Original -- Baby, Don't Make Me Disconnect the Battery of Your Prius
Title: Baby, Don't Make Me Disconnect the Battery of Your Prius
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,150
Warnings: mild language, mild sketchiness, intense disorganization, FLUFF
Prompt: I've got to get home / (But baby you'd freeze out there) / Say, lend me a coat / (It's up to your knees out there) / You've really been grand / (I thrill when you touch my hand) - "Baby, It’s Cold Outside" at pulped_fictions
Summary: Nick's not-actually-nefarious-at-all plan gets somewhat derailed.
Author's Note: So eltea suggested the idea, and the idea was good, but unfortunately I slaughtered it. XD Thank you, "Glee," for such a charming cover; and thank you, Lady GaGa, for pinch-hitting when I needed the help. XD Also, w00t, first 2011 post! Also-also, please forgive the fact that Nick's and Theo's canon never seems to be the same twice. XD
BABY, DON’T MAKE ME DISCONNECT THE BATTERY OF YOUR PRIUS
Theo stretches-all long, graceful lines; all dark, slender-fingered hands, rustling cotton, and hazy eyes-and stands. “Okay, I’m out of here.”
“You can’t leave yet,” Nick says.
Theo covers a yawn and tugs his sweater down around his hips. “Can and will.”
Nick pushes the game controller at him. “One more round. I’ll go easy on you this time.”
“You were supposed to be going easy on me last time,” Theo says mildly.
Oh, Nick’s easy, all right.
Theo hunts around for his scarf. When he crouches to look under the bed, Nick snatches the strip of wool, which is draped over the arm of the futon, and hides it by sitting on it swiftly.
“I don’t want my mom to be up too late waiting,” Theo says from halfway under the bed. “She gets really run down during the holidays, and it’s already past ten.”
Nick knows that very well, because he’s been watching the clock and keeping an ear out since nine-thirty to no avail.
“Come on,” he coaxes. “It’s friggin’ freezing.”
“All the better reason to get the friggin’ freezing part over with,” Theo says, damn his logic-y stuff to hell. He gets up and frowns, considering the tangled wires, discarded papers, and abandoned outfits that compose the floor of Nick’s bedroom. “Apparently all of my stuff has disappeared into the Void.” He leans down and selects an item. “I’m appropriating this jacket for the greater good.”
Nick knows that he should protest about how it’s his favorite one, after which he should take an hour to find a specimen that Theo is allowed to borrow. Unfortunately, Theo really, really works the olive-and-brass-buttons faux-military look, and Nick is too busy drooling to scheme very well.
“Don’t go,” he says mournfully, attempting to splay himself in a provocative manner. He quickly discovers that there is absolutely no way to make an old, foam-filled futon sexy in the least. “I’m cold; I need your cuddles.”
For a moment, the way Theo is looking at him makes Nick think that he’s crossed a very ominous line between endearingly annoying and deal-breaker. That’s the problem with this-with all of this, with them being boyfriends-and-stuff instead of… whatever they were before. Nick just wants to give Theo everything, indiscriminately, but he can’t risk overwhelming him and scaring him away. He hates that about it-hates not knowing what’s stifling and what’s insufficient; what’s sacred and what’s fair game-he hates all of that boundary crap.
But he loves Theo more.
That’s probably why, after the moment has winked out of being, he realizes that Theo’s expression does not, in fact, convey disapproval: the emotion there is surprise. It is possible that Theo thinks it’s meant to be a joke every time Nick calls him a steaming-hot hunk of studmuffin.
The boy is clearly delusional. And/or he needs his eyesight examined, and/or all the mirrors in his parents’ home are broken.
Nick’s phone vibrates, and he flashes Theo a grin and pulls it out to check the text.
His mother’s magnum opus reads: sry traffic almst thr
Aw, crap.
“Let me make you some tea,” Nick says brightly, shoving the phone back into his pocket, “to sustain you for your journey.” He gets up to make good on the promise; fortunately, Theo won’t be surprised in the slightest if Nick messes up tea and has to start over.
Theo looks at Nick’s newly-vacated seat. “Is that my scarf?”
Nick pauses. “I was warming it up for you.”
Theo gives him a look, takes the scarf, and starts for the stairs.
“Waaaaait,” Nick wails, hastening after. “I was serious about the cuddles.”
“And I was serious about needing to get home,” Theo replies, hand skimming down the banister. “I’ll cuddle you tomorrow.”
“Cuddle me now!” Nick insists, chasing him to the entryway.
Theo stops at the foot of the stairs and turns to raise an eyebrow, the recovered scarf looped halfway around his neck, his right hand lifted to finish the job.
