the-ceiling-again

Today in weird thoughts distracting me from from writing *side eyes @tekka-wekka* imagine the castle/lions have an integrated messaging system. Originally for work orders and quick messages not worth calling someone up for but, once our OT3 gets ahold of it, mostly for sexting. Because reasonable planet saving individuals here.

And Shiro attempts to be subtle with shit like “I would appreciate if we could continue our earlier talk on how the similarities between various star systems and our own. I think we were on the verge of something really interesting..” Which makes Lance snort because that’s a really long winded of saying “let’s cue up some stars on the ceiling again and fool around.”

But Lance plays along. “Sure. It was a stimulating talk. Your room?”

And Keith is Keith. “…but is Shiro going to give me the blow job he promised yesterday?”

Word Count: 532

Triggers: None

Requested by anonymous

Nate and Sophie were out on a date, so Eliot, Hardison, and Parker were just hanging out around the restaurant. Hardison was working making the coms better; Parker was scaling the ceiling – again. Eliot was fixing dinner.

“What do you guys want?”

“I’m good – I got my gummy frogs, I got my orange soda.” Hardison said absentmindedly. “And Parker ate like a pound of chocolate, which is why she’s bouncing off the walls – literally.” He chuckled at that and glanced up at his girlfriend.

“You two need to eat some actual food – not just gummy frogs and orange soda.” Eliot was practically outraged. They ran a food establishment and yet neither of them had had a decent meal in what felt like forever.

“Don’t forget the chocolate!” Parker squealed as she sailed back down from the ceiling. Eliot rolled his eyes, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. He began cutting the chicken and seasoning it. Thirty minutes later, three plates of steaming cashew chicken stir-fry were sitting on the counter. Eliot stood on the other side of the counter facing Hardison. He grabbed one of the plates and walked it over to him, placing it next to his computer, and snatching the bag of half-eaten gummy frogs from the other side of his computer and stalked off.

“Hey! My frogs!”

“First, you eat real food, then you get the damn frogs back.”  

Hardison grumbled but picked up the fork and took a bite.

“Wheeeeeeeeee!” It was the fourth time in 40 minutes that Parker had sailed down from the ceiling and into the couch. Quick as lighting Eliot unstrapped the harness and set down a plate for her. Parker pouted.

“Elliooooot!” She whined.

He stared down at her. “Eat.” He pointed at the plate. Parker grumbled but she grabbed the fork and took a bite.

“Woah.”

“Wow.”

It wasn’t a secret that Eliot could cook – and could cook well, but neither Parker nor Hardison was ready for what was sitting on their forks.

Eliot was eating at the counter, his back to Parker and Hardison. Parker shoveled the steaming hot food into her mouth. “Eliot this is soooo good!” Parker said. Eliot smirked.

“Seriously Eliot, this is amazing.” Hardison said, his eyes wide.

Eliot just smirked. Now maybe they won’t kill themselves through malnutrition.

    …  [reaches for phone] 

   [Text: @cfgreycells ] Yo, 

   [Text: Eddie] uhm.. can I pop over for a few …weeks?

 [throws it aside and stares up at the ceiling again]
         …how the hell do one paint a galaxy, though???

totallyamazeballs  asked:

“shit, you’re hot” (because lbr he'll probably find some way to turn it around on her)

shit you’re hot
closed.

          HE’S BEEN going on and on about plans for the Gull for a few minutes. Nothing new, nothing to write home about. If you did, it would be a whole lot of, If he says ‘lantern’ one more time… But maybe that’s just him. Because when he moves to point to the ceiling again, he’s vaguely aware of the breeze that slips through when his shirt lifts with the motion. It only lasts a few seconds, just as long as it takes him to talk about setting up some warmer lighting on the oceanside patio.

          IT’S SO SOFT, Duke almost misses the comment completely. Muttered under her breath in a way that he probably wasn’t meant to catch. When he turns to look back at Waverly, it’s with a twist of his brows that has to be asking what she’s been drinking. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, but there’s definitely more pointing involved.

          I’m thinking we install some space heaters over there, keep from needing to have blankets on hand. Put an extra bar over there, for anyone too LAZY to find a waiter or go inside. I can take it off, if you want. And maybe we can have themed Fridays every once in a while. What do you think?