#hes gonna set the whole stove on fire sooner or later but in the mean time i think i should get to see sexy angry makeouts

[savagebisand]

y'all are so funny to me over here panicking and stressing meanwhile my state of delusion runs so deep that I simply refuse to accept canon if it differs from my prediction and I predict an angry sandray makeout at the music club BABEY!! Sand ain't holding rays shirt that tight whilst ray grips tf outta him for no reason. Also these are the faces of men who are toRn between a carnal desire to claim the other and another desire to shove him away and scoff in his face. ITS DELICIOUS. like look at how desperate rays expression is, he's trying to come off fierce but it's so clear how much he needs sand to reaffirm he still wants ray. Its like his face is begging sand to hold him and dig his claws in right back and kiss him hard even as he knows sand will likely shove him off and tell him to get lost.

Sand looks like a man on the edge between desire and spite, theres this pained look like he's fighting a losing battle. It's evident part of him wants to push ray around a little and yell at how stupid and selfish he is but another part is seeing the ray he's grown to care for, seeing those hollow eyes searching over him for hope and part of sand wants to crumble and give ray what he needs. Even if ray doesn't know how bad he needs it. Sand always wants to give ray what he needs. It's something he's growing to despise in himself whilst still being unable to resist the pull of. Now personally, I could be sad and frustrated or I could sit back and enjoy the yummy angsty meal JoJo is serving me about the hold love has on us and the ugly ways it can make us act.

Look, love is often glamorised to us as this beautiful wholesome thing that always mends and completes you. And sure love is that. But narratives often neglect to present the other side of love too, it can be selfish, possessive, confusing, desperate, all consuming, jaded, frustrating. It's a breath of fresh air to finally see a show, particularly a BL at that, highlighting the complexities of catching feelings and being in love whilst still capturing the hope that lingers and the beautiful moments mixed in when you see the best in someone as well as the worst. It reminds me a lot of The Priests speech on Love from the series Fleabag:

It's in The way that by the point you see them showing an ugly side it doesn't matter because they're already beautiful to you. It makes you fight for them to show up for themselves and you, even in moments you'd rather walk away and wash your hands of it. I have no idea if they'll get their happy endings. But I know that part of the fascination of watching sandray for me is that I have been that person, unable to give up on a love against all odds because what if I never love the same way again.

Anyways strap in for today's ep everyone and good luck recovering from the emotional rollercoaster it'll take us on. Remember to drink a hot cocoa, curl under a blanket, maybe cry and scream a little but try to laugh too and remember that the point of entertainment like this is to take us on a journey. There has to be bad and fighting in the trenches before there can be light and good. The mess and damage won't be this severe on the characters till the end just for a part of the duration of their growth.

If you're feeling hopeless just keep in mind that characters like Ray and Boston can't grow emotionally and get to any place where a hopeful ending is possible unless they travel to a very low dark point first, they're going to become worst versions of themselves before they can be the best and that will hurt people around them. But I truly believe JoJo wouldn't take these characters to those points unless he was going to use it to form some self realisations and repentance. Everyone will recover eventually because that's just life, we all have to. It has been said that characters must go to uncomfortable places to start contending with truths about themselves that allow an anti hero or antagonist to become something more of a vigilante or at least a better morally good (mostly) version of themselves and as a writer I know that often is a very effective method of characterisation.

You will get through this, your favourite ship will get through this. Dissect and enjoy the journey but don't let it haunt your mind to the detriment of your own whimsy and wishful thinking. Shows are made to be excited for each week. When you start dreading if the ending you hope for can happen it's time to take a breather. Don't let it affect your experience of a character or pairing and make it a negative one! That's what fix it fic is for or shows where these actor duos do get a happy satisfactory end. JoJo may write this story a certain way but you get to choose where you think the end works for you. Love you all, stay safe out there. Happy watching!!

