trousers on (incomplete)
Jan. 19th, 2014 03:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sidewaysTitle: Trousers On
Rating: PG
Series: Fallout: New Vegas (original characters)
Wordcount: 659
Summary: Avery's trying to get through his morning routine. Wyn has a different idea of what that routine could entail.
Remarks: Wyn belongs toweirderwest.
Avery dragged his towel down over his head and left it there a moment, using it as cushioning as he leaned back against the chipped ceramic patchwork of tiles across the wall. The water was already warm by this time of morning and felt more like tipping a bucket of saltless sweat over his shoulders, but for a few seconds, with the moisture only just starting to be drawn back into the air and his bare skin pressed against the tiles, it was almost cool.
The sensation passed as quickly as it ever did, and he tugged the damp towel off his face, squinting his eyes half-shut against the aching flare of daylight as he pushed himself reluctantly into a more upright position. Footfalls making soft splashes in the puddle still slowly draining away, he knocked the stall door open with a hip, hands busy shaking out his stretch of ratty green in preparation for slinging it around his waist.
The movement in the corner of his eye registered about half a second before the piercing wolf whistle shattered all misconceptions of peaceful solitude.
Avery twisted hard at the sound and one foot skidded away from him, sending him crashing back hard against the stall. In the next breath he had hefted the towel in one hand and thrown it hard at the laughing face of his assailant, his other hand groping blindly for a grip on the door to keep his balance.
The laughter didn’t stop, and once he was sure his feet weren’t about to go out from beneath him again, Avery lifted his head for the full view of the broad delight on Wyn’s face as she folded the towel – she had caught the bulk of it before it had a chance to hit her – over one arm. A quick darting look confirmed she was the only other in the washroom, which was a small mercy at best and did nothing to ease the hammering of his heart.
“For fuck’s sake,” he said, the hard pulse in his throat turning his words into a strangled wheeze instead of the angry admonition he’d been aiming for.
“There’s a place in the Tops for you with an act like that,” she said, and spun a neat circle, boots squeaking on the floor. She brought her heels together with a nigh audible click, a rare showing of grace in comparison to her usual stomping, and cocked her head at him. “Or maybe some place with a more private show.”
He realised with a start that her eyes were pointed considerably lower than his face, and half turned his hips away, his own gaze skimming wildly over damp tiles and mildewed ceiling before settling on levelling a glare just past her left ear. “Do you mind?”
“Not even slightly,” was the quick response. “I hate to break it to you, Mun, but even with my glasses off I’m usually close enough to have gotten a good look at-”
“Shut up,” he said. “Get out. And give me back my goddamn towel.”
Wyn pursed her lips mock-thoughtfully. “Might be a bit of a difficulty in that order.” His half-snarl was waved off with an airy gesture. “You really gonna keep tying yourself in knots there? You’ll do your back in, old man.”
“Piss off, you trespassing tramp, do you not have a job to do?”
“Done and dusted,” she said, sounding alarmingly self-satisfied about it.
Avery valiantly dodged the accompanying smile with another desperate glance around the washroom. If the towel was a lost cause then he should have had another option open to him, but somehow his clothes had migrated further out of reach than he remembered leaving them, and he had a certain resentful suspicion he knew just what sort of legs they had sprung during his shower.
Someone laughed loudly from outside, the sound filtering through the narrow strip of window high on the wall, and he grimaced.
Rating: PG
Series: Fallout: New Vegas (original characters)
Wordcount: 659
Summary: Avery's trying to get through his morning routine. Wyn has a different idea of what that routine could entail.
Remarks: Wyn belongs to
weirderwest.Avery dragged his towel down over his head and left it there a moment, using it as cushioning as he leaned back against the chipped ceramic patchwork of tiles across the wall. The water was already warm by this time of morning and felt more like tipping a bucket of saltless sweat over his shoulders, but for a few seconds, with the moisture only just starting to be drawn back into the air and his bare skin pressed against the tiles, it was almost cool.
The sensation passed as quickly as it ever did, and he tugged the damp towel off his face, squinting his eyes half-shut against the aching flare of daylight as he pushed himself reluctantly into a more upright position. Footfalls making soft splashes in the puddle still slowly draining away, he knocked the stall door open with a hip, hands busy shaking out his stretch of ratty green in preparation for slinging it around his waist.
The movement in the corner of his eye registered about half a second before the piercing wolf whistle shattered all misconceptions of peaceful solitude.
Avery twisted hard at the sound and one foot skidded away from him, sending him crashing back hard against the stall. In the next breath he had hefted the towel in one hand and thrown it hard at the laughing face of his assailant, his other hand groping blindly for a grip on the door to keep his balance.
The laughter didn’t stop, and once he was sure his feet weren’t about to go out from beneath him again, Avery lifted his head for the full view of the broad delight on Wyn’s face as she folded the towel – she had caught the bulk of it before it had a chance to hit her – over one arm. A quick darting look confirmed she was the only other in the washroom, which was a small mercy at best and did nothing to ease the hammering of his heart.
“For fuck’s sake,” he said, the hard pulse in his throat turning his words into a strangled wheeze instead of the angry admonition he’d been aiming for.
“There’s a place in the Tops for you with an act like that,” she said, and spun a neat circle, boots squeaking on the floor. She brought her heels together with a nigh audible click, a rare showing of grace in comparison to her usual stomping, and cocked her head at him. “Or maybe some place with a more private show.”
He realised with a start that her eyes were pointed considerably lower than his face, and half turned his hips away, his own gaze skimming wildly over damp tiles and mildewed ceiling before settling on levelling a glare just past her left ear. “Do you mind?”
“Not even slightly,” was the quick response. “I hate to break it to you, Mun, but even with my glasses off I’m usually close enough to have gotten a good look at-”
“Shut up,” he said. “Get out. And give me back my goddamn towel.”
Wyn pursed her lips mock-thoughtfully. “Might be a bit of a difficulty in that order.” His half-snarl was waved off with an airy gesture. “You really gonna keep tying yourself in knots there? You’ll do your back in, old man.”
“Piss off, you trespassing tramp, do you not have a job to do?”
“Done and dusted,” she said, sounding alarmingly self-satisfied about it.
Avery valiantly dodged the accompanying smile with another desperate glance around the washroom. If the towel was a lost cause then he should have had another option open to him, but somehow his clothes had migrated further out of reach than he remembered leaving them, and he had a certain resentful suspicion he knew just what sort of legs they had sprung during his shower.
Someone laughed loudly from outside, the sound filtering through the narrow strip of window high on the wall, and he grimaced.
