FIC: Culture Shock [6]
Title: Culture Shock
Author: raven_writes and kitty_trio
Rated: Adult
This Chapter: Adult
Characters: Sean Bean, Marton Csokas, Karl Urban, Eric Bana
Chapter: Six
Previous Chapters
Back to Chapter Five
The township consisted of three large buildings and several smaller homes. Karl identified the 'Meeting House' by tapping at its side as the track they'd been following came out into an open square from between it and another large building on the other side that he referred to as a 'pub'. The square was green grass, no concrete and steel here, a huge leafy tree in its centre, one or two rickety bench seats, a covered well and a general store on the far side. Down a narrow road, Marton could see cottages set among the trees, one or two of them having posts with shingles hanging from them in their front yards, though what they advertised, Marton was too far away to tell.
"General Store, first." Karl informed him, readjusting his pack on his shoulders and heading out across the square in a casual stroll. "We can look at clothes while we wait for Eric."
They didn't however, have to wait long. In fact, they'd only just reached the steps leading up to the porch when they heard raised voices coming from down the side of the building. Marton lifted an eyebrow, recognizing Sean's voice, but not the tone. He sounded… angry.
Concerned and a little alarmed, he abandoned Karl and hustled down around the corner to see what was going on. To his amazement he found a thoroughly embarrassed and contrite Eric being chastised rather, err, fervently, by his red-faced and obviously upset officer.
Marton came to an abrupt halt. "What is going on?" he asked in icy tones.
“He… he… I… I don’t know,” Eric stuttered, gaze flipping from one Altonian to the other. He really did not know where Sean’s anger came from. “We… pleasant morning…” he looked behind Marton for Karl, hoping his cousin could shed some light on the now two angry men.
Sean’s hand had gone to his hot face, chest rising and falling rapidly with his elevated respirations. “The behemoth I was beginning to become accustomed to. Being touched and buttoned and guided over and around each and every obstacle and coddled!… unacceptable!” He ripped at the buttons of the tightly fastened jacket, a growl escaping his mouth when his fingers fumbled in the effort.
The growl shocked Sean, and his hands dropped to his sides as he blinked at his associate.
Acutely conscious that he and Sean were guests, that they were in a position where they had to rely on the kindness of strangers, Marton felt it best to conduct his chastisement in as private a setting as he could manage. Taking the other man by the arm, he steered him around the nearest corner, dropping his hand away as soon as was politely possible.
"What are you thinking?" he hissed. "Control yourself! You bring shame on the Collective with your histrionics!" The memory of his own traitorous thoughts came to him but he firmly pushed them aside.
Karl came around the corner in time to see Marton and Sean disappearing. He stopped in front of a bemused Eric and raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“I didn’t do anything!” Eric protested guiltily. “He just went off!” his arms wind-milling in his confusion.
If anything, Sean’s cheeks flamed brighter in embarrassment. He drew in deep breaths, tongue worrying his lip as he worked on calming himself. The outburst and repercussions had shocked him beyond speech, so he nodded tersely in agreement. It took several moments, but eventually, with one more inhalation he believed he had himself under control.
“Thank you,” Sean didn’t quite meet Marton’s eyes, “I apologize.” Turning abruptly he went back around the building and faced their hosts.
“My deepest apologies for the shameful outburst,” he met Eric’s bewildered gaze, “You have been most solicitous… I apologize.” Sean repeated, including Karl in his pronouncement.
“Wait,” Eric reached out, but curled his fingers and then dropped his arm before touching Sean. “Have you been harboring all that ever since you caught me wanking? Damn, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.”
Three pairs of eyes all turned toward Eric, two of which registered confusion and blank incomprehension. In Karl's case, it was amusement.
"Wanking?" Marton puzzled aloud. "What is that?" He looked at Sean as if he might know.
"You'll go blind." Karl chastised. "Naughty, bad Eric."
Sean looked as blankly at Marton before turning to Karl. “The over-indulgence at the baker, Vin… Vincent’s?” he asked, guessing at the only thing that could potentially be ‘bad’. “Will that cause blindness?”
Eric’s face blanched, then two spots of color bloomed high on his cheeks. “Erm… Can we just end this with a last ‘I’m sorry’ on my part and, erm, do what we were supposed to do?”
