MMOM Day 30 - I Like You, Too (The Flash)
May. 30th, 2016 11:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: I Like You, Too
For: MMOM - Thirty (One) Dirty Words – Day 30 (Prompt: Whiskey)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: The Flash
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Joe West, Earth-2 Harrison Wells; Joe/Harry
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Joe and Harry are having a quiet evening in, just enjoying each other's company and a bottle of excellent whiskey. Their conversation turns ridiculous as the alcohol takes effect.
Author's Notes: Written for Day 30 of the Merry Month of Masturbation, for the prompt "Whiskey", given to me by my dearesttheatregirl7299, who is always up for more Jarrison.
__________________
Joe looked up from his paperwork to find Harry staring at him. "What?"
Harry smiled, took a sip of the excellent whiskey he'd brought with him, and said, "Oh, nothing."
"Come on, that look wasn't nothing." Joe wasn't buying that for a second. He knew Harry Wells all too well, and that look spelled trouble. He tossed the paperwork on the coffee table and picked up his own glass.
"Detective, you're reading too much into it." Harry was still smiling, but his now chin was raised in a slight challenge and he was meeting his gaze.
Joe raised an eyebrow. "You only use that title when you're up to no good."
"Now, now. I'm a scientist, how could I be up to no good?" Harry was still giving him that look
Joe took a sip of whiskey. "I've met plenty of scientists who were up to no good, remember."
Harry lost that smile. "Ah, right. But you don't count me amongst those, do you?"
If Harry was still smiling, Joe might have joked and said, "Yes, of course I do," but he wasn't smiling. He was looking a little sad and bitter, so his answer was, "No, of course not. Not anymore."
That brought the smile back to Harry's face.
"You're playing me, aren't you?"
"Of course I am." Harry was smirking now.
"Smart ass."
"Oh, definitely."
Joe knocked back the rest of his whiskey. "Or more appropriately, pretty ass."
"And you do like my pretty ass, don't you?"
Joe leaned back and stretched his legs until his sock-clad feet were tangling with Harry's. "I most certainly do. I think about your pretty ass all the time."
"Oh, Detective, you flatter me." Harry had the audacity to flutter his eyelashes at him.
"Now would be the time to tell me you think about me, too."
Harry laughed and finished his drink. "Truth is, I think about you far too much." And despite the laughter and their bantering, there was a touch of sincerity in those words.
That surprised Joe. This thing between them was supposed to be casual. Two guys blowing off steam (and yes, blowing each other, too). It was nice, having someone his own age to spend his downtime with. Someone without expectations or complex emotional requirements. Someone who didn't need to be courted. And yet, there were times like this when Joe found himself wanting something more than casual.
Except he knew where this was heading, and he wanted to play it out. "Thinking about me, how?"
The man shrugged. "Thinking about you in the morning, in the shower, in the evenings after I go to bed."
Joe knew just what Harry was talking out, but wanted him to say it. "That's when, not how."
Harry reached for the whiskey bottle and poured himself a measure. Joe held out his glass for a refill.
"Do I have to spell it out for you? I thought you were the one who earned a nice, shiny gold badge for his deductive skills."
Joe took a sip and stared at Harry, a useful interrogation technique.
Harry, of course, knew just what he was doing. "I don't break easily."
Joe didn't say anything, he just kept staring. He could do this for a long time.
The room was quiet, the ordinary sounds the house made - the tick-tick-tick of the heat rising in the pipes, a clock ticking somewhere - were a comforting white noise. Joe just kept staring at Harry, waiting for him to crack.
"Okay, okay - so I think about you and jerk off. You happy now?" Harry seemed more outraged at being outplayed than having to confess.
"Very, to be honest. It's good to know that I'm not the only one."
"You, too?"
Joe grinned and nodded. "You and your very pretty ass are the star attraction in my morning, ah, rituals."
Harry kicked him, like he was fifteen years old and didn't know how to flirt. "You can say it, Detective. You jerk off to thoughts of my pretty ass."
"And everything I'd like to do to it."
Harry snorted, "You've got a pretty ass, too, you know. And a pretty cock and a pretty set of balls." He looked at his now empty glass. "You know, I think I'm drunk."
"Which is a shame. Because I'd like to show you what I can do with my - " Joe finished the rest of his whiskey, "pretty cock and pretty ass and pretty balls. Except I think I'm drunk, too." For good measure, he kicked Harry's feet back.
"Mmmm. I like you, Detective Joe West. You know that?" Harry sighed and rolled his head back on the couch. "You've shot at me. You've punched me - "
"You deserved it, both times," Joe didn't hesitate to point out.
"I know, and but that's really not the point." Harry scooted over and rested his head on his shoulder.
Joe felt an all-too-familiar well of fondness rise up when he looked at Harry, glasses askew, hair going in every direction, face covered in scruff. "What is the point?"
"The point? Hmmm, I'm not sure." Harry rubbed his cheek against his shoulder and Joe was reminded of a large and overly affectionate house cat. "Maybe the point is, I like you. All of you."
Joe let out a little sigh and rubbed his cheek against Harry's head. "And you know what, Harry Wells, I like you, too. All of you."
"That's good. Because it would be kind of awkward if you didn't. Jerking off and thinking about a man you didn't like." Harry was an affectionate drunk and maneuvered himself under Joe's arm, settling down as if he was about to go to sleep.
Joe smiled and kissed Harry's forehead. There was no point in telling him that he'd featured in any number of fantasies even when he'd hated him. That was the past, and the past didn't matter.
