Wednesday | Wearing my clothes

[spae.livejournal.com]

Today's theme is wearing my clothes. Borrowing, stealing, dressing-up, going undercover ... there's any number of reasons for wearing someone else's clothes, the filthy!hotness fun is in the storytelling ;)

     
A wee reminder about making it fun for everyone - including the coders ;)

• Please leave a maximum of 5 prompts (3 max per fandom) - then if one of your prompts is answered, you can prompt again. :D


• Respect those who haven't been able to see the new episodes yet - please do not use SPOILERS in your prompts until the week after the episode has aired!


• If your story has SPOILERS - please warn for it in bold and leave at least 3 spaces

You can remind yourself of the posting rules here.


Posting format:

Single fandoms ~
NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, "I don't wear underwear, boss!"
Leverage, Eliot/Hardison/ Parker, sleepover

Crossovers ~
NCIS/Torchwood, Tony & Jack Harkness, shoulder-holster
Dollhouse/Supernatural, author's choice, wearing your face

Nowt you fancy? Check our wardrobes for some lonely prompts left on the shelf ... ;)

Happy ficcing!


theme=wearing-my-clothes

Comments

[spae.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, "I don't wear underwear, boss!"

[spae.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Hardison/ Parker, sleepover

[daria234.livejournal.com]

He told them that they might have to spend the night in Providence to finish up the research. He specifically said to pack an overnight bag.

So when it rains and then pours, and there's not an empty cab in sight, and they have to check into their hotel soaking wet, Eliot pretends to be surprised that he's the only one who brought anything more than a wallet.

He tries to be pissed off at them. But as they shiver as they peel of their soaking wet clothes, looking wet and tired and vulnerable, Eliot, much to his dismay, feels a wave of pity. And when he hears Parker's stomach growl, Eliot offers to run to the corner diner to pick up some warm food for them.

Matzo ball soup, roasted chicken, potatoes, vegetables, lemon pie. Two coffees and an orange soda. Not what Eliot would make, but good enough. He wished there was someplace nearby to buy clothes, so Parker and Alec would at least have something dry to sleep in.

He comes back into the room to find them resting comfortably on the king-size. Wearing Eliot's green striped pajamas. Eliot tried not lick his lips with desire when he saw them. He almost succeeded.

Hardison was lying on his back, hands behind his head. He wore Eliot's pants, which were tight on him, and a little short, and so the waistline rode low and revealed the top of the hair on his groin, as well as all the lines of muscle on his lower abdomen. Parker was curled up beside him, wearing just the silk pajama shirt, the cloth hanging loose on her, and the bottom of the shirt not quite covering the perfect crease where her rear end met her thigh.

"Don't you ever go through my stuff again," Eliot said gruffly after taking a moment to recover.

Hardison just shrugged.

Parker smiled and said, "What did you bring us?"

Eliot handed over the bags of hot food and then started pulling off his own wet clothes. "You realize that I have nothing to wear now?" he griped, again trying his usual hardest to be frustrated with them.

"Oh, we realize," Hardison said with a grin.

"Yeah," said Parker, "we both agreed we wanted you to have no choice but to sleep naked."

[spae.livejournal.com]

NCIS/Torchwood, Tony & Jack Harkness, shoulder-holster

[spae.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse/Supernatural, author's choice, wearing your face

[lackadaisy.livejournal.com]

Dark Angel, Ben/Alec, Ben borrows Alec's clothes, or vice versa.

[snarky-kat.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Castiel, "Dude, I think the coat is dead."

not fic--

[measuringlife.livejournal.com]

but I laughed out loud here. Awesome prompt.

[snarky-kat.livejournal.com]

SPN, Ben, dressing up like Dean

[tigriswolf]

It got kind of long, but I finally posted here.

[monjinator.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Hardison, no way those are going to fit me!

[monjinator.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/Abby, comfort in clothes that smell like you

[monjinator.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean & Castiel, you did NOT just do that to my coat

[ltec.livejournal.com]

'We can take this bitch out with our eyes closed, Sam', Dean moans as his brother nags on about how they should research the area. He doesn't notice Cas beside him until the angel is stroking his dad's old leather coat.

'You did NOT just do that to my coat. Cas, how many times do I have to explain personal space?'

