Title: Are We Really Surprised?
Author: AriellaGiselle
Rating: PG
Category: Humor, Romance, Slash
Pairing: Darien/Eberts
Distribution: My Site, IMFanfic list, NeonSilence, and FanFiction.net;
anyone else, just ask.
Summary: My answer to the MWC: Pros and Con(vention)s!
Spoilers: I don't think there are any.
Status: Finished
Author's Notes: Yes, this is slashy.
{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}
I can't believe this... How did he convince me to do this?
"Come on," he pleads like a small child at a fair.
"Why did I let you talk me into this?" I ask.
"I didn't *talk* you into anything," he replies. Hey, I saw those roaming
eyes!
"You know what I mean, Albert," I whisper, reaching for his hand.
"I know what you mean, Darien," he breathes. Oh, my... He knows I love that.
I run my hand up his back and bury my fingers in the soft hairs at the nape
of his neck. "Come on, let's go home. I can think of more..." I move my
eyes downward, leaving no doubt of my intentions, "mmm, *interesting* things
to do at home." I watch in amusement as his face burns with embarrassment.
"I'm s-sure you c-can," he stammers. He stops speaking and regains his
composure. "But please, let's stay. For me?"
Oh, no, here comes the pouting. That bottom lip sticks forward, and I stare
helplessly at it. I sigh and hang my head. "Fine, we can stay."
The smile on his face is truly my reward. "Come on," he says, that goofy
grin still plastered to his face, "Let's go get seats for the panel."
I nod slowly in defeat. He clutches at my hand with one of his own and
brings his other hand to my face. He leans closer and presses his lips
gently to mine. "Thank you," he whispers.
"You're welcome," I whisper back. My arm snakes protectively around his
shoulders, and he returns the gesture with a practiced ease. That gentle
hold on my waist.
And we begin walking to the Panel Room. I let go of his shoulder long enough
to open the door for him.
The room is full, but we finally manage to find two seats in the middle. The
smile I keep to myself when his hand comes to rest lightly on my knee is one
of pure bliss. I swing my arm over the back of his seat and rub my thumb on
the back of his shoulder. I feel like a high school kid trying to get to
second base with his sweetheart. Nevermind the fact that second base is far
in the past.
A blonde woman takes the podium and shuffles some papers. "Ladies and
gentlemen, please welcome Stan Lee."
Author: AriellaGiselle
Rating: PG
Category: Humor, Romance, Slash
Pairing: Darien/Eberts
Distribution: My Site, IMFanfic list, NeonSilence, and FanFiction.net;
anyone else, just ask.
Summary: My answer to the MWC: Pros and Con(vention)s!
Spoilers: I don't think there are any.
Status: Finished
Author's Notes: Yes, this is slashy.
{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}
I can't believe this... How did he convince me to do this?
"Come on," he pleads like a small child at a fair.
"Why did I let you talk me into this?" I ask.
"I didn't *talk* you into anything," he replies. Hey, I saw those roaming
eyes!
"You know what I mean, Albert," I whisper, reaching for his hand.
"I know what you mean, Darien," he breathes. Oh, my... He knows I love that.
I run my hand up his back and bury my fingers in the soft hairs at the nape
of his neck. "Come on, let's go home. I can think of more..." I move my
eyes downward, leaving no doubt of my intentions, "mmm, *interesting* things
to do at home." I watch in amusement as his face burns with embarrassment.
"I'm s-sure you c-can," he stammers. He stops speaking and regains his
composure. "But please, let's stay. For me?"
Oh, no, here comes the pouting. That bottom lip sticks forward, and I stare
helplessly at it. I sigh and hang my head. "Fine, we can stay."
The smile on his face is truly my reward. "Come on," he says, that goofy
grin still plastered to his face, "Let's go get seats for the panel."
I nod slowly in defeat. He clutches at my hand with one of his own and
brings his other hand to my face. He leans closer and presses his lips
gently to mine. "Thank you," he whispers.
"You're welcome," I whisper back. My arm snakes protectively around his
shoulders, and he returns the gesture with a practiced ease. That gentle
hold on my waist.
And we begin walking to the Panel Room. I let go of his shoulder long enough
to open the door for him.
The room is full, but we finally manage to find two seats in the middle. The
smile I keep to myself when his hand comes to rest lightly on my knee is one
of pure bliss. I swing my arm over the back of his seat and rub my thumb on
the back of his shoulder. I feel like a high school kid trying to get to
second base with his sweetheart. Nevermind the fact that second base is far
in the past.
A blonde woman takes the podium and shuffles some papers. "Ladies and
gentlemen, please welcome Stan Lee."