“I’m going into cuddle withdrawals,” Nick says. “Pretty soon I’m going to start bleeding out the eyes, and my organs will melt, and…”
“I think you’re confusing cuddle withdrawals and radiation poisoning,” Theo says. “No more ‘Fallout’ for you. Ever.”
Nick is not worried about falling out.
“Stay,” he says. “Just a little longer.”
Theo opens his mouth, and then he hesitates, and his eyes soften-faintly, but Nick knows an in when he sees one.
Accordingly, he dives on Theo-shoving him up against the wall, fisting both hands in his sweater-and kisses him with an intensity that is slightly startling to both of them.
Theo freezes, and Nick thinks he’s about to get pried off, thrown to the floor, kicked in the kidney, and spat on. Then Theo makes a low, warm noise in the back of his throat, and his highly lickable fingers curl in Nick’s hair and clench.
Oh, hell, yeah.
Nick smoothes his open palms down Theo’s chest, tilting his head a little more to the right, catching Theo’s bottom lip between his teeth. Theo’s fingernails scrape across the nape of his neck, and goosebumps rise on his forearms; a cold brass button grazes his cheek. Damn, he should have thought of this half an hour ago. He should have thought of this whole thing half a dozen years ago.
Theo has gorgeous ribs to go with his gorgeous hands; and a gorgeous jaw, the line of which Nick can just follow, looking at it through his eyelashes; and gorgeous hips, which Nick drags away from the wall and pulls against his own. Theo’s smolderingly warm, but the foyer’s full of chilly air, and the combination makes him writhe deliciously; he rubs at Theo’s hipbones with his thumbs and mouths his way down Theo’s throat.
“Nick,” Theo gasps, trying to catch his breath, tugging gently at Nick’s hair.
Why, yes, I am very good, Nick prepares to say.
Then he hears what Theo just heard: the keys in the lock.
Nick’s mother looks at them where they loiter, red-faced, at the foot of the stairs and smiles-knowingly, which is even worse than awkwardness.
She tosses her car keys to Nick, who manages to catch them after only a little bit of fumbling.
“Merry Christmas, Theo,” she says, and then she heads into the kitchen, presumably to cackle maniacally and plan how to ruin Nick’s life later on.
“What does that mean?” Theo asks.
“It means your Christmas present’s in her car,” Nick says.
Theo blinks, bites his lip, and glances over, sixty percent shy and forty percent coy. “I thought I just got my Christmas present,” he says.
Nick stares for a second.
Then he snorts, and then he starts giggling.
Theo punches him, but not very hard.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,150
Warnings: mild language, mild sketchiness, intense disorganization, FLUFF
Prompt: I've got to get home / (But baby you'd freeze out there) / Say, lend me a coat / (It's up to your knees out there) / You've really been grand / (I thrill when you touch my hand) - "Baby, It’s Cold Outside" at pulped_fictions
Summary: Nick's not-actually-nefarious-at-all plan gets somewhat derailed.
Author's Note: So eltea suggested the idea, and the idea was good, but unfortunately I slaughtered it. XD Thank you, "Glee," for such a charming cover; and thank you, Lady GaGa, for pinch-hitting when I needed the help. XD Also, w00t, first 2011 post! Also-also, please forgive the fact that Nick's and Theo's canon never seems to be the same twice. XD
BABY, DON’T MAKE ME DISCONNECT THE BATTERY OF YOUR PRIUS
Theo stretches-all long, graceful lines; all dark, slender-fingered hands, rustling cotton, and hazy eyes-and stands. “Okay, I’m out of here.”
“You can’t leave yet,” Nick says.
Theo covers a yawn and tugs his sweater down around his hips. “Can and will.”
Nick pushes the game controller at him. “One more round. I’ll go easy on you this time.”
“You were supposed to be going easy on me last time,” Theo says mildly.
Oh, Nick’s easy, all right.
Theo hunts around for his scarf. When he crouches to look under the bed, Nick snatches the strip of wool, which is draped over the arm of the futon, and hides it by sitting on it swiftly.
“I don’t want my mom to be up too late waiting,” Theo says from halfway under the bed. “She gets really run down during the holidays, and it’s already past ten.”
Nick knows that very well, because he’s been watching the clock and keeping an ear out since nine-thirty to no avail.
“Come on,” he coaxes. “It’s friggin’ freezing.”
“All the better reason to get the friggin’ freezing part over with,” Theo says, damn his logic-y stuff to hell. He gets up and frowns, considering the tangled wires, discarded papers, and abandoned outfits that compose the floor of Nick’s bedroom. “Apparently all of my stuff has disappeared into the Void.” He leans down and selects an item. “I’m appropriating this jacket for the greater good.”
Nick knows that he should protest about how it’s his favorite one, after which he should take an hour to find a specimen that Theo is allowed to borrow. Unfortunately, Theo really, really works the olive-and-brass-buttons faux-military look, and Nick is too busy drooling to scheme very well.
