Thursday - Capers and Casefiles

[roguewords.livejournal.com]

For my last act, today we'll have capers and casefiles. If your fandom involves cases, capers or casefiles then feel free to leave your prompt!

Fandoms might include: Supernatural, Bones, House, NCIS, Leverage, Homicide: Life on the Street, Law & Order, or any other fandom that falls into these catergories.


Remember to help out the codemonkeys and code your prompts correctly.

Examples:
--NCIS, Abby/Tony, spending time in the lab
--Bones, Brennan/Booth, handcuffs


Feel free to answer any prompt, even your own.
If none of these promps catch your liking, feel free to take up one of the lonely prompts instead.

Comments

[roguewords.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Abby/Tony, spending time in the lab

[hawk-soaring.livejournal.com]

"You're spending a lot of time in the lab lately," Kate remarked as she passed by his desk in the morning.

"Going to the lab again?" Tim asked at lunchtime, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips.

Tony shook his head. He'd -- they'd been careful to keep it out of work. They'd taken pains not to talk about it, spend too much time together -- hell, they even took separate vehicles in so they wouldn't have to rely on the other if they happened to get caught working late.

But, in the end, it hadn't been enough. Tony should have been flattered that it had actually taken this long for his teammates to figure it all out. They were good investigators and it really was too close to home for them not to have figured it out. He sighed as the doors to the elevator closed, wondering if anything was going to be said about them working together now that they were in a relationship.

"Abby!" he called out as he stepped into the lab. "I think--"

"They know," Abby said as she stepped out from behind the partition. Gibbs stepped out a moment later and, really, there was nothing more to say.

Funny that Gibbs could find something, though. "Be good to her," he said quietly as he passed by and Tony was positive he could hear the "or else" in those words.

"I will Boss," he said as the door closed quietly.

[roguewords.livejournal.com]

Bones, Brennan/Booth, handcuffs

Bones, Brennan/Booth, handcuffs

[scoob2222.livejournal.com]

When she'd smiled and swung the handcuffs around her finger he's shook his head with a definite no. He loved Bones, but she had far too much control over him as it was, he wasn't giving up what little he had left and letting her tie him down.

Of course, when he tried to explain this, which was difficult considering his distaste at talking about sex (not his fault he was raised to find it shameful) she had rolled her eyes and thrown the cuffs at him.

"There not for you, Booth."

Before he could answer, hell before he even completely realized what she meant she'd stripped down to her birthday suit and laid herself out like a present.

A present just for him.

"Well, come on already," she urged, "if you don't start soon there's no way I'll have mulitple orgasms tonght."

He growled at the challenge and slid next to her, enjoying her happy gasp as he cuffed her to the headboard. She wiggled and said, "Come on Booth," once again.

He smirked and leaned down to softly kiss her stomach, "Bones, Bones, you're not really in any position to demand things. I just think I'll take my time here, and here," his mouth moved over her breasts, and though they were feather light touches she still threw back her head and groaned his name.

He spent what seemed like forever just like that, hand on one breasts, fingers pinching ever so lightly at her nipple, as his mouth moved over the other, never as firm as she craved, asked for, begged for.

"Booth!" she screamed, her body tight as a bow, arched back and desperate.

He smiled, decided he was keeping those handcuffs for a very long time and sliding one hand up between her legs, finally giving her what she wanted.

He barely touched her and she went off, screaming his name as she came.

Slowly, her eyes opened, blinking at him, her lips curving in a smile, "That's 1," she said, "Now, lets work on multiple."

Booth shook his head, even when he was in control he was never really in control.

And he wouldn't want it any differently.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

NCIS/Leverage, Abby Scuito/Eliot Spencer, surprise

[healingmirth]

Sometimes, when Abby comes home from work, he's waiting for her. The first time had been before she'd told him where she lived, which, okay, had been pretty hinky, but as soon as the burst of panic had passed, he'd looked so worn down that she had just wanted to hug him.

He is kind and steady, quietly competent; she thinks that Gibbs would like him. Not that she is ever, ever, ever going to tell Gibbs about the guy who shows up in her apartment, uninvited and unannounced.

Sometimes he has a meal waiting when she comes in. Sometimes he's passed out on the couch, or after he's sure he's welcome there, in her bed. More than once he's been standing at the kitchen sink patching up split knuckles or sewing up a knife wound, small, neat stitches pulled taut by a steady hand. It's taken all of her self-control to not run his prints, but he'd promised that nothing he does in his daily life would be a threat to her, and she wants to believe him; he'd sounded like he'd make it true, and again she'd thought that Gibbs would like him.