FIN
For: MMOM - Thirty (One) Dirty Words – Day 30 (Prompt: Whiskey)
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: The Flash
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Joe West, Earth-2 Harrison Wells; Joe/Harry
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Joe and Harry are having a quiet evening in, just enjoying each other's company and a bottle of excellent whiskey. Their conversation turns ridiculous as the alcohol takes effect.
Author's Notes: Written for Day 30 of the Merry Month of Masturbation, for the prompt "Whiskey", given to me by my dearest
theatregirl7299, who is always up for more Jarrison. Joe looked up from his paperwork to find Harry staring at him. "What?"
Harry smiled, took a sip of the excellent whiskey he'd brought with him, and said, "Oh, nothing."
"Come on, that look wasn't nothing." Joe wasn't buying that for a second. He knew Harry Wells all too well, and that look spelled trouble. He tossed the paperwork on the coffee table and picked up his own glass.
"Detective, you're reading too much into it." Harry was still smiling, but his now chin was raised in a slight challenge and he was meeting his gaze.
Joe raised an eyebrow. "You only use that title when you're up to no good."
"Now, now. I'm a scientist, how could I be up to no good?" Harry was still giving him that look
Joe took a sip of whiskey. "I've met plenty of scientists who were up to no good, remember."
Harry lost that smile. "Ah, right. But you don't count me amongst those, do you?"
If Harry was still smiling, Joe might have joked and said, "Yes, of course I do," but he wasn't smiling. He was looking a little sad and bitter, so his answer was, "No, of course not. Not anymore."
That brought the smile back to Harry's face.
"You're playing me, aren't you?"
"Of course I am." Harry was smirking now.
"Smart ass."
"Oh, definitely."
Joe knocked back the rest of his whiskey. "Or more appropriately, pretty ass."
"And you do like my pretty ass, don't you?"
Joe leaned back and stretched his legs until his sock-clad feet were tangling with Harry's. "I most certainly do. I think about your pretty ass all the time."
"Oh, Detective, you flatter me." Harry had the audacity to flutter his eyelashes at him.
"Now would be the time to tell me you think about me, too."
Harry laughed and finished his drink. "Truth is, I think about you far too much." And despite the laughter and their bantering, there was a touch of sincerity in those words.
That surprised Joe. This thing between them was supposed to be casual. Two guys blowing off steam (and yes, blowing each other, too). It was nice, having someone his own age to spend his downtime with. Someone without expectations or complex emotional requirements. Someone who didn't need to be courted. And yet, there were times like this when Joe found himself wanting something more than casual.
Except he knew where this was heading, and he wanted to play it out. "Thinking about me, how?"
The man shrugged. "Thinking about you in the morning, in the shower, in the evenings after I go to bed."
Joe knew just what Harry was talking out, but wanted him to say it. "That's when, not how."
Harry reached for the whiskey bottle and poured himself a measure. Joe held out his glass for a refill.
"Do I have to spell it out for you? I thought you were the one who earned a nice, shiny gold badge for his deductive skills."
Joe took a sip and stared at Harry, a useful interrogation technique.
Harry, of course, knew just what he was doing. "I don't break easily."
Joe didn't say anything, he just kept staring. He could do this for a long time.
The room was quiet, the ordinary sounds the house made - the tick-tick-tick of the heat rising in the pipes, a clock ticking somewhere - were a comforting white noise. Joe just kept staring at Harry, waiting for him to crack.
"Okay, okay - so I think about you and jerk off. You happy now?" Harry seemed more outraged at being outplayed than having to confess.
"Very, to be honest. It's good to know that I'm not the only one."
"You, too?"
Joe grinned and nodded. "You and your very pretty ass are the star attraction in my morning, ah, rituals."
Harry kicked him, like he was fifteen years old and didn't know how to flirt. "You can say it, Detective. You jerk off to thoughts of my pretty ass."
"And everything I'd like to do to it."
Harry snorted, "You've got a pretty ass, too, you know. And a pretty cock and a pretty set of balls." He looked at his now empty glass. "You know, I think I'm drunk."
"Which is a shame. Because I'd like to show you what I can do with my - " Joe finished the rest of his whiskey, "pretty cock and pretty ass and pretty balls. Except I think I'm drunk, too." For good measure, he kicked Harry's feet back.
"Mmmm. I like you, Detective Joe West. You know that?" Harry sighed and rolled his head back on the couch. "You've shot at me. You've punched me - "
"You deserved it, both times," Joe didn't hesitate to point out.
"I know, and but that's really not the point." Harry scooted over and rested his head on his shoulder.
Joe felt an all-too-familiar well of fondness rise up when he looked at Harry, glasses askew, hair going in every direction, face covered in scruff. "What is the point?"
"The point? Hmmm, I'm not sure." Harry rubbed his cheek against his shoulder and Joe was reminded of a large and overly affectionate house cat. "Maybe the point is, I like you. All of you."
Joe let out a little sigh and rubbed his cheek against Harry's head. "And you know what, Harry Wells, I like you, too. All of you."
"That's good. Because it would be kind of awkward if you didn't. Jerking off and thinking about a man you didn't like." Harry was an affectionate drunk and maneuvered himself under Joe's arm, settling down as if he was about to go to sleep.
Joe smiled and kissed Harry's forehead. There was no point in telling him that he'd featured in any number of fantasies even when he'd hated him. That was the past, and the past didn't matter.
