@requiemofkings‘ super painful art got me thinking, and that’s never a good thing, so here’s the scene in question and there’s probably going to be a fic that comes out of this but honestly who knows with me, am i right? anyway this is almost 3k and probably the longest “short” fic I’ve written so yeah >_>
Andrew nudges Neil into their room and watches him shuffle inside, appearing a good bit drunk without a drop in him. “The next time you want to risk endangering the mission,” Andrew says once the door is closed and the lock has been slid home, “leave me out of it.” He arms their security system, the pocket-sized one that Renee insists gives them a perimeter of the room’s exact boundaries. Andrew believes her, but Neil is low-tech, so Andrew sets the far cheaper early-warning system of a string, a crowbar, and a bell as well before backing away from the door.
Neil scoffs, the drunk act dropped, and Andrew turns to find him already shucking off his tie, working out of his grey jacket. “Please. You’d be bored if I wasn’t constantly keeping you on your toes.” Neil finally discards the thin outerwear, and he’s left standing in just the black button-up and trousers. Andrew never liked the color on him.
“Bored but alive,” Andrew says, stepping forward to start undoing the buttons of Neil’s shirt. Inch by inch, scarred flesh opens up to him, ending too soon when Andrew tugs the shirt free of Neil’s waistband.
The soft hum that slips from Neil is just as soothing as the man’s fingers skimming Andrew’s throat before working at undoing his tie. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Andrew settles a glare on the idiot, but Neil doesn’t meet his gaze, focused on his own long fingers and the path they sear down Andrew’s front as they undo each button with an artist’s precision.