So, I was doing a puzzled the other day and was talking to my Buttercup, right? Well, I think Angel and 'Coy baby totally do puzzles together...thus this was born. Turning it into a fanfic was totally and completely her idea. She also wrote a small portion of this...fff bonus if you can guess what. I edited most of it out cuz iet felt like plagiarism. Mindless fluff. I tried to make Ange more of a sweetheart, cuz thats what he REALLY is. Ending sucks.
disclaimer: I do not own Dance Central or characters, I just slash them cuz I'm lame like that. These sexy homies belong to Harmonix.
"Do ya want some water or somethin'?" MacCoy asked, not really paying attention to the VIP behind him. He just wanted to get out of the rain.
"I think I've had enough water," Angel mocked playfully, smiling when the blond let a sarcastic scoff slip past his lips.
The B-boy unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off; it was only a bit damp and he dried his hair off before throwing it on his tattered sofa.
"Make yourself at home or whatever. Sorry, my pad's such a trainwreck."
MacCoy flicked his hand at the bathroom and small kitchen before heading to his bedroom, giving the other a lazy tour.
Angel nodded and picked up MacCoy's scrunched up jacket to flatten it out over the back of the sofa so it would dry properly. He lay his white suit jacket next to it and rolled the sleeves of his pink dress shirt up, noting that he might need to make a trip to the dry cleaners later or buy another, and headed to the bathroom to dry his hair the civilised way.
The Puerto Rican was a bit surprised when he stepped into 'Coy's bedroom. It seemed to be more of a studio than anything else, well, an art studio that belonged to a geeky dancer who slept in said studio. Angel's eyes trailed along the shelves nailed to paint-splattered wallpaper. Action figures of DC comic superheroes lined the walls and a bookcase that nearly reached the ceiling held plastic-covered comics. This collection seemed to be the only clean part of MacCoy's living space. Everywhere else stacks of gamer magazines littered the apartment floor, clothes were tossed haphazardly here and there, and food wrappers turned the wastebasket next to his desk into a natural landfill. A diminutive, affectionate smile graced his lips. It was refreshing to find someone else with a passion for something other than dancing, even if it was some dorky guy he worked with for over a year now.
Some dorky guy that he considered his friend; a friend that he was curiously attracted to.
MacCoy was already seated at his desk doodling with a charcoal pencil when Angel strutted in and seated himself on the scratched wooden surface of the desk.
Crossing his legs, one over the other, he muttered a "What are you doing?" He made an attempt to take a peek at the paper the Russian was drawing on and frowned when 'Coy scooted away suddenly to hide his drawing.
"Nothin'. Quit bein' nosy. I don't like peeps lookin' at stuff when I ain't finished." Then the blond hurriedly stuffed the notepad into a small drawer, effectively crushing the paper.
"I'm bored. Entertain me." Angel released an overdramatic sigh and 'Coy rolled his eyes.
The locker stood and shuffled around awkwardly looking for something to do, feeling the Hispanic's piercing stare weighing him, and everything else in his bedroom, down. The Russian rummaged through several cluttered cabinets, with pictures and verses taped to the doors, until he found a stack of cheesy puzzle games, which he lifted up and shook at Angel.
"Aren't those for kids, gringito?"
The other male visibly winced. He hated the nickname the Latino had picked out for him with a burning passion, it wasn't exactly his idea of a "term of endearment".
"Nah, not really," he said, managing to keep his cool. "And I'm not a gringo. Yo hablo muy buen español."
Angel chuckled slightly at the other's grammatically incorrect statement and MacCoy sat down, placing the puzzle box down on a fluffy carpet he kept on the middle of the floor.
"Siddown," the dancer commanded, beckoning for the other to sit beside him. Surprisingly, the tanned male didn't protest and seated himself next to the dancer on the soft fabric.
All of the puzzles MacCoy obtained over the years were of cliché landscaping or the usual cute and fluffy animal. His Grammaw continued to buy them for him for his birthday and other holidays, she was a stereotypical old person and didn't keep up with the times, so she never knew exactly what was "poppin', fresh, or real tight, yo". MacCoy loved them, even after he grew up, which wasn't much. Aside from being a genuine grandma's boy the blond was a bit of a packrat. He just couldn't bring himself to throw away the precious treasures.
"We're gonna bust this one out!" MacCoy started excitedly, waves of nostalgia washing over him and making him giddy. He shuffled through the stack and picked up a puzzle box with a pair of fuzzy kittens on the front.
Angel's eyebrows shot up in amusement, a teasing smirk playing on his face.
"What? Got sumpin 'gainst kittens, homie?"
Angel shook his head, palms raised in surrender, and laughed lightly.
"Whatever. They're fuckin' cute." MacCoy defended, feeling embarrassed, even if Angel wasn't judging him with words.
"We'll work on the border first and then- " the "puzzle veteran" started again, shaking his blush off.
The Puerto Rican snatched the puzzle box from his hands and studied it for a moment, a chesire grin forming.
"Wha? ' Ey, damnit!" MacCoy whined, reaching for the box, only to have his face shoved away with a smooth hand.
"You know...this guy kind of resembles you." Angel explained, pointing at the tabby with blue eyes and a cute pink nose.
MacCoy scooted closer, enough to where their arms touched and heat exploded from the friction of both their bare arms but neither bothered moving away.
"Yeah. He's a handsome lil' devil. Yo, this one looks like ya." MacCoy tapped the burmese with amber eyes and brown coat.