It was almost overwhelming, trying to keep his mirth under control, but he managed it. Vowing to have a wee chat with Eric later about the merits of locks on doors being used at certain, um, peak times, Karl took pity.
"Yes, let's." he said, laying a hand on Eric's shoulder and giving him a quick pat of reassurance. "No harm done, okay?" He directed this at Marton and Sean who both nodded and looked relieved. Poor, innocent sods. "Shopping, I believe?" Karl proposed.
“Please, yes!” Eric exhaled loudly. Turning on his heel, he marched into the general store. The pastries he had ‘indulged’ in were now a rock in the pit of his stomach, decidedly making him feel ‘bad’.
Exchanging another uncomprehending look with Marton, Sean followed after. Shopping, for clothing he believed Eric had mentioned. That should be rather straight forward he thought. Until he realized these people probably did not use scans to take measurements. His shoulders sagged and a tiny shudder wracked his frame.
*
"Alright so, that's t-shirts, underwear, socks, toiletries."
Karl ticked off the list on his fingers. "What have we forgotten?"
"Trousers?" The gentle suggestion came from Peter, the general stores sole clerk.
"Oh yeah." Karl eyed his two fashionista, reluctant to suggest measuring. "Can we make an educated guess, do you think? About sizes?"
"Oh, no." Peter shook his head in refusal. "Absolutely not." He whipped out a tape measure and advanced.
Karl took a prudent step backward to stand by Eric. "This isn't going to be pretty." he whispered.
“Better him than me,” Eric replied as quietly, slinging an arm around Karl’s shoulders for a quick squeeze. “Um, Peter you may want to be careful,” he warned.
Having anticipated some sort of rustic measuring system, Sean took a step backward when the store clerk advanced. His eyes widened at the device, head cocking to one side in interest to how it would be employed.
Marton's eyes almost bugged out of his head when the clerk knelt before him, brandishing the length of bendy plastic in front of him. It had numbers on it, he belatedly noticed, and he was relieved to therefore conclude that it was some kind of archaic measuring device. Still, he was not prepared for the clerk's fingers, holding the tape, to touch the inside of his leg, just below his genitals. It was very... disconcerting and he felt his face flame.
"What are you...? Oh. Oh!"
Deft fingers rant the tape down his inner thigh, past the sensitive skin next to his knee and down to his ankle, all the while muttering, "Mmmm. Good. Right. Okay."
What was good? Marton stood obediently still, more from shock than anything else, as Peter did the same thing to his other leg before pronouncing himself satisfied.
He let out a sigh of relief when Peter moved across to do the same thing to Sean, giving Karl an almost pleading look.
Karl hid his laugh behind his hand, pretending to cough. "One down, one to go." he choked.
A display case impeded Sean’s backward progress. Eyes impossibly wide, he sent a horror-struck look to Eric and Karl, leaning companionably against each other. Then the clerk was knelt at his feet, conducting the same actions and mutterings on him as he had done for Marton. His legs trembled as knuckles brushed against his genitals when the second leg was measured. He refused to make a sound, though, responsible for more than enough embarrassing outbursts already.
Eric couldn’t stand it any more. Sending a rare glare at Karl he stepped forward to clamp a hard hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re done, yes? Good!” he answered his own question. After staring down Peter until the clerk rose and scurried off in search of appropriate sizes, Eric softened his gaze.
“You ok love? You look a little green around the gills. Knowing our… erm… proclivities,” Eric shot a quick glance back at Karl, “Peter made some… assumptions. What say we find you two some shirts?”
Sean nodded, oddly wishing Eric would offer the comforting or guiding hand like he had all morning.
A short time later Karl found himself standing outside the changing room, or rather, the stack of boxes, wobbly poles and ancient floral shower curtain which passed for a change room around here, waiting for it all to be over so they could head to the pub for a much-anticipated beer. He was ignoring Eric who was still miffed over Karl's failure to rein in Peter's enthusiasm and so he waited, arms folded, for their two guests to emerge from behind their respective curtains.
Marton came out from behind his curtain to stand in front of Karl, looking helpless.