Abby's got a box of evidence stashed away with a note, anyway. That's just common sense.

Tonight, she hears the water running in the bathroom when she enters her apartment, and there's some sort of soup simmering on the stove, filling the room with an herby aroma that she can't untangle into its constituent scents.

She doesn't try to quiet her approach - she doubts that she could sneak up on him, and doubts that it would be a good idea to try. She doesn't own many outfits that she can strip out of silently, anyway. He turns his head towards her at the clank of her belt as it hits the tile, and he smiles as he opens his eyes. He greets her with an exaggerated, "Evenin', Miss Sciuto."

Abby grins back at him, and the rest of her clothes flutter or thud to the floor as she strips down to her underwear. The bathtub full of water aborts her customary pounce, but she bounces over to the edge of the tub and bends down to deposit a kiss on his cheek. She settles down on the bathmat and folds her arms on the edge of the tub and rests her chin on top. She starts to run a critical eye over his body for bruises or new scars, but then the warm, damp weight of his palm settles on the back of her neck, and he tugs her forward for a proper kiss hello.

Later, when they're both damp and flushed and curled around each other in the tub, his subtle drawl lengthens into what she recognizes as his storytelling voice. Recently his stories have been less Pulp Fiction and more Robin Hood, but they're still carefully anonymous, set in improbable locations with impossible casts of characters. It doesn't seem like he has to work as hard to find the joy in the retelling, and she's happy to let the words wash over her without having to worry so much.

[lilyleia78]

House, House/Wilson, a non-medical mystery

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

"So which one do you think took it?"

"Cuddy's always on my case, telling me I shouldn't take so much."

"Do you really think it's like her, though? To take your Vicodin? I think she'd be worried too much about liability to mess a patient's meds -- even if you're the patient."

"Maybe it was Chase. Eventually he had to find some way to strike back for all the crap I give him every day."

"But... the fact that he hasn't yet would sort of imply that he hasn't got the balls. And... I'd think he would start off small, not immediately go for the revenge option most likely to get him murdered."

"Cameron..."

"Couldn't stand to see you in pain."

"...Foreman?"

"...Really?"

"...Good point."

"..."

"So... who do you think would take my Vicodin?"

"I don't know. What do you think is the motive?"

"If it's not revenge... and it's not professional concern... maybe it's something else entirely..."

"Like what? And... House... what are you doing?"

"If you wanted to be sure I came by to see you before lunch, all you had to do was ask..."

"House! I did not want to..."

"Wilson."

"What?!"

"Shut up."

"House, seriously, I did not... mmph!"

"..."

"..."

"So... no more stealing my meds, 'kay?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Next time you want to make out... all you have to do is ask."

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

CSI:NY, Flack/Angell, hancuffs

[tejas.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/Tony, stake out

[hawk-soaring.livejournal.com]

"Pizza, Boss! I was talking about pizza," Tony gasped, his head lolling back against the headrest.

Gibbs' fingers were wrapped around Tony's hard cock, smoothing over the silky skin as he jacked him slowly. Tony's hands were fisted on the seat by his thighs, Gibbs' terse "don't touch" the only warning he'd get.

"Pizza?" Gibbs growled as he twisted his fist 'just so', making Tony see stars. And then Tony's hips were bucking up into Gibbs' strokes and he came with a low groan, his spend covering Gibbs' hand.

Tony turned his head, blinking his eyes lazily in the aftermath of his orgasm. "I always get antsy when I get hungry, Boss," Tony said with a smirk.

"In that case..." Jethro held up his come covered hand. Tony's eyes opened widely for a split second before his tongue reached out to lap at the fluid. "Get it all, Tony. This might be the only meal you get tonight."

"Yes, Boss," Tony said softly as he lapped at the proffered hand.

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

CSI/CSI:NY, Sofia/Flack, interrogation room

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, taking care of a wounded Eliot

Re: Taking care of a wounded Eliot, Leverage, Nate/Eliot

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Spoilers for 'The First David Job'


Eliot doesn’t like to admit it when he’s hurt, but Nathan knows, can see it when Eliot walks up to the car because they can’t go back to the office, not yet. They need a plan, and Nathan can’t concentrate when Eliot’s eyes aren’t tracking properly, when the other man has an arm wrapped protectively around his body and when Eliot can barely swing himself into the back seat without wincing.

