Tuesday - Schmoop

[weesta.livejournal.com]

So many great prompts were left yesterday for the "Music & Lyrics" theme! I hope today's theme has an equally great response.

Tuesday's theme : SCHMOOP

You know you love it! Hit me with your hand holding, poetry writing, massage giving, sweet-talking, first kissing, snuggling, cuddling, so-sweet-my-teeth-hurt prompts!

Please be kind to the Code Monkeys and remember the posting format: Your Fandom or Crossover, Your Pairing, "Your prompt". One prompt per comment.

Examples:

Leverage, Parker/Hardison, be my Valentine

RPS, Jeff/Jensen, breakfast in bed

More than one writer can respond to a prompt. You may leave more than one prompt, and you can answer your own prompts. And, if today's prompts are not up your alley, check out the Lonely Prompts and take one home!

Comments

[weesta.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Parker/Hardison, be my Valentine

[flariariia.livejournal.com]

It figures that Hardison fails the romantic by giving it the geeky twist. A 'Be My Valentine' -virus spreading through every electronic she manages to be close to does not impress Parker. She pouts her lips at him and turns away when she sees Hardison's puppy dog eyes.

It figures that Parker fails to appreciate the classic romance too. How where you supposed to make a living of crawling through tight spaces if you liked sweets? And the flowers made her remember something of her childhood, explained only by the comment, "I lost my second bunny because of flowers." So Hardison is left in despair as she drops the flowers in the bin as she walks out.

"You do remember she only likes money, right?" Eliot comments as he passes by.

"You can't give a girl money!" Hardison protests. "That's just wrong!"

"And she's not quite right in the head," says Eliot and walks away.

It figures that they end up curling up on top of a stack of fresh paper bills. Getting into the vault of the National Treasury for Valentine's Day had been a somewhat tricky matter to orchestrate all by himself, but Hardison did manage it. And he knew it was worth it when Parker actually purrs as she stretches herself luxuriantly, before resting on his chest again.


(Oh dear lord, I am tempted to write a sequel about "You do realize how you'll get to third base, right?")

[weesta.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jeff/Jensen, breakfast in bed

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Jensen slides out of bed, fishing for his glasses first so that he can find something like pants. Jeff grumbles something about morning and too early and not getting out of bed for a week before he rolls over, groaning before slipping back into sleep.

Jensen chuckles because it's Jeff's own fault if he's tired. He's the one that kept Jensen up all hours with his teasing and the things he could do with his tongue.

It had been just what Jensen needed. It always was. jeff never, ever failed in that regard. Jensen grabbed at his script when he got to the living room, taking it with him into the kitchen to make coffee.

But there in the kitchen he got other ideas. There are croissants on the counter, and a bowl of fruit. He makes the coffee, turns on the oven to warm the croissants and digs out the tray he knows Jeff has, because Jeff has served him breakfast in bed before.

He gets the tray all set, pours the coffee into a carafe, two cups on the side, hot croissants, butter, fruit...and an idea in his head.

Jeff's still gone when he gets upstairs, setting the tray on his side of the bed while he goes looking for what he needs. Instead of the cuffs he'd been thinking of, he finds that silk scarf of Jared's and grin.

Jeff doesn't move when Jensen lifts his right hand, kissing up the arm and easing his wrist toward the headboard. He shifts a little when Jensen works on the left arm...but Jensen has the scarf tied around his wrists and through the headboard before Jeff opens his eyes.

There's curiosity there in his eyes, a bemused smile on his face. Jensen grins at him and reaches for the tray, a warm, buttery croissant lifting to Jeff's mouth. "Morning."

Butter drips down onto his chest and Jensen doesn't hesitate, just follows it, licking him clean, before licking over a hardening nipple and sitting back. "Hungry?"

Jeff's answer is a growl and his cock hard under Jensen's own.

[discodiva76.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG-1, Jack/Daniel, "Happy Anniversary baby!"

Happy Anniversary, baby.

[lilyleia78]

Exactly one year ago today, Daniel had woken up alone in Sam's guestroom. At the last minute, Jack had decided that he did believe in the 'it's bad luck to see the bride...groom...whatever before the wedding' thing, even though they swore they weren't falling for any of those wedding cliches. So instead of lazy morning sex and a leisurely breakfast, the 'happiest day of his life' was marked by nerves and nausea. The fact that everything was right with his world the minute he saw Jack again didn't change the fact that the morning sucked.

