Proof that I do in fact write things
Title: Lengthening Streets
Rating: PG for swearing
Pairings/Characters: no pairings, but characters are, apparently, Darcy and Rhys.
Summary: Two men have a brief chat, and then go drinking.
Notes: randomly written work is really random. I have no clue where they came from but I think I suddenly have a use for them, which is pleasing.
He laughed softly, hot air puffing out into the bitter January night. “You never listen do you?” he asked, head cocked.
“I do too,” his companion grumbled, skinny shoulders hunched to ward off the cold, nose as red as his hair, “you're the one who doesn't listen.”
Dark eyes still flashed amusement even as his smile dropped. “I always listen.” he said seriously, “never know when you're going to miss something important.”
The red head snorted, shooting him a dirty glance, “I don't think anyone has ever accused me of saying something important,” he muttered, before looking around. “It's fucking freezing,” he said, glaring up at the sky in a rather accusing fashion.
“You've plenty important to say Dar.”
“Flatterer,” Darcy said, even as the smile tugged at his lips, “want to go for a pint?”
“Christ yes,” a mitten covered hand came up to scrub at shaggy dark hair, “I thought you were going to stay out here all bloody night.”
“Even I'm not that stubborn Rhys,” he said wryly, “where to?”
“O'Sullivan's is the closest,” the dark haired man said.
“Their food is utter crap,” Darcy told him, wrinkling his slightly crooked nose, “I think we can manage the extra block to the Corner.”
Rhys sighed, “fine. You're paying then.”
“If I'm paying then I'm bloody well not sleeping on your couch, you can share the damn bed,” Darcy shot back and Rhys found himself laughing again.
“Deal,” he said firmly, “now let's go before my nose falls off from frost bite.”
“Baby,” Darcy teased.
“Says the man who was pouting just a minute ago.”
Darcy sniffed, “I don't have any clue what you're talking about,” he said stiffly, and Rhys' laughter followed them down the silent streets.