Premium
A quick Adam ficlet, for no other reason then...the world needs more vaguely Peter/Adam fluff? Or, you know, any at all.
Title: Premium
Pairing: Vaguely Peter/Adam. Really. It's almost not there at all.
Summary: Adam does a good thing. No, really.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 703
Disclaimer: I own the DVDs, but that really hardly counts.
“Youe husband is a very lucky man, Charisma,” he smiles, watches as the large woman rolls up his sleeve, quick and professional. “You have a gentle touch, but there’s a strength behind it, one that speaks of nobility. You surely must have some royal lineage in your background?”
“Oh, come on now, Mr…”
“Monroe, love,” and he winks, as she laughs “But you may call me Adam.”
“Honey child, I’m old enough to be your mama,” but she keeps smiling, dabs at his arm with something vaguely antiseptic.
“Impossible,” he smiles, gets that little thrill out of being entirely truthful and entirely misleading that’s one of the few joys he has left.
She smiles girlishly and shakes her head. “Besides, a young man like yourself-”
“Is honored to be spending his lunch break in your company.”
She tuts at him, amused, and pulls out bundle of plastic tubing and other blood-letting apparatus. “Now would be the time to look away, if you’re on the squeamish side.”
“No need, Charisma,” he grins, “I’ve seen worse.”
And he has, certainly, felt worse as well, but watching the needle slip into his skin and the immediate curl of red slip down the clear plastic makes his stomach jolt, momentary and not entirely unpleasant.
“You all right, baby?” the woman says, kindly, and he smiles again.
“How could I not be, by the side of such a lovely ministering angel?”
“You are just too much,” she giggles, and hands him a plastic ball. “Be sure to keep squeezing that, baby, and you’ll be done in no time.”
“How will I ever-“
“Adam?”
He lolls his head to the side, and gives the frustrated looking young man a lazy smirk.
“Hello, Peter,” he waves magnanimously at the chair beside him.
“What are you doing?”
“I am saving lives, Peter,” he says, with as much seriousness as he can manage. “Potentially as many as three, isn’t that correct, Charisma?”
“That’s right, baby,” she pats his hand companionably, before glancing up at Peter. “Your friend’s a real hero.”
“You hear that, Peter?” he can’t help but grin as the boy rolls his eyes. “I,” he pauses for emphasis. “Am a hero.”
“Yeah, right,” he snorts, and slumps with a great deal of maturity into the blue plastic chair.
“You know it,” Adam stifles a yawn and looks up at the ceiling.
“I’m gonna go and check on Mr. Winters over there, Mr-
“Adam. Please,” he reaches out to lay a lingering hand on her arm.
“Adam,” she laughs. “Now that you’ve got someone to keep you company, I’m gonna go check on Mr. Winters, okay?”
“My heart will weep in your absence,” he nods toward the quickly filling plastic bag, and winks. “As you can see, it’s already begun, in anticipation of our parting.”
She just laughs again, shaking her head, as she walks off.
“You know she’s married, right?” Peter pouts at him, and he tries to look shocked.
“Really, now?” he says, disappointment dripping from his tone. “I suppose I’ll have to abandon my plan to whisk her away to Las Vegas for that tasteful ceremony with Elvis,” he allows himself a moment of contemplation, then continues. “At least until the divorce is finalized.”
Peter chuckles, not terribly amusedly, before fixing him with what he probably thinks is an intense look. “Seriously. What are you doing?”
“I’m giving blood,” he shrugs, opting to ignore the fact that if Peter couldn’t figure that one out for himself he probably had no business being a nurse.
“But…won’t…Is that a good idea?”
“Well,” he glanced over at the young man through his eyelashes, “Some people will get premium in their gas tanks instead of regular. I really don’t think it could hurt.”
“You...you’re actually doing something nice for people? Altruistically?”
“Hmm?” he cocks his head. “Well, I suppose you could say so.”
“Really?” Peter clearly remains skeptical, which is something of a novelty, one he has to keep himself from smiling at.
“Well, if you must know,” he feels compelled to sigh dramatically, insulted. “I’m really just here for the free cookies and juice.”
“Seriously?” Peter actually smiles at him, and he manages to actually smile back.
