Title: Dreams
Author: Trowa B
Rating: FRT
Notes: From hawk_dancing over at comment_fic
Summary: Nate likes to daydream.
*****
Nate has this fantasy. In it, Eliot gets caught during a job. Not that Nate actually iwants/i Eliot to get caught during a job you understand, no, but it would give Nate the chance to be the dashing hero. He would storm the castle – as it were – gun in hand, and say something like, "You touch him, I kill you. It really is that simple."
Of course, he knows that if it really came down to it and there was any storming of castles, he'd probably meet an incredibly pissed off Eliot storming iout/i of wherever he was being held. An incredibly pissed off Eliot who would give him a withering look for being stupid enough to bring a gun, just instants before he took the gun away and disposed of it.
One night, when he's not sober, not nearly drunk enough, he confides this fantasy to Eliot.
When Eliot finally stops laughing, finally regains his breath, he smirks. "Sweet, Nate, really," he says. "But I ain't no blushing maiden needin' rescuing."
And as if to prove the point, he grabs Nate and drags him out of his chair onto the floor, out of most of his clothes and proceeds to melt the rest of Nate's brain with a toe-curling blow-job.