Waking up with an armful of Jack, warm and naked with the inviting curve of his ass pressed tightly against Daniel's morning erection, was a vast improvement. Daniel shifted his hips to line himself up with the crack of Jack's gorgeous backside and nosed behind the other man's ear.

"Morning," Jack muttered blearily.

Daniel responded by gently rocking his hips, eliciting a contented sigh from his lover. Jack pushed back lazily, grabbing Daniel's hand and placing it on his own growing cock. Daniel complied happily, wrapping his fingers around Jack, not stroking, not yet, just enjoying the heft and the weight of it in his hand before whispering back, "Happy Anniversary, baby."

[lori-leaf.livejournal.com]

RPS, exhausted!Jensen/protective!Jared, "just shut up and sleep"

[weesta.livejournal.com]

*squee* I love it already!

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, spooning in bed

Spooning in bed, Being Human, George/Mitchell

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

They don’t sleep in the same bed often – Mitchell’s too afraid of being unable to control himself in his sleep and George hogs the covers, bunching them up around him like he’s building some kind of bizarre nest.

The night after George changes, though, he’ll always be curled up in Mitchell’s bed when the vampire finally goes upstairs – still awake, eyes open and glittering in the dim light. It’s almost like he expects to be ordered out, even after all this time.

Mitchell always, without fail, stands and looks down at the other man for a minute (because, at that particular moment, they’re just men – no vampires, no werewolves, just…them) before he strips off his T-shirt slowly, then unbuckles his belt and pushes his trousers off. He crawls in next to George in his boxers and they lie there like that, facing each other, until George’s eyes start to close and he turns over and away from Mitchell.

But Mitchell knows what he’s expected to do. He’ll crowd up behind George, pillowing his head on one arm while the other drapes over George, pulling them close together until they’re touching from shoulder to foot. George will sigh in contentment or tiredness – Mitchell has never managed to figure out which – and then his breathing will even out slowly until he’s asleep.

Mitchell stays awake for a while after that, though. He rests his forehead against the nape of George’s neck and breathes in the curious mix of tea and woods that makes up George’s scent, and he’ll tighten his arm around George and press his lips to the skin of George’s shoulder and then, finally, Mitchell can sleep.

He doesn't dream on those nights.

In the morning, George will be gone from his bed, but for that one night a month Mitchell gets to have this. It shouldn’t work, but it does for them, like every other contradiction in their lives.


Edited for being a div *headdesk*

[red-handed.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Sam, Dean's birthday

SPN, Sam/Dean

[neierathima.livejournal.com]

When January starts to creep up on them, Dean jokingly bitches to Sam that he better do something really damn good for his birthday. But with Castiel and Ruby and all the shit going down, Dean honestly isn't expecting too much.

So when Dean wakes up and sees a whole pie (cherry, by the smell) and a few wrapped presents sitting on the table in the shitty little hotel room, it takes him a minutes to figure out what's going on.

"Sammy, what the hell?"

Sam emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, toweling his hair off.

"Dean?"

Dean indicates the spread by tugging on the red bow tied to one of the packages.

"What's all this?"

"It's your birthday Dean."

"Huh. Well, pie."

He's going to cut into the pie, but Sam rushes over to stop him, pulling something from his bag along the way. It's a birthday candle, just one, and Sam carefully places it in the center of the pie.

"Uh, Sammy, I don't know if you've noticed, but I've had a few more birthday's than that."

Sam turns to him with his very best c'mon-Dean-please puppy dog eyes.

"No. Those other ones don't count. We've done so much stupid shit to each other in the past. It's not gonna be like that anymore. I got you back from hell Dean, and I'm not letting you go again, ok? This is our first birthday, you and me."

Dean looks away briefly, eyes twitching. It's dusty in the room, alright? "Dude. No chick flick moments."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Are you gonna open your presents or not?"

Dean steps around the table, hands going towards Sam's belt. "Oh hell yeah."

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Claire/Monica, first time

based on a ficbunny left over from last night's ep.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

After Claire had mastered the kick, Monica decided to give her a break. She tossed the girl a water and let her catch her breath.

"I'm going to get this," Claire said, breathing heavily. "And nobody's going to get to me, ever again."

Monica laughed softly. "Then, baby, you know something I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

Walking over to stand toe to toe with her, Monica gave a sad little sigh and brushed away a strand of the sweat-drenched blonde hair with a finger. "I haven't figured that out yet. How to stop folks getting to me."

Claire stared at her incredulously. "But you're St. Joan. Who gets to you?"