"I can't seem to…" he gestured, indicating the buttons on the front of the fawn-colored shirt he'd chosen to wear. A few of the buttons were done up, but in the wrong holes, and the rest gaped open, showing Marton's chest to anyone who cared to perv… err, look.
Oh, cripes! Karl stepped manfully up, trying to ignore the bared chest, the pale, freckled skin covered with soft, fine reddish hair. He swallowed, hard, and his fingers trembled as he brought them up to assist. "It's an, err, skill." he said, attempting casual conversation. "Buttons. Takes a while to learn. Let's umm… see."
He undid the mismatched ones, the pads of his fingers unavoidably scraping lightly across warm flesh. "I'll just…" Thanking his lucky stars that his shirttails were untucked and covering his reaction to all this unwanted stimulus, Karl worked the tiny plastic buttons into their respective holes. It was easier to not think dirty thoughts if he talked.
"If you have trouble with them… You can wear one of the t-shirts underneath and leave it undone, yeah? Or wear a t-shirt alone…. or the shirt unbuttoned and noth… Umm, nothing underneath. Whatever works. It's, erm, a matter of personal comfort? Of being warm or, umm, cool."
Marton nodded along as if he understood what Karl was prattling on about. "I see." he said when the final button was safely home. "Climate control." He favored Karl with a bright smile, the brightest he'd so far seen. Perhaps there was even a glint of humor in those hazel eyes?
"Yeah." Karl grinned back. "Personal climate control."
Sean quietly stepped from the enclosure assigned him to observe the interaction between his associate and Karl. The odd warmth within his stomach shrank minutely as he watched Karl’s fingers brush the pelt covering Marton’s chest. His gaze flicked to Eric who was talking to a young female in his odd manner of combining odd terms in his speech. Unlike Karl, who gave Marton clear direction on how a buttoned shirt could be worn.
Turning fully to Eric, Sean watched him hunker down to perch on a low stool and adjust a metal fastening on the bright red boots made of some shiny material the child wore. She smiled and then asked in a high pitched voice to ‘try the green ones’. Eric undid the fastenings, his large palm enveloping her small foot as he removed one red boot and exchanged it for an even brighter colored green one. Sean looked down at his regulation issued boots and recalled that during their trek that Eric muttered a few times about Sean’s footwear not having the appropriate ‘tread’. Decision made, Sean moved over to the pair.
“We should select boots like yours, you mentioned, yes?”
Startled, Eric looked up at Sean and blinked a few times. Gods, what a difference well fitting clothes and letting his blond locks fall naturally across his brow instead of being slicked back made. Handsome wasn’t the word for it, but, Eric sighed, he's straight. Pity that, he sighed again.
“Yes we did,” Eric replied in the soft non-threatening voice he’d been using for Sean all morning. “Sit right here. While Miss Sally decides whether red or green is the ‘Bomb’, we’ll take a wee measurement, and have ya all set to ‘hit the road Jack’.”
Sean sat as directed, sighing at the incomprehensible phrases. His eyes closed when his foot was brought to rest on the slanting edge of the stool and his boot removed. The touches triggered the warmth in the pit of his stomach, and Sean concluded he did find the feeling pleasurable. When the sole of his foot encountered cool metal and the sides the heat from Eric’s hands, his eyes flew open and a gasp nearly escaped his lips. Eric pushed a lever on the side of the measuring device inward, fingers brushing across Sean’s sensitive arch. His foot jerked convulsively, toes encountering Eric high on his thigh.
“Fuck!” Eric flew backward off the stool, landing on his ass and clutching his jewels that had nearly been smashed.
"You right there, sunshine?" Karl, grateful for the distraction, hurried across to Eric and gave him a hand up. "You know," he said quietly so as not to be overheard. "The idea of beer is getting better and better. Maybe we could just get Peter to pack up what we need and we pick it up later? I need alcohol."
“Yeah, please” Eric panted, hugging Karl to his side. “Sean, it was an accident. No harm, no foul,” he turned back and waved off the stream of formal apologies. “Please put your boot back on and… let’s just go, yeah?”
To Peter who was grinning over the heads of Sally and her mother, Eric called out Sean’s shoe size and told the clerk to find a simple pair of walking boots.
The four filed out the door, most, if not all heaving a sigh of relief the shopping trip was over.