#sandray #also i have no energy left to waste getting annoyed at rays entitlement to think he can keep sand and mew #its just funny at this point bc the narrative clearly indicates he cannoT so like idk let him cook #hes gonna set the whole stove on fire sooner or later but in the mean time i think i should get to see sexy angry makeouts

[banashee]

Part 1/2, for @hopelessly-me - enjoy! ♥

Kitchen Nightmares

Clint loves cooking. He is pretty damn amazing at it, too. Give him some time and he’ll whip up what the other Avengers refer to as “magic on a plate” seemingly out of thin air. No matter how simple or complicated, his food always turns out delicious. Whether he is cooking or baking, it doesn’t matter if they just got new groceries or if he is basically cleaning out the refrigerator. Clint’s food has truly spoiled them all, and when he is gone for longer stretches of time on SHIELD assignments, they definitely miss him for more than just company and bad puns. 

  The thing is, Tony likes cooking. He really does - he spends a lot of time trying to make dinner or hot breakfast, and the results are… Interesting. Oftentimes burned or stone cold with very little in between, unless you count his food being over- or under seasoned. Or any imaginable combination of forgotten or randomly added ingredients. 

To say that Tony is bad at cooking would be putting it very nicely. He may be a genius with a remarkable brain and way more PHDs than anyone really needs, but that doesn’t mean he is fit to be let loose in a kitchen on his own devices. Which, of course, doesn’t stop him from trying. 

Clint loves Tony, and Tony loves Clint. Which is why Tony wants to surprise him with a meal some days, on which he’s spent hours, trying to get it right. To be fair, he really puts a lot of love and effort into the whole thing, because again, his intentions are good, but the execution needs work still. 

As a result, Clint is choking down almost inedible food on a regular basis, because he recognizes the love and effort, even though he has suffered through more than a few awful meals.

So, it’s a thing.

  Whenever he catches Tony early enough, with JARVIS help, because the AI really is amazing, Clint casually asks,

“Hey Honey, need any help?” in an attempt to keep an eye on his boyfriend and keep the damage to a minimum. But Tony, bless him, without a fail will just beam at him and say something along the lines of,

“Nope, you go relax, I’ve got this!” and pull Clint in for a kiss before shoving him out of the kitchen to keep working in secret and almost set the house on fire in the process. 

Tony doesn’t “got this”. He really, really doesn’t, but Clint also doesn’t want to crush his excitement or enthusiasm. 

  While the interest and good intention is definitely there, Tony never had the opportunity to actually learn how to cook. Growing up, there were always butlers and chefs to take care of the meals, nevermind the fact that Howard Stark would have freaked the fuck out if he had found his son on a kitchen stove - that one incident when Tony was six had been more than enough, and he’d never treid again, up until he was an adult. All through college, he’d either lived on cup noodles or whatever Rhodey had cooked, and then there is that one time where he spent three hours on scrambled eggs, which caused Pepper to be worried about his well-being more than anything.  

So yeah, Clint knows all this, and he absolutely understands what it is like to have missed opportunities. He himself has experiences with that, although on a different level under different circumstances, but the point is: missed opportunities, never learned something as a kid, wanting to catch up - Clint gets it. He really does. 

This is why Clint lets Tony have his way, and silently pulls up the pizza delivery app on his phone, knowing they’ll more than likely need it in the near future. 

  Not even Lucky wants any of the scraps Tony cooks. The very same mutt who will dig through the trash can because it’s fun and there might be something edible in it, refuses to even touch whatever Tony is cooking. Lucky might come over to inspect it, but more often than not, he’ll just sneeze at the offering and leave the room. It’s kinda sad and kinda hilarious at the same time. 

Tony continues causing absolute havoc in the kitchen nonetheless.

  One morning, Clint enters the kitchen, running frantically because there is a lot of smoke. He can see the flashing lights and feel the vibrations of the extra loud smoke detector in the kitchen - all accommodations to his damaged hearing. Lucky is barking like crazy, and even though he woke up about 20 seconds ago, Clint is on his feet and scrambling, worried because there is smoke and the alarm is going off while Tony was not next to him in bed when he woke up. He needs him to be okay, because he doesn’t know what he would do without him.

“Fuck!” Clint is cursing and coughing, smoke stinging his eyes and creeping into his lungs, which is bad.

  Thankfully, as it turns out, the fire was relatively small and Tony is perfectly fine - he slips into his boyfriend’s frantic hug with ease, squeezing to reassure him that everything is alright - well, apart from the smoking pan on the stove and the wide open window. At least JARVIS has turned the alarm off now.