Monica leaned in and kissed her.

"You do," she said.

sorry, no porn

[elebridith]

Angel the Series, Spike/Lindsey, "you wrote that poem for me?"

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Spike is a bit sore when he gets back to his place, and a bit pissed. Angel as the head of Wolfram & Hart is even more of a prick than Angelus, and he really hadn't realized that was possible. He's looking forward to a little video game violence (he's had enough of the real stuff at the office today, ta very much) and maybe later on convincing Lindsey they both need a nice long, hot shower.

He freezes mid-step when he sees Lindsey's already inside. He hadn't ever quite gotten used to it before, when he was just the bloke with the visions and a bit of an ass. But now it's the way Lindsey does it as though he seems to think he belongs there.

Not that he belongs just there. Not next to Spike's haphazard desk littered with paperwork from the office and, more importantly, his writing. He'd learned the hard way to keep that to himself. But there Lindsey is anyway, a piece of parchment in hand that's covered in his loopy scrawl.

"Did you write this for me?" Lindsey asks before looking up at him. Spike hesitates, trying to find any trace of a reaction in his face, but the man's expression is unreadable.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he says instead. He busies himself with closing the door and taking off his coat, throwing it over a chair.

"You did, didn't you," Lindsey says. His voice is strangely soft, and when Spike looks over at him again, he doesn't find the smug amusement he was expecting. He's seen that look in his eyes before, but only briefly before it was buried again under sarcasm and humor.

And then Lindsey is crossing the room, parchment forgotten and fluttering to the floor as he presses himself against Spike. One hand curls around his waist and the other cups his face before he kisses him, giving everything in that look like a promise.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, a hot bath

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, a hot bath

[yoruichiyoshi12.livejournal.com]

From a window high above, Merlin watched Arthur train for hours, drilling the same move over and over again. He had to admit that the prince was truly dedicated, but it was getting dark and cold, and if Arthur stayed out any longer, he was sure to get sick. Not that Arthur had agreed with him, and thus had sent his servant away with a glare and a few choice biting words—nothing Merlin wasn't used to.

Now, however, it was starting to rain, and the prince remained unaware even after Merlin had waited a good five minutes to see if the blond knight would notice.

It took several minutes along with the help of Morgana and Gwen before Merlin could even get Arthur to put down his sword. Thankfully, there were no other protests from the prince as Merlin removed his clothing and helped him into the bath (kept steaming hot thanks to a bit of magic).

“I'll be outside if you need—“

“Stay. Wash my back.”

“Yes, sire.”

Merlin rolled up his sleeves, picked up the soap and wash cloth, and did as he was ordered. “I've never been asked to wash the royal back before, I'm honored.”

Although he couldn't see it, Merlin could hear the tired smirk in Arthur's reply. “Consider this your first promotion.”

“Does this promotion include a pay raise?”

“No.”

“Ah, I didn't think so.”

“But keep up the good work.”

“A compliment. Thank you.” He fell silent as he rinsed the soap from Arthur's back, but the quiet didn't last for long. “Why did you ask me to wash your back?”

“Honestly? I can hardly lift my arms, they've gotten a little stiff.” Arthur sighed and relaxed against the back of the tub.

“A good hot soak will do you well then. Close you're eyes, I'll wash your hair.”

For once, Arthur didn't argue, and Merlin gently massaged the prince's soapy head, his long fingers soothing the other to sleep.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Lost, Daniel/Juliet, holding hands

Comfort

[neshel.livejournal.com]

He clutched reflexively at his notebook with his free hand as he wrote frantically with his other. He couldn't count on Desmond, or Locke, or anyone else. He'd never really trusted anything but numbers before anyway, but now - after Charlotte - he didn't have time, couldn't place hope on others. He had to find them another way out of this, he had to.

Warmth enveloped his twitching fingers, and Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin in shock.

"Juliet?" He couldn't make out the expression on her face; never had been good with people.

Gently, soothingly, she pried his fingers free, sliding her hand into his grip instead. Warm, soft, comforting in that too-personal sort of way he had never gotten used to.

"You'll never figure it out if you don't get some rest." Juliet told him with the air of one who knows, who has spent too many late nights driving at a problem seemingly without a solution. "We know you're doing your best. She knew that too."

"I-" He started to speak, but trailed off when he realized that he didn't know what to say.

"Rest," she insisted.

Then she was gone; but the warmth remained.