On to Chapter Seven
Author: raven_writes and kitty_trio
Rated: Adult
This Chapter: Adult
Characters: Sean Bean, Marton Csokas, Karl Urban, Eric Bana
Chapter: Six
Previous Chapters
Back to Chapter Five
The township consisted of three large buildings and several smaller homes. Karl identified the 'Meeting House' by tapping at its side as the track they'd been following came out into an open square from between it and another large building on the other side that he referred to as a 'pub'. The square was green grass, no concrete and steel here, a huge leafy tree in its centre, one or two rickety bench seats, a covered well and a general store on the far side. Down a narrow road, Marton could see cottages set among the trees, one or two of them having posts with shingles hanging from them in their front yards, though what they advertised, Marton was too far away to tell.
"General Store, first." Karl informed him, readjusting his pack on his shoulders and heading out across the square in a casual stroll. "We can look at clothes while we wait for Eric."
They didn't however, have to wait long. In fact, they'd only just reached the steps leading up to the porch when they heard raised voices coming from down the side of the building. Marton lifted an eyebrow, recognizing Sean's voice, but not the tone. He sounded… angry.
Concerned and a little alarmed, he abandoned Karl and hustled down around the corner to see what was going on. To his amazement he found a thoroughly embarrassed and contrite Eric being chastised rather, err, fervently, by his red-faced and obviously upset officer.
Marton came to an abrupt halt. "What is going on?" he asked in icy tones.
“He… he… I… I don’t know,” Eric stuttered, gaze flipping from one Altonian to the other. He really did not know where Sean’s anger came from. “We… pleasant morning…” he looked behind Marton for Karl, hoping his cousin could shed some light on the now two angry men.
Sean’s hand had gone to his hot face, chest rising and falling rapidly with his elevated respirations. “The behemoth I was beginning to become accustomed to. Being touched and buttoned and guided over and around each and every obstacle and coddled!… unacceptable!” He ripped at the buttons of the tightly fastened jacket, a growl escaping his mouth when his fingers fumbled in the effort.
The growl shocked Sean, and his hands dropped to his sides as he blinked at his associate.
Acutely conscious that he and Sean were guests, that they were in a position where they had to rely on the kindness of strangers, Marton felt it best to conduct his chastisement in as private a setting as he could manage. Taking the other man by the arm, he steered him around the nearest corner, dropping his hand away as soon as was politely possible.
"What are you thinking?" he hissed. "Control yourself! You bring shame on the Collective with your histrionics!" The memory of his own traitorous thoughts came to him but he firmly pushed them aside.
Karl came around the corner in time to see Marton and Sean disappearing. He stopped in front of a bemused Eric and raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“I didn’t do anything!” Eric protested guiltily. “He just went off!” his arms wind-milling in his confusion.
If anything, Sean’s cheeks flamed brighter in embarrassment. He drew in deep breaths, tongue worrying his lip as he worked on calming himself. The outburst and repercussions had shocked him beyond speech, so he nodded tersely in agreement. It took several moments, but eventually, with one more inhalation he believed he had himself under control.
“Thank you,” Sean didn’t quite meet Marton’s eyes, “I apologize.” Turning abruptly he went back around the building and faced their hosts.
“My deepest apologies for the shameful outburst,” he met Eric’s bewildered gaze, “You have been most solicitous… I apologize.” Sean repeated, including Karl in his pronouncement.
“Wait,” Eric reached out, but curled his fingers and then dropped his arm before touching Sean. “Have you been harboring all that ever since you caught me wanking? Damn, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.”
Three pairs of eyes all turned toward Eric, two of which registered confusion and blank incomprehension. In Karl's case, it was amusement.
"Wanking?" Marton puzzled aloud. "What is that?" He looked at Sean as if he might know.
"You'll go blind." Karl chastised. "Naughty, bad Eric."
Sean looked as blankly at Marton before turning to Karl. “The over-indulgence at the baker, Vin… Vincent’s?” he asked, guessing at the only thing that could potentially be ‘bad’. “Will that cause blindness?”
Eric’s face blanched, then two spots of color bloomed high on his cheeks. “Erm… Can we just end this with a last ‘I’m sorry’ on my part and, erm, do what we were supposed to do?”