'I apologize it's just I like the texture of it under my hands', Castiel replies earnestly and Dean can hear Sam sniggering.

'Dude, I'm not a cat', Dean exclaims and Castiel does his owl head tilt thing.

'No, you are Dean Winchester and there is nothing feline about you'.

'Forget it. I'm going out'.

[monjinator.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean & Sam, Sam keeps some of the "It's a Terrible Life" clothes to torment Dean

[monjinator.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Reid/Author's Choice, Why do you hide behind these clothes?

'A Vested Interest'; Reid/Prentiss; Rated G; 268 words

[egalitarianmuse.livejournal.com]

He wrapped himself in layers because, though he was resilient, he was also easily bruised. The vests, the khakis, and the sweaters were padding; they were cushion that spared him the bulk of the world’s sharp edges. He had always been grateful of their ability to dampen the heaviest blows or, during a moment of distracted reverie, protect his peach-fruit flesh from an open drawer he didn’t see coming. His wardrobe was as good as Kevlar for anything but bullets. He told the world that was his reason in persisting in this particular vein of style. When his inner voice asked—well, he’d made a point of ignoring its questions since he was a boy. He didn’t care what that voice thought of his brown shoes, yet, he tightened his tie when it said to.

It sounded too much like his mother to ignore.

That was why he’d tugged at the tie just now. He’d tightened it so often over the course of the day that he nearly couldn’t breathe. It was both restrictive and reassuring. An arm of comfort around his shoulders instead of the noose around his neck it perhaps should have been. He struggled to remember that comfort was not necessarily an attribute of safety. At times, it could even indicate danger of the highest degree.

Yet, he still tucked his brown wool sweater vest underneath his Kevlar and tied his necktie tight. He was who he was and he wore what felt right. He wore what would hold him together.

Regardless of whether Emily said the color brought out his eyes.

Well, mostly regardless.

[voksen.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse/Weiss Kreuz, Crawford/Schuldig, handler/doll au - the doll comes back from an engagement wearing different clothes than he went out in

[onceuponapillow.livejournal.com]

Veronica Mars, Veronica/Logan, She looked good in his shirt

[onceuponapillow.livejournal.com]

He knows his past relationships have caused a lot of insecurity in her, left her feeling less than appealing when compared to the likes of Lilly, Kendall, and all the rest, but he can honestly say she stands above them all. Even now, wearing nothing but his old plain white t-shirt, she's far more appealing than any woman he's been with.

[voksen.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/Hellblazer, Castiel & John Constantine, author's choice

[moontyger.livejournal.com]

[I sat on it to keep it from running away with me and it was still too long.]

"That's not your trenchcoat." The hand that grasped Castiel's arm, preventing him from leaving, was warm and all-too-human, nails cut carefully short to avoid leaving fragments behind, the fingers nicotine-stained from years of smoking.

"How can you tell?" Castiel eyed that hand and the man it was attached to with a slightly outraged expression, as though he couldn't believe this man was touching him.

"You can't?" John Constantine shook his head. "Take it off and sit back down. You're the one who wanted to talk to me."

And he had, though at the moment, Castiel could barely remember why. Why had he thought this man, one of the most notorious magicians in either Heaven or Hell, could help him? And yet he obeyed, folding the coat neatly and sliding back into the booth. "I came to you because I've been having doubts. You made me poison this body with alcohol and those foul things you smoke, only to tell me now that you have no answers." He glared, wishing he dared show this arrogant man his true visage, here and now.

Constantine laughed and lit another of the aforementioned cigarettes, deliberately blowing smoke into his face and making Castiel cough. "Welcome to being bloody human, mate. What did you think it was like?" He gulped some of his drink and waved a hand around expansively. "Isn't that supposed to be the whole point of faith - believing when you don't know? Your lot are fond of nattering on about it."

Castiel continued to glare, blue eyes intent on Constantine's weathered face, the face of a man who'd lived too hard for too long - a face that it was his nature to find beautiful despite the wear. "I had faith. But I -"

"And then," Constantine continued, interrupting him without making even the slightest attempt to be polite, "you show up here looking like that, when I came all the way here to meet you? You're lucky I'm giving you the time of day."

