My next 30 years
Author: wanderingsmith
apr 10, 2015
Summary: "What the *hell* are you
doing in my bathtub??"
sequence of drables...
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and
nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As
it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em..
"What the *hell* are you doing in my bathtub??"
Lee hadn't bothered raising his head from its
cushion at the door banging open, and only turned
it now to look at his armed intruder with mild
annoyance, "They locked me out of my motel room.
And thanks to your war, I stank."
Barney stared at him, "..So you broke into my
house to have a soak in my tub?"
Lee shrugged, "Yeah." Shivering ostensibly, he
raised a brow, "If you're staying, close the
fucking door; you're letting all the steam out.
You really should set your heat higher, you know."
---
"Glad you stayed."
"Um." Barney drowsed in the warm water, head back
against Lee's shoulder. "You looked surprised."
Lee's snort made Barney shake. "I was *surprised*
that you started to *strip*."
Reminded of watching those familiar eyes darken as
they followed his every move, Barney's body
rippled slow, skin slick on skin, "You expected me
to take a bath wearing clothes?"
"I expected you to sit on the fuckin' toilet and
lecture me."
Barney chuckled, too comfortable and finally warm
to bother pretending. "I'm not that selfless.
Staring at you through water wouldn't have been
remotely as good as sitting against you."
---
The water wasn't half as warm as the man who'd
shocked him by dropping his ass between Lee's legs
at least as much as he'd surprised Barney by his
presence in his tub in the first place. If he had
a choice, Lee would stay here, in the warm quiet,
with his living breathing -if infuriating-
blanket. But the water was chilling and his
stomach had recognized that he was in civilization
again; and it expected to be fed.
"Barney."
"Um."
"You need to get to bed and I need to find some
food. Up."
"I suppose you expect me to feed you, too?"
---
He'd never admit how many times he'd read himself
to sleep with foreign cookbooks; wondering what
would appeal to his widely-travelled friend. Or
which of the British dishes would actually be
tasty enough for Barney not to have to find
himself snarking about it.
It was easy enough to think of one he had
ingredients for. Onions, defrosted sausages, and a
simple dough and he could join Lee sitting on the
couch pretending he wasn't falling asleep watching
Die Hard.
"They steal your clothes too?"
One of Lee's eyes opened, "Don't like my new
style?"
Barney smirked, "Naw; plaid and loose jeans suit
you."
---
It was the smell that woke him from his drowse. He
had to take several whiffs to convince himself he
wasn't dreaming of years long gone by before he
opened his eyes to stare at Barney in disbelief.
"Toad in the hole??"
Barney's head turned from watching the TV, for
just a second looking like he'd been caught with
his hand in the cookie jar. "What?"
" *You* make Toad in the hole? Mr.
Italian-American who loves all that fine food
shit? Since when??"
"I never claimed everything fine was Italian."
'Fine'. Well hell... Thinking about the evening
for a bit, Lee finally had to shake his head at
both of them.
And wordlessly shoved at Barney, shifting him back
until he could drop himself between his legs, head
and back against the solid strength of the man's
chest.
His eyes drifted closed, smiling as Barney's arms
wrapped around his chest. "You're just lucky I'm a
sucker for your food."
Barney's easy chuckle made him shake, "See? No
calling my ring a piece of crap anymore."
Hell.
He reached for Barney's hand, gaudy thing in place
even at home, and turned it to swipe his thumb
over the grinning face.
--
Lee's voice was a quiet mutter, thoughtful and
hard to catch with the action movie next to them,
"Think it'll be lucky enough to keep us together
for the next 30 years?"
Had to tug the man closer at that, arms on soft,
familiar flannel of his old shirt draped loose
around Lee's compact power. Bald dome that Tool
had tried more than once to ink resting in easy
reach of his lips.
Bare inch of a headtilt and he could feel the
skin's warmth as he muttered right back, "It'll do
better than *that*."
"You make *sure* it does."
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