Guiding the Needle Scott/Alex, PG
Title: Guiding the Needle
Paring/s: Alex/Scott preslash
Genre: Pre-slash
Rating: PG for swears
Word count: 1578
Warnings/Spoilers: Given a once-over by the lovely sashataakheru
Summary: "Scott takes delight in the discovery that Alex has 'arse antlers'"
I missed my posting date by about three days because my laptop crashed and I've been busy mourning it's loss by frantically trying to get a new one - however, m_lasha was understanding and is still letting me post my After the Holidays fic late. Sorry guys :(
---
It starts off innocently enough - at least that's what Scott would like to think, he's pretty sure someone has found some deeper meaning to it somewhere that makes it means something it didn't, but to Scott it all starts off as pure innocent fun. Alex is standing shirtless in the middle of the make-up trailer, while Scott raises his eyebrows at the tattoo carefully being covered up on his chest.
"All right," he says, entirely unpeturbed by the fact that Alex is half-naked (at least that's what he's telling himself), "would you mind explaining what on earth possessed you to get a scorpion tattoo on your nipple of all places?"
Alex opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by the make-up girl who grabs his hips with both hands and forces him to turn around, meaning that Alex misses the way Scott's face lights up in absolute devilish glee.
"Alex," he breathes words edged with amusement and watches as Alex carefully avoids turning his head around, but still notices the way the tips of his ears begin to go red, "Alex, do my eyes deceive me? Is what I'm seeing here not actually real?"
The girl who is liberally applying make up to Alex's back is quite clearly trying not to laugh but the corners of her mouth are twitching as she tries to fight down the smile. Alex just sighs, clearly hoping for lightning to strike Scott down where he stands, but even that couldn't ruin the moment.
"Do you have a tramp stamp? Is this my actual fucking life right now? Really? Because there are no words express just how perfect my life is right now. Seriously, it is just perfect."
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Alex asks instead of responding, tone mild despite the obviously embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.
"Right now babe," Scott responds, dipping into his Danny tone, "there is nowhere I'd rather be."
--
So that's how it started, nothing bad right? Except that now he's seen the tattoo, the thick black lines that arch into points along the lower half of his back before tapering down into another point that disappears below his underwear line, Scott wants to know just how far down the tattoo actually goes. Not for any reason other than curiosity, mind you. Scott rolls his eyes at himself, watching as Alex rises out of the water, and he doesn't even particularly know why he's standing at the edge of the scene, watching as Alex rubs the water out of his eyes for like the fifth take.
He licks his lips unconsciously as Alex turns around, the just-in-case make up bleeding down his back as tiny pieces of tantalising black begin to peek out through the flesh-coloured undertones.
He doesn’t think that he should want to touch it, not nearly as much as he should at any rate, not with fingers tracing the delicate lines, but with his tongue, searing hot across Alex’s back and Scott suddenly has to turn away from the scene before he makes an idiot of himself.
He should have known that it would never have been that easy though, when Alex’s arm is thrown casually across his shoulders, still damp from the ocean spray.
“You alright there?” And Jesus, even his voice seems to be hardwired to Scott’s cock now, which gives an interested little twitch.
“What gave you the impression I wasn’t?” Scott hates the fact he has to look up to meet Alex’s gaze, even as he gestures to Alex’s chest. “And have they still not taught you how to put clothes on in decent company? Although with a tramp stamp like that I can see why you wouldn’t bother with clothes, you indecent hooker.”
Alex’s surprised laugh rumbles out of his chest, and Scott feels it all the way to his bones.
--
He puts it out of his mind for a while after that, as the workload really begins to crack down on them, not to mention the reflaring pain in his knee which has him hobbling around the set ninety percent of the time like some sort of crotchety old man. Most of the time he’s awake, he’s tired and in pain, the combination of which tends to make him slightly short-tempered in regards to his co-star.
His co-star who derives endless fun out of making connections between his short-tempered nature and his actual height like he’d just discovered the best fucking joke in the world.