The rest here (http://shadowed-tiger.livejournal.com/4691.html).

[onceuponapillow.livejournal.com]

House, House/Cuddy, Are those my boxers?

[voksen.livejournal.com]

Death Note, Light/Misa, wearing his shirts when he's not there

Death Note, Light/Misa, wearing his shirts when he's not there

[vashti.livejournal.com]

When Light's away, Misa plays.

Perhaps playing isn't a good word for what she does. Misa-Misa is adored by the public in a way Light will never be. Even when he's at university, the taskforce chatter and clatter in the next room, looking for Kira. And yet she's alone. She rarely sees Light, and she misses him. She tells herself she doesn't mind that he seems so preoccupied, so bored and unhappy. She knows he's a good person - the best of people - so surely he must struggle with everything he's done, the way that she does? All those niggling little doubts she'll never admit, as she kills over and over and over, with a determination she never articulates. Ten thousand people, fifty thousand, a hundred thousand. If I do this, Light will love me more.

Somehow, Misa thinks Light would disapprove of what she does when she's alone.

The downstairs wardrobe is large, but not excessively so, and Misa has no call to touch it. Everything in it belongs to Light, and is hung in a protective cover, one grey plastic sheath after another. Misa has an eye for what looks good on him that matches his own, and he's slowly developing a more adult wardrobe of carefully chosen pieces. It's one of the few areas in which he'll allow her to influence him; for all that he's always been unobtrusively careful about the way he looks, he'd still call fashion a girl's concern.

She showers and bathes, removing every trace of perfume or paint. She combs out her hair, and dresses in underlayers, in leggings or tights, camisoles or tank tops. Then she goes to that wardrobe and chooses a hanger at random - not one from the far left (suits and formalwear), or the far right (casual garb - pants on the right, tops on the left). No, she goes to the centre, knowing that what she'll come away with will be one of Light's dress shirts. Some are crisp cotton; a few are silk; some are carefully blended so that the fabric shimmers and shines. Today, it's a wool/silk blend, finely woven with the tiniest of naps. When she pulls it on, it's like wearing kittens.

She doesn't do up the buttons. Instead, she holds the shirt around her, keeping its softness close without crushing the fabric in a way Light would notice. It smells ever so slightly chemical, from the dry cleaner; it's part of the scent she associates with him. She smells it when he comes in late at night, and she hugs him. Sometimes he'll sigh and ignore her, and sometimes he'll indulge her with a bemused air, as if, for all his intellect, he can't quite process what she wants. And on rare occasions, he'll have a good day, with some little thing falling into place, and he'll smile just for her, and explain events in exacting detail, because she's such a perfect audience for his unrivalled brilliance. Misa lives for moments like that.

The nap of the shirt is warm against her skin. The tail drifts behind her, the way she drifts around the apartment. She coos to the lovebird, all alone in that cold wire cage. She wishes Light was less busy, and she knows he can't be any other way. It's a lot of responsibility, after all, building a beautiful new world where everyone can be safe and happy. But she can't help wanting them to be just a boy and a girl in love. She wants him to carry her next to his skin all day. She wants to feel she's part of him, the way he is her. And she feels bad for having thoughts like that. Light loves her more than anything. He just works so hard, and is so tired, and so frustrated with the task force holding him back.

It's enough, she tells herself, and Ryuk, and the bird. Before she weeps a little, she's sure to hang the shirt back up.

In the air vent, the tiny hidden camera whirrs at a level beyond human hearing, and monitors her every move.

* * *

When Light dies, Misa donates all his clothes to charity, still in those grey plastic wrappers - the casual pants, the long-sleeved tops with the high necks and v-necks, the ties and suits, that black jacket he'd never worn again after his father died. She even sends his underwear and nightclothes for recycling, neatly folded in boxes, wrapped in tissue paper. He'd have hated to see them thrown into plastic bags, after all.

But she keeps the shirts.

[onceuponapillow.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG-1, Vala/Daniel, Daniel wearing Vala's robe

[magnavox-23.livejournal.com]

A/N (I just wrote this with Masterchef on the telly)

Daniel padded across the kitchen on socked feet, bending over the bench to drop a handful of freshly washed raspberries, blueberries and blackberries into a small glass bowl. He topped them off with a dollop of creamy vanilla yoghurt and a light dusting of icing sugar.