--

My first Lost fic! I’m incapable of fluff or porn right now, sorry.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Chuck, Casey/Chuck, flowers

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Chuck looked up and blinked. Stared.

Casey stood there, bouquet of flowers in hand, and judging by the expression on his face he would have rather been holding a live grenade, but Chuck felt warmth blossom in his chest. He'd been kidding - mostly - last night during his bitch-fest with Sara about how no one ever brought him flowers, and once in a while a guy liked a good old-fashioned romance as much as the next girl, but Casey had listened.

So Chuck checked left, checked right (like Sara had taught him), vaulted over the Nerd Herd desk, and pulled Casey into a kiss.

If the flowers got a little smashed, well, it was a damn good kiss.

[bookaddict43.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Jayne/Kaylee, bunk

[bookaddict43.livejournal.com]

Chuck, Casey/Sarah, hair ties

[draco-somnians.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG1, Sam/Vala, a single red rose

[mornincamper.livejournal.com]

"I just don't get it." Vala has one arm across her chest, supporting the elbow of the other arm, as she twirls the flower (rather disdainfully, Sam thinks) over her shoulder.

"Well, what's not to get? It's a flower. It smells good, people, usually like them."

"We-ll, if they like them so much, why do they chop them up, effectively killing them, and while I admit the color is appealing - I wonder if I could wear that, oh of course *I* could wear it - I'm afraid I can't smell anything at all." Throughout this question, including self focused asides, Vala had been gesturing with said flower in Sam's direction, and to make her final point, tapped it's lovely bloom right against Sam's nose.

Sam inhaled the rich fragrance, her eyes closing momentarily. She opened them to see Vala had moved into her space, and with her head tilted was now gently tracing Sam's jawline with the rose - observing her reactions.

Sam cleared her throat. "Um, smells great to me, you clearly have a cold or something, I'll just..." attempting to back up from the onslaught of a determined Vala, she met wall. And Vala smiled one of her slow, simmering, cheeky smiles then leaned way into Sam's space, to breathe in the flower which she had placed against Sam's neck -deeply. After a long, satisfying sample she pulled back slightly, to enjoy Sam's shivered reaction.

"And clearly you've forgotten to whom you were presenting this single, red, rose..." Vala emphasized each word with another stroke of the flower across Sam's skin. "Did you think I would've spent more than 24 hours on this planet without learning every word of your 'language of love'?"

"Oh." Clearly Sam was in serious trouble now. Brilliant and well trained and reduced to mono-syllabic responses. The rose fell across her lips before she could elaborate.

"I've also been informed, recently, through no fault of my own I might add, that people often speak most loudly when they say very little...or something like that, I wasn't really paying attention but as I was saying, or rather as you weren't..." Vala's monologue trailed off as she replaced the rose with her own lips, and traced the path it had taken, from lips to jaw to neck, where she again inhaled deeply.
"Thank you, Sam, for the gesture, but I find your scent and texture much more appealing." She pulled back to enjoy the other woman's stunned, and aroused expression.

"Now, do you think I can find shoes in this color?"

[draco-somnians.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG1, Sam/Teal'c, a tub of ice cream and only one spoon. :)

[fyere.livejournal.com]

(Heehee, what a cute prompt - I couldn't resist it.)

*

"Chocolate chip cookie dough? Or vanilla?"

"Is there any Rocky Road?"

Teal'c rummaged through the industrial freezer. "There is not. I believe the carton from General Landry's birthday celebration was the last."

"Darn." Sam, perched on the galley counter, kicked her feet a bit and tapped the back of the spoon against her chin. She didn't really want to waste any power, no matter now little, creating a new tub of her preferred ice cream flavor - the matter replicator was supposed to be for urgent needs, like Teal'c's tretonin, though they'd eventually have to start resorting to it when they ran out of fresh food.

Ice cream was ice cream, no matter the flavor. "Cookie dough it is, then." Teal'c brought the tub over and opened it, hefting himself gracefully up onto the counter beside her - something she'd never seen him do before - and she took it, and dug in. It was just soft enough to scoop easily. Perfect. "First taste for the excellent ice cream retrieval skills," she said, holding the creamy spoonful up, and he smiled as she nudged it against his full lips.

"It was indeed my pleasure," Teal'c said solemnly before opening his mouth wide to accept the bite. "Allow me to return the favor, Samantha," he added, thickly, as he took the spoon from her and scooped up another good-sized spoonful, and when he held it to her mouth, but looked into her eyes, she shivered, and wished he would call her Samantha more often.