“I do rather enjoy those Oreos.”
*
Title: Premium
Pairing: Vaguely Peter/Adam. Really. It's almost not there at all.
Summary: Adam does a good thing. No, really.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 703
Disclaimer: I own the DVDs, but that really hardly counts.
“Youe husband is a very lucky man, Charisma,” he smiles, watches as the large woman rolls up his sleeve, quick and professional. “You have a gentle touch, but there’s a strength behind it, one that speaks of nobility. You surely must have some royal lineage in your background?”
“Oh, come on now, Mr…”
“Monroe, love,” and he winks, as she laughs “But you may call me Adam.”
“Honey child, I’m old enough to be your mama,” but she keeps smiling, dabs at his arm with something vaguely antiseptic.
“Impossible,” he smiles, gets that little thrill out of being entirely truthful and entirely misleading that’s one of the few joys he has left.
She smiles girlishly and shakes her head. “Besides, a young man like yourself-”
“Is honored to be spending his lunch break in your company.”
She tuts at him, amused, and pulls out bundle of plastic tubing and other blood-letting apparatus. “Now would be the time to look away, if you’re on the squeamish side.”
“No need, Charisma,” he grins, “I’ve seen worse.”
And he has, certainly, felt worse as well, but watching the needle slip into his skin and the immediate curl of red slip down the clear plastic makes his stomach jolt, momentary and not entirely unpleasant.
“You all right, baby?” the woman says, kindly, and he smiles again.
“How could I not be, by the side of such a lovely ministering angel?”
“You are just too much,” she giggles, and hands him a plastic ball. “Be sure to keep squeezing that, baby, and you’ll be done in no time.”
“How will I ever-“
“Adam?”
He lolls his head to the side, and gives the frustrated looking young man a lazy smirk.
“Hello, Peter,” he waves magnanimously at the chair beside him.
“What are you doing?”
“I am saving lives, Peter,” he says, with as much seriousness as he can manage. “Potentially as many as three, isn’t that correct, Charisma?”
“That’s right, baby,” she pats his hand companionably, before glancing up at Peter. “Your friend’s a real hero.”
“You hear that, Peter?” he can’t help but grin as the boy rolls his eyes. “I,” he pauses for emphasis. “Am a hero.”
“Yeah, right,” he snorts, and slumps with a great deal of maturity into the blue plastic chair.
“You know it,” Adam stifles a yawn and looks up at the ceiling.
“I’m gonna go and check on Mr. Winters over there, Mr-
“Adam. Please,” he reaches out to lay a lingering hand on her arm.
“Adam,” she laughs. “Now that you’ve got someone to keep you company, I’m gonna go check on Mr. Winters, okay?”
“My heart will weep in your absence,” he nods toward the quickly filling plastic bag, and winks. “As you can see, it’s already begun, in anticipation of our parting.”
She just laughs again, shaking her head, as she walks off.
“You know she’s married, right?” Peter pouts at him, and he tries to look shocked.
“Really, now?” he says, disappointment dripping from his tone. “I suppose I’ll have to abandon my plan to whisk her away to Las Vegas for that tasteful ceremony with Elvis,” he allows himself a moment of contemplation, then continues. “At least until the divorce is finalized.”
Peter chuckles, not terribly amusedly, before fixing him with what he probably thinks is an intense look. “Seriously. What are you doing?”
“I’m giving blood,” he shrugs, opting to ignore the fact that if Peter couldn’t figure that one out for himself he probably had no business being a nurse.
“But…won’t…Is that a good idea?”
“Well,” he glanced over at the young man through his eyelashes, “Some people will get premium in their gas tanks instead of regular. I really don’t think it could hurt.”
“You...you’re actually doing something nice for people? Altruistically?”
“Hmm?” he cocks his head. “Well, I suppose you could say so.”
“Really?” Peter clearly remains skeptical, which is something of a novelty, one he has to keep himself from smiling at.
“Well, if you must know,” he feels compelled to sigh dramatically, insulted. “I’m really just here for the free cookies and juice.”
“Seriously?” Peter actually smiles at him, and he manages to actually smile back.
“I do rather enjoy those Oreos.”
*