FIC: Tether
Title: Tether
Author: nowadventuring
Fandom: X-Men RPS
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: 700 words
Warnings: None.
Summary: “I’m gonna shag the bartender tonight.”
Notes: AU ficlet inspired by this photoset.
“I’m gonna shag the bartender tonight.”
With an eyebrow cocked in James’s direction, Michael took a drag of his cigarette. He exhaled on a laugh. James choked on his smoke and socked him on the arm in retaliation. “Sure you are,” said Michael, shifting away. “And I’m the queen of England.”
“Fuck you, I am. I’m gonna pull the bartender.” He filched the cigarette and tipped his head back against the brick wall. It burned on the inhale, and he coughed into his fist, pulling his coat up against the wind. “It’s my sister’s friend, and tonight’s the night it’s gonna happen for me. I’m telling you. I’m irresistible.”
“You’re adorable,” said Michael, patting him on the cheek. His hand was warm from his pocket, and James scrubbed his face against it, faking a moan. Michael laughed again, low and sweet, and stole the cigarette back, took the last drag, and knelt down to put it out on the sidewalk.
“Come find me when you strike out,” he said. James flipped him off, and he gave a cocky salute in return as he walked backwards toward the street. When he hit the asphalt, he spun around and jogged off, hands in his pockets.
With a deep breath, James turned back toward the bar. “Irresistible,” he reminded himself, and ducked back inside.
-
It was past one when he let himself into the flat. The television droned an infomercial, lighting the room in flickering blues and whites. Michael lay on the floor beside the couch, eyes shut, hands pressing his battered headphones against his ears. They were shit, James knew. He’d get him new ones for Christmas, maybe.
Michael’s eyes flicked open when James nudged him with the toe of his boot, and he sat, shaking his head like he was waking himself. “What’d I tell you about sleeping on the floor?” James said.
“How was your bartender?” asked Michael, in lieu of reply.
“Wonderful,” said James. He threw himself back onto the sofa with a sigh. “She looked especially lovely telling me to fuck right off.”
Michael favoured him with a fond grin James’s wasn’t quite sure how to parse. He tugged at the hem of James jeans. “C’mere.” He cocked his head toward the carpet besides him, and James grumbled a protest but slid down to join him easily enough in the end.
Michael pulled him down on top of himself, fingers trailing down James’s side, playing at his waist, resting on his hips before sliding back up. They traded kisses, James propped up on his elbows, Michael’s hands on his face, warm and everywhere.
Later, after, James sprawled out on the couch and lay staring at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath and mostly failing, giddily. It was smoked-stained and yellow and ultimately uninteresting, so he tipped his head to look at Michael.
Michael was looking back, something soft and strange in his eyes, enough affection lurking there that James’s stomach turned. He offered a tentative smile, and Michael looked away, tugging his jeans back up by the waistband. “Did you wait up for me?” James asked, an inexplicable sense of guilt threatening to take him over. Michael wasn’t one to let himself be left behind, anyway.
Michael shook his head, digging in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and said, “You always come in your own time.” And then he grinned, all teeth, and bent to give James a kiss on the cheek.
Shrugging off the feeling that he’d missed something, James sat. He waited as Michael fished around for his lighter, cigarette dangling between his lips. The flame came to life with a flick. After a few moments, he held out his hand, and Michael passed the fag to him.
“Tomorrow,” he said, taking a drag, “tomorrow, I shag the bartender. Just you wait.”
Michael shook his head, smirking, and blew smoke in his face.
Author: nowadventuring
Fandom: X-Men RPS
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: 700 words
Warnings: None.
Summary: “I’m gonna shag the bartender tonight.”
Notes: AU ficlet inspired by this photoset.
“I’m gonna shag the bartender tonight.”
With an eyebrow cocked in James’s direction, Michael took a drag of his cigarette. He exhaled on a laugh. James choked on his smoke and socked him on the arm in retaliation. “Sure you are,” said Michael, shifting away. “And I’m the queen of England.”
“Fuck you, I am. I’m gonna pull the bartender.” He filched the cigarette and tipped his head back against the brick wall. It burned on the inhale, and he coughed into his fist, pulling his coat up against the wind. “It’s my sister’s friend, and tonight’s the night it’s gonna happen for me. I’m telling you. I’m irresistible.”
“You’re adorable,” said Michael, patting him on the cheek. His hand was warm from his pocket, and James scrubbed his face against it, faking a moan. Michael laughed again, low and sweet, and stole the cigarette back, took the last drag, and knelt down to put it out on the sidewalk.
“Come find me when you strike out,” he said. James flipped him off, and he gave a cocky salute in return as he walked backwards toward the street. When he hit the asphalt, he spun around and jogged off, hands in his pockets.
With a deep breath, James turned back toward the bar. “Irresistible,” he reminded himself, and ducked back inside.
-
It was past one when he let himself into the flat. The television droned an infomercial, lighting the room in flickering blues and whites. Michael lay on the floor beside the couch, eyes shut, hands pressing his battered headphones against his ears. They were shit, James knew. He’d get him new ones for Christmas, maybe.
Michael’s eyes flicked open when James nudged him with the toe of his boot, and he sat, shaking his head like he was waking himself. “What’d I tell you about sleeping on the floor?” James said.
“How was your bartender?” asked Michael, in lieu of reply.
“Wonderful,” said James. He threw himself back onto the sofa with a sigh. “She looked especially lovely telling me to fuck right off.”
Michael favoured him with a fond grin James’s wasn’t quite sure how to parse. He tugged at the hem of James jeans. “C’mere.” He cocked his head toward the carpet besides him, and James grumbled a protest but slid down to join him easily enough in the end.
Michael pulled him down on top of himself, fingers trailing down James’s side, playing at his waist, resting on his hips before sliding back up. They traded kisses, James propped up on his elbows, Michael’s hands on his face, warm and everywhere.
Later, after, James sprawled out on the couch and lay staring at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath and mostly failing, giddily. It was smoked-stained and yellow and ultimately uninteresting, so he tipped his head to look at Michael.
Michael was looking back, something soft and strange in his eyes, enough affection lurking there that James’s stomach turned. He offered a tentative smile, and Michael looked away, tugging his jeans back up by the waistband. “Did you wait up for me?” James asked, an inexplicable sense of guilt threatening to take him over. Michael wasn’t one to let himself be left behind, anyway.
Michael shook his head, digging in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and said, “You always come in your own time.” And then he grinned, all teeth, and bent to give James a kiss on the cheek.
Shrugging off the feeling that he’d missed something, James sat. He waited as Michael fished around for his lighter, cigarette dangling between his lips. The flame came to life with a flick. After a few moments, he held out his hand, and Michael passed the fag to him.
“Tomorrow,” he said, taking a drag, “tomorrow, I shag the bartender. Just you wait.”
Michael shook his head, smirking, and blew smoke in his face.