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

fic(let): intervention

woe woe, dialup woe, etc. however, moving on from my intermittently updated whinging of the past while (new real internet eta = some unknown time after july 15th. see how zen i am about this? see How ZEN i AM ALSO CALm and... um ahem. anyway!)

after work but before leaving the joys of a fast(ish) connection, i peeked at this c_regalis post. pictures of callum in a show i have not seen! but you know. still pretty hot, for a serial killer with iffy facial hair. as i recall - i can't load the images at home, because: < 53Kbps oh wait not talking about that tonight *stops*

oh, anyway, i was mean. see thread for context. however, ms regalis is meaner. hmph!


summary: 340something words of slightly dubious hugh/callum.

disclaimer: ATTN Real People, their agents and relatives: clearly this is all the product of my diseased mind and not in anyway a true representation of, uh, trueness and stuff.

"This," said Hugh, brandishing a green disposable razor in his clenched fist, "is an intervention."

That got Callum's attention. He stopped fiddling with his cell phone (writing text messages was a pain in the ass, but myspace pages gave him a migraine, and texting was the only way his last three girlfriends would communicate with him when they weren't actually on a date or online together. Kids today, he thought grumpily, then realised his mistake when his inner censor cleared its throat. Young women, it reminded him. A very important distinction. We like it out here in the not-in-jail world. Yeah yeah, right, okay, thought Callum, mentally cancelling Tuesday's trip to the teen vampire romance section in Chapters) and looked up.

"It's too late, Dillon. You're already bald. You'll just have to wait for it to grow back. Want me to get you some Just for Men or are you finally going to start ageing gracefully?"

Hugh bridled and counterattacked. There were hand gestures.
"Fuck you. And, number one, aging gracefully like who, Mr-Mid-Life-Crisis-That-Started-In-1999-And-Continues-Unabated? Numbers two, three and four, I was not going fucking gray okay, you asshole, it was just that I preferred – preferred, uh – a richer shade of my natural dark brown, and ten through five million and twenty-six? You need to lose the facial hair."

Callum casually gave him the finger and slowly stroked his silver goatee with the other hand.
"I like it," he said. "More importantly, girls like it. Dollars to donuts, and despite your bitching, you secretly like it too. So give it up. It makes me look distinguished. I think it even helps my golf game."

Hugh rolled his eyes.
"Hey, if you won’t do it for me?" he said, grinning evilly, "do it for the children."


In the ensuing 'discussion', one butt cheek and two elbows were bruised, someone banged their head on the coffee table, and Callum almost managed to shave off one of Hugh's eyebrows. And then they had sex. Afterwards, Callum's facial hair was intact. But as it turns out, some stuff itches when it's growing back.

Tags: c6d, comment fic, fic, hd/ckr
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