undercover-undiscovered-underutilised-underwear (_unhurt_) wrote,

three things i want plus fluff and fic

#1 hugh dillon in striped flannel pyjamas, with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone, the waist cord hanging loose so they sit a bit low on his hips and the material rumples around his feet, bed-head hair, morning stubble and scrunched up eyes. um. because. yum.

#2 less lobsters in my life, more hours in the day and some panel ideas for bitchinparty (brain go creeeeeak).

#3 more HD/CKR in which they are BFF and ridiculously boy-type boys but callum flirts like crazy anyway and even though hugh is still pretty convinced he is 100% straight but at the same time he reallyreallyreally likes callum and he can't really help flirting back so callum teases him quite shamelessly with it and hugh gets squirmy and goes red and gets a bit gruff but he still joins in anyway because it's callum and - well. oh, BOYS. ♥

in the meanwhile, i wrote myself hugh/callum fluff: PG, 962 words [ETA: because someone at work left a bottle of this stuff sitting on their desk today.]

Bubbling Under

The post-gig party was well underway when Callum gestured him out back. For a smoke, Hugh assumed. Once they were out there, though, Callum crowded him in close against the wall and waggled the plastic cup in front of his nose. "This stuff's nice. I never heard of non-alcoholic blueberry fizz before. I like it."

Hugh shrugged. "Trent's girlfriend's best friend talks about it all the fuckin' time, apparently," was all he said.

"Huh. Funny how there's two bottles on the rider all of a sudden though. Especially after our adventures in Calgary, land of tap water and flat cola." Callum looked at him, assessing, intense. Hugh held his gaze for a moment, then dipped his head and shrugged.

"Hey. I'm not a total asshole."

"You just do a good impression?"

Hugh lifted his head with a half smile. "I told you I could do this acting bullshit."

"Ohhh. You were acting?" Callum pulled a face of wonderment. "Wow. You went all method on me. I had no idea."

"Ha ha ha. Funny man." Hugh paused, weighing the moment. "Okay. Yeah. I was a fucking asshole. A total fucking asshole. I took assholing to new and impressive heights. I was assholing for Canada. And I'm sorry."

Callum sipped his drink and considered this. "Alright," he decided. "Sorry tastes pretty good, actually."


"Yeah. Lucky for you." Callum smirked and tapped him on the forehead with two fingers. "You're still an asshole though."

"But not a total one?"

"Nah. 80, 90 percent tops."

"Oh, I'm just four-fifths of an asshole?"

"A demi-asshole."

"No, at least a semi. Wait, what's more than a semi?"

"I dunno, why are you - wait, are you arguing the percentage up?"

Hugh spread his arms. "Maybe? I'm habitually contrary, you know." He coughed. "Here, gimme some of that." He reached for the cup. Callum danced a step back and held it in the air, grinning wickedly.

"You want some of my apology juice? Shame on you, Dillon."

Hugh snorted and pushed off from the wall. This game he was familiar with. "I do. Now be a good boy and hand it over."

Callum was poised to move and Hugh sized him up, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I'm always good. You know that," Callum told him, sidestepping Hugh's sudden but predictable grab and sloshing a bit of the fizz over the edge of the cup. He took a couple of steps back and lifted his hand to his mouth. Licked the spillage off, slowly, in one, two, three long strokes of his tongue, keeping his eyes on Hugh the whole time.

Hugh coughed again. "Jeez. Can't you wipe your hand on your jeans like any normal guy?"

Callum raised an eyebrow. "What's your problem? You're the one that was flirting."

Hugh flushed. "I was not fucking flirting with-- Christ. Stop yanking my chain!"

"Okay, you're not flirting. You're just greedy for my sweet, precious fluids. And thinking about me pulling on your chain."

Hugh pressed his palm to his forehead. "And Trent thinks I'm the immature one. You know that?"

"Yeah. He's told me. Once or twice. Or ten."

"Wait, what - you talk about me?" Hugh sounded genuinely surprised. Callum smirked again and stepped close again, patting Hugh on the shoulder. He handed him the cup and hooked an arm over his shoulders. "Thanks," Hugh muttered and took a sip.

"Only good stuff. Well, except when you're being an asshole."

"Oh man," said Hugh. "Not really helping."

"Maybe if you were an asshole less often?" Callum suggested.

"Hey," Hugh sounded contrite. "I'm working on it. I-- uh. Cal?" He curled his hand round Callum's wrist. Callum paused, three fingers hooked into the front pocket of Hugh's jeans. He tilted his head, looking at Hugh through his lashes.

"Just wanted a cigarette," he explained, using his innocent face, lips slightly pursed. "'S why we came out here, right?"

"Right," said Hugh, clearing his throat. There was a pause. "They're in my back pocket," he added helpfully.

"Thanks," said Callum, shaking his head as he reached for them.

"Shut up," Hugh replied, and fished his lighter out of the front pocket before Callum could get any ideas.

Leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, they smoked in comfortable silence until Callum raised the plastic cup again. "Toast," he said, and took a mouthful before handing it to Hugh, who nodded and accepted it.

"To what?" said Hugh, as the cup reached his mouth.

"To friendship. And fluid exchange.”

The last of the blueberry fizz went all over Hugh’s t-shirt. A moment later the empty cup bounced off Callum’s head, just before his back hit the opposite wall of the alley. Quite hard.

“Stop laughing, you unsanitary fucker!”

Callum finally managed to get enough breath around what sounded suspiciously like giggles to reply. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You spit in the cup!”

Callum gazed back at Hugh with an air of infuriatingly calm amusement. “Dillon. One. I did not spit in the cup. And two, TWO. Are you talking to me about spitting?”

Hugh glared for a second and then loosened his grip on Callum’s biceps a little. “Huh. Okay. Yet again, you have a point. You fucker. But c’mon. If you didn’t spit, then what the fuck was that about fluid exchange?”

Callum reached out, slowly and deliberately, and hooked three fingers back into Hugh’s front jeans pocket. Hugh looked down at them, frowning, then back up, just as Callum licked his slightly parted lips and tugged gently.

He thought about this for a moment. “Oh?”

“Oh,” Callum agreed, and leant forward. His mouth was millimetres from Hugh’s, breath moist on his lips, when he paused again. “And to think Trent said you were slow on the uptake.”


thank you <3s and the usual pet joe dick to llassah, who provided a speedy twice-over. and suggested the exchange of fluids. (FOR THE BOYS, PERVERTS). and informed me that sheridan smells. *g*

and now i will hie me to some persuaders fic and possibly popcorn. mmm, buttery danny and br- hey, brain! the butter goes on the burgi popcorn!
Tags: fic, hd/ckr, rps
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →