Title: Red and Green
Rating: Um, green? Possibly blue.
Word count: 445
Notes: Sam/Gene. Inspired by basaltgrrl 's fantastic artwork, go send her lots of love, now.
Summary: Sam in Gene's green shirt. (Very deep, emotional stuff, this. :P)
“Don’t know why you bothered getting dressed,” Gene leered at him from the armchair.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Can you think about something else for five minutes? My arse is sore enough as it is.”
“I’m glad to hear it!” Gene eyes glinted in triumph. Then he continued, quieter: “And don’t pretend you’re better than me, you’ve told me before how much you like that shirt.”
Sam folded the overlong pale green sleeves back over his wrists and shrugged. “Was the closest thing I picked up, that’s all.”
“Liar.” Gene stood, extinguishing his cigarette and advancing on Sam. He was only partially dressed himself – vest crumpled, trousers and briefs pulled on, but zip undone and belt nowhere to be seen. With the two fingers which had previously held the cigarette, he traced a path down the expanse of skin exposed between the tip of Sam’s chin and the done-up second button.
Gene’s shoulders were broader than Sam’s, so with the collar splayed open Sam’s neck and a large part of his chest remained on show. Strictly speaking, Sam admitted in his head, putting this shirt on hadn’t been an entirely uncalculated move. He liked the way he was surrounded by Gene’s scent, the feel against his skin of material he had so many times watched pull taut across Gene’s back and stomach.
Sam gulped when Gene’s fingers moved back up over his adam’s apple, pressing just this side of firmly. Gene’s expression had turned inscrutable. Sam stood stock still as Gene raked him over with his gaze. Then in an instant Gene’s grip changed, holding him about the throat and using the power this afforded him to back Sam against the nearest wall. He wasn’t squeezing tight enough to completely cut off Sam’s air supply, but Sam noted the lick of fear which skittered through his veins nonetheless. Sometimes, tempting Gene was like waving a red flag in front of a bull: dangerous, unpredictable, and ultimately very messy.
“Quite a pretty picture you make, eh?” It was spoken aggressively, but the hand loosened and let go, moving to push against the side of Sam’s face, drawing their mouths closer together. Sam lifted his arm and tugged sharply at the fine hairs at the nape of Gene’s neck, pulling him backwards until there was enough space to launch himself off the wall. Getting a leg between Gene’s, he levered upwards and spun, catching Gene off guard and reversing their positions.
Gene’s furious expression as his back hit the wall was priceless. Sam happily capitalized on it, hissing “Got you,” before initiating the kiss himself.
Sometimes, Sam knew, tempting Gene could be a very rewarding experience indeed.