Scott really wants to kill him some days, but when he gets a glimpse of the hints of black peeking out from under thing cotton, he can’t help but put it in perspective.
--
“You know,” Scott’s poured himself onto the couch in Alex’s house and has no intention of moving, not that he could with the alcohol making his arms feel like lead, “it’s not fair.”
And yeah, maybe he’s had one too many and his mouth is starting to beat a hasty retreat from anything the rational part of his brain might have to say, but at this moment he doesn’t really care. They’ve got a day off and for once he’s spending it not in a ridiculous hurry to figure out return plans to mainland for a short time, he’s not jetlagged, he’s just content to sit and let the world pass.
If the answering grunt from the other end of the couch is any indication, Alex feels exactly the same way.
“What isn’t?”
“Your stupid tattoo,” Scott mutters around a bottle of beer and Alex expels a sigh as he shifts around, pushing Scott’s legs off his lap onto the floor and ignoring Scott’s vague noise of protestation.
“I have many tattoos Scott, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Scott gestures with his beer bottle absently before he realises just how particularly unhelpful that motion is. “It’s not rocket science you idiot. I know you’re pretty backwater in Australia, but I’m sure they give you some education.”
Alex gives Scott a fairly pointed look as his stands, raising his arms above his head as he stretches, and there it is. Just the faintest stripe of black disappearing below Alex’s waistline as his shirt rides up to expose that inch of skin. Scott stops, mouth around his bottle and openly stares.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Alex says shortly, gathering up the empty beer bottles with both hands and heading toward the kitchen.
“What the hell possessed you to get a tattoo right there on your back for anyone to see?” Scott asks instead, not wanting to let the subject drop, and someone should really have reminded him how wordy he gets after a few beers.
“I have freedom of choice to do what I want, I thought,” Comes Alex’s reply, “didn’t know it had to pass a test from you first. Where have you been all my life, mum?”
“Oh shut your face,” is Scott’s clever response, “it’s just, you know how inappropriate it is, right?”
“How so?”
“Well, it- you know, it’s a mark of someone who’s easy.”
“And you don’t think I’m easy?” Alex’s voice is heavy with amusement and fuck he really has to stop saying things like that. Alex drops back onto the couch and fixes Scott with a look that makes Scott sink his teeth into his lip. “Would you prefer it if I was playing hard to get?”
Fuck.
Scott’s mouth goes dry at the implication in Alex’s voice and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. Alex is still looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer and Scott isn’t quite sure what it is that he should say. Instead he takes a long pull of his beer, coughing as it travels the wrong way into his lungs.
“No,” he manages eventually, “you do whatever makes you happy.”
Alex’s grin is easy, but there’s a vague hint there that tells Scott he knows something he isn’t saying.
“Don’t worry, I will.”
--
He thinks, no, he knows that Alex is fucking with him. That or a heigher deity has decided that messing with Scott’s life is absolutely a necessary point for amusement. They’re the only two reasons as to why Alex suddenly finds a need to be shirtless all the damn time, for no reason.
Got it wet? Have to take it off.
Spill a tiny amount of food on it? Take it off.
Have to change shirts as he heard a rip during the scene? Off.
Needing to be shirtless for an actual scene? Okay, that one actually makes sense but Scott still resents the idea that someone is having a huge joke at his expense, as every time he catches a glimpse of that tattoo it’s all he can do not to jump Alex then and there. And Alex is still giving him these odd little looks that Scott can’t decipher.
Suffice to say, it’s driving him mad.
And it might nearly have succeeded to if it wasn’t for the fact that Grace was quite obviously more clued in to Alex’s antics than Scott, and quite willing to help Scott get the upperhand. Sometimes Scott doesn’t think he appreciates Grace as much as he probably should, but he definitely will (possibly with flowers, chocolates and maybe a marriage proposal if this whole thing doesn’t work out) after this one.
