that's a pretty big thing, trusting someone enough to let his guard down and be relaxed and careless. I could see him trying to do that with Sam and failing miserably (good thing, that...) because I think, when it came down to it, he didn't trust her to be there for him. Danny, though, is another story :)
*p.s. Your new icon broke my heart*
I have no idea why I used this particular one for this post, because it doesn't fit at all. Should change it *g*
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No, I arrived too late! I came here to tell you that it does fit the post, perfectly because of what you told me in your reply to my comment:
after everything that's happened to them, Martin's going to be a bit bolder
the event in your (previous) icon is extreme and, in my opinion, one of the few things that can make Martin so bolder as to take the initiative.
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I promised myself I wouldn't me moved to tears.
Damn it I promised.
Now I've gone and done it.
I've broken my promise. I swear you do this to me everytime.
Everytime.
I get some of the most life moving moments when I read your work. :sigh:
My heart gets all full up of that something that just makes me want to be as lucky as Danny and Martin.
Again, on another note here's a great big thank you...
I have not posted these at large yet you and Neko are the first to see them.
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And oooh... pretty. *licks*
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I suggest staging a CBS coup. We install you as chief WaT writer, and D/M (and the fangirls) will live happily ever after, as is meant to be.
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I suggest staging a CBS coup.
I definitely agree. There are enough of us; we can take 'em!
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eep, I hadn't thought of that!
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Also, I reeeeeally feel like an apple now. *grin*
Alsoalso, I agree with the 'staging a coup' idea. Because ferserious, Danny and Martin need to get very very homosexual as soon as humanly possible and just SNOG DAMMIT. *frustrated growl*
Alsoalsoalso, may I friend you? I always love reading your stuff.
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Also, I reeeeeally feel like an apple now.
I bet if Danny wasn't in the mood for apples before, he is now, too :D
Danny and Martin need to get very very homosexual as soon as humanly possible
And very very naked *nods*
Alsoalsoalso, may I friend you?
Of course! Welcome in :)
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*melts into a puddle* This fic is just utterly gorgeous. It's so sweet and warm. I can't help but smile when I read it. ♥
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<3
-And yep, I can see that this should continue.. since no, they can't just kiss lol..-
Re: <3
since no, they can't just kiss lol..-
Oh, I'm sure they're planning on doing a lot more than just kissing :D
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Sigh, if only, just for once, this scenario takes place in canon, I will be one happy fangirl. Anyway, thanks for dishing out such a lovely fic.
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Thanks so much for reading! Glad you liked i
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I loved the passion of a close encounter... on the countertop. absolutely sweet and kinky. Great drabble and great ideas.
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Countertop sex is indeed very hot. Especially spontaneous countertop sex.
Hm. There may be a sequel there :)
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M
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And thank you!