Ficlet: Boy-Toys and Bathwater
Title: Boy-Toys and Bathwater
Author: mariska_lee
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 770-ish
Disclaimer: I still don't own them. In fairness, I haven't even tried to purchase them, but I'm pretty sure they'd be out of my price range, anyway.
Warnings: Well, if you're offended by discussions of boy-toys in the Civil War, then this might not be the story for you. Oh, and it's m/m slash - I suppose that might need a warning in some places.
Notes: demonqueen666 had the Sweet Drabblethon going on, and it just sounded like too much fun to miss, so I grabbed the prompt by the_moogie - "an uncivil war re-enactment"- and this is where my mind took me.
Summary: Shawn wants to be a part of this year's Civil War re-enactment.
Boy-Toys and Bathwater
Lassiter brushed a hand over the front of the double-breasted military coat as he exited the tent, scowling as he spotted someone familiar poking at a campfire. "Who are you supposed to be?"
A grin broke across Shawn's face as Lassiter approached. "Lassie, there you are! I'm going to join you in this year's re-enactment," he informed the detective. He rose from his spot by the fire and gestured at the loose white shirt he wore. "I'll be Caleb, the Colonel's boy-toy. Also camp cook," he added cheerily. "Here, have a s'more."
Lassiter pushed Shawn's hand away with an impatient frown. "The Colonel didn't have a boy-toy. I'm also fairly certain there were no s'mores during the Civil War." He lowered his voice, though no one was nearby, and added, "I know what you're doing, Spencer, and it's not going to work."
"I'm not doing anything, Lassie. I just want to be in the re-enactment." Shawn brought the s'more to his mouth and licked at a bit of chocolate as it dripped down his hand. Lassiter's eyes followed the movement until he saw Shawn grin at him again. Flushing, he turned and walked back toward the tent.
Calling over his shoulder as he lifted the tent-flap, he told Shawn, "You can't be in the re-enactment. We've already got a camp cook, and we don't need a boy-toy."
Shawn followed Lassiter into the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him. In one hand he still held the remainder of the s'more, and he placed it on the small table near the tent's cot. "I wasn't offering to be everyone's boy-toy," he pointed out.
"Alright, fine," Lassiter corrected, "I don't need... the Colonel doesn't need...didn't have a boy-toy," he finished, flushing again.
"You don't know that," Shawn disagreed. "The Colonel might've had a hot young guy on the side. Someone to do wonderful, nasty things with in their tent..."
"Things like that didn't happen, Spencer."
"Of course they did, Lassie. It happens everywhere," Shawn said reasonably. "What do you think, we invented it ourselves the other night?"
"That only happened once," Lassiter growled. "And I already told you, it's not going to happen again."
"It could," Shawn suggested quietly. "We both liked it. There's no reason it couldn't happen again."
Lassiter glared, but said nothing.
Shawn sighed. "Fine," he conceded. "It doesn't have to happen again. But that doesn't mean I can't be in the re-enactment, does it?"
He stepped closer to Lassiter, and his voice was softer when he spoke again. "Don't you think the Colonel might've wanted someone there with him, someone on his side? Someone to maybe massage his shoulders as he recorded the day's events in his journal..."
Shawn's hands trailed up Lassiter's arms. Warm fingers brushed the skin at Lassiter's neck.
"...someone to draw his bath, help him unwind after the day's fighting..."
"There's no bathtub in this tent," Lassiter mumbled.
Shawn's hands moved further, cradling Lassiter's skull as he leaned closer to the other man. Close enough to kiss the detective, but he didn't.
"There's a bathtub at your place," Shawn reminded him. His breath was warm and very close, and Lassiter leaned in, closed that last bit of space, and let his mouth just touch Shawn's, until Shawn's lips parted and drew him in to a kiss. And the taste was more familiar than it should have been, heat and liquid and the lingering trace of the chocolate from the s'more, and Lassiter pulled Shawn tighter to taste more, until he remembered who this was, and who he was, and where they were. And he pulled away again.
Shawn looked at him, curious but smiling.
"This isn't a relationship," Lassiter told him, and even to his own ears, his voice was too shaky. Shawn's amused grin didn't help. Drawing a deep breath, he tried again. "There's no chance of a relationship here. You and me - we don't make sense together. We both know that, right?"
"Right," Shawn agreed. "No relationship."
"Good," Lassiter nodded.
"But that doesn't mean we can't do this some more, right?" Shawn asked, resting a quick kiss against the detective's lips. "Maybe throw in some random sex like the other night?"
Lassiter gazed into hazel eyes. "Yes, I think we can do that."
Shawn grinned. Taking Lassiter's hand, he started toward the tent's exit. "Good. Let's go to your place and get started. Maybe we can rehearse for the re-enactment while we're at it. How would you feel about calling me Caleb?"
"Not a chance, Spencer," Lassiter told him. "You'll be lucky if I call you Shawn."
