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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Wishes Come True… Sometimes
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell, both original characters
Rating: PG, Ethan’s a bit of a potty mouth. Travis is generally more creative.
Word Count: 758
Author's Note: The boys' story starts here, if you are so inclined. Written for the prompt: Be careful what you wish for… Completely unbetad and written in a hurry.
When he was young, he’d wished for a handsome man. One with abs of steel and a jaw carved from marble. When he was older, he’d dreamed of a handsome man, who was smart and worldly. One who had traveled the globe and learned the secrets of the ancients. More recently, he desired an honest man with a job and a sense of humor. Handsome was a bonus. Intelligent was a must. He’d ceased being too picky.
What Ethan found instead was Travis Murphy.
Travis wasn’t anything like what he’d wished for all those years ago. Although he was handsome – very much so – and intelligent, he was also a royal pain in the ass who loved to torment him. And no amount of Irish charm or Latino good looks could save him this morning.
Ethan entered the living room, looking around at the chaos his lover had created on the floor, coffee table, and every available flat surface. “What the hell happened in here?”
Travis looked up from the pile of papers in front of him, flashing a quick grin. “Oh hey, you’re up. I was just organizing some things.”
“Some… things?” He looked around again, wondering what a large organization would look like and repressed a shudder at the thought. His innate OCD tendencies were rearing their ugly heads again, it seemed. “Would you like some help?”
“Naw,” Travis said without looking up. “I got it. You go… play in the garden or something.”
His tongue slipped out, unconsciously tracing the curve of his lower lip. Feeling his fists clench at his sides, Ethan offered, “Please let me help you. It’ll go faster.”
“Nope.” Travis gave him a quick glance before focusing on the papers he was sorting. “I said I had it. Also, these are the notes, research, copy edits, and other stuff from my last novel. I need to get it sorted, filed, and put in storage. You wouldn’t know a copy edit from lunch order. No offense, baby.”
“None taken,” he assured him, knowing the truth of that. “But…”
“But nothing. Take a chill pill, detective, and get off my back.”
Travis was engrossed in the task at hand and didn’t spare so much as a peek in his direction. Ethan continued to watch the piles grow larger, the mess more chaotic, the need to fix this growing inside him. “Travis…”
“Shut it, McDowell and go outside. Get some sun and fresh air. Quit obsessing.” He stopped sorting pages and looked up fully, catching his lover’s eyes on him. “Eath, seriously, stop. I’m almost done sorting, these are the last of them. After that, filing and getting the folders in boxes won’t take long at all.”
“I can’t help it,” he growled. “I like things neat and orderly and in their place. And this, today, so soon after waking up is making me crazy! Why do this now and not when I’m working?”
He offered up a careless shrug. “Couldn’t sleep and couldn’t write so I thought I’d tackle something I’d been putting off. That’s usually enough to get me back to work.” Placing the last couple sheets onto various piles, he brushed his hands together, triumphant. “See? All sorted. Why don’t you go into town and get us some breakfast? By the time you get back, I should be done.”
“Smartest thing you’ve said all morning,” Ethan said, looking around for his shoes. “Uh, Travis? Have you seen my sneakers?”
“Over there.” He pointed towards the front door and a pile of miscellaneous footwear.
“I’m going to murder you when I get home, just so you know.” He made his way carefully around the teetering stacks of papers until he got to the entryway. Finding two matching shoes belonging to him, he struggled to get them on his feet.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Travis said.
“You should be. I was a homicide detective for years. I know how to get rid of a body.”
Travis gave him a crooked, cocky grin. “Yeah, but you love me and would be lost without me.”
Asshole was right. “Shut up. I’ll be back and this place better be clean!”
“Whatever,” Travis replied, grinning as Ethan left the house.
Hearing his truck pull out of the drive, Travis let the laughter out. “I shouldn’t screw with him like that, but he makes himself such an easy target sometimes.” Shoving a pile of papers into a folder, he started humming and filing.
Just wouldn’t do to have his boy come home to a mess now, would it?
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell, both original characters
Rating: PG, Ethan’s a bit of a potty mouth. Travis is generally more creative.
Word Count: 758
Author's Note: The boys' story starts here, if you are so inclined. Written for the prompt: Be careful what you wish for… Completely unbetad and written in a hurry.