Alex has no idea what he’s in for.
Paring/s: Alex/Scott preslash
Genre: Pre-slash
Rating: PG for swears
Word count: 1578
Warnings/Spoilers: Given a once-over by the lovely sashataakheru
Summary: "Scott takes delight in the discovery that Alex has 'arse antlers'"
I missed my posting date by about three days because my laptop crashed and I've been busy mourning it's loss by frantically trying to get a new one - however, m_lasha was understanding and is still letting me post my After the Holidays fic late. Sorry guys :(
---
It starts off innocently enough - at least that's what Scott would like to think, he's pretty sure someone has found some deeper meaning to it somewhere that makes it means something it didn't, but to Scott it all starts off as pure innocent fun. Alex is standing shirtless in the middle of the make-up trailer, while Scott raises his eyebrows at the tattoo carefully being covered up on his chest.
"All right," he says, entirely unpeturbed by the fact that Alex is half-naked (at least that's what he's telling himself), "would you mind explaining what on earth possessed you to get a scorpion tattoo on your nipple of all places?"
Alex opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by the make-up girl who grabs his hips with both hands and forces him to turn around, meaning that Alex misses the way Scott's face lights up in absolute devilish glee.
"Alex," he breathes words edged with amusement and watches as Alex carefully avoids turning his head around, but still notices the way the tips of his ears begin to go red, "Alex, do my eyes deceive me? Is what I'm seeing here not actually real?"
The girl who is liberally applying make up to Alex's back is quite clearly trying not to laugh but the corners of her mouth are twitching as she tries to fight down the smile. Alex just sighs, clearly hoping for lightning to strike Scott down where he stands, but even that couldn't ruin the moment.
"Do you have a tramp stamp? Is this my actual fucking life right now? Really? Because there are no words express just how perfect my life is right now. Seriously, it is just perfect."
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Alex asks instead of responding, tone mild despite the obviously embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.
"Right now babe," Scott responds, dipping into his Danny tone, "there is nowhere I'd rather be."
--
So that's how it started, nothing bad right? Except that now he's seen the tattoo, the thick black lines that arch into points along the lower half of his back before tapering down into another point that disappears below his underwear line, Scott wants to know just how far down the tattoo actually goes. Not for any reason other than curiosity, mind you. Scott rolls his eyes at himself, watching as Alex rises out of the water, and he doesn't even particularly know why he's standing at the edge of the scene, watching as Alex rubs the water out of his eyes for like the fifth take.
He licks his lips unconsciously as Alex turns around, the just-in-case make up bleeding down his back as tiny pieces of tantalising black begin to peek out through the flesh-coloured undertones.
He doesn’t think that he should want to touch it, not nearly as much as he should at any rate, not with fingers tracing the delicate lines, but with his tongue, searing hot across Alex’s back and Scott suddenly has to turn away from the scene before he makes an idiot of himself.
He should have known that it would never have been that easy though, when Alex’s arm is thrown casually across his shoulders, still damp from the ocean spray.
“You alright there?” And Jesus, even his voice seems to be hardwired to Scott’s cock now, which gives an interested little twitch.
“What gave you the impression I wasn’t?” Scott hates the fact he has to look up to meet Alex’s gaze, even as he gestures to Alex’s chest. “And have they still not taught you how to put clothes on in decent company? Although with a tramp stamp like that I can see why you wouldn’t bother with clothes, you indecent hooker.”
Alex’s surprised laugh rumbles out of his chest, and Scott feels it all the way to his bones.
--
He puts it out of his mind for a while after that, as the workload really begins to crack down on them, not to mention the reflaring pain in his knee which has him hobbling around the set ninety percent of the time like some sort of crotchety old man. Most of the time he’s awake, he’s tired and in pain, the combination of which tends to make him slightly short-tempered in regards to his co-star.
His co-star who derives endless fun out of making connections between his short-tempered nature and his actual height like he’d just discovered the best fucking joke in the world.