*end*
Author: mariska_lee
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 770-ish
Disclaimer: I still don't own them. In fairness, I haven't even tried to purchase them, but I'm pretty sure they'd be out of my price range, anyway.
Warnings: Well, if you're offended by discussions of boy-toys in the Civil War, then this might not be the story for you. Oh, and it's m/m slash - I suppose that might need a warning in some places.
Notes: demonqueen666 had the Sweet Drabblethon going on, and it just sounded like too much fun to miss, so I grabbed the prompt by the_moogie - "an uncivil war re-enactment"- and this is where my mind took me.
Summary: Shawn wants to be a part of this year's Civil War re-enactment.
Boy-Toys and Bathwater
Lassiter brushed a hand over the front of the double-breasted military coat as he exited the tent, scowling as he spotted someone familiar poking at a campfire. "Who are you supposed to be?"
A grin broke across Shawn's face as Lassiter approached. "Lassie, there you are! I'm going to join you in this year's re-enactment," he informed the detective. He rose from his spot by the fire and gestured at the loose white shirt he wore. "I'll be Caleb, the Colonel's boy-toy. Also camp cook," he added cheerily. "Here, have a s'more."
Lassiter pushed Shawn's hand away with an impatient frown. "The Colonel didn't have a boy-toy. I'm also fairly certain there were no s'mores during the Civil War." He lowered his voice, though no one was nearby, and added, "I know what you're doing, Spencer, and it's not going to work."
"I'm not doing anything, Lassie. I just want to be in the re-enactment." Shawn brought the s'more to his mouth and licked at a bit of chocolate as it dripped down his hand. Lassiter's eyes followed the movement until he saw Shawn grin at him again. Flushing, he turned and walked back toward the tent.
Calling over his shoulder as he lifted the tent-flap, he told Shawn, "You can't be in the re-enactment. We've already got a camp cook, and we don't need a boy-toy."
Shawn followed Lassiter into the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him. In one hand he still held the remainder of the s'more, and he placed it on the small table near the tent's cot. "I wasn't offering to be everyone's boy-toy," he pointed out.
"Alright, fine," Lassiter corrected, "I don't need... the Colonel doesn't need...didn't have a boy-toy," he finished, flushing again.
"You don't know that," Shawn disagreed. "The Colonel might've had a hot young guy on the side. Someone to do wonderful, nasty things with in their tent..."
"Things like that didn't happen, Spencer."
"Of course they did, Lassie. It happens everywhere," Shawn said reasonably. "What do you think, we invented it ourselves the other night?"
"That only happened once," Lassiter growled. "And I already told you, it's not going to happen again."
"It could," Shawn suggested quietly. "We both liked it. There's no reason it couldn't happen again."
Lassiter glared, but said nothing.
Shawn sighed. "Fine," he conceded. "It doesn't have to happen again. But that doesn't mean I can't be in the re-enactment, does it?"
He stepped closer to Lassiter, and his voice was softer when he spoke again. "Don't you think the Colonel might've wanted someone there with him, someone on his side? Someone to maybe massage his shoulders as he recorded the day's events in his journal..."
Shawn's hands trailed up Lassiter's arms. Warm fingers brushed the skin at Lassiter's neck.
"...someone to draw his bath, help him unwind after the day's fighting..."
"There's no bathtub in this tent," Lassiter mumbled.
Shawn's hands moved further, cradling Lassiter's skull as he leaned closer to the other man. Close enough to kiss the detective, but he didn't.
"There's a bathtub at your place," Shawn reminded him. His breath was warm and very close, and Lassiter leaned in, closed that last bit of space, and let his mouth just touch Shawn's, until Shawn's lips parted and drew him in to a kiss. And the taste was more familiar than it should have been, heat and liquid and the lingering trace of the chocolate from the s'more, and Lassiter pulled Shawn tighter to taste more, until he remembered who this was, and who he was, and where they were. And he pulled away again.
Shawn looked at him, curious but smiling.
"This isn't a relationship," Lassiter told him, and even to his own ears, his voice was too shaky. Shawn's amused grin didn't help. Drawing a deep breath, he tried again. "There's no chance of a relationship here. You and me - we don't make sense together. We both know that, right?"
"Right," Shawn agreed. "No relationship."
"Good," Lassiter nodded.
"But that doesn't mean we can't do this some more, right?" Shawn asked, resting a quick kiss against the detective's lips. "Maybe throw in some random sex like the other night?"
Lassiter gazed into hazel eyes. "Yes, I think we can do that."
Shawn grinned. Taking Lassiter's hand, he started toward the tent's exit. "Good. Let's go to your place and get started. Maybe we can rehearse for the re-enactment while we're at it. How would you feel about calling me Caleb?"
"Not a chance, Spencer," Lassiter told him. "You'll be lucky if I call you Shawn."
*end*