Tag: ato writes

Six Sentence Sunday

Hi remember me?  I used to be on this site a lot and work on this new story from the Bleary!verse… and it’s literally taking forever and everyone’s probably lost interest ages ago, but here’s a bit more…

Chris insisted on doing the dishes, so Zach took Nathan upstairs and got him changed and grabbed a quick shower.  As he came back to their bedroom with his jeans on, toweling his hair dry, he caught Chris staring at the closet.  Frozen.

“This is a strange reversal of roles,” he said, making Chris jump.  Zach looked him over and tried again, walking toward the dresser.  “You only agonize about clothes if there’s a red carpet involved.”  Zach rummaged around in a drawer as Chris chewed his lip.

“We always open presents in our pajamas.  I’m not used to getting cleaned up.  Does she want us dressed up?  Picture ready?”

“Nah,” Zach answered, pulling out his “Bah Humbug” t-shirt. “She just doesn’t like everything to be over before she’s finished her first cup of coffee.  Clean, yes; dressy, no.  T-shirt, sweats—whatever you need to be comfortable.”

Chris glanced at him and then back to the closet, clearly unconvinced.

“Here,” Zach said, reaching in.  “I packed your favorite old-man-cardigan.  Nice and soft.  Wear that with one of your stretched-neck t-shirts and get your cute ass downstairs so we can open presents.”

Chris huffed a laugh, still seeming out of his element.  “You sure?”

“Yeah, baby.  You’re over-thinking this.  Grab a shower and get back down before Nathan explodes with anticipation.  And you, too.  I saw you shaking your packages.”  

“Only the one,” Chris said in his defense, though the sheepish, sideways look he gave Zach showed he hadn’t realized he’d been caught.  

Zach grinned and moved in to kiss the faint pink growing on Chris’ cheek.  “God I love it when you blush,” he murmured against Chris’ skin.  And he really shouldn’t feel pleasure at anything that made Chris uncomfortable, like not knowing his way around Quinto family traditions, but that blush had always been his kryptonite.  

Chris huffed an awkward laugh and quiet “fucker.”

“Hmmm,” Zach agreed, pushing his fingers through Chris’ hair.  It’d been a while since he’d been a fucker in the literal sense, but he wasn’t going to complain about that now.  “Shower.  Presents.  If you need help…”  He pulled Chris closer with a teasing trail of his hand.

“I think I’ll manage,” Chris laughed, pushing Zach away and looking more at ease.  “You go distract your mom.”

“Mom’s fine.  Keeping Nathan from opening all the presents will be harder.  So hurry.”  Zach backed his way to the door, appreciating Chris’ sleep rumpled hair before turning to leave.  Last year it had just been the three of them, they had stayed in pajamas most of the day, only getting dressed when it was time to head to Chris’ parents’ home for dinner. He hadn’t realized at the time that it was a Pine family tradition.  The offer to let Chris stay as he was on the tip of his tongue, but Chris moved across the hall to the bathroom, and he realized Chris wouldn’t be comfortable being the only person not cleaned and changed anyway.  

“Daddy!”

“Coming.”  He shook his head, wondering for a moment what other Pine family traditions he’d missed.

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

From Cleaving…

Zach felt almost boneless as his mind drifted in the afterglow, not really focusing on anything until he nearly fell asleep surrounded by warmth and bliss and the smell of sweat and sex.  Abruptly, the thought of Nathan waking them excitedly on Christmas morning and finding them naked and glued together with dried come intruded.  Zach groaned.

“What?” Chris mumbled sleepily.

“We have to get cleaned up and dressed again before we fall asleep.”  There was no need to spell out the consequences; he felt the rumble of Chris’ resigned grunt and raised himself reluctantly.  There was an impressive amount of come stuck to both of them, and Chris started laughing at what must have been a grimace on his face.

“You know, for someone who loves to see my chest covered in spunk, you are particularly intolerant of it on your own.”

“It sticks to my chest hair,” Zach huffed.  

“So you’ve said.”  Chris’ voice was laced with amusement and affection.  Zach rolled his eyes and carefully reached over to the nightstand drawer, pulling out the travel packet of baby wipes.  One of the perks of being parents was discovering the multitudes of off-label uses for these handy little soft wipes, more-effective-post-sex-clean-up-without-leaving-bed being Zach’s favorite.  They made quick work of it, Chris helping where Zach missed a spot on what he called Zach’s “hairy heart,” though Zach had always thought that patch of hair looked more like the bat-signal than anything as romantic as a heart.  They put their Grinch t-shirts back on and found their sleep pants in a wad under the bed, making sure that everything was put away and mother- and toddler-presentable before tangling back under the blankets.