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apocalypsosTitle: One In The Morning And Kinda Fucking Wasted
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Project Runway RPS
Pairing: Daniel V./Andrae
Rating: R, but mostly for language and adult references.
Spoilers for: The reunion show. Duh. ;)
Summary: Because the reunion show never really shows you everything.
Disclaimer: Not making any money off this, and no, none of these people are sleeping together. Although it'd be awfully pretty if they were.
Author's note: Oh, what the hell am I going to do when this season is over? Write fic for other reality shows? I'm so going to go through withdrawal until the end of the year, I swear. :)
*****
One In The Morning and Kinda Fucking Wasted
*****
It's the goddamn ascot that's throwing Daniel off.
And the thing is, he isn't even sure it is an ascot. Theoretically, if anybody on the planet should be able to identify whether or not it's an ascot or some weirdly-tied scarf ... thing, it should be any random person in this particular bar right now. Of course, in that theory, any random person in the bar wasn't so drunk they could barely see straight, and it wasn't one in the morning, and the person wearing the fucking ascot wasn't curled up against you like you're a big, cuddly body pillow.
So, yeah, the distractions? Not helping all that much.
Whatever the hell it is, it's dark and silky and the same burgundy color as the wine they've both been swilling like experts since the interviews were over and everybody retreated to the bar. Daniel knows for a fact that Kristin left a long time ago, supposedly because she was tired but probably because Lupe spent half the night falling all over her while drinking her share of the liquor, Kristin's share, and quite possibly the baby's share as well, and Marla and Zulema hopped in a cab an hour or so ago.
But almost everybody is still here, writhing on the dance floor or slumped onto a bar stool, depending on their energy levels. Chloe and Nick huddle at the end of the bar trading catty but good-natured jokes at everybody else's expense, and Santino's ducked behind the bar to mix drinks with the bartender (the only person in the place he hasn't insulted), and Dirty Diana's lost the scarf, shoes and glasses and currently owns the dance floor like the adorably sexy little thing that she is.
Daniel cannot begin to describe how much he's loving the atmosphere in the place right now, like that first few hours of filming the show when they were all still flying on a wave of giddiness at being chosen, and that's not even counting how this feels.
"So who'd you pick?" he hears himself say, and that crack about the ability to stand upright being a major accomplishment looks like nothing when he realizes he can still speak without tying his tongue in knots.
Andrae chuckles at that, low and soft and quietly dramatic. His breath ghosts across the pulse point by Daniel's collar, and Daniel shivers. "You didn't hear me?"
Daniel shakes his head. They'd been sent backstage when Tim and Heidi had asked everyone who they'd thought would win, which was really another room and yet was close enough for them to eavesdrop if they wanted to. Of course, that didn't take into account Santino cracking jokes about everybody picking him in his Tim Gunn voice, which -- self-centered asshole or not -- would never, ever stop being funny.
There's this sigh, and that's when Daniel thinks Andrae's doing it on purpose, teasing that spot right above his collar as if he found an erogenous zone acceptable for stimulation in a public setting and has settled in for the long haul. "Oh, I picked Santino," he says, casual as anything.
Daniel shoots him a look, and Andrae rolls his eyes, lips tugging upward in a smile. "I was joking, Dan. God."
"Oh." Yeah, he's definitely a little too wasted.
He thinks he feels fingers tugging at the back of his shirt, slipping along the patch of skin right above his jeans, and it suddenly hits him that he's obviously not drunk enough to miss Andrae touching like him like that.
Well, not for long, anyway.
No one could possibly be noticing Andrae doing it, not now, not with half of them preoccupied and the other half of them dazed from a steady diet of liquor and more liquor for tonight. But Daniel darts a glance at everybody else just the same as his breath hitches. He leans back against the bar, not enough to make it uncomfortable for Andrae or anything but just enough for that small point of contact to press that much harder.
He'd missed this, Daniel realizes, missed flirting when no one's looking and flirting when they were and the two of them had to be even more subtle than usual.
It's in that moment when he's got this distracted smile on his face that Andrae leans forward, the space between them disappearing in an instant. One hand's teasing the skin on Daniel's lower back and the other's made a point of drifting over his zipper so fast and casual anybody else who saw it would think it was a slip of his hand.
But Daniel's getting warmer and warmer with every passing minute, and he has to close his eyes to keep steady when Andrae speaks as quietly as he can manage under the throb of the music. "Do you realize," he says, "that if I drag you back to my place and fuck you for the rest of the night, there's no chance of being interrupted by cameras or roommates?"
Daniel makes this choked sound at that, like he really wants to answer but can't because it'll just turn into a moan anyway, and this triumphant smile crosses Andrae's face. "You're so easy, you know that?"
His fingers tighten on Andrae's sweater, resisting the urge to tug upward and reassuring himself they just need to hold off until they get to the hotel room.
"Only for you," he says with a grin, and steers Andrae towards the door.
Oh, yeah, he thinks later, when he's sore in all the right places and savoring the feel of Andrae's skin against his. Definitely missed this.
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Project Runway RPS
Pairing: Daniel V./Andrae
Rating: R, but mostly for language and adult references.
Spoilers for: The reunion show. Duh. ;)
Summary: Because the reunion show never really shows you everything.
