A/N: Short fic, AU, it could have worked at some point in cannon, but I'm
too lazy to figure out the exact episode.
THIS IS SLASH, PEOPLE! It said so in the summary, so if you don't like slash, why are you here?
Tristan / Dean - which I haven't been able to READ anywhere. Could somebody hook me up with a slash archive for GG? That'd be nice ^___^
Anyway, here ya go.
~*~
Dean struggled to untangle himself from the other boy and stood up, backing away.
"Why'd you attack me?" Tristan asked, his voice outlined in amusement.
". . . Because you were making a move on Rory. . ." The brown-haired boy answered, incredulously. Tristan scoffed at this,
"You came here to my house and tackled me to the ground because I hit on your girlfriend 3 months ago? Oh, okay." He shot back sarcastically.
"Why else would I? I'm a peaceful person!"
"I don't know, Dean," Tristan said, taking a couple of steps towards the other boy, so that he was backed up against the wall, "you tell me. . ."
"I can't." He said, looking down, so as not to betray his emotions. Tristan got even closer and Dean could see the other boy's expensive Nike sneakers. 'Rich asshole' he thought. He was so close. . .
"So show me." The blonde boy said, pressing his lips up against Dean's delicately. Tristan pulled back slightly, maintaining the unbearable closeness and smirking.
There hadn't been a response. "Oh," he said, "That's why you attacked me. That's why you came all this way to see me, regardless of how I've layed off Rory. Perfectly explained, Forrester."
"I hate you."
Tristan shook his head, leaning in on Dean. He grabbed a handful of soft brown locks and, pulling the taller boy's face to his, kissed him again. No response.
"But I'm so pretty." He said huskily into Dean's ear. Dean shivered and closed his eyes.
"I hate you." He repeated, his voice trembling now.
"Take your time," Tristan said, tracing Dean's jaw line with his finger, affectionately. "After all," His smirked widened into a grin, "You're pretty, too."
"I am not pretty." Dean whispered, staring at Tristan, fascinated by the contact. He was amazed at how good that contact felt, at how much he needed and craved it. A sigh escaped his lips as he marveled at the situation, so perfect in its flawed, twisted way.
"Oh, but you are," he heard the other boy say. "You're very, very pretty."
"I hate you. . ." Dean growled, desperately. He covered Tristan's mouth with his own and threw his arms around Tristan's neck. Tristan sighed happily and deepened the kiss.
"For that moment, Dean was lost in the gorgeous blonde before him. His lips. His tongue. His hair.
They pulled away, breathless and Dean frowned.
"What is it?" Tristan asked.
"You're not pretty either," Dean said shaking his head.
"How can you say that? Look at me!"
"I am."
"And?"
"You're not pretty, you're beautiful."
"Dude, that's just girly."
"Shuddup."
THIS IS SLASH, PEOPLE! It said so in the summary, so if you don't like slash, why are you here?
Tristan / Dean - which I haven't been able to READ anywhere. Could somebody hook me up with a slash archive for GG? That'd be nice ^___^
Anyway, here ya go.
~*~
Dean struggled to untangle himself from the other boy and stood up, backing away.
"Why'd you attack me?" Tristan asked, his voice outlined in amusement.
". . . Because you were making a move on Rory. . ." The brown-haired boy answered, incredulously. Tristan scoffed at this,
"You came here to my house and tackled me to the ground because I hit on your girlfriend 3 months ago? Oh, okay." He shot back sarcastically.
"Why else would I? I'm a peaceful person!"
"I don't know, Dean," Tristan said, taking a couple of steps towards the other boy, so that he was backed up against the wall, "you tell me. . ."
"I can't." He said, looking down, so as not to betray his emotions. Tristan got even closer and Dean could see the other boy's expensive Nike sneakers. 'Rich asshole' he thought. He was so close. . .
"So show me." The blonde boy said, pressing his lips up against Dean's delicately. Tristan pulled back slightly, maintaining the unbearable closeness and smirking.
There hadn't been a response. "Oh," he said, "That's why you attacked me. That's why you came all this way to see me, regardless of how I've layed off Rory. Perfectly explained, Forrester."
"I hate you."
Tristan shook his head, leaning in on Dean. He grabbed a handful of soft brown locks and, pulling the taller boy's face to his, kissed him again. No response.
"But I'm so pretty." He said huskily into Dean's ear. Dean shivered and closed his eyes.
"I hate you." He repeated, his voice trembling now.
"Take your time," Tristan said, tracing Dean's jaw line with his finger, affectionately. "After all," His smirked widened into a grin, "You're pretty, too."
"I am not pretty." Dean whispered, staring at Tristan, fascinated by the contact. He was amazed at how good that contact felt, at how much he needed and craved it. A sigh escaped his lips as he marveled at the situation, so perfect in its flawed, twisted way.
"Oh, but you are," he heard the other boy say. "You're very, very pretty."
"I hate you. . ." Dean growled, desperately. He covered Tristan's mouth with his own and threw his arms around Tristan's neck. Tristan sighed happily and deepened the kiss.
"For that moment, Dean was lost in the gorgeous blonde before him. His lips. His tongue. His hair.
They pulled away, breathless and Dean frowned.
"What is it?" Tristan asked.
"You're not pretty either," Dean said shaking his head.
"How can you say that? Look at me!"
"I am."
"And?"
"You're not pretty, you're beautiful."
"Dude, that's just girly."
"Shuddup."