When he was young, he’d wished for a handsome man. One with abs of steel and a jaw carved from marble. When he was older, he’d dreamed of a handsome man, who was smart and worldly. One who had traveled the globe and learned the secrets of the ancients. More recently, he desired an honest man with a job and a sense of humor. Handsome was a bonus. Intelligent was a must. He’d ceased being too picky.
What Ethan found instead was Travis Murphy.
Travis wasn’t anything like what he’d wished for all those years ago. Although he was handsome – very much so – and intelligent, he was also a royal pain in the ass who loved to torment him. And no amount of Irish charm or Latino good looks could save him this morning.
Ethan entered the living room, looking around at the chaos his lover had created on the floor, coffee table, and every available flat surface. “What the hell happened in here?”
Travis looked up from the pile of papers in front of him, flashing a quick grin. “Oh hey, you’re up. I was just organizing some things.”
“Some… things?” He looked around again, wondering what a large organization would look like and repressed a shudder at the thought. His innate OCD tendencies were rearing their ugly heads again, it seemed. “Would you like some help?”
“Naw,” Travis said without looking up. “I got it. You go… play in the garden or something.”
His tongue slipped out, unconsciously tracing the curve of his lower lip. Feeling his fists clench at his sides, Ethan offered, “Please let me help you. It’ll go faster.”
“Nope.” Travis gave him a quick glance before focusing on the papers he was sorting. “I said I had it. Also, these are the notes, research, copy edits, and other stuff from my last novel. I need to get it sorted, filed, and put in storage. You wouldn’t know a copy edit from lunch order. No offense, baby.”
“None taken,” he assured him, knowing the truth of that. “But…”
“But nothing. Take a chill pill, detective, and get off my back.”
Travis was engrossed in the task at hand and didn’t spare so much as a peek in his direction. Ethan continued to watch the piles grow larger, the mess more chaotic, the need to fix this growing inside him. “Travis…”
“Shut it, McDowell and go outside. Get some sun and fresh air. Quit obsessing.” He stopped sorting pages and looked up fully, catching his lover’s eyes on him. “Eath, seriously, stop. I’m almost done sorting, these are the last of them. After that, filing and getting the folders in boxes won’t take long at all.”
“I can’t help it,” he growled. “I like things neat and orderly and in their place. And this, today, so soon after waking up is making me crazy! Why do this now and not when I’m working?”
He offered up a careless shrug. “Couldn’t sleep and couldn’t write so I thought I’d tackle something I’d been putting off. That’s usually enough to get me back to work.” Placing the last couple sheets onto various piles, he brushed his hands together, triumphant. “See? All sorted. Why don’t you go into town and get us some breakfast? By the time you get back, I should be done.”
“Smartest thing you’ve said all morning,” Ethan said, looking around for his shoes. “Uh, Travis? Have you seen my sneakers?”
“Over there.” He pointed towards the front door and a pile of miscellaneous footwear.
“I’m going to murder you when I get home, just so you know.” He made his way carefully around the teetering stacks of papers until he got to the entryway. Finding two matching shoes belonging to him, he struggled to get them on his feet.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Travis said.
“You should be. I was a homicide detective for years. I know how to get rid of a body.”
Travis gave him a crooked, cocky grin. “Yeah, but you love me and would be lost without me.”
Asshole was right. “Shut up. I’ll be back and this place better be clean!”
“Whatever,” Travis replied, grinning as Ethan left the house.
Hearing his truck pull out of the drive, Travis let the laughter out. “I shouldn’t screw with him like that, but he makes himself such an easy target sometimes.” Shoving a pile of papers into a folder, he started humming and filing.
Just wouldn’t do to have his boy come home to a mess now, would it?
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no subject
Date: 2014-03-14 09:41 pm (UTC)Okay, I can relate to Ethan completely on this.
Isn't the idea behind it so true though? No matter what you think your expectations are, you're certainly going to find out how waaay off you were. Ah, but those are sometimes the best things.
Thank you for giving me a daily dose of the boys!
no subject
Date: 2014-03-14 10:06 pm (UTC)Somehow, I knew you'd say that because I'm so much more like Travis (with a husband that is Ethan in a lot of ways!). Let's see how much floor we can cover with coupons!
Exactly. My dream man is tall, trim, dark hair, dark skin, possibly Greek or Latino. What did I marry? A burly, pale ass redhead. But ya know what? He is what I needed. Just goes to show, we don't always know what's best for us.
Aw, you're so welcome. They need me to give them more love, don't they?