He keeps his eyes on Eliot in the rear-view mirror when he lays out their plan after five minutes, because they have to move fast, don’t they, but Eliot’s fading in and out of awareness in the back seat, and Nathan catches the other man’s head lolling back against the headrest more than once.

Later, there’ll be time to take care of this – hopefully. If they make it out alive, and Nathan knows – hopes – that they will because even with a concussion and two broken ribs Eliot’s still a force to be reckoned with.

And then it is later, and they’ve spilt up and Nathan arrives at the little motel first, leaning against the bonnet of his car in the parking lot as the sun sinks and the others arrive one by one. They split up – Sophie and Parker in one room and Hardison in another because Nathan had glared them into silence even though Eliot huffed out a laugh. He thinks Alec’s in the girls’ room at the moment – hopes so, because he doesn’t want any of them alone. Not tonight.

Which is why he’s with Eliot, and stripping the younger man’s shirt off so slowly, swallowing his disgust when he sees the mess whoever-it-was made of Eliot’s chest and back, and that’s not even counting the split lip and the bruised cheekbone. There’s the first-aid kit from his car on the bed, and Nathan cleans and dresses the cuts and welts and bruises in silence that’s only broken by Eliot’s occasional pained gasp. He can’t even look Eliot in the eye because as much as he’d like to blame Sophie, he knows this is mostly his fault.

“Hey,” Eliot says, and turns his hand over when Nathan tries to get the bruised and split knuckles. He laces his fingers with Nathan’s, and Nathan realises his hands are shaking in Eliot’s hold. “Hey,” Eliot says again, and he lets go of one hand, reaching out and running his fingers through Nathan’s hair. He looks up at that, looks at Eliot and sees no blame and then the shaking’s spread through his whole body.

He goes to move back when Eliot slides off the edge of the bed to the floor with a pained hiss, but Eliot pulls him in close, wraps arms around him and Nathan holds himself stiffly, trying not to put any weight on Eliot’s just-wrapped ribs.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Eliot mutters in his ear, and Nathan wants to laugh at that because he’s supposed to be taking care of Eliot, not the other way around, but Eliot lifts his head up with two fingers under Nathan’s chin, and leans in for a kiss.

Later still, when they’re lying in bed and wrapped up in each other, Nathan lifts a hand in front of his face and realises it’s stopped shaking. He smiles slightly and rolls over to face Eliot, pulling the covers higher around them both.

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/NCIS, Dean/Tony, hangover

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

Dean's eyes snapped open and he regretted it immediately. His brain still felt like it was sloshing around in his skull from all the alcohol he consumed. His mouth felt like something had crawled in it and died.

That took all of five seconds. His hunter instinct went on high alert and made his stomach protest violently. His cheek was warm, pressed against skin and chest hair.

Sammy didn't have chest hair. His body was sleek, soft, and smooth. He wasn't in bed with his brother and that made his already upset stomach hit his toes. He was so screwed. Sammy wouldn't forgive him. If the role was reversed, he wouldn't forgive either.

But then again, Sam had been lying to him. Leaving for long periods and not confessing what he had been up to. Dean had been angry, lonely, and drunk.

Screwing his eyes shut, he remembered trying to start a bar brawl. Which brought up the image of soft green eyes and firm hands frog marching him from the bar.

Dean about jumped out of his skin when long fingers began carding through his hair. Dean lifted his head cautiously. Soft green eyes were wary.

"Good morning," the voice was husky and the smile was meant to be disarming.

His hangover kept him from scrambling from the bed. The guy seemed to understand. They moved away from each other, not facing each other as they sat on opposite sides of the bed.

"Tony."

Dean flinched but he owed the guy that much, "Dean."

Dean watched as the man made his way to the bathroom, lean muscles and golden skin. He turned back with a sardonic twist to his full lips, "No harm, no foul."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. Sam was going to kill him.

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

CSI/Supernatural, Dean/Sofia, Q&A

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

"You have quite the rap sheet, Mr. Winchester," She said.

Dean gave her a smarmy grin as he tried to capture all the details, strange accent he couldn't place, long blonde hair, and a ball busting attitude. He wouldn't be talking his way out of this one.

"Look, it's not what you think..."