“Fucking shit. Are you okay?!” Clint asks, despite seeing so for himself and being able to hold Tony close to reassure himself that he is, in fact, fine and in one piece. With a heavy sigh of relief, he adds,

“Next time just set an alarm clock, huh? It’ll be evil still, but much more gentle than the smoke detector going off” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I was gonna make eggs and bacon… Extra crispy, as it turns out.” 

Tony shoots him a lopsided grin, almost sheepish as he runs a hand through the messy mop of hair on Clint’s head. If the archer wasn’t so genuinely freaked out about his safety, Tony would have laughed. He loves early-morning-Clint, because he’s always rumpled and disheveled in his own adorable way. Especially before coffee, when he is a tired, grumpy mess and Tony wants to kiss him senseless every single day. 

Today, Clint is wide awake and sags into his partner in relief. The two of them hold onto each other for a bit, simply enjoying each other's company. A cold chill from the open window creeps into the room, and the smell of burned breakfast is slowly getting less and less. Small favors. 

Both men  look over at the pan, where nothing edible is recognizable as such. 

“Extra crispy indeed. Idiot.” Clint adds, fondly as he presses a kiss into Tony’s dark hair. It only makes him laugh. 

  Another morning, the kitchen is not filled with smoke, which is honestly always a plus, but Tony is standing near the stove, unmoving and staring as if he isn’t sure what exactly he is looking at.

Cautiously, Clint steps closer - thankfully, he already had a cup of coffee before his workout routine and is as much of a functioning human as he can be. 

“...Tony?” he asks, stepping closer. The man in question shakes his head slowly.

“It was supposed to be french toast.”

“...Okay?”

“It was supposed to be french toast.” Tony repeats, then sighs.

“I’m not sure what it is now.”

“So, uh… Wanna walk me through your steps to see where it might have gone wrong?” Clint asks, and he is looking at a defeated man. 

“The step is I’ll order breakfast online, goddammit.”

“Are you sure? We can make some together, if you want to.” 

“Yeah, about that, I kinda used up all the ingredients and fucked up too many times…”

A long beat of silence passes, and even the dog looks up from his pillow in the corner as if to say “Silly human”. 

“...Ordering online it is.” Clint agrees, and for once, keeps the snarky comments to himself. 

  One would think that the day would come where Tony gets discouraged by failure after failure - it doesn’t. On the contrary, it makes him want to prove even more that he can do this, which also means that he refuses to accept any help, determined to figure it out on his own.

Spite and stubbornness have kept him alive at more than one point in his life.  There is no way Tony Stark will be defeated by a simple breakfast recipe - or any other for that matter - again. 

So, one day, he greets Clint with a wide, toothy grin and a “taste it” as he shoves a pot and a spoon in his direction.

  And because Clint loves him, he does taste it. He only barely manages to keep himself from coughing, but he is not sure for how long things can go on like this. Sooner or later, he will have to sit Tony down and talk about this. He would love to encourage him to keep going, but the results and waste of food are too much to bear at this point. Not to mention the fire hazards.  

 *+~

 Prompt 16: "Taste it (evil grin)"

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #ironhawk #65 random prompts

[whathappenedtomyweekend]

It’s Just A Spark Ch.2 - First Impressions

Hiccup was fiddling with his sleeves. He picked up the phone, stared at the screen - and set it down again.

He had been repeating this exact same process for about half an hour now. Each time his finger moved to press the dialling button, his stomach made an impossible turn and his mind did a 180 with it.

He just couldn't. He was not able to just ... call her. What was he so afraid of?

"I've called people before," he mumbled and stared at the accusing numbers in front of him. "Just because it's her doesn't have to be any different."

He tried breathing in and out deeply.

"Okay, Haddock, get it together. You got this far. You asked her, she gave you her number … for whatever reason. You've got this. It's just a call. Just … call her."

He didn't.

Hiccup sighed and got up. She'd be done and have forgotten about him by the time he actually did have the courage to press a fucking button.

oOo

Astrid threw a glance at the clock. It was five pm already. Had she really been here this long? She remembered thinking, 'I should call him' at four as soon as she'd got home. Yet she hadn't. At least not yet.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath, turning on her back, staring at the screen of her phone. "If you don't call, I might never 'cause I'm such a coward."

