Because I need out of my head.

[fan_elune]

Grey's made me cry again, Skins made me squee, BSG made me its bride (I swear I will love that show 'til death do us part). Hustle is disappointing me, so is Leverage (finally watched more than the pilot). Time for Dollhouse yet?


Comment with a fandom, character(s) or pairing, and a prompt (word, quotation, picture, etc.) and I will try to fill as many requests as I can. You're allowed to make more than one request. Crossover requests are also allowed.

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[fan-elune.livejournal.com]

Bar's runnin' without his help. Actually, Lewis kicked him out of his own bar, his own bar, because it wasn't his shift. That didn't go over without a long string of half-worded insults and curses, mind, but Lewis can be just as stubborn as Wat. Gorram arrogant idiotic brother of his. Thinks he owns the place just 'cause he can juggle bottles and shaker when he's makin' a cocktail, fancy style. Wat cares nothin' for that fancy stuff.

Bar's runnin' without his help and there ain't nothin' left to do for Wat. Geoff's in his room, as in the place where he keeps his typewriter, and Wat knows better than to disturb him when he's writin'. Roland's workin', William's workin', and he's just left here with time on his hands and nothin' to fill it with. So he goes walking, and he finds a stream, and all of a sudden it seems like the best idea in the 'verse.

"What are you trying to do?" comes the well-known voice, after a while that seems like an hour or so.

An hour or so and Wat's got nothin' to show for it but wet trousers and a wet shirt, and he thinks he might be gettin' a sunburn, too. His skin feels too hot. He's rolled up his sleeves and the bottom of his trousers but it didn't help none and they're soaked through.

"Shuddup," he tells Geoff, without even turning around to look at him.

He stays where he is, standing in the middle of the stream, impossibly still (he don't like stillness), hands at the ready. The moment he sees a quick shape swim past him he lunges forward, but those gorram things are slippery as hell and the fish just gets away.

"I don't think you're meant to do it with your bare hands, you know," comes Geoff's voice again.

"Shuddup," he reiterates, voice gruff, tension in his shoulders working up to a complicated web of kinks all across his back.

He's gotta stay still. Fish get away if you make a move. Now he wants fish for dinner and he'll have fish for dinner, gorrammit.

There's a quiet noise of splashing water and the upcoming fish swims away from Wat, further to the right in the stream. He scowls, and turns his glare onto Geoff, who's rolled up the bottom of his own trousers and is headed for him with that impossibly beaming grin on his face. Idiot.

"You scared it away!"

"I didn't see you having much more success before I came and disturbed the waters," Geoff points out oh so reasonably, which makes Wat want to pummel something.

"What do you want? I'm trying to catch dinner."

Geoff's lips twitch, but he does well not to laugh. A thorough fonging might have been called for if he'd laughed. "I'll buy us fish for dinner. You're redder than a bucket of tomatoes, Wat. Come in the shade with me."

"I won't go nowhere with the likes of you."

He's not mad at Geoff for writing; he knows he needs it not like breathing, because you need to breathe to survive but it don't give you no pleasure, but rather like Wat needs food.

"Come now," Geoff says, wrapping his long arms around Wat's shoulders and planting a kiss on his lips whether Wat wants it or not (he does).

"Shuddup and let me fish."

"I'll shut up when I'm dead," Geoff points out with a smug grin.

"I'll make you shut up," Wat retorts, and he's still scowlin' when he kisses Geoff, full of love and fury, to make him.

For a while, in the middle of that stream, Geoff does shut up. Eventually, he buys them fish for dinner.