Round 3 - Return of the Meme
Oct. 31st, 2011 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hhanonRound 3 - Return of the Meme
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Prompting Rules
- One prompt per comment.
- Please follow the correct format (see below).
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- Multiple fills of the same prompt by different author!anons are allowed.
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Format of Prompts
- Put [RPF] before RPF prompts.
- For crossover prompts: "[Crossover], HH Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]"
- Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other."
- Put [GEN] before GEN prompts, just so you don't get unwanted shipping.
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- To make the archiving job easier, please drop a link to your fill/unprompted fic here at the fills post.
- Nothing here you fancy filling? Take a look at the unfilled prompts archived here or at Round 1 or Round 2.
That's nearly the end of the storia, for onto the scene comes our much loved meme: HAIL TO THE QUEEN OF PROMPTIA.
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FILL: O Holy Night, Roundhead!Ben/Roundhead!Simon, PG-13 [1/2]
Date: 2011-12-21 03:32 pm (UTC)[A/N: Sequel to this (http://hhanon.livejournal.com/574.html?thread=1251646) and this (http://hhanon.livejournal.com/574.html?thread=547902#t547902) but can hopfully be read seperately to both of them... And apparently LJ is refusing to let me go anon on this, for it is an absolutely fantastic website like that.]
--
It’s already night when he’s finally let off guard duty and can hurry away from the grumpily milling other men. Down secluded corridors and hidden passageways until he finally reaches-
“Who is it?” Thomas asks cautiously, accent low and a little bit cold (castles, you can’t beat them for lack of insulation) as he doubtlessly presses against the other side of the door.
“It’s me,” he mutters softly, quietly – knocks another two times to let Thomas know that he’s alone, “let me in.”
A short pause.
And then the door gapes open and he steps inside, barely managing to kick it shut behind him before Thomas gathers him up and kisses him so sweetly that nothing else really seems to matter.
…It takes a few minutes for them to break apart.
An understandable few minutes, truth be told.
“You’re cold,” Thomas mutters, only when they desperately need air, large (and skilful, as proved after all these years together) hand coming to rest against the side of his face, “I don’t approve of these long shifts at night, you know.”
“I approve of them even less when I’m out in them,” he only chuckles, and maybe snuggles a little closer for the sake of warmth (and love, that which he can just about bring himself to admit), “but what can you do?”
“Complain-?” Thomas starts, with his ever so loud mouth.
“About what?” But the trick to stopping Thomas’ rants is to be cool in the face of them, and he can easily manage that with a soft smile and a calm lean into that still there palm, “an ordinary patrol on an ordinary day?”
A long pause.
“…That is one of the few things I disagree with him on,” Thomas sighs, in his very loudest whisper, and finally withdraws his hand – only to back towards the bed with a growing smile upon his face (so charming, so wonderfully lovely), “did you manage to hide your gift?”
And he smiles, brightly and suddenly for they can feel amusement no matter how monstrous they’re made out to be, and follows – sinking into the covers right besides Thomas and his ever bony hips, “who says that I brought you a gift?”
Thomas actually pouts, to his great and slightly attracted surprise, “haven’t I been good this year?”
“You’ve been better others…”
“Never swore within your earshot.”
“…Well.”
“That was justified.”
“Was not.
“Didn’t once argue with Cromwell, no matter how annoying he was at times…”
“Abused him behind his back, though.”
“That’s better!”
“That’s worse.”
“And never once tried to engage you in a sinful act in public when we were both supposed to be doing other things.”
…He has to smile, just slightly, as Thomas takes advantage of the brief pause to turn and rummage under his pillow, “but I like it when you do that.”
Thomas pauses, hands wrapped around something that looks surprisingly bulky, “do you?”
“Of course,” he smiles, fondly, taps a hand against that broad back to remind Thomas that moving isn’t actually sinful (or how would they get anything done? Honestly, the scheme is utterly unworkable), “remember our first time, in that disused barn with only hay underneath us?”
“And all the times after that, against walls and in kitchens and on tables where anybody could see us,” Thomas smiles, finally turning back at the prompt with a messily wrapped rectangle cradled in his hands, “and I know it a odd segue, but… Here, I may not deserve anything but you are far purer than me and so deserve everything that the world has to offer.”
…He smiles, a little flattered, reaches out to take the rectangle-
FILL: O Holy Night, Roundhead!Ben/Roundhead!Simon, PG-13 [2/2]
Date: 2011-12-21 03:35 pm (UTC)He gawps up at Thomas, actually speechless.
Thomas only shrugs in reply, a fond smile across his face as he leans back on the bed, “I knew that you wanted a new one, and that’s the newest one available.”
He gawps for another moment… Is beaming in the next, leaning forwards to press a quick peck against Thomas’ lips while his hands fumble hurriedly underneath his coat.
“Oh,” Thomas actually sounds shocked as he draws out his own well-wrapped package and hands it over, “you actually-“
He silences the man with another kiss, a loving one for there’s nobody else in the world for him (as sinful as that might sound and be), “I will always get you something, Thomas – now, open it.”
And Thomas, after a moment’s hesitation, rips back the paper with far less attention to detail…
“God,” is staring at a pair of gloves in his hands a moment later – leather, finely made and carefully disguised (for he does not intend them to be only for show or sexual matters) to avoid looking like the most luxurious items he could get his hands on.
“You swore,” he tuts fondly, after a few (long) moments of silence, “maybe I should take these back for another year, until you learn to be good again.”
Thomas only makes an awestruck noise, something between adoration and utter shock.
“It’d be easy to snatch them from you in this state, after all.”
Thomas only makes another noise, even more stunned than the last.
“…Thomas?”
Thomas only-
Leans forwards, for a kiss so deep and energetic that he ends up on his back on the bed, hands tangled in that wild hair and heels braced in the sheets as Thomas pants ever so happily above him.
“I adore you,” the man pants on a slipped out breath, sounding as sincere as anything, “adore you completely and utterly and with all my heart.”
He stares, for one long stunned second…
“Just as I adore you,” smiles, helplessly, and reaches out to place his present safely to the side as he leans up for another perfect kiss “…Now, shall we celebrate together for a while and then see if we can sneak down to the kitchens while everybody else is hopefully asleep?”
“Sounds excellent,” and Thomas is actually beaming, as he fondly leans down yet again “…Merry Christmas, my Henry.”
And he can only keep smiling in reply, “merry Christmas, my Thomas.”
…And it is.
Re: FILL: O Holy Night, Roundhead!Ben/Roundhead!Simon, PG-13 [2/2]
Date: 2011-12-22 12:53 am (UTC)