Original -- Walking the Walk
Title: Walking the Walk
Rating: PG
Word Count: 285
Warnings: implications of sketch
Prompt: "heated" at pulped_fictions
Summary: Milo is having a less-than-stellar morning today.
Author's Note: I wrote this at work on Thursday, pretty much out of nowhere. There is a very good chance I'll end up writing more about these two in the hopes of stumbling on something useful. XD
WALKING THE WALK
Dom’s in the kitchen pouring coffee when Milo drags himself into the apartment, knowing how he looks. Dom turns and pauses.
“You could fry an egg on that face,” he says. He attends to the coffee pot again. “It’d be awesome if you did, by the way; I’m starving.”
Milo scrubs at the face in question with both hands. Dom’s right-his cheeks are unreasonably hot. Milo’s just subtle like that.
God.
“Is embarrassment a foreign concept to you?” he asks.
“No,” Dom says calmly, “but the Walk of Shame is one of the many enriching experiences I’ve passed up. Drink this and then go take a shower.”
Milo doesn’t process past the part he needs a comeback for-which is why he’s startled when Dom pushes the coffee mug into his well-wrung hands, which is why he fumbles and drops it and watches stupidly as it shatters on the floor, splattering coffee all over three square feet of linoleum.
Dom sighs, but there’s a smile in it. He’s close enough that Milo could reach up and play Connect the Dots with his freckles, could draw a fingertip along the soft arch of his eyebrow, could tug at the one tuft of gold-threaded brown hair that always sticks up. “I guess I should probably warn you when I’m trying to do something nice for you, huh?”
“No,” Milo says blankly, watching droplets sink into the rumpled denim that holds in his shaking knees. “My fault. Sorry, I just…”
“Was out all night, living it up?” Dom suggests, stepping away, turning to the counter again for paper towels and soap.
“Something like that,” Milo says, and it doesn’t quite fill the space between them.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 285
Warnings: implications of sketch
Prompt: "heated" at pulped_fictions
Summary: Milo is having a less-than-stellar morning today.
Author's Note: I wrote this at work on Thursday, pretty much out of nowhere. There is a very good chance I'll end up writing more about these two in the hopes of stumbling on something useful. XD
WALKING THE WALK
Dom’s in the kitchen pouring coffee when Milo drags himself into the apartment, knowing how he looks. Dom turns and pauses.
“You could fry an egg on that face,” he says. He attends to the coffee pot again. “It’d be awesome if you did, by the way; I’m starving.”
Milo scrubs at the face in question with both hands. Dom’s right-his cheeks are unreasonably hot. Milo’s just subtle like that.
God.
“Is embarrassment a foreign concept to you?” he asks.
“No,” Dom says calmly, “but the Walk of Shame is one of the many enriching experiences I’ve passed up. Drink this and then go take a shower.”
Milo doesn’t process past the part he needs a comeback for-which is why he’s startled when Dom pushes the coffee mug into his well-wrung hands, which is why he fumbles and drops it and watches stupidly as it shatters on the floor, splattering coffee all over three square feet of linoleum.
Dom sighs, but there’s a smile in it. He’s close enough that Milo could reach up and play Connect the Dots with his freckles, could draw a fingertip along the soft arch of his eyebrow, could tug at the one tuft of gold-threaded brown hair that always sticks up. “I guess I should probably warn you when I’m trying to do something nice for you, huh?”
“No,” Milo says blankly, watching droplets sink into the rumpled denim that holds in his shaking knees. “My fault. Sorry, I just…”
“Was out all night, living it up?” Dom suggests, stepping away, turning to the counter again for paper towels and soap.
“Something like that,” Milo says, and it doesn’t quite fill the space between them.