Just then the toast popped up from the toaster, making Daniel jump at the sound in the near silent dawn. He quickly buttered it, remembering at the last moment to cut it diagonally instead of down the middle. He placed it next to the berries and a steaming mug of hot coffee on a small breakfast tray, complete with a miniature vase which held a single daisy, a weed really from Daniel's unkempt garden.

With his masterpiece complete, Daniel lifted the tray and creeped quietly back to his bedroom. Stepping into the darkness he made his way around the bed, almost tip toeing so as not to disturb the sleeping occupant in his bed.

He placed the tray on the bedside table and went over to the curtains, pulling one aside causing the early morning sun to spill across the carpet, illuminating the lump beneath the doona.

Vala curled up, hiding her face as soon as the sunlight hit her face. Daniel felt a small chuckle rise in his chest at her antics. He crouched down beside her, pulling her hair back enough to reveal a cheek, which he promptly kissed. Vala turned her head towards him now that he was blocking the light, screwing her nose up at being woken in such a horrid manner.

"Morning beautiful" he whispered against her skin.
"As I have been so callously demonstrated" Vala replied. Daniel gave her his best innocent little boy grin to which she playfully swatted him away. "C'mon, I made you breakfast" Daniel stood to pick up the tray, holding it out to Vala as she rose to a sitting position still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Toast ala Jackson, extra butter just like you like" Daniel announced. Vala just stared at him with a surprised look on her face. "What?" He looked closer at the breakfast he had prepared, searching for something he'd messed up. Finding nothing, his eyes rose again to meet hers. "Darling, I'm grateful for the breakfast, it looks lovely, but you don't have to go to the trouble of dressing up for me as well. Pink isn't really your colour..."

Daniel looked down to see Vala's hot pink pyjama robe wrapped around him, still tied in the rough knot he'd thrown together in the pre dawn dark.

[onceuponapillow.livejournal.com]

Buffy, Buffy/Spike, Spike's duster

[faile-neume.livejournal.com]

DCU, Tim Drake/Zachary Zatara, Tim wearing Zat's hat and not much else

[iesika.livejournal.com]

Tim is already in bed when Zachary gets home, curled up naked under the sheets and looking younger than he ever looks awake. It's rare enough that he tries really hard to be quiet, but it's kind of difficult to out-sneak a bat, so he's really not surprised when he's caught, midway through unlacing his shoes, and pulled down to sit on the bed.

"Long night?" Tim purrs in his ear. He slides his palms up Zachary's back and over his shoulders to tug gently at his bowtie.

"Three encores, and then a homicidal coven on the way home," Zachary sighs. He lets Tim slide the loose strip of silk away from his throat, over his shoulder, and starts on his cufflinks.

"Can I see your hat?" Tim asks.

"What?" Zachary is too tired for Tim to be weird at him. It's...he's not sure, anymore. Ridiculous o'clock in the morning, anyway, and he's not wired for Gotham Time.

"Your hat. No, don't get up."

Zachary frowns as he unbuttons his shirt. "I left it downstairs."

"Are you a magician or aren't you?"

"I'm a /tired/ magician."

Tim gives his ear a nibble.

"Em ot tah," Zachary says, and holds his hand out just in time to catch the black silk top hat that comes flying through the bedroom door. "Will you tell me what on earth you want with-" The hat is snatched from his hand, and Zachary turns just in time to watch Tim settle it on his own head. He's wearing that, and Zachary's pilfered bowtie, and not a lot else.

"Still tired?" he asks, with a slight smirk.

[morlockiness.livejournal.com]

LOST, Desmond/author's choice, the blue shirt

[faile-neume.livejournal.com]

DCU, Roy Harped & Lian Harper, Lian stealing her Daddy's clothes.

[voksen.livejournal.com]

1/2 Prince, Kenshin/Sunshine, experimentation

[faile-neume.livejournal.com]

DCU, Dick Grayson/Tim Drake, the shortpants

[mickey-sixx.livejournal.com]

Covenant, Pogue Parry/Tyler Simms, leather jacket

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Sorry, what was that? I couldn't stop staring at your icon. Guh and thud and ded.