Distraction
Nov. 30th, 2009 03:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunspotTitle: Distraction
Fandom: Mighty Ducks Movieverse
Pairing: Fulton Reed/Dean Portman
Rating: 13+
Word Count: 767
Warnings: Slash
Summary: Dean has a tendency to distract Fulton when Fulton is trying to do homework. Written in response to challenge bypsychodelicate in the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
midnightwriting comm.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Owned by Disney, not me.
Reading wasn’t so bad, Fulton decided, if you could manage to keep your concentration. To Kill a Mockingbird got very tricky in the middle though, if your roommate was Dean Portman.
“Dude, turn down the music, I’m reading.”
“But it’s Metallica!”
“But I’m doing homework,” Fulton told him, holding up the book. Dean grumbled but he turned the music down in the end.
Two nights later it was like a different verse to the same song.
“Fulton, come on, scrimmage!”
“I can’t, Dean, I have to finish this book.”
Dean threw his gloves on Fulton’s feet at the end of the bed. “You’ve been reading it for like, a month.”
“Try a week. Maybe if you stopped bugging me I’d be able to finish it.”
Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, but he picked up his gloves and left Fulton alone to read.
A week later, the essay topic was the death of innocence and Fulton was trying to remember how many quotes he needed to support his thesis. He bunched his hands in his hair and stared down at the page in front of him.
“Fulton! Come here.”
“Portman, I’m working.”
“Come here, I said!”
“Portman! Not now, man!”
“Fulllllllllllll-ton, I only-”
“Dean!” Fulton barked, half turning in his chair. “I mean it, I need to concentrate.”
“...Fine.” Dean turned away from the door and back towards the hallway. “Guess you don’t want the present I brought you.”
Fulton rolled his eyes. Even without looking he could tell Dean had his hurt puppy dog face on. In all honesty, Fulton only referred to it as the hurt puppy face, to others it was mostly the ‘oooh, someone has pissed off Portman, we’d better scatter’ face. “No, come back, I’m sorry, I just hate this essay.”
Dean stepped back into the room, closing the door and grinning again. “Sure, blame it on the essay.” He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed frame. His knees bumped against Fulton’s when Fulton’s swivelled the chair away from the desk.
Fulton smiled back. He closed his books over and shuffled the papers around on the desk. “So what’s going on?”
“I brought ice cream,” he said triumphantly, holding out a bowl. “Because I noticed how hard you’ve been working on that literature essay and I decided you could use a break.” Dean pushed the bowl into Fulton’s hands. “And what break is better than ice cream sundaes?”
Fulton took the bowl, eyes wide. The sundae had whipped cream and gummy bears and at least three kinds of sprinkles and chocolate sauce. “Wow.”
“Right?” Dean was still smiling.
“Did you bring a spoon?”
“I brought two,” Dean said, producing them from a pocket.
They ate the sundae and talked about ducks instead of mockingbirds and Fulton forgot, for at least a few moments , the terror and agony that was writing essays for literature study class.
The last bite of ice cream was resting at the bottom of the bowl. Fulton narrowed his eyes and looked up to see Dean giving him an identical look. There was a brief spoon duel – two evenly matched adversaries clashing over what they both thought to be theirs rightfully, the sound of metal on metal and at least one breathy curse word.
Dean would later swear that Fulton used some sort of black magic voodoo to win, but Fulton would maintain that it was just karma.
“I made you that sundae, you could have at least given me the last bite,” he grumbled.
Fulton took the bowl out of Dean’s hands and set it on the desk. “C’mere.” He grabbed one of Dean’s hand and tugged him. Dean, still scowling, stood up and was immediately in Fulton’s personal bubble.
Not that Fulton was complaining.
Fulton stood too, pressing his mouth to Dean’s as he rose. He bunched his hand in Dean’s shirt and pulled him closer, parting his lips to let Dean’s tongue taste the last lingering bit of ice cream.
And suddenly Dean wasn’t complaining either.
“Now can I at least try to get my essay reading finished?” Fulton asked, pulling away after a few very long seconds.
Dean’s mouth quirked like he was about to say something, but he nodded. “I’m going to put away the dishes. You’d be better working hard when I get back so I don’t accidentally distract you again.”
But from the way he said it and the sparkle in his eye, Fulton could tell Dean was planning on making it his goal to distract Fulton from reading. Probably for the rest of their lives.