"I'm asking the questions here, Mr. Winchester." She said firmly.

"Oh goody," He muttered, "I'm always up for a game of Q & A."

"Where is your brother?"

"Long gone by now."

"Why are you in Las Vegas?"

"Heard I had chance the Texas Hold Em finals."

She sat back and folded her hands. "How long have you been a hunter?"

Dean stared back at her. Now that was more interesting.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Leverage, dom!Nate/Eliot, wrapping broken ribs

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

It shouldn't surprise him, how different these gasps are from the ones he himself pulls from Eliot. It shouldn't, but it does, and for that he's glad. It means that the man in his arms is still his Eliot, not...

Well, he won't go there at the moment, will he? Not when he is out there, somewhere, hunting for the one that did this.

He has to wrap the smaller man's midsection tightly, make sure there's no real wiggle room. He does his best, taking directions that fall from gritted teeth. The beloved blue eyes are focused on a pencil drawing on the wall as Nate finishes, and the relief is evident in every line of his body when Nate helps him lay back on their bed. The tan ace bandage contrasts sharply with Eliot's skin and the sight makes pure venom surge in Nathan's blood.

He sits on the side of the bed, leaning over to kiss Eliot's forehead softly, looking into exhausted blue eyes.

"Nate," Eliot murmurs, eyes already drifting shut. "Shhhh," Nathan whispers. "Sleep Eliot..." My Eliot, his mind whispers as his eyes linger over muscles darkened with bruises.

Parker will be coming by later, to check on Eliot. He'd asked the thief to watch over him tonight, because he promised to come back for him...

And together, they would teach Jim Sterling a lesson via one of his little...pests. Nathan found himself grinning at the prospect, and nobody was awake to see the madness steal over him as his protective nature began to take hold...

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

Leverage/NCIS, Alec/McGee, Geek Power

okay, so I might have just caught up on both Leverage and NCIS

[amato.livejournal.com]

Tony thinks there’s something wrong with the fact that McGee is so happy talking geek to some guy he’s never met. He’s quietly impressed that probie has any friends at all let alone ones Tony has yet to meet. Okay so he might have got a reputation for giving them all a hard time but someone’s got to look out for McGeek because he’s clearly not capable of doing it by himself.

Tony thinks nothing of it until he catches a look exchanged by his colleague and the guy he now knows is called Alec. Now he knows there’s definitely something wrong with it because there is no way McGee is getting laid and he isn’t, it is just not possible. There has got to be some world ending rule against that sort of thing.

Tony doesn’t like the way they’re looking at the computer screen and smiling at each other. Alec’s hand comes to rest on the back of McGee’s chair as the other points at something. “Hey boss, Alec’s found something that could help us.”

Tony scowled, oh no, there was no way McGee just went there. Apparently the newest agent had because Gibbs was moving towards the plasma whilst Alec was commandeering McGee’s computer. Today was officially the worst day ever!

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

CSI:NY/Criminal Minds, Flack/Emily, crossing lines

[lorilann.livejournal.com]

Law & Order: CI, Eames/Goren, lost

[noxnoctisanima.livejournal.com]

They were lost.

Not just a little lost but completely and utterly unable to find their way.

Eames rested her head in her hands and huffed out a frustrated breath.

They'd chased a suspect into the tunnels underneath New York, which is where their problem now lay. The suspect knew his way around, they did not and now they were lost in the hundreds of miles of tunnels that ran underneath the city.

Goren didn't seem to worried, in fact he was more interested in the mushroom that was growing out of a crack in the tunnel wall.

"Is that helping us get out of here?"

"No, but this is a very unusual fungi to find this far underground."

Eames sighed and turned, assuming Goren would follow and started walking back the way they had came.

If he wasn't going to help get them out of here, she'd do it herself.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

NCIS/RPS, Abby Scuito/Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, in the interrogation room

Ohhhhhhhhhhh you!

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

*brain goes pop*

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

SGA/Leverage, Vegas!John/Alec Hardison, a unnamed source

[lorilann.livejournal.com]

Psych, Shawn/Gus, pineapple rings

FIc:Psych, Shawn/Gus, pineapple rings; G

[aravistarkheena.livejournal.com]

Prompt:Psych, Shawn/Gus, pineapple rings
Rating: G
Warnings: None.


“Shawn, what is this?” Gus asked primly, gesturing to the stack of papers on his desk.