She couldn't help but wonder what was different about it this time. She'd called him before - well, at least the fire station. At unholy hours like 2 am. So how was this different?

'You're not in a life-threatening situation, for one' a treacherous voice provided her with in her head. She huffed, turning back over, clutching the phone in her hands and pressing it against her forehead.

"I am an indepentant and strong woman who doesn't really need no man but really wants this man, and I can just pick up the phone and fucking call him."

She didn't.

oOo

Gobber had been watching Hiccup pace around the station for about twenty minutes now. The young man was muttering under his breath, phone in his hands and click-thumped around. After a while Gobber decided to clear his throat. Hiccup did not notice him.

"Hey, lad …"

Hiccup started so much he almost let his phone fall.

"I wasn't calling anyone!"

Gobber raised an eyebrow. "Well, it looks like you should be calling someone."

Hiccup looked at him, desperately searching for an excuse, his mouth helplessly opening and closing again.

Eventually he sighed and let his head hang.

"I … it's her. Ms Hofferson," he specified.

Oh. Gobber looked at him, incredulous. "You mean Astrid Hofferson?"

"Yes," Hiccup confirmed, his face dark.

"I thought you didn't like her?" Gobber asked, both his smirk and expression suggesting that that had been the last thing he'd thought.

"That was just to throw you off," the young man admitted. "But I guess it didn't really work."

Gobber laughed, got up and gave his friend a hearty pat on the back, making Hiccup stumble slightly.

"Then what're you waiting for, just call her!"

"I can't, Gobber," Hiccup sounded miserable. "I've been trying for the past hour but i just can't do it."

Gobber paused, then grinned. "She gave you her number?"

"Yes …"

"So she wants you to call you! You don't just go around giving out your number to people who aren’t supposed to dial it"

"I gave her mine too," Hiccup mumbled.

"Sorry, what?"

Louder this time he said, "I gave her mine too. We sort of asked each other. Simultaneously."

"And that's a story I'll tell my grandchildren!"

"Gobber, you're not my father-"

"So you're not denying it?"

"What? I-" Hiccup groaned and slumped together. "I'm just gonna call her."

Gobber grinned. "Atta boy. Just go home altogether, your shift's over in ten minutes anyways."

Hiccup nodded, quickly collected his belongings and stripped himself of his working clothes. Gobber was right. It was silly to be this afraid. He'd just call her. And then he'd apologise for taking so long. And then he'd ask if she was free this friday evening. 'Yes,' he thought, now feeling more confident. 'That's a plan.'

It was ringing. Oh, god, it was ringing. Okay, now he started regretting it. But he couldn't just hang up now. She'd have heard it by now. Or she'd see later he had called. What if she didn't call back? What if-

"Hello?"

His pulse sky-rocketed.

"Hi- Hello Ms Hofferson, it's, ah, Henry. Hi."

She paused shortly, then she chuckled softly and replied, "I think we can agree on a first name basis. You saw me in my underwear."

Oh, right, that. Their first meeting. It had been in the middle of the night and she'd opened up her door, spatula still in her hands, only clad in a cardigan, a top and her knickers, looking rather panicked. He doubted he'd ever been more red in his entire life.

"Oh yes, sorry. So - okay, let me start over," he took a deep breath. "Hi Astrid, it's me, Henry. There, I think I got it."

She laughed. "I'm proud of you. You … don't do this very often, do you?"

"No," he admitted and after a moment of short consideration he added, "you?" (He hoped she didn't.)

"Likewise," she answered and a stone the size of a small parking lot dropped off of his shoulders. "I really don't, that's why I was so nervous to call you sooner. I've been home since four."

"That … would have been my next point," he deadpanned weakly.

He felt almost as if in a haze. She didn't take him for a stupid and inexperienced idiot because she didn't date a lot either. She wasn't annoyed because he hadn't called sooner because she was just as nervous as he was.

Through the hazy mist of his mind he heard himself say, "Are you free this friday?"

A follow-up of an apology and a quick 'or if that's too soon for you, it's okay' were already halfway tumbling over his lips but to his surprise she audibly smiled and replied, "Of course, Friday's perfect. Say, 8 PM at my flat?"

"Uh- yeah! That's perfect, I'd love - I'll pick you up. Is the Che Dragon alright with you?"