It was almost overwhelming, trying to keep his mirth under control, but he managed it. Vowing to have a wee chat with Eric later about the merits of locks on doors being used at certain, um, peak times, Karl took pity.
"Yes, let's." he said, laying a hand on Eric's shoulder and giving him a quick pat of reassurance. "No harm done, okay?" He directed this at Marton and Sean who both nodded and looked relieved. Poor, innocent sods. "Shopping, I believe?" Karl proposed.
“Please, yes!” Eric exhaled loudly. Turning on his heel, he marched into the general store. The pastries he had ‘indulged’ in were now a rock in the pit of his stomach, decidedly making him feel ‘bad’.
Exchanging another uncomprehending look with Marton, Sean followed after. Shopping, for clothing he believed Eric had mentioned. That should be rather straight forward he thought. Until he realized these people probably did not use scans to take measurements. His shoulders sagged and a tiny shudder wracked his frame.
*
"Alright so, that's t-shirts, underwear, socks, toiletries."
Karl ticked off the list on his fingers. "What have we forgotten?"
"Trousers?" The gentle suggestion came from Peter, the general stores sole clerk.
"Oh yeah." Karl eyed his two fashionista, reluctant to suggest measuring. "Can we make an educated guess, do you think? About sizes?"
"Oh, no." Peter shook his head in refusal. "Absolutely not." He whipped out a tape measure and advanced.
Karl took a prudent step backward to stand by Eric. "This isn't going to be pretty." he whispered.
“Better him than me,” Eric replied as quietly, slinging an arm around Karl’s shoulders for a quick squeeze. “Um, Peter you may want to be careful,” he warned.
Having anticipated some sort of rustic measuring system, Sean took a step backward when the store clerk advanced. His eyes widened at the device, head cocking to one side in interest to how it would be employed.
Marton's eyes almost bugged out of his head when the clerk knelt before him, brandishing the length of bendy plastic in front of him. It had numbers on it, he belatedly noticed, and he was relieved to therefore conclude that it was some kind of archaic measuring device. Still, he was not prepared for the clerk's fingers, holding the tape, to touch the inside of his leg, just below his genitals. It was very... disconcerting and he felt his face flame.
"What are you...? Oh. Oh!"
Deft fingers rant the tape down his inner thigh, past the sensitive skin next to his knee and down to his ankle, all the while muttering, "Mmmm. Good. Right. Okay."
What was good? Marton stood obediently still, more from shock than anything else, as Peter did the same thing to his other leg before pronouncing himself satisfied.
He let out a sigh of relief when Peter moved across to do the same thing to Sean, giving Karl an almost pleading look.
Karl hid his laugh behind his hand, pretending to cough. "One down, one to go." he choked.
A display case impeded Sean’s backward progress. Eyes impossibly wide, he sent a horror-struck look to Eric and Karl, leaning companionably against each other. Then the clerk was knelt at his feet, conducting the same actions and mutterings on him as he had done for Marton. His legs trembled as knuckles brushed against his genitals when the second leg was measured. He refused to make a sound, though, responsible for more than enough embarrassing outbursts already.
Eric couldn’t stand it any more. Sending a rare glare at Karl he stepped forward to clamp a hard hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re done, yes? Good!” he answered his own question. After staring down Peter until the clerk rose and scurried off in search of appropriate sizes, Eric softened his gaze.
“You ok love? You look a little green around the gills. Knowing our… erm… proclivities,” Eric shot a quick glance back at Karl, “Peter made some… assumptions. What say we find you two some shirts?”
Sean nodded, oddly wishing Eric would offer the comforting or guiding hand like he had all morning.
A short time later Karl found himself standing outside the changing room, or rather, the stack of boxes, wobbly poles and ancient floral shower curtain which passed for a change room around here, waiting for it all to be over so they could head to the pub for a much-anticipated beer. He was ignoring Eric who was still miffed over Karl's failure to rein in Peter's enthusiasm and so he waited, arms folded, for their two guests to emerge from behind their respective curtains.
Marton came out from behind his curtain to stand in front of Karl, looking helpless.