Shawn glanced up from his game of solitaire to see where Gus was pointing.
“Looks like your billing reports,” he answered absently.

“Yes Shawn, I know they’re billing reports. What’s this on my billing reports,” Gus shot back.

Shawn got up from his desk and walked over to Gus’, gazing down at the pile of papers with an intent look on his face.

“It looks like,” he began before leaning over and sniffing at the substance on his papers, “smells like and, in fact is a week old pineapple ring,” Shawn informed him before walking off to finish his game of solitaire.

“How did it get on my desk, Shawn?” Gus asked accusatorily.

Shawn looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds like a case you’ll have to solve for yourself,” he said and went back to his game.

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Alec/Elliot, lessons

Leverage, Alec/Elliot, lessons

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

_{I just started watching and totally fell in love. I hope this is okay!}

Elliot's sure he's supposed to be paying attention to what Alec's saying, or maybe to what he's doing on the computer screen. Looks complicated, even though Alec keeps saying over and over again that it's simple once you get the hang of it. Fuckin' liar. As if focusing on this little lesson isn't hard enough, Elliot's having to combat against the distraction of Alec leaning down over him, covering his hand on the mouse, speaking nice and low in his ear.

"Hey, Elliot," Alec says. "Have you just heard a word I just said?"

"Maybe a couple," Elliot breathes. He turns his head a little to the side and the movement is enough to make Alec's lips brush against his cheek. He feels them curve into a smile. "Didn't miss anything important, did I?"

"It's easy, I swear it is."

"Why do I have to learn it when I've got you around to do it for me?" Elliot smiles; he's still getting used to that, to them. Having someone around for him, it's not something he's had for a long while. "I can think of a couple of things I'd rather be doing."

Alec's smile is more pronounced now, unavoidable, and when Elliot grabs his wrist and gently tugs him around until he's straddled over Elliot's lap on the computer chair in their office he doesn't resist for a second. Their lips brush, barely touching – not yet. "Bet I got a thing or two I could teach you too," Elliot murmurs, his thumbs sneaking under Alec's clothes to stroke the bare skin of his hipbones.

Alec's hands thread through Elliot's hair, pushing it back from his face. "Now there's a lesson we're both gonna pay attention to," Alec says – before Elliot takes the opportunity to shut him up by pressing their mouths firmly together and stealing every ounce of Alec's attention away from the computer program he'd been teaching him to use.

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Alec/Parker, "let us never speak of this again"

i think it's time to find a leverage icon

[liselisa.livejournal.com]

(This is my first time, so sorry if I did anything wrong. I checked the mod posts, but if I missed anything, it's ignorance, not maliciousness, that caused the problem!!)

The kiss, well, the kiss could have been part of their cover. It's not like Parker hasn't done it before, pushed any one of them up against a wall, pulled Sophie behind a door, or just tackled Eliot to the ground. And no matter how many times Nate explains to her that it's not strictly necessary to shove her tongue down their throats...well, the girl's twisted. And crazy. Yeah, the girl's crazy twisted.

But Alec isn't complaining when the tongue exploring his mouth is quickly followed by a hand down his pants. The girl's got some skilled fingers, and Alec's starting to appreciate that they can do more than just lift what they need from the current week's mark. He's moaning into her mouth, and two flicks of her wrist later, coming over her hand.

Parker brings the hand to her mouth and licks it clean, giggling into her palm. When Alec opens his mouth to stammer unintelligibly, she leans in to nuzzle up his jaw.

“Let us never speak of this again,” she whispers into his ear, then pulls back and puts a finger across her lips.

Alec nods mutely, and she smiles at him, that crazy smile like the universe has made a joke that only she understands. He can't help asking, “But we're going to do it again, right?”

[tejas.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/Tony, "Boat. Bourbon. Basement. I get it."

[hawk-soaring.livejournal.com]

"I get it, Boss."

Gibbs looked up from where he was sanding the boat, the slow rhythmic movements soothing away the stress of the day. His senior agent was seated about half-way up the steps, his bottle of bourbon in one hand, a mug in the other. As Jethro watched, Tony poured a good amount of the liquor into the mug, lifted it in a mock salute and then took a healthy drink. He saw the slight wince that crossed Tony's face as the alcohol hit the back of his throat and smiled slightly. He knew that delicious burn, could almost taste it himself.

