Fic: ...between punches and kisses (freddie/cook)
Author: chaeldub
Title: ...between punches and kisses
Characters: Freddie/Cook
Rating: PG
Warnings: fighting, boy-kissing
Wordcount: 386
Summary: there's a moment between punches, before it all goes to shit, when things can change.
A/N: My first fic for Skins S03... First fic since January, just dipping my toe back in the water.
...there's a moment when Cook pushes against him all full of himself, of anger and vile spitted words. A moment that seems now to come with a regularity that Freddie is starting to worry on. It's as if their magnetics are all fucked up - they cant find anything positive only negative on negative. Cook's hands are balled up in Freddie's shirt, lifting it up, exposing an expanse of flesh that is difficult to ignore - like Cook. Cook is hard. Not hard like he pretends to be - like those thugs down the pub. No, Cook is hard. His cock is pressed against Freddie's thigh and this time Freddie can feel his own twitch in response.
"I fuckin' love you, Freds."
Cook's said this before, says this all the time and Freddie is not sure what it means anymore. Every day, he thinks, he loves Cook less and less; which is at odds with how hard his cock is and the lust that seems to course through his body every time they are near. Are they just friends or is something else happening here? Freddie hears the words, but behind them, beneath them there is something more. So instead of fighting, instead of arguing, he just leans forward and catches Cooks bottom lip between his teeth - tugging at it gently whilst glaring at him through hooded eyes. He can feel Cook tense, can feel the breath catch in his throat as if he has been caught - as if they both have. His heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins and with a shove they come apart.
"Maybe I hate you." Freddie says, back of his hand rubbing across his lips where the taste of Cook remains, "or love you or... Or... What the fuck ever it is that you do to me..."
The smirk that Cook has perfected is back and he's looking at Freddie in the same way the lions on that Attenborough show looked at the wounded gazelles. He knows that he should be worried, knows that this can only end in tragedy, knows that it doesn't matter. With Cook it never matters.
Then they are just a tumble of clothes and limbs as they fall back on the chair...
.
Title: ...between punches and kisses
Characters: Freddie/Cook
Rating: PG
Warnings: fighting, boy-kissing
Wordcount: 386
Summary: there's a moment between punches, before it all goes to shit, when things can change.
A/N: My first fic for Skins S03... First fic since January, just dipping my toe back in the water.
...there's a moment when Cook pushes against him all full of himself, of anger and vile spitted words. A moment that seems now to come with a regularity that Freddie is starting to worry on. It's as if their magnetics are all fucked up - they cant find anything positive only negative on negative. Cook's hands are balled up in Freddie's shirt, lifting it up, exposing an expanse of flesh that is difficult to ignore - like Cook. Cook is hard. Not hard like he pretends to be - like those thugs down the pub. No, Cook is hard. His cock is pressed against Freddie's thigh and this time Freddie can feel his own twitch in response.
"I fuckin' love you, Freds."
Cook's said this before, says this all the time and Freddie is not sure what it means anymore. Every day, he thinks, he loves Cook less and less; which is at odds with how hard his cock is and the lust that seems to course through his body every time they are near. Are they just friends or is something else happening here? Freddie hears the words, but behind them, beneath them there is something more. So instead of fighting, instead of arguing, he just leans forward and catches Cooks bottom lip between his teeth - tugging at it gently whilst glaring at him through hooded eyes. He can feel Cook tense, can feel the breath catch in his throat as if he has been caught - as if they both have. His heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins and with a shove they come apart.
"Maybe I hate you." Freddie says, back of his hand rubbing across his lips where the taste of Cook remains, "or love you or... Or... What the fuck ever it is that you do to me..."
The smirk that Cook has perfected is back and he's looking at Freddie in the same way the lions on that Attenborough show looked at the wounded gazelles. He knows that he should be worried, knows that this can only end in tragedy, knows that it doesn't matter. With Cook it never matters.
Then they are just a tumble of clothes and limbs as they fall back on the chair...
.