Ficlet: Neal/Moz
May. 22nd, 2010 12:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hoosierbitchAt Panera. And I managed to snag the Good Table (I may have hip-checked an old lady and a dude with a baby, but w/e, they were totally eying my outlet). I think I will stay here all day. It is time to write strap-on porn, bitches! \o/
In the meantime, I found this - a little snippet from a fic that died (may it RIP). I liked it, tho, so I thought I'd share it! :D
"But - but you hate dancing," Neal says slowly.
"Sure I do," Moz replies, his hand still outstretched. "But you don't." Moz's hand is clammy with nerves. "I've got to make compromises, too," Moz continues. "It's only fair." And he sounds certain. Like he's figured this out - he probably has. He's probably been planning to ask Neal to dance since he first heard about the party. That's probably why he's dressed up - hell, it might be why he decided to come at all.
The music's perfect for a slow dance, which is good, because Moz is many things, but graceful? Is not one of them. At first Neal tries to hold him at arm's length, tries to keep a warm, bemused smile fixed on his face, so that if anyone looks over they'll think they're just joking. Not really dancing together - just playing a prank on the square FBI agents.
But Moz doesn't let him. Moz settles one hand on Neal's shoulder blade, one on his hip, and leans in. "If you want me to stop, just tell me. I really won't mind."
He's stepping on Neal's toes. Stepping on Neal's toes but not on the beat, and his clammy hands are probably going to leave damp little marks on Neal's suit, and he's pretty sure he's actually blushing. "Trying to give them all something to talk about in the office, hmm?"
"No, Neal," Moz says, and the hand he had been resting on Neal's shoulder moves up to his neck. Softly, so carefully, he cradles the base of Neal's head, slides his fingers through Neal's hair. "I just want to dance with you."
What fics are you guys working on? My list of things-to-write has become intimidatingly long. O.o But I am excited about ALL of them, so that helps. :D
In the meantime, I found this - a little snippet from a fic that died (may it RIP). I liked it, tho, so I thought I'd share it! :D
"But - but you hate dancing," Neal says slowly.
"Sure I do," Moz replies, his hand still outstretched. "But you don't." Moz's hand is clammy with nerves. "I've got to make compromises, too," Moz continues. "It's only fair." And he sounds certain. Like he's figured this out - he probably has. He's probably been planning to ask Neal to dance since he first heard about the party. That's probably why he's dressed up - hell, it might be why he decided to come at all.
The music's perfect for a slow dance, which is good, because Moz is many things, but graceful? Is not one of them. At first Neal tries to hold him at arm's length, tries to keep a warm, bemused smile fixed on his face, so that if anyone looks over they'll think they're just joking. Not really dancing together - just playing a prank on the square FBI agents.
But Moz doesn't let him. Moz settles one hand on Neal's shoulder blade, one on his hip, and leans in. "If you want me to stop, just tell me. I really won't mind."
He's stepping on Neal's toes. Stepping on Neal's toes but not on the beat, and his clammy hands are probably going to leave damp little marks on Neal's suit, and he's pretty sure he's actually blushing. "Trying to give them all something to talk about in the office, hmm?"
"No, Neal," Moz says, and the hand he had been resting on Neal's shoulder moves up to his neck. Softly, so carefully, he cradles the base of Neal's head, slides his fingers through Neal's hair. "I just want to dance with you."
What fics are you guys working on? My list of things-to-write has become intimidatingly long. O.o But I am excited about ALL of them, so that helps. :D