[draco-somnians.livejournal.com]

I'm loving your themes so much! :D

Stargate SG1, Sam/Jack, Sam bakes him a cake

[weesta.livejournal.com]

I do like the schmoopy, sappy themes! *g*

[draco-somnians.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG1, Cam/Daniel, "good morning sunshine"

[itsjustc.livejournal.com]

Lost Desmond/Charlie first kiss

Lost, Charlie/Desmond, first kiss

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

He cuts off mid-sentence as he realises that Desmond's fingers are stroking down the stubble on his jaw. That's certainly a new turn to their friendship. His eyes are wide and he looks up at his friend, his psychic, silently questioning.

Desmond's fingers are cold and wet from the rain that still thunders down on the blue tarp of the tent they're huddled under. Both of them are soaked to the skin from the short dash to get under cover. Charlie bloody hates this island and its hormonal weather sometimes. He shivers, but he doesn't think it's from the cold. "Desmond?" Charlie says, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Desmond's hand withdraws so quickly that it could have out-raced lightning. It's pretty sodding impressive. "Sorry," he mutters. "I don't know what I was doing."

"Yeah?" Charlie says sceptically. He glances out at the rain for a moment, thinking and psyching himself up. "Well I do."

There are evil butterflies in his stomach as he leans towards Desmond, his hand resting on the other man's shoulder as he presses his lips against Desmond's own. He doesn't think he's ever done anything as nerve-wracking as this simple act in his entire life, but he can't make himself stop - especially not when Desmond shifts against him and cautiously begins to respond.

Sweet and simple, it's all a first kiss should be - the start of their friendship blossoming into something more.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, ice cream kisses

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

His mouth is cold, sweet.

Eliot pulls away, shaking his head and lifting the binoculars to check on their mark.

When he turns back, Nate's lips are coated in the white, sticky-sweet of the ice-cream cone he isn't so much eating as tormenting Eliot with.

"We are working, you know." Eliot says low and soft, even as he leans in to lick the ice cream away.

Nate nods, lifting the cone and licking it slowly until Eliot moans. He grabs the hand holding the cone, brings it to his lips and takes a big bite before leaning in to share it with Nate, the glob of creamy cold melting in the heat of their mouths.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, welcome home

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian shoulders his duffel bag and takes a deep breath before rapping sharply on the door. His stomach knots itself tighter and tighter and a lump forms in his throat at the sounds of footsteps before the door is opened.

Steve looks from Christian standing at his door, to the truck parked in the driveway and back to Christian, taking in the bag on his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" He asks.

Christian wets his lips and adjusts his bag again. He meets Steve's eyes then drops his eyes to his shoes, his words all coming out in a single breath, tumbling into one another. "Got this role on this new TNT show and filming starts next week here in LA and can I come home please darlin'?"

Steve leans against the door frame and looks at Christian. He swallows audibly. "We've talked about this Chris..."

"I know," Christian nods. "To stay. This time I want to come home to stay," Christian says, a pleading note slipping in his voice despite his best efforts to stop it."No more back and forth to Nashville," he promised. "I want to be here. In LA. With... With you."

Steve exhales the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, grin spreading on his face as he nods; Christian grinning back at him as he steps to one side to let Christian inside. He closes the door behind them and finds himself pushed up against it with an armful of Christian. His grin widens and he wraps his arms around Christian, holding him tightly.

"Missed you," Christian confides, pressing his lips to Steve's , trembling with relief when Steve kisses him back.

The kiss grows deeper, needier, hungry and then the next thing Steve knows he's on the floor, tangled up with Christian, naked and coming hard; Christian;s hand on his cock, his hand on Christian's and their lips still pressed against each other.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Author's Choice, bathtime

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

Too long for a comment. -_-

Leverage, Eliot/Author's Choice, Bathtime (http://shannonrita.livejournal.com/17136.html)

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage RPS, Timothy/Chris, PDAs

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Author's choice, author's choice, love at first sight

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/OMC (Imari), love at first sight (though twisted...)

Eliot didn't believe in love. He was only 24 and what the hell did he need love for anyway? Aimee had been the closest, but that hadn't turned out at all. So here he was in fuckin' Siberia of all places, trying to forget her, forget that fuckin' new husband of hers, forget his life back home because it was useless to him now. Especially now, because he had a job to do.

He began slinking along the side of the building, keeping track of the movements he could hear toward the front when something appeared out of thin fucking air and yeah, gunshots and screams and he hit the ground, hands over his head to protect and hide.