“Don’t go,” he says mournfully, attempting to splay himself in a provocative manner. He quickly discovers that there is absolutely no way to make an old, foam-filled futon sexy in the least. “I’m cold; I need your cuddles.”
For a moment, the way Theo is looking at him makes Nick think that he’s crossed a very ominous line between endearingly annoying and deal-breaker. That’s the problem with this-with all of this, with them being boyfriends-and-stuff instead of… whatever they were before. Nick just wants to give Theo everything, indiscriminately, but he can’t risk overwhelming him and scaring him away. He hates that about it-hates not knowing what’s stifling and what’s insufficient; what’s sacred and what’s fair game-he hates all of that boundary crap.
But he loves Theo more.
That’s probably why, after the moment has winked out of being, he realizes that Theo’s expression does not, in fact, convey disapproval: the emotion there is surprise. It is possible that Theo thinks it’s meant to be a joke every time Nick calls him a steaming-hot hunk of studmuffin.
The boy is clearly delusional. And/or he needs his eyesight examined, and/or all the mirrors in his parents’ home are broken.
Nick’s phone vibrates, and he flashes Theo a grin and pulls it out to check the text.
His mother’s magnum opus reads: sry traffic almst thr
Aw, crap.
“Let me make you some tea,” Nick says brightly, shoving the phone back into his pocket, “to sustain you for your journey.” He gets up to make good on the promise; fortunately, Theo won’t be surprised in the slightest if Nick messes up tea and has to start over.
Theo looks at Nick’s newly-vacated seat. “Is that my scarf?”
Nick pauses. “I was warming it up for you.”
Theo gives him a look, takes the scarf, and starts for the stairs.
“Waaaaait,” Nick wails, hastening after. “I was serious about the cuddles.”
“And I was serious about needing to get home,” Theo replies, hand skimming down the banister. “I’ll cuddle you tomorrow.”
“Cuddle me now!” Nick insists, chasing him to the entryway.
Theo stops at the foot of the stairs and turns to raise an eyebrow, the recovered scarf looped halfway around his neck, his right hand lifted to finish the job.
“I’m going into cuddle withdrawals,” Nick says. “Pretty soon I’m going to start bleeding out the eyes, and my organs will melt, and…”
“I think you’re confusing cuddle withdrawals and radiation poisoning,” Theo says. “No more ‘Fallout’ for you. Ever.”
Nick is not worried about falling out.
“Stay,” he says. “Just a little longer.”
Theo opens his mouth, and then he hesitates, and his eyes soften-faintly, but Nick knows an in when he sees one.
Accordingly, he dives on Theo-shoving him up against the wall, fisting both hands in his sweater-and kisses him with an intensity that is slightly startling to both of them.
Theo freezes, and Nick thinks he’s about to get pried off, thrown to the floor, kicked in the kidney, and spat on. Then Theo makes a low, warm noise in the back of his throat, and his highly lickable fingers curl in Nick’s hair and clench.
Oh, hell, yeah.
Nick smoothes his open palms down Theo’s chest, tilting his head a little more to the right, catching Theo’s bottom lip between his teeth. Theo’s fingernails scrape across the nape of his neck, and goosebumps rise on his forearms; a cold brass button grazes his cheek. Damn, he should have thought of this half an hour ago. He should have thought of this whole thing half a dozen years ago.
Theo has gorgeous ribs to go with his gorgeous hands; and a gorgeous jaw, the line of which Nick can just follow, looking at it through his eyelashes; and gorgeous hips, which Nick drags away from the wall and pulls against his own. Theo’s smolderingly warm, but the foyer’s full of chilly air, and the combination makes him writhe deliciously; he rubs at Theo’s hipbones with his thumbs and mouths his way down Theo’s throat.
“Nick,” Theo gasps, trying to catch his breath, tugging gently at Nick’s hair.
Why, yes, I am very good, Nick prepares to say.
Then he hears what Theo just heard: the keys in the lock.
Nick’s mother looks at them where they loiter, red-faced, at the foot of the stairs and smiles-knowingly, which is even worse than awkwardness.
She tosses her car keys to Nick, who manages to catch them after only a little bit of fumbling.
“Merry Christmas, Theo,” she says, and then she heads into the kitchen, presumably to cackle maniacally and plan how to ruin Nick’s life later on.
“What does that mean?” Theo asks.
“It means your Christmas present’s in her car,” Nick says.
Theo blinks, bites his lip, and glances over, sixty percent shy and forty percent coy. “I thought I just got my Christmas present,” he says.
Nick stares for a second.
Then he snorts, and then he starts giggling.
Theo punches him, but not very hard.