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perpetual_motionTitle: Rainy Boys
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Crossing Jordan
Pairing: Bug/Nigel
Rating: G
Summary: Bug's all wet.
Dis: Not mine. Lied.
Author's Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vedakai, who so nicely requested it. Hope it meets with your approval.
Rainy Boys
By Perpetual Motion
He steps into a three-inch puddle as he maneuvers around a woman with a ridiculously over-sized stroller and curses when he realizes there are no extra pants in his locker. He’s headed for the supply room to get a set of scrubs when Nigel meets him in the hallway and pulls him back towards the locker room.
“Whatever it is, I don’t have time,” Bug insists, trying to break away.
Nigel holds up the shopping bag he’s carrying in his left hand. “You’ll want to see this.” His grin is almost dangerous.
“Cold and wet, Nigel. My toes are prunes.”
“Just give me two minutes, Bug, and you can go back to being grumpy.” Nigel pulls him into the locker room and glances around. They’re alone. He releases Bug’s arm and slides his hands under Bug’s shirt.
“Nigel!” Bug squirms away, knocking his ribs against the knob of one of the lockers. “What are you doing?”
“No one’s around,” Nigel says as he steps back for the bag he’s dragged with him. “And I brought you something.”
Bug steels himself, expecting something vaguely dirty that won’t get him too much grief to store in his locker for the day. He blinks at the sight of a pair of his pants, a fresh shirt, and a dry pair of socks. “Those are my clothes.”
“I told you to take a brolly this morning,” Nigel admonishes, as he sets the clothes on the bench and backs Bug against the locker again. “I can leave and you can change, or you could suddenly decide that your poor, cold hands aren’t working quite right.” He rests his hands on Bug’s hips, ready to back off at the first twitch. He knows he’s making Bug slightly uncomfortable, but he’s hoping he’ll be allowed.
“You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are,” but there’s a smile on Bug’s face as he unbuttons his shirt. “But you do have warm hands.”
Nigel grins and places his hands on Bug’s chest, chuckles lightly when Bug arches into him a little. “You’re cold.”
“I told you that.” Bug drops his soggy shirt to the floor and sighs quietly when Nigel takes away his hands to retrieve the dry shirt. “I think there are shoes in my locker.”
Nigel walks down the row and spins the combination on Bug’s lock. There are shoes on the top shelf, toes pointing out. When he turns around, Bug’s just slipping on the dry pants. Nigel sucks in a breath at the teasing sight of the top edge of Bug’s backside. “Commando? Daring.”
“Somehow you remembered socks but not underwear.” Bug’s tone makes it clear he doesn’t think it was an accident.
“I’ll admit everything,” Nigel says as he hands Bug his shoes. He gathers up Bug’s wet things and hangs them in his locker. Pants and shirt each get their own hanger. The boxers and socks are laid on the upper shelf. Bug’s suddenly crowding him against the locker, hands on either side of the frame. Nigel can feel the buttons on Bug’s shirt through his T-shirt.
“Thanks.”
Before Nigel can respond, there’s the barest hint of a kiss between his shoulder blades, just the idea of lips against his spine, and then Bug’s stepped back and said a quiet good bye and left the locker room. It takes Nigel a full minute to process that Bug, in his own way, has just initiated a public display of affection. The locker room’s empty, but it’s still the locker room, and Nigel counts it as a win while he closes up Bug’s locker and folds the shopping bag in slightly shaky hands. He’ll have to explain, he thinks, exactly how erotic such moves are when coming from reserved men. He has a feeling Bug already knows, and the quick sly smile he catches later on in the day cinches his theory.
On the way home, he shoves Bug into a puddle and chokes on his laugh at the flare of heat that sparks in his eyes. As soon as they’re in the door, Bug’s undoing his belt, and Nigel’s making no moves to get dry clothes.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Crossing Jordan
Pairing: Bug/Nigel
Rating: G
Summary: Bug's all wet.
Dis: Not mine. Lied.
Author's Notes: For
vedakai, who so nicely requested it. Hope it meets with your approval.Rainy Boys
By Perpetual Motion
He steps into a three-inch puddle as he maneuvers around a woman with a ridiculously over-sized stroller and curses when he realizes there are no extra pants in his locker. He’s headed for the supply room to get a set of scrubs when Nigel meets him in the hallway and pulls him back towards the locker room.
“Whatever it is, I don’t have time,” Bug insists, trying to break away.
Nigel holds up the shopping bag he’s carrying in his left hand. “You’ll want to see this.” His grin is almost dangerous.
“Cold and wet, Nigel. My toes are prunes.”
“Just give me two minutes, Bug, and you can go back to being grumpy.” Nigel pulls him into the locker room and glances around. They’re alone. He releases Bug’s arm and slides his hands under Bug’s shirt.
“Nigel!” Bug squirms away, knocking his ribs against the knob of one of the lockers. “What are you doing?”
“No one’s around,” Nigel says as he steps back for the bag he’s dragged with him. “And I brought you something.”
Bug steels himself, expecting something vaguely dirty that won’t get him too much grief to store in his locker for the day. He blinks at the sight of a pair of his pants, a fresh shirt, and a dry pair of socks. “Those are my clothes.”
“I told you to take a brolly this morning,” Nigel admonishes, as he sets the clothes on the bench and backs Bug against the locker again. “I can leave and you can change, or you could suddenly decide that your poor, cold hands aren’t working quite right.” He rests his hands on Bug’s hips, ready to back off at the first twitch. He knows he’s making Bug slightly uncomfortable, but he’s hoping he’ll be allowed.
“You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are,” but there’s a smile on Bug’s face as he unbuttons his shirt. “But you do have warm hands.”
Nigel grins and places his hands on Bug’s chest, chuckles lightly when Bug arches into him a little. “You’re cold.”
“I told you that.” Bug drops his soggy shirt to the floor and sighs quietly when Nigel takes away his hands to retrieve the dry shirt. “I think there are shoes in my locker.”
Nigel walks down the row and spins the combination on Bug’s lock. There are shoes on the top shelf, toes pointing out. When he turns around, Bug’s just slipping on the dry pants. Nigel sucks in a breath at the teasing sight of the top edge of Bug’s backside. “Commando? Daring.”
“Somehow you remembered socks but not underwear.” Bug’s tone makes it clear he doesn’t think it was an accident.
“I’ll admit everything,” Nigel says as he hands Bug his shoes. He gathers up Bug’s wet things and hangs them in his locker. Pants and shirt each get their own hanger. The boxers and socks are laid on the upper shelf. Bug’s suddenly crowding him against the locker, hands on either side of the frame. Nigel can feel the buttons on Bug’s shirt through his T-shirt.
“Thanks.”
Before Nigel can respond, there’s the barest hint of a kiss between his shoulder blades, just the idea of lips against his spine, and then Bug’s stepped back and said a quiet good bye and left the locker room. It takes Nigel a full minute to process that Bug, in his own way, has just initiated a public display of affection. The locker room’s empty, but it’s still the locker room, and Nigel counts it as a win while he closes up Bug’s locker and folds the shopping bag in slightly shaky hands. He’ll have to explain, he thinks, exactly how erotic such moves are when coming from reserved men. He has a feeling Bug already knows, and the quick sly smile he catches later on in the day cinches his theory.
On the way home, he shoves Bug into a puddle and chokes on his laugh at the flare of heat that sparks in his eyes. As soon as they’re in the door, Bug’s undoing his belt, and Nigel’s making no moves to get dry clothes.
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on 2007-05-02 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-05-03 12:41 am (UTC)