"I love that place! I have an old friend who works there."

"Perfect," he repeated, suddenly feeling very high on his luck. "See you then?"

"Sure, I can't wait. And I promise not to use my stove until then."

He laughed.

"O-okay, then … Friday"

"Friday," she echoed, still smiling. "Bye."

"Bye." Hiccup replied weakly and ended the call, feeling like singing, laughing, crying and jumping all at once.

As soon as Astrid had heard the click of the call ending, she immediately jumped up and dialled another number.

A cheery voice on the other end answered.

"Hey girl, what's-"

"Oh my fucking god, Ruff, I have a date!"

Silence. Then, "Wait, are you serious?"

"YES!"

"But … with who?" Astrid didn't even hear the tone that suggested the notion that she'd have to find someone crazy enough to ask her out on a date.

"The fireman, Henry! I asked him for his number - well. He asked me, too. But that's beside the point, he's picking me up this friday!"

"Okay, can you just dial back for a second? Who is this guy, how did you meet and how hot is he?"

"I - I mean, he's really hot but that's sort of his job, being a fireman," Astrid acknowledged, snorting.

"If his puns are as fucking horrible as yours you're perfect for each other." Rachel "Ruff" Thorsten, her best friend of ten years commented dryly.

Again, Astrid chose to gracefully ignore her and continued, "And I think we met about one month ago, when I got my new stove and I can never get the gas right, so everything just sort of … explodes and catches fire, so I panic and call the fire station. And five minutes later I discover they must've sent their cutest fireman available, honestly," she sighed and dropped back onto her bed. "I usually don't have a type, but this guy … you should see his eyes and that hair, seriously. So he's standing there, all gorgeous and serious, and I'm in my underwear with a cardigan over it."

"That sounds like the beginning of a really bad porno - like, a really, really bad and low-budget one."

"Ruff, my fucking kitchen was on fire. It's been five times this month."

oOo

"I thought you went home."

Gobber watched his friend, collegue and former apprentice stumble back in.

"I … wanted to but then stayed in the locker room the whole time," Hiccup said as if realising this for the first time. "But I called Astrid while I was there."

Gobber did not fail to notice the big, happy grin the man had walked in with and had still plastered on his face.

"So …?"

"We have a date this friday. I'm picking her up."

Gobber laughed and once again smashed his hand on Hiccup's back.

"There you go! Knew you could do it. I never doubted you."

Hiccup just kept grinning.

"So, what are you gonna do?"

He blushed. "Well - I thought, Che Dragon is nice … and then a walk through the park? It's a good park," he defended himself. "Even at night. Or … I don't know, maybe we'll grab a drink or …"

"I thought you didn't drink?"

"Oh. Yeah, you're right, I don't," Hiccup realised and let himself fall onto his chair, groaning. "God, Gobber, I'll be dead before I even get to pick her up. I feel like I can't even think properly, how am I gonna hold up a conversation?"

"Don't if you can't," Gobber replied, shrugging. At Hiccup's confused gaze he explained, "Just let her talk until you feel comfortable. Or don't talk at all, whatever you kids do on first dates nowadays."

Hiccup blushed and started stuttering. Gobber laughed again and asked, more serious now, "Okay, lad. I'm telling you this because I'm your friend and because this is your first date since you've started working here and also because your father's hair is going grey over this issue. I know that if I asked you how serious this is to you, you'll tell me you didn't even have your first date yet, so I'll tell you this: don't overanalye and simply get to know her. Have fun. And don't spend all the time you spend with her in your head."

Hiccup exhaled, somewhat relieved this didn't resemble one of his father's 'son, we need to talk' conversations. He bowed his head and nodded.

"I will. Thanks, Gobber."

His friend grinned at him and saluted. "Always there for you, lad."

The thing about Gobber was that this was completely true. Hiccup had known him since he could think. Gobber was his father's best friend and had, after Hiccup's mother's death become his co-parent, thereby expanding his title as Godfather to Adoptive Dad and Sometimes Drunk Uncle. Hiccup knew that if anything ever happened, he could always go to Gobber. There had been times he couldn't deal with his father or just didn't want to, where he'd stayed with Gobber for a few days.

"Okay, now go home," his voice interrupted Hiccup's reveries. "Before I have to chase you out."