And then Tony was at his elbow, offering up his own mug. Jethro took it with a small sigh and tipped the cup to his lips. "Thanks Tony," he said, lifting the cup in Tony's direction. When he was finished, he picked up a second piece of sandpaper and handed it to Tony. "Long, even strokes," he said as he began sanding again.

Tony nodded and began to sand the boat, losing himself in the rhythm quickly. "I really do get it now, Boss."

"Get what, Tony?" Jethro asked.

"Boat, bourbon, basement. I get it now."

Jethro smiled. It had been a hell of a day and Tony had taken the brunt of the verbal abuse doled out by the victim's family. It wasn't easy taking the abuse some people could hand out and these people had poured it on -- venom dripping from every word. Tony had taken it all; the abuse, the blame for allowing their daughter to get killed, everything. And, when it was all over, he'd walked away, head held high.

Jethro had found him much later, curled into a ball on his sofa, his eyes empty and lost. And he'd bundled him up, packed a quick bag, and ushered Tony to his car. The drive had been silent as had the two hours since then. It had taken a while for him to get it, but the tension was already rolling off Tony. With each pass of the sandpaper, Jethro could see Tony's shoulders relax just that much more. He smiled. It was a simple formula really. Maybe he should patent it: boat, bourbon, basement -- repeat as necessary.

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Hardison/Eliot/Nate, What Would Hardison Do?

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Sophie/Parker, freefall

[havenward.livejournal.com]

She never would have done this before.

Sophie throws her arms wide, wind whipping around her this many stories up and god. Finally she understands what Parker's always trying to tell her, trying to get across with broken words and phrases like children's riddles. Freedom in the tight confines of a harness, clothes skin tight, and it's like making love to the sky.

The sentiment is complete as Parker tackles her, carrying over the side of the building, over the edge entirely. She's mad, Sophie realizes, but she's alive and beautiful and somehow grinding their bodies together as they fall, and they come with the wind.

[gaffsie.livejournal.com]

Due South, Fraser/Kowalski, on the trail

[healingmirth]

"I’m telling you, Fraser, I got a guaranteed-"

"Ray."

"-reliable source. He wouldn’t’a lied to me-"

"Ray."

"Okay, he might'a lied. I was a-"

"Ray."

"-little…overly persuasive, I’ll admit, but-"

"Ray."

"Why would he lie about-"

"Ray."

"-that? What’s he got to gain?"

"Ray!"

They’re traveling slowly enough that Benton is certain that Ray can hear him over the wind, and over the piercingly loud yips that no amount of stern talking from either himself or Diefenbaker can get Daley to stop making. So, it likely just remains for Ray to get this latest monologue out of his system, but that does not mean that Benton will cease trying to derail him.

"Just think, Fraser: Pizza. Real, live pizza! With crust and sauce and cheese! And a cabin! With a bed!" Ray rocks a bit in his enthusiasm, and there's a sort of dance as Benton balances his weight on the runners.

"Yes, Ray, and maybe hot water if we're lucky." He pauses, but plows on now that he's committed to the conversation. "Ray," he says, again, and continues his gentle interruption, "I just worry that your expectations are too high. The town is quite primitive by Chicago standards, and it is likely that at this point in the year they’re subsisting primarily off wild game and canned or dried goods." That is nothing less than the truth, and loathe as he is to witness Ray’s inevitable disappointment, Benton has to suppress a delicious shiver at the thought of what consoling or distracting Ray might entail, particularly in a room well-heated enough to expose more than a few inches of skin at a time. "The 'Pizza Parlour' is surely a noteworthy novelty, and an important local gathering-place, but you have to understand about these towns. Did I ever tell you of the time when the first restaurant opened in…"

"No, you didn’t, and you're not gonna, either. You are not going to ruin my happy pizza thoughts with a depressing story." Ray turns and settles back into the sled, and continues his anticipatory ramblings sotto voce

***

True to (Benton's) expectations, the Pizza Parlour creates its own peculiar version of the food, featuring choices that Benton suspects are meant to compensate for the dubious charms of previously-frozen mozzarella.

However, Ray seems to have escaped the pizza snobbery so prevalent in Chicago, and he spends the evening heaping praise on the proprietors. He is practically giddy by the time that he and Benton retire to their borrowed cabin. Benton, adaptable as always, has rewritten his plans from consolatory to celebratory, and once again marvels at his good fortune as he takes in the joy sparkling in Ray's eyes.