Disclaimer: Not making any money off this, and no, none of these people are sleeping together. Although it'd be awfully pretty if they were.
Author's note: Oh, what the hell am I going to do when this season is over? Write fic for other reality shows? I'm so going to go through withdrawal until the end of the year, I swear. :)
One In The Morning and Kinda Fucking Wasted
*****
It's the goddamn ascot that's throwing Daniel off.
And the thing is, he isn't even sure it is an ascot. Theoretically, if anybody on the planet should be able to identify whether or not it's an ascot or some weirdly-tied scarf ... thing, it should be any random person in this particular bar right now. Of course, in that theory, any random person in the bar wasn't so drunk they could barely see straight, and it wasn't one in the morning, and the person wearing the fucking ascot wasn't curled up against you like you're a big, cuddly body pillow.
So, yeah, the distractions? Not helping all that much.
Whatever the hell it is, it's dark and silky and the same burgundy color as the wine they've both been swilling like experts since the interviews were over and everybody retreated to the bar. Daniel knows for a fact that Kristin left a long time ago, supposedly because she was tired but probably because Lupe spent half the night falling all over her while drinking her share of the liquor, Kristin's share, and quite possibly the baby's share as well, and Marla and Zulema hopped in a cab an hour or so ago.
But almost everybody is still here, writhing on the dance floor or slumped onto a bar stool, depending on their energy levels. Chloe and Nick huddle at the end of the bar trading catty but good-natured jokes at everybody else's expense, and Santino's ducked behind the bar to mix drinks with the bartender (the only person in the place he hasn't insulted), and Dirty Diana's lost the scarf, shoes and glasses and currently owns the dance floor like the adorably sexy little thing that she is.
Daniel cannot begin to describe how much he's loving the atmosphere in the place right now, like that first few hours of filming the show when they were all still flying on a wave of giddiness at being chosen, and that's not even counting how this feels.
"So who'd you pick?" he hears himself say, and that crack about the ability to stand upright being a major accomplishment looks like nothing when he realizes he can still speak without tying his tongue in knots.
Andrae chuckles at that, low and soft and quietly dramatic. His breath ghosts across the pulse point by Daniel's collar, and Daniel shivers. "You didn't hear me?"
Daniel shakes his head. They'd been sent backstage when Tim and Heidi had asked everyone who they'd thought would win, which was really another room and yet was close enough for them to eavesdrop if they wanted to. Of course, that didn't take into account Santino cracking jokes about everybody picking him in his Tim Gunn voice, which -- self-centered asshole or not -- would never, ever stop being funny.
There's this sigh, and that's when Daniel thinks Andrae's doing it on purpose, teasing that spot right above his collar as if he found an erogenous zone acceptable for stimulation in a public setting and has settled in for the long haul. "Oh, I picked Santino," he says, casual as anything.
Daniel shoots him a look, and Andrae rolls his eyes, lips tugging upward in a smile. "I was joking, Dan. God."
"Oh." Yeah, he's definitely a little too wasted.
He thinks he feels fingers tugging at the back of his shirt, slipping along the patch of skin right above his jeans, and it suddenly hits him that he's obviously not drunk enough to miss Andrae touching like him like that.
Well, not for long, anyway.
No one could possibly be noticing Andrae doing it, not now, not with half of them preoccupied and the other half of them dazed from a steady diet of liquor and more liquor for tonight. But Daniel darts a glance at everybody else just the same as his breath hitches. He leans back against the bar, not enough to make it uncomfortable for Andrae or anything but just enough for that small point of contact to press that much harder.
He'd missed this, Daniel realizes, missed flirting when no one's looking and flirting when they were and the two of them had to be even more subtle than usual.
It's in that moment when he's got this distracted smile on his face that Andrae leans forward, the space between them disappearing in an instant. One hand's teasing the skin on Daniel's lower back and the other's made a point of drifting over his zipper so fast and casual anybody else who saw it would think it was a slip of his hand.
But Daniel's getting warmer and warmer with every passing minute, and he has to close his eyes to keep steady when Andrae speaks as quietly as he can manage under the throb of the music. "Do you realize," he says, "that if I drag you back to my place and fuck you for the rest of the night, there's no chance of being interrupted by cameras or roommates?"
Daniel makes this choked sound at that, like he really wants to answer but can't because it'll just turn into a moan anyway, and this triumphant smile crosses Andrae's face. "You're so easy, you know that?"
His fingers tighten on Andrae's sweater, resisting the urge to tug upward and reassuring himself they just need to hold off until they get to the hotel room.
"Only for you," he says with a grin, and steers Andrae towards the door.
Oh, yeah, he thinks later, when he's sore in all the right places and savoring the feel of Andrae's skin against his. Definitely missed this.
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-26 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 02:30 am (UTC)Oh, what the hell am I going to do when this season is over? Write fic for other reality shows?
I figure as long as no one's really slashy on TAR starting Tuesday, we're set.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 07:59 pm (UTC)You know what was the worst thing about the reunion? That for me, Santino didn't bother me half as much as Lupe. Jesus, did she get some sort of brain damage after the run of the show? Like, worse brain damage than she already had during it?
And oh, God, I almost completely forgot about TAR! I'm going to have to tape that and watch Supernatural. Thank God for my other TV. *has never been so grateful for that extra expense since I moved in*