Scott really wants to kill him some days, but when he gets a glimpse of the hints of black peeking out from under thing cotton, he can’t help but put it in perspective.
--
“You know,” Scott’s poured himself onto the couch in Alex’s house and has no intention of moving, not that he could with the alcohol making his arms feel like lead, “it’s not fair.”
And yeah, maybe he’s had one too many and his mouth is starting to beat a hasty retreat from anything the rational part of his brain might have to say, but at this moment he doesn’t really care. They’ve got a day off and for once he’s spending it not in a ridiculous hurry to figure out return plans to mainland for a short time, he’s not jetlagged, he’s just content to sit and let the world pass.
If the answering grunt from the other end of the couch is any indication, Alex feels exactly the same way.
“What isn’t?”
“Your stupid tattoo,” Scott mutters around a bottle of beer and Alex expels a sigh as he shifts around, pushing Scott’s legs off his lap onto the floor and ignoring Scott’s vague noise of protestation.
“I have many tattoos Scott, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Scott gestures with his beer bottle absently before he realises just how particularly unhelpful that motion is. “It’s not rocket science you idiot. I know you’re pretty backwater in Australia, but I’m sure they give you some education.”
Alex gives Scott a fairly pointed look as his stands, raising his arms above his head as he stretches, and there it is. Just the faintest stripe of black disappearing below Alex’s waistline as his shirt rides up to expose that inch of skin. Scott stops, mouth around his bottle and openly stares.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Alex says shortly, gathering up the empty beer bottles with both hands and heading toward the kitchen.
“What the hell possessed you to get a tattoo right there on your back for anyone to see?” Scott asks instead, not wanting to let the subject drop, and someone should really have reminded him how wordy he gets after a few beers.
“I have freedom of choice to do what I want, I thought,” Comes Alex’s reply, “didn’t know it had to pass a test from you first. Where have you been all my life, mum?”
“Oh shut your face,” is Scott’s clever response, “it’s just, you know how inappropriate it is, right?”
“How so?”
“Well, it- you know, it’s a mark of someone who’s easy.”
“And you don’t think I’m easy?” Alex’s voice is heavy with amusement and fuck he really has to stop saying things like that. Alex drops back onto the couch and fixes Scott with a look that makes Scott sink his teeth into his lip. “Would you prefer it if I was playing hard to get?”
Fuck.
Scott’s mouth goes dry at the implication in Alex’s voice and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. Alex is still looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer and Scott isn’t quite sure what it is that he should say. Instead he takes a long pull of his beer, coughing as it travels the wrong way into his lungs.
“No,” he manages eventually, “you do whatever makes you happy.”
Alex’s grin is easy, but there’s a vague hint there that tells Scott he knows something he isn’t saying.
“Don’t worry, I will.”
--
He thinks, no, he knows that Alex is fucking with him. That or a heigher deity has decided that messing with Scott’s life is absolutely a necessary point for amusement. They’re the only two reasons as to why Alex suddenly finds a need to be shirtless all the damn time, for no reason.
Got it wet? Have to take it off.
Spill a tiny amount of food on it? Take it off.
Have to change shirts as he heard a rip during the scene? Off.
Needing to be shirtless for an actual scene? Okay, that one actually makes sense but Scott still resents the idea that someone is having a huge joke at his expense, as every time he catches a glimpse of that tattoo it’s all he can do not to jump Alex then and there. And Alex is still giving him these odd little looks that Scott can’t decipher.
Suffice to say, it’s driving him mad.
And it might nearly have succeeded to if it wasn’t for the fact that Grace was quite obviously more clued in to Alex’s antics than Scott, and quite willing to help Scott get the upperhand. Sometimes Scott doesn’t think he appreciates Grace as much as he probably should, but he definitely will (possibly with flowers, chocolates and maybe a marriage proposal if this whole thing doesn’t work out) after this one.
Alex has no idea what he’s in for.