Fandom: Mighty Ducks Movieverse
Pairing: Fulton Reed/Dean Portman
Rating: 13+
Word Count: 767
Warnings: Slash
Summary: Dean has a tendency to distract Fulton when Fulton is trying to do homework. Written in response to challenge by
psychodelicate in the midnightwriting comm.Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Owned by Disney, not me.
Reading wasn’t so bad, Fulton decided, if you could manage to keep your concentration. To Kill a Mockingbird got very tricky in the middle though, if your roommate was Dean Portman.
“Dude, turn down the music, I’m reading.”
“But it’s Metallica!”
“But I’m doing homework,” Fulton told him, holding up the book. Dean grumbled but he turned the music down in the end.
Two nights later it was like a different verse to the same song.
“Fulton, come on, scrimmage!”
“I can’t, Dean, I have to finish this book.”
Dean threw his gloves on Fulton’s feet at the end of the bed. “You’ve been reading it for like, a month.”
“Try a week. Maybe if you stopped bugging me I’d be able to finish it.”
Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, but he picked up his gloves and left Fulton alone to read.
A week later, the essay topic was the death of innocence and Fulton was trying to remember how many quotes he needed to support his thesis. He bunched his hands in his hair and stared down at the page in front of him.
“Fulton! Come here.”
“Portman, I’m working.”
“Come here, I said!”
“Portman! Not now, man!”
“Fulllllllllllll-ton, I only-”
“Dean!” Fulton barked, half turning in his chair. “I mean it, I need to concentrate.”
“...Fine.” Dean turned away from the door and back towards the hallway. “Guess you don’t want the present I brought you.”
Fulton rolled his eyes. Even without looking he could tell Dean had his hurt puppy dog face on. In all honesty, Fulton only referred to it as the hurt puppy face, to others it was mostly the ‘oooh, someone has pissed off Portman, we’d better scatter’ face. “No, come back, I’m sorry, I just hate this essay.”
Dean stepped back into the room, closing the door and grinning again. “Sure, blame it on the essay.” He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed frame. His knees bumped against Fulton’s when Fulton’s swivelled the chair away from the desk.
Fulton smiled back. He closed his books over and shuffled the papers around on the desk. “So what’s going on?”
“I brought ice cream,” he said triumphantly, holding out a bowl. “Because I noticed how hard you’ve been working on that literature essay and I decided you could use a break.” Dean pushed the bowl into Fulton’s hands. “And what break is better than ice cream sundaes?”
Fulton took the bowl, eyes wide. The sundae had whipped cream and gummy bears and at least three kinds of sprinkles and chocolate sauce. “Wow.”
“Right?” Dean was still smiling.
“Did you bring a spoon?”
“I brought two,” Dean said, producing them from a pocket.
They ate the sundae and talked about ducks instead of mockingbirds and Fulton forgot, for at least a few moments , the terror and agony that was writing essays for literature study class.
The last bite of ice cream was resting at the bottom of the bowl. Fulton narrowed his eyes and looked up to see Dean giving him an identical look. There was a brief spoon duel – two evenly matched adversaries clashing over what they both thought to be theirs rightfully, the sound of metal on metal and at least one breathy curse word.
Dean would later swear that Fulton used some sort of black magic voodoo to win, but Fulton would maintain that it was just karma.
“I made you that sundae, you could have at least given me the last bite,” he grumbled.
Fulton took the bowl out of Dean’s hands and set it on the desk. “C’mere.” He grabbed one of Dean’s hand and tugged him. Dean, still scowling, stood up and was immediately in Fulton’s personal bubble.
Not that Fulton was complaining.
Fulton stood too, pressing his mouth to Dean’s as he rose. He bunched his hand in Dean’s shirt and pulled him closer, parting his lips to let Dean’s tongue taste the last lingering bit of ice cream.
And suddenly Dean wasn’t complaining either.
“Now can I at least try to get my essay reading finished?” Fulton asked, pulling away after a few very long seconds.
Dean’s mouth quirked like he was about to say something, but he nodded. “I’m going to put away the dishes. You’d be better working hard when I get back so I don’t accidentally distract you again.”
But from the way he said it and the sparkle in his eye, Fulton could tell Dean was planning on making it his goal to distract Fulton from reading. Probably for the rest of their lives.
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Date: 2009-12-02 06:09 pm (UTC)