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

fic: the name of the game

hd/ckr, about 1040 words, R

pre-HCL on tour with the headstones. many thank yous to brynnmck for beta. ♥ despite being short this was 80% done almost two years back, and was intended for buzzylittleb (who i think has seen a previous version). i hope you still want it, insect!

The Name of the Game1

Hugh leant in real close and spoke in a rough half-whisper only Callum could hear.

“Cherry blossom?”

“Fuck off, Dillon.” Callum hissed.


“I said fuck off!”


“Off!” Callum raised one finger.

Hugh grinned and shifted closer on the seat, letting his left arm rest along the back of the booth seat behind Callum. He reached right across Callum's chest – slowly, deliberately - to shift the cigarette to his other hand. Callum glared at him, but he was stuck between Hugh and the wall, no way to escape without making a scene.

It was late, the diner quiet and poorly-lit. They’d grabbed the far end booth, a ‘half’ where the table butted up against the back of the next booth’s seats. Or rather: Callum grabbed it, and sat in the middle of the bench seat, telegraphing a clear desire to be left on his fucking own. He should have realised that Hugh would take that as a challenge, and sure enough he had come stomping over with his coffee and fries and sat down, shoving Callum over with his hip, all bulk and too much black denim.

“Aww, what’s wrong? Pet names not your thing?”

Hugh was really enjoying this. The irritating grin was in his voice, in his posture, in the way he tilted his chin up to take a drag of his cigarette.

“Not in front of the whole fucking bus, Dillon!” Callum thought he might be whining and hated himself for it.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s nothing I haven’t said before. Sweetheart.”

“You weren’t fucking me before!” The woman at the counter turned sharply, then caught herself and pretended she was wiping off the cracked red formica. Shit. That had come out louder than he’d meant it to. Hugh snorted into his coffee.

They don't know that. They don't know fucking anything, Cal. Trent doesn't even know.”

“Oh Jesus Christ. Your other boyfriend.” Callum sighed, and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He feelt Hugh's breath huff against his ear, smoky and damp.

"That's strictly platonic, Hollywood," said Hugh, making a complicated but decisive gesture with his smoking hand. "Anyway, for fuck's sake, Callum. I called Dale sweet cheeks for a whole week and no-one thinks I'm screwing him. At least, I fucking hope not. Singers and drummers, man. It just can’t ever be, you know what I'm saying? But hey, if you like cuntface better than sugarplum, I can go with that. I'm a sensitive guy."

Callum's shoulders twitched. He lifted his head slightly and glared up through his lashes. "Cuntface is not a term of endearment.” He raised one finger and pointed for emphasis. “Fuckwallet."

Hugh pulled a face of mock horror. "I'm shocked. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I kiss you with it."

"And that's not all," Hugh grinned, pleased as punch.

Callum rolled his eyes and shoved Hugh in the side. “Go order me some pie, asshole.”

Hugh grinned some more. “Yeah, yeah okay. You want anything else?”

“For you to shut up for five minutes?”

“See, now you're just being demanding.”

"Yeah. I'm demanding pie," Callum explained as if perhaps Hugh was a little slow today.

“Can I get you boys anything?”

Callum twitched and covered clumsily by reaching for his Coke. Hugh just turned the full force of his smile on the waitress from the counter without hesitation.

"My-" he paused and then winked at Callum, "friend here would like some pie."

The waitress looked at them both - amused, knowing, smothering a grin. Callum's shoulders were up near his ears now, and he was concentrating hard on the menu in his hands.

"You got any particular preference, sweetheart?" she asked.

Callum glared at her, trying to work out if the emphasis on 'preference' was intentional, then at Hugh who made an innocent face. He stared at the menu again.

"Uh. The blueberry. Please."

"Sure, honey," she said. And, "Anything for you?" to Hugh.

He shook his head. "I'm good, thank you." She turned to leave and he stopped her. "But he'll have the pie to go." Hugh's smile was sweetly devilish and hardly faltered when Callum punched him in the shoulder.


Back at the motel room, Hugh had eaten at least half of the pie, but Callum was well on the way to forgiving him as Hugh sucked the last sticky crumbs off his fingers one by one. He pulled his thumb out of Hugh's hungry mouth and sprawled back on the bed.

"You want dessert?"

"I thought that was dessert?"

"Well, if you’re not hungry…"

Hugh laughed. "I think I can probably manage to eat something else."


"God," Hugh managed. "Yeah… just fuckin' – uh, like that, I – I -"

Callum shifted his hand just so, adjusted his stroke, and mouthed at Hugh's ear. "Like that? You like that? C'mon, c'mon, give it up for me. Pumpkin flower. Cuddle bunny."

There was a pause. Hugh's panting lost its rhythm. He groaned, but not in a good way. "Fuck. Bastard. That ruined the moment."

Callum grinned against his neck. "Got a problem, Hughkins?"

"Okay. That's taking it too far.”

"Mmmhmm. So. Do we have a truce?" Callum squeezed gently.

Hugh sounded a little breathless again. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah. You got me. No more cherry blossoms."


"Promise, babe."

"Hugh," Callum warned.

Hugh turned so he could kiss Callum's cheek, stubble against stubble. "Actually, I kinda meant that one."

"Oh." Callum managed. "Uh, then I get to have one for you."

"Okay, go for it. I'm game."

There was silence.

"Well? I'm waiting here." Hugh wrapped an encouraging hand round Callum's where it was resting on his cock.

"I'm thinking."

"I can help."

Callum bit his ear gently. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. I was thinking maybe 'stud' had a nice ring to it. Or 'hot stuff'? Hey, how about 'big boy'?"

Callum gave up. "Yeah, okay, you know what? I think I liked you better when you were being an asshole."

Hugh chuckled happily. "Then shut up and fuck me, sweetheart."

Callum tried not to snicker - "Finally, something I want to hear" – and set about shutting Hugh up in the only way that worked for more than five minutes. Snoring aside, anyway.


1the original title was worse: it was "terms of endearment". but i kind of like the abba song (shut up!) so...

Tags: fic, hd/ckr, rps
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