"Hm. Yeah." The latino replied a bit distractedly, staring at the picture of kittens playfighting, while an idea formed in his head.
A tanned body connected with a pale one, strong hands pinning wrists to the fluffy carpet. His legs were straddling Coys waist and he sat on the boy grinning madly.
" The fuck Ange? Get offa me, jerkface." MacCoy threatened lowly. He hated being pinned, made him feel weak.
"Relax, pollocito." Angel breathed, suddenly close to his ear and flushed face.
MacCoy definitely did not relax and he thrashed his lower body about, trying to buck the other off.
Both boys moaned, the brunette louder and shakier than the other, as their hips connected. Heavy golds locked with foggy sapphires when both parties froze to stare at each other.
"The hell was that?" The blond asked, fear creeping in his voice.
Instead of an answer, the Latino continued to stare at him, as if mulling an important decision over.
"Angel. I think you should get offa-mmph." His words were muffled by the brunette's mouth.
MacCoy lay in shock, assessing the situation, because he assumed Angel's original motive was to embarrass him, which was something he had already accomplished many times before. The kiss was surprisingly pleasant and warmed the rest of the chill caused by the rain from his body. He didn't move, his body or his lips, and was relieved when the mouth attached to his pulled away. The Russian wasn't sure how to address his predicament so he laid idly when the body on top of him straightened itself, releasing his wrists, and he stared at him wondering why the usually cocky other wouldn't meet his gaze.
"Sorry," Angel muttered, eyes glued to the purple fluff of the carpet beside 'Coy's head. "Lost my cool for a second. I just wanted to wrestle at first and then you kept squirming that way and-" MacCoy cut him off this time with an awkward motion.
"Never leaves this room, Ange." MacCoy flashed him an uneasy smile then continued, "So, giddup cuz I wanna do that puzzle."
Angel watched MacCoy with astounding patience, mostly because he still felt troubled by his rejection. He did, however, deeply enjoy the faces MacCoy made; especially when he was concentrating on where to place a piece and a slick, pink tongue found it's way over his dry lips and blond eyebrows arched, as if accidentally tasting what was previously there. It may have been because the B-boy was positioned on his elbows and knees, with his butt high in the air, his back dipping in slightly as he sorted the colored fragments apart.
Angel would have continued helping, like he had in when they first started, but he stopped when MacCoy complained about finishing too fast. The Puerto Rican's hawk-like eyes and nimble fingers spotted the placement of the cardboard bits before 'Coy could pick one up and the Russian became antsy, his obvious competitive side shining boldly.
"'Kay, homie. We're done. Ya wanna put the last piece in?" MacCoy asked, regarding the task as if it were a high honor. That was the best part of finishing a puzzle.
Angel's ringed digits calmly picked up the final piece, rotating it in his fingers, he purposely placed it down incorrectly. "Oh. It just doesn't fit," the dapper dancer teased, finally glancing at the B-boy.
MacCoy crawled closer to him and placed an arm over his shoulder, in an attempt to show the other that he was forgiven for his weird acts and playfully responded, "Stop bein' stupid. Oh, right. Ya can't help it."
The Puerto Rican flushed at the unexpected contact, a shiver riding up and down his spine. "I might need help. Seeing as I'm so stupid."
MacCoy laughed, fingers innocently brushed against Angel's to turn the piece around and gently return it home.
"Wanna make it permanent?"
Angel shrugged nonchalantly and twirled his earring once to calm himself once MacCoy's back was facing him.
"I think I got some glue in here ta make all the pieces stick together and shit." MacCoy ruffled through his various drawers.
The Hispanic strolled up behind him, no longer timid, and kissed at his neck. Shuddering at the Russian's scent and sudden moan he trailed his lips up, barely ghosting over goosebumped flesh, and placed a tender kiss to the shell of MacCoy's ear. MacCoy wobbled, nearly undulated, and dropped the bottle; his hands now gripping the edge of the desk. Angel placed his hands over 'Coy's and stroked his pale knuckles with his thumbs.
"Angel. Q-quit messin', man." MacCoy stuttered, his cheeks heating up.
Nipping at his ear, "I love you when you're flustered."
The locker jerked suddenly and Angel realized he slipped, and he let his arm fall back to his sides as he backed away.
MacCoy whirled around suddenly, "Whoa, man. What'd ya just say?"
"Nothing, nevermind. Just forget it," Angel spoke in clipped sentences, becoming very defensive.
MacCoy moved closer, confused, curious and slightly ecstatic now that he felt he had the other cornered. It wasn't very often a person caught him with his guard down. He poked Angel in the chest, "Seriously, what'd ya say to me, Ange?"
"What did it sound like, mijo?," Angel snapped.
MacCoy knew what it was, he just wanted to hear it again.
They stood in a heartwrenching silence until MacCoy finally spoke, "What 'bout when I'm not?"
"Not what?" Angel's golden eyes turned darker, a heavier brown, and he regarded MacCoy as if he were a threat. He probably thought he was going to hit him.
"Not flustered, dumbhead." MacCoy explained, annoyed that he had to dig deeper into the conversation.
Angel stared at him in astonishment, eyes wide with disbelief and he rubbed at the back of his neck muttering something unintelligible.
"None of that Spanish shit either, ya know I failed that class."
The Puerto Rican laughed lightly, not surprised by MacCoy's bluntness even in situations like this, and decided that he wasn't all too great with words after all.
He closed the distance between himself and the B-boy and mashed his lips to the other's suddenly. He hoped the other would catch his point.