The silence was deafening when it finally came. He could hear footsteps rounding the corner of the building, knew he couldn't be seen, but shit, a hand, a big hand grabbing, pulling him up onto his feet, shaking him like a rag doll.

"Wake up boy," a voice growled and Eliot opened his eyes and felt the world drop out from under him.

A foot taller than him, the man (angel his mind whispered) tilted his head, regarding him, making his heart beat triple time and his belly do that funny little flippy thing he'd only read about. "I take it you're out here for a reason?"

Eliot blinked at him, head flopping when he was shaken again. "Answer me, else I'll pull those answers out." His grin was wicked now and it was doing things to other parts of Eliot's body. "The saphire," Eliot blurted. "I'm after the saphire."

The pale man nodded, and let Eliot go, then made a show of patting down his own pockets, muttering to himself. His white hair was short, almost spikey and he was dressed all in black. His eyes were pink, and Eliot was dumbfounded by them. He was even more dumbfounded when the albino pulled off one leather glove, reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled something out. He held it out to Eliot, a grin on his face.

It was the saphire. "Here, take it. It'd only sit on a shelf at home."

Cautiously, Eliot reached out, fingers plucking the stone from the palm but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the hand capturing his wrist. He was once again pulled close to the larger man, close enough to smell cinnamon, vanilla and something grassy. "Next time, be careful. I might not be so kind." With a wink, he let Eliot go and then walked around to the front of the building.

It took a minute for Eliot to recover, but he quickly moved after the man, didn't lose sight of him for more than thirty seconds...and yet when he made it to the front of the building, he was nowhere to be seen.

And he had taken Eliot's heart with him...

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jared/Jensen, parenthood

RPS, Jared/Jensen

[neierathima.livejournal.com]

Jensen is so close. It seems like forever since the last time they had this and now Jared is above him, around him, thrusting into him and Jensen is just on the edge of coming.

Then the sound of crying rises up from the monitor on the nightstand.

Almost instantly, Jared is pulling out of him and then leaning over the side of the bed, coming up with a handful of clothes.

Jensen grabs his own pants as Jared is pulling his on.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jared turns on him, eyes wide and innocent looking.

"To feed the baby?"

"You did this last night too."

"But Jensen, she's crying. "

"Yeah, well, you were the one who set up the schedule and it's my turn tonight."

Jared's pout, while adorable, is not enough to sway Jensen. He pulls on his pants and heads out into the hall. Jared throws himself back onto the bed, clothes and all.

"Fine. Go feed the baby. But tomorrow's 2am feeding and her 5 am feeding are mine! Don't think you can weasel another turn because I'm out running. I'll feed her before I go."

[marius2045.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Ian McKellen/Orlando Bloom, missing you

Missing You, Lotrips, Ian McKellen/Orlando Bloom

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

He’s tired. It’s been a long day, and an even longer shoot, so far, and all Ian wants to do it get home, make a cup of tea and take it to bed with a good book.

Well, he gets as far as making the tea and finding a book from the stacks in his living room. It’s about there that the plan falls apart.

Not that he’ll complain about it later.

Ian pushes open his bedroom door, too preoccupied with not spilling his tea to notice the wild mess of dark hair peeking over the top of the duvet. His attention is caught, though, when he sits down on the edge of the bed to kick off his slippers and two warm arms snake their way around him. He’d be shocked, frightened even, but he knows the body that presses up behind him – intimately – and he knows those lips that mouth kisses to the back of his neck, and he knows the little contented sigh that Orlando lets escape as Ian turns his head to place a soft kiss against his young lover’s mouth.

“Good evening,” Ian says when he pulls back, trying – and failing – to hold in his smile. “I thought you weren’t coming home until next week.”

Orlando lets go of him and lies back in the nest he’s made out of rumpled sheets and the still-warm duvet. Dark eyes are lit up with mischief and delight and Ian feels himself grinning back, far more awake now than he was when he came home.

“I missed you – missed being here,” Orlando adds when Ian reaches out to trail his fingers down sleep-warmed skin and trace the pattern of the sunburst tattoo on the ridge of Orlando’s hip.

Ian doesn’t get to drink his tea after all – it’s long gone cold by the time he remembers it, but by then Orlando’s already on his way out of the room to make more; a whirlwind of energy. He’s so very glad Orlando came home, he reflects as he lies back against the pillows, because he knows he missed the other man just as much as Orlando missed him.