#writing #fic #fanfic #it's just a spark #hiccstrid #otp #honestly tho #like i love writing this so much??? #currently on chapter 7 and kinda stuck but whatever #IJAS #modernAU #romance #fluff

[shir0gane]

A Night to Remember - act3/3

This is a little AU I did out of my own in-progress storyline New Black Gold: Babel Demise. NBG:BD begins about two months after the Aug Incident, Adam and David have escaped Panchaea and returned to Detroit, where they try to keep Sarif Industries alive and stand against the rising conflicts.

-> Act1

-> Act2

The first thing on Pritchard's mind when he slowly emerged from sleep’s velvet embrace was the question if last night had been nothing but a dream; an exciting, yet unbelievable dream.

The answer, however, was apparent with his body still being sore and somewhat exhausted.

It really did happen. Pritchard and Jensen had fucked their brains out all night long. And not just once, but... what, three times? Four? Pritchard couldn't remember clearly. He only felt that deep satisfaction surging throughout his entire being.

He never would have imagined. Not with Jensen. Not after he'd tried to keep the security chief at distance for so long, always despising himself for that lasting desire he'd felt for him from the very first moment on. Not even when their relationship began to grow more and more familiar after Jensen's near death experience and modification, and the following crisis they'd been through together.

Pritchard just didn't think it possible the ex-cop could ever be attracted to him. But he was, as he'd proven so readily last night, initiating their interaction and not getting enough of it; craving and savoring, fierce, yet tender.

Pritchard could still feel Jensen's hands on his skin, the grip around his dick and the magnitude invading his rear. He could still hear both their groaning and panting, could taste their kisses, smell the sex.

As a reaction to the intense memories his body began to electrify all over, stomach tingling, breath quickening and blood massing in his groin, until he was completely horny again.

Half trying to relax, half eager to get a glimpse of Jensen sleeping he rolled around, having a look beside him. He found the space vacated, though, cold, the white sheets folded back. Jensen was gone.

The unexpected sight caught Pritchard off-guard and an all too familiar feeling of disappointment clenched his chest before he managed to call himself down. Too late.

Of course, Jensen was gone. Why, the hell, would he stick around? He got what he came for. And Pritchard wasn't exactly the most pleasant company, anyway. He knew that. He chose it. So why would anyone else choose to stay by his side?

He'd been a fool for hoping!

The cruel facts, meant to rationalize the pain away, inevitably resulted in bitter self-loathing instead, threatening to tear him apart when all of a sudden a clanking sound from somewhere in the apartment reached his ear.

Startled, Pritchard forgot his agitation in a moment, held his breath and listened closer. There it was again. Could it be...

Curious, but wary he wrapped the sheet around his body, got up and tiptoed on bare feet towards the living room where he came to a halt, surprised by the scene unfolding before his eyes.

In the American kitchen across the room Jensen stood there at the stove, topless, back turned to him, a towel over his shoulder, and bustling about with a pan. The bar table in the middle of the cooking area had been cleaned and set up with plates, mugs, juice and toast; a warm, delicious scent lingering in the air.

Taken aback Pritchard took a step into the living room, staring at the security chief in utter disbelief.

'You're still here...' Only once the words had left his lips he realized he’d voiced his astonishment aloud, causing Jensen to turn around.

'Why wouldn't I?' he asked, arching an eyebrow.

The pure innocence of the reply made Pritchard feel like an idiot for his emotional outburst earlier, so he instinctively resorted to offense.

'And what is that supposed to be?' he gestured at the prepared table. 'Compensation for services provided?'

Jensen's expression dropped as the biting remark hit home.

'I thought... breakfast. And... more of an appreciation.'

Feeling like a complete asshole now, Pritchard awkwardly closed in another two steps, struggling for some kind of amends.

'I... Wait a minute, are those eggs I'm smelling? I had no idea I still had eggs.' Gladly sidetracked he covered the remaining distance to further inspect the goods on the table. 'And orange juice? Toast?'

'You didn't,' Jensen faced back to the stove and continued to stir the sizzling eggs.

'So, you went shopping?' Pritchard couldn't quite believe it.

'Store's just around the corner,' Jensen shrugged it away, switched off the heat and came over to fill the plates with fluffy looking scrambled eggs.

