![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
short richard dean anderson/michael shanks rps
another challenge from naina; this one was 'rick does something nice for michael's birthday.' i twisted it to my own ends. pg.
i walk close behind michael and he doesn't even twitch, doesn't turn around, doesn't take a breath funny, nothing. amanda's gesturing to indicate the amount of water mysteriously vanished from the cooler and her eyes just flicker at me over michael's shoulder. i sigh, and my breath stirs the hair at the nape of his neck.
'so who was it, an elephant?' says michael at the right part of the story.
amanda snorts 'no, it was bob, but i wouldn't be surprised if you drank it yourself, caveman.' there's a twitch where normally she would ruffle his hair. she couldn't do that now without touching me, and it'd just be too weird. michael's hands are on his hips; she walks away, across the parking lot; i put mine over his eyes. 'boo,' i say in his ear.
'rick, if you want to surprise me, you're going to have to not do it on my birthday,' he says calmly as i put my chin on his shoulder. which puts my face sort of in the side of his neck and incidentally makes my arm stick out at a funny angle, wedged over his shoulder. i should have looked like this at thirty-one. his shoulders are firm and wide, curvy with young healthy muscles. i like how michael is totally relaxed and trusting, how he knew it was me behind him and knew what i was going to do, of course. and i'm really liking my chin on his shoulder, like really really. it feels nice and intimate, warm and friendly, hot fireplace, dark room, knit blanket kinda feel. i can smell his hair and his neck.
'where are we going, know-it-all?' i ask. i feel his shoulders shift. he's reaching back and makes a grab for the front of my t-shirt. pathetic. i didn't even have to move out of the way.
'ten bucks says your place.'
'shut up, you're not allowed to make a bet on your birthday about your birthday present,' i say irritably instead of haha, we're not going anywhere yet, we're just standing still!
his next grab gets me. man, this is my favorite shirt. if he tears it... what? if he tears it i'll... grab him by the front of his shirt and slam his back up against the wall and get in his face and... smell his neck? throw him on the floor and... climb on top of him? damn, he smells good. 'so,' he says smugly. 'this is about my present.'
'it's about how about you get your arguing ass in the car,' i say. even though it, well, is about his present.
he shrugs and shifts his stance a little, and whoa, suddenly it's not me standing right behind him with my hands over his eyes, it's me breathing on his neck and totally wrapped around him, or that's what i feel like. he goes, 'when i can see,' but he doesn't have to because i'm already (reluctantly) taking my hands away. we're standing three, four steps from my truck. he gets in and i start the car, and we drive to my place, yadda yadda. michael's sort of lounging serenly in the seat.
he's not too bubbly, but i can tell how curious he is. he stops in the living room door and i accidentally walk into him from behind. on the table are all the movies i could remember that either of has said to the other we'll have to watch someday, or at least all of them i could remember when i started writing them down, and it happens to be eight, exactly.
'ah, consider the fact i covered your eyes back there as wrapping paper,' i say and drop onto the couch with a little bounce.
'we going to watch all of these?'
i look up. 'i have all weekend, how about you?'
michael blinks. 'well...' he's torn between his pathological disability to sit still for twenty four hours at a time (okay, maybe that's less 'pathological' and more 'well-adjusted') and his desire to give into me when i pout and bat my eyelashes.
'please?'
he smiles and flops onto the couch and takes the second beer from my hand. 'asshole. you know i'm going to fall asleep like halfway through the second movie.' he always does.
'no,' i say. yes, i think. yeah, you'll fall asleep halfway through the second movie, you'll start to snore a little, i won't notice it at first; but then your head will tip over on my shoulder a little, and i'll feel you breathing through my shirt and when i look, your mouth will be open, your hair will be messed up, and you'll be drooling just a little on my shirt. you'll slide down the couch and you'll wake up a little at least five or ten times, but not a lot, just to mumble 'rick' and shit i can't understand, and wiggle around, and i'll slouch down on the couch and your head will be on my stomach, and the movies will be on in the background, it will be dark and warm and intimate in the room and the television will light up your face flickering like blue fire, and you will sleep all night, but i won't. i won't. i'll watch you. this is a present for me.
i walk close behind michael and he doesn't even twitch, doesn't turn around, doesn't take a breath funny, nothing. amanda's gesturing to indicate the amount of water mysteriously vanished from the cooler and her eyes just flicker at me over michael's shoulder. i sigh, and my breath stirs the hair at the nape of his neck.
