Here is the fifth chapter of a fanfic developed by me and a friend of mine.
Pairing: Khashoggi/Galileo
Rating: N/17 for certain chapters.
Characters: All of the characters from the musical and a few OCs.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story (if I did then all the pairings in my fanfic would true) apart from my OCs.
Author's Note: The story starts during the interrogation scene between Galileo and Khashoggi that took place in the actual musical. I hope everyone likes this story!
Khashoggi seemed to be taking the longest shower ever.
Galileo bit into another strawberry, smudging a stray splodge of it across his face in a failed attempt to wipe it away. He'd been antsy the moment he had gotten to the kitchen, and thought that occupying his senses might distract him from his thoughts.
Anyway, he liked strawberries. Sweet and summery, perfect drizzled in syrup and drowned in whipped cream, piled onto pancakes... Ah.
"Okay," he said to himself, "distraction not working." He stared hard at what remained of the strawberry in his hands for a long moment, before resignedly popping it into his mouth. "Really not working."
"Starting without me?" Khashoggi's voice came from the doorway, and Galileo could practically hear the smirk in his tone.
Galileo ducked his head. "I-I-I'm sorry!" he said, feeling the heat crawl up his neck. Khashoggi's replying chuckle did nothing to comfort him, and he looked up to find the towel-clad commander grinning shark-like at him. "Y-you're kinda mean, you kn-know that?" He swallowed as the image before him registered in his head. "Also naked."
"I've got a towel on," Khashoggi stated, gesturing to the slate-grey fabric hanging from around his hips.
"You're st-still pretty...uh..." Galileo trailed off, compelled to watch as the other man slunk into the room to lean opposite him, against the kitchen island.
"Did you just call me pretty?" Khashoggi's grin widened inexplicably at the shock on the younger man's face.
"O-of course not, d-don't f-f-flatter yourself!" He cried indignantly, clutching the tub of strawberries tightly to his chest. Khashoggi's cheshire grin dropped to a feline smile, as he pushed himself away from the counter and into the dark-haired man's space, one hand hovering over the strawberries as the other braced his weight on the worktop Galileo was currently pressing himself into. "May I? You seem to be quite fond of them."
Galileo gawked down at the man's ice-grey eyes staring at him from under his brow. "H-how'd you f-figure that?"
"You've eaten about a dozen in less than ten minutes, Galileo. It's somewhat telling. Now, may I?"
The young man pulled a face at him, unable to form a quick retort, before pushing the tub into Khashoggi's chest. That seemed sufficient permission for the older man, who deftly plucked one of the nicer fruits out and bit into it, grazing it with his teeth as he did so. "God," he said, licking his lips and pushing away from the worktop, "I need a cigarette."
Galileo made a strange sort of noise in his throat, caught between disgust and something more embarrassing. Khashoggi's gaze slid down him idly, his free hand fingering absently at the top of his towel whilst he finished the strawberry, pausing to suck an errant drop of juice off his thumb. Galileo bit his lip, and Khashoggi flicked his focus back to Galileo's face just in time to catch his expression.