Pritchard had no idea how to react as he watched Jensen cleaning out the pan, putting it away and returning with a pot of freshly brewed coffee, a warm wave of affection surging through his chest. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

And with that thought he suddenly became aware of the messy appearance he was putting on display right now; ruffled, unshaven, naked beneath the sheet and a boner on the rise again he only hoped was well concealed by the folds of the white fabric.

'Come on, sit,' Jensen invited and settled himself on one of the two stools, oblivious of Pritchard's embarrassment.

'I... ah... prefer to stand for another moment, thank you,' Pritchard stalled, a blush entering his cheeks.

Jensen threw him a puzzled look, followed by an amused smirk twitching over his lips as he reached for the pot.

‘Here, have some coffee,’ he offered a distraction and filled him up.

The strong aroma of the fresh coffee, toast and eggs indeed reminded Pritchard of how starved he was, and changing its priorities his body relaxed enough for him to manage sitting down.

He still felt uncomfortable and didn't dare look up at Jensen, knowing he would immediately recall last night's events. So, he kept his eyes on the table, added the usual amount of sugar into his coffee and grabbed a fork to have a taste of the eggs.

They were as fluffy and delicious as they looked.

'I had no idea you were a damn cook,' Pritchard uttered with his mouth full and glanced up at the security chief, completely forgetting his intent to avoid any eye contact.

'It's just eggs,' Jensen trivialized and had a sip of his coffee. 'Besides, I was in a long-term relationship, remember?'

'Don't make me,' Pritchard snubbed and re-focused on his meal. Megan Reed was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. That manipulating, lying bitch had never been good for Adam Jensen.

However, there was another cue left to discuss. Relationship. Sooner or later they had to clear the air about what happened between them. And how to proceed from now on.

Pritchard cleared the plate first, though, and emptied half of his coffee before he mustered the courage to raise this particular subject.

'So, are we going to talk about last night, or what?' Clinging to the coffee, he lifted his head.

'What's there to talk about?' Jensen paused eating and gave him a clueless look. 'I mean, it was... exquisite...' A fond smile flashed over his lips.

'Don't play dumb with me,' Pritchard retorted, trying to ignore Jensen's reaction. At least they were on the same page with that. 'How are we going to deal with this?’

‘What do you mean?’

He seriously had no idea?

‘What do you think, I mean? We fucked our brains out last night. Don’t you agree this calls for some clarification?’

'Does it?'

'Of course, it does!' Pritchard's patience snapped. 'It changes everything!'

'I don't see how, exactly,' Jensen shook his head. 'We work together, we spend time together, now we slept together. Even though I don’t mind having more of that, it doesn't change how I feel about you.’

A searing pain cut into Pritchard’s heart as he tried to process Jensen’s statement. So, this had been nothing but a meaningless fuck, after all?

'Look,' Jensen drew a deep breath when he noticed the disappointment he'd caused. 'Obviously, this whole situation is as unexpected for me as it is for you, but we both aren't the types for holding hands in public, flowers and candy on Valentine's or reading love poetry to each other. We don't need to classify this relationship. All I want is to be with you, and we're already doing that, always have. So, why don't we just roll with it from here on?'

Pritchard felt his heart skip a beat upon those words.

'So, you really want to...?'

'If that's what you want.'

'And what about work?' Pritchard wasn't ready to admit he always did. 'People will notice, you know, and they'll talk.'

'So, let them talk,' Jensen shrugged.

'You don't mind?'

'No, do you?'

Though the thought of everybody knowing was damn tempting, Pritchard realized he wanted to keep this treasure all to himself for a while longer.

'Let's not shout it from the rooftops just yet, see how it’s going first.'

'Fine with me,' Jensen agreed without hesitation and cast him an endearing smile which set Pritchard's blood on fire once again.

'I'm gonna take a shower,' he jumped from his seat and turned towards the bathroom, but stopped on the door sill when Jensen didn’t make a move. 'You coming?'

#Deus Ex #DX #Deus Ex: Human Revolution #DX:HR #Deus Ex: Mankind Divided #DX:MD #System Rift #Adam Jensen #Jensen #Francis Pritchard #Frank Pritchard #Pritchard #Jensard #Fanfiction #Fanfic #writing #gay #fluff