"I can't seem to…" he gestured, indicating the buttons on the front of the fawn-colored shirt he'd chosen to wear. A few of the buttons were done up, but in the wrong holes, and the rest gaped open, showing Marton's chest to anyone who cared to perv… err, look.
Oh, cripes! Karl stepped manfully up, trying to ignore the bared chest, the pale, freckled skin covered with soft, fine reddish hair. He swallowed, hard, and his fingers trembled as he brought them up to assist. "It's an, err, skill." he said, attempting casual conversation. "Buttons. Takes a while to learn. Let's umm… see."
He undid the mismatched ones, the pads of his fingers unavoidably scraping lightly across warm flesh. "I'll just…" Thanking his lucky stars that his shirttails were untucked and covering his reaction to all this unwanted stimulus, Karl worked the tiny plastic buttons into their respective holes. It was easier to not think dirty thoughts if he talked.
"If you have trouble with them… You can wear one of the t-shirts underneath and leave it undone, yeah? Or wear a t-shirt alone…. or the shirt unbuttoned and noth… Umm, nothing underneath. Whatever works. It's, erm, a matter of personal comfort? Of being warm or, umm, cool."
Marton nodded along as if he understood what Karl was prattling on about. "I see." he said when the final button was safely home. "Climate control." He favored Karl with a bright smile, the brightest he'd so far seen. Perhaps there was even a glint of humor in those hazel eyes?
"Yeah." Karl grinned back. "Personal climate control."
Sean quietly stepped from the enclosure assigned him to observe the interaction between his associate and Karl. The odd warmth within his stomach shrank minutely as he watched Karl’s fingers brush the pelt covering Marton’s chest. His gaze flicked to Eric who was talking to a young female in his odd manner of combining odd terms in his speech. Unlike Karl, who gave Marton clear direction on how a buttoned shirt could be worn.
Turning fully to Eric, Sean watched him hunker down to perch on a low stool and adjust a metal fastening on the bright red boots made of some shiny material the child wore. She smiled and then asked in a high pitched voice to ‘try the green ones’. Eric undid the fastenings, his large palm enveloping her small foot as he removed one red boot and exchanged it for an even brighter colored green one. Sean looked down at his regulation issued boots and recalled that during their trek that Eric muttered a few times about Sean’s footwear not having the appropriate ‘tread’. Decision made, Sean moved over to the pair.
“We should select boots like yours, you mentioned, yes?”
Startled, Eric looked up at Sean and blinked a few times. Gods, what a difference well fitting clothes and letting his blond locks fall naturally across his brow instead of being slicked back made. Handsome wasn’t the word for it, but, Eric sighed, he's straight. Pity that, he sighed again.
“Yes we did,” Eric replied in the soft non-threatening voice he’d been using for Sean all morning. “Sit right here. While Miss Sally decides whether red or green is the ‘Bomb’, we’ll take a wee measurement, and have ya all set to ‘hit the road Jack’.”
Sean sat as directed, sighing at the incomprehensible phrases. His eyes closed when his foot was brought to rest on the slanting edge of the stool and his boot removed. The touches triggered the warmth in the pit of his stomach, and Sean concluded he did find the feeling pleasurable. When the sole of his foot encountered cool metal and the sides the heat from Eric’s hands, his eyes flew open and a gasp nearly escaped his lips. Eric pushed a lever on the side of the measuring device inward, fingers brushing across Sean’s sensitive arch. His foot jerked convulsively, toes encountering Eric high on his thigh.
“Fuck!” Eric flew backward off the stool, landing on his ass and clutching his jewels that had nearly been smashed.
"You right there, sunshine?" Karl, grateful for the distraction, hurried across to Eric and gave him a hand up. "You know," he said quietly so as not to be overheard. "The idea of beer is getting better and better. Maybe we could just get Peter to pack up what we need and we pick it up later? I need alcohol."
“Yeah, please” Eric panted, hugging Karl to his side. “Sean, it was an accident. No harm, no foul,” he turned back and waved off the stream of formal apologies. “Please put your boot back on and… let’s just go, yeah?”
To Peter who was grinning over the heads of Sally and her mother, Eric called out Sean’s shoe size and told the clerk to find a simple pair of walking boots.
The four filed out the door, most, if not all heaving a sigh of relief the shopping trip was over.
On to Chapter Seven