Eating pizza in company is a wholly different experience than alone Ray's apartment, and it was only by concerted effort that Benton kept his hands on his side of the table rather than thumbing a drop of sauce off Ray's chin. He'd had a horrifying reaction followed by a deep blush when he imagined Ray's fingers glistening with something other than grease from the pizza. Now, alone, he's free to run his hands over Ray's body, or he would be, if Ray would hold still long enough to be touched properly. After agonizing moments of Ray dancing around him, still babbling about the pizza, and the bed and the warmth, Benton's reserves of self-restraint finally run out, and he grabs Ray. intending to still him, but finds Ray's momentum merely redirected as they tumble back onto the bed.

When Ray has him pinned, he grins, beginning a slow grind that is far more pleasurable when there are fewer than 8 layers between them. "This," he whispers, close to Benton's ear, "was the best idea ever," and its unclear whether he's referring to the trip or the pizza or the cabin or the sexual intimacy. Benton just groans and surrenders himself. It was Ray's plan, after all.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Angel, Doyle/Angel, suspicion

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Angel's been acting strangely for days.

He's ordinarily withdrawn and broody and quiet, but lately he's been more distant and irritable than ever. He's been taking off at odd hours with no explanation, and evasive when Doyle asks him what he's been working on, exactly.

They're alone in Angel's apartment, Angel pouring his blood from the container in the fridge and Doyle standing near the counter with a beer in his hand, when Doyle finally works up the nerve to broach the topic.

"What's up with you lately, man? You haven't exactly been yourself."

Angel turns to face him, and Doyle's mouth feels dry at the strange, cold smile on the vampire's lips. He can feel his heartbeat begin to race; judging by the slight widening of Angel's smile, he's aware of it as well.

When Angel begins slowly advancing -- like a cat that's already broken the mouse's back, and knows that there's no need to rush -- Doyle instinctively presses back against the counter, his hands trembling as he sets the beer down beside him. Instinct dictates that he needs his hands free in the face of this threat -- not that they'll do him much good.

"What's the matter, Doyle?" Angel asks in a soft, subtly taunting voice. "You seem uneasy."

"No," Doyle lies, edging away along the counter. "No, that's not it, I just... I'm curious. But... I don't necessarily need to know... I just..."

Angel moves with frightening speed, a large hand braced on the counter blocking Doyle's retreat. He's so close now that Doyle can feel the brush of Angel's clothes against his own, can feel the soft breath of cool air exhaled with Angel's next words.

"You're not... scared of me, are you, Doyle?"

"No," Doyle insists, his voice trembling as Angel's face changes and he closes in tighter, one hand tangling in the smaller demon's hair and pulling his head back. "No, no, I'm... I'm not..."

"Don't you trust me?" Angel whispers. "Be honest, now, boy..."

He's slipped back into a hint of his old Irish brogue, and his vampiric face has risen to the fore. Doyle knows that that can't be a good sign. He swallows hard, hesitating before shaking his head slightly.

Angel -- Angelus? -- already knows the truth, anyway.

"No," he whispers, bracing himself for the consequences of his admission. "I don't."

Angel's hands tighten on him for just a moment longer before Doyle finds himself abruptly released. He opens his eyes to see Angel's human face looking at him through solemn, dark eyes.

"Good," he replies flatly. "You shouldn't."

Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving Doyle to his own troubled thoughts.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Chuck, Casey/Chuck, cloud

[daria234.livejournal.com]

"We need you to work on the cloud computing case, Chuck."

"No."

"What?"

"What do I get out of it, Casey?"

"You get the honor of serving your --"

"What's that, Casey? I get the honor of serving you? Of doing every thing you ask with no reciprocation?"

"Don't push it Bartowkski, this is a really bad day. Get with it, or I'll smack you into a whole new world of NerdHurt."

"Could be fun if you do it right."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Later that night, Casey asked, "Hey, what you said earlier -"

"Just throwing it out there, Casey, it's cool either way," Chuck assured him as they snuck into the giant freezer of the Orange Orange.

"It'd be something new to try," Casey admitted. Chuck smiled as he knelt on the frozen floor in front of Casey.

"There's the Casey I know and love - not afraid of anything." Chuck opened Casey's pants and gave the underside of Casey's dick a short lick. When Chuck exhaled into the icy air, Casey could see the condensation from his breath billow upwards, surrounding Casey's erection with a cloud of anticipation.