'so who was it, an elephant?' says michael at the right part of the story.
amanda snorts 'no, it was bob, but i wouldn't be surprised if you drank it yourself, caveman.' there's a twitch where normally she would ruffle his hair. she couldn't do that now without touching me, and it'd just be too weird. michael's hands are on his hips; she walks away, across the parking lot; i put mine over his eyes. 'boo,' i say in his ear.
'rick, if you want to surprise me, you're going to have to not do it on my birthday,' he says calmly as i put my chin on his shoulder. which puts my face sort of in the side of his neck and incidentally makes my arm stick out at a funny angle, wedged over his shoulder. i should have looked like this at thirty-one. his shoulders are firm and wide, curvy with young healthy muscles. i like how michael is totally relaxed and trusting, how he knew it was me behind him and knew what i was going to do, of course. and i'm really liking my chin on his shoulder, like really really. it feels nice and intimate, warm and friendly, hot fireplace, dark room, knit blanket kinda feel. i can smell his hair and his neck.
'where are we going, know-it-all?' i ask. i feel his shoulders shift. he's reaching back and makes a grab for the front of my t-shirt. pathetic. i didn't even have to move out of the way.
'ten bucks says your place.'
'shut up, you're not allowed to make a bet on your birthday about your birthday present,' i say irritably instead of haha, we're not going anywhere yet, we're just standing still!
his next grab gets me. man, this is my favorite shirt. if he tears it... what? if he tears it i'll... grab him by the front of his shirt and slam his back up against the wall and get in his face and... smell his neck? throw him on the floor and... climb on top of him? damn, he smells good. 'so,' he says smugly. 'this is about my present.'
'it's about how about you get your arguing ass in the car,' i say. even though it, well, is about his present.
he shrugs and shifts his stance a little, and whoa, suddenly it's not me standing right behind him with my hands over his eyes, it's me breathing on his neck and totally wrapped around him, or that's what i feel like. he goes, 'when i can see,' but he doesn't have to because i'm already (reluctantly) taking my hands away. we're standing three, four steps from my truck. he gets in and i start the car, and we drive to my place, yadda yadda. michael's sort of lounging serenly in the seat.
he's not too bubbly, but i can tell how curious he is. he stops in the living room door and i accidentally walk into him from behind. on the table are all the movies i could remember that either of has said to the other we'll have to watch someday, or at least all of them i could remember when i started writing them down, and it happens to be eight, exactly.
'ah, consider the fact i covered your eyes back there as wrapping paper,' i say and drop onto the couch with a little bounce.
'we going to watch all of these?'
i look up. 'i have all weekend, how about you?'
michael blinks. 'well...' he's torn between his pathological disability to sit still for twenty four hours at a time (okay, maybe that's less 'pathological' and more 'well-adjusted') and his desire to give into me when i pout and bat my eyelashes.
'please?'
he smiles and flops onto the couch and takes the second beer from my hand. 'asshole. you know i'm going to fall asleep like halfway through the second movie.' he always does.
'no,' i say. yes, i think. yeah, you'll fall asleep halfway through the second movie, you'll start to snore a little, i won't notice it at first; but then your head will tip over on my shoulder a little, and i'll feel you breathing through my shirt and when i look, your mouth will be open, your hair will be messed up, and you'll be drooling just a little on my shirt. you'll slide down the couch and you'll wake up a little at least five or ten times, but not a lot, just to mumble 'rick' and shit i can't understand, and wiggle around, and i'll slouch down on the couch and your head will be on my stomach, and the movies will be on in the background, it will be dark and warm and intimate in the room and the television will light up your face flickering like blue fire, and you will sleep all night, but i won't. i won't. i'll watch you. this is a present for me.