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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Sun Dusted Cowboy
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Zayne Reyes/James Rosewood
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 529
Summary: Zayne’s working in the yard and, despite the cool temps, is sweating like crazy.
Author’s Note: Written for the A to Z Challenge at 1_million_words. The letter was G and the randomizer spit out ‘glistening’. So, yeah, of course, Zayne is what came to mind. Go figure.
Zayne wasn’t sure where all the sweat was coming from. It was forty-five fucking degrees out and yet, here he was, sweating. Grabbing the hem of his hoodie, he pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the patio table. He’d promised Zek that he’d have the patch of ground he used for a garden ready this afternoon. Although it was still too early to plant anything, even here in the desert where spring was already preparing to pounce, Zek liked to make sure the dirt was ready when his sprouts were.
Those fucking sprouts, he thought. Zeklos talked about them like they were his damn babies or something. But he shouldn’t complain since those sprouts tended to help fill his belly all summer.
“Make a note,” he muttered out loud. “Buy Zeklos a goddamned greenhouse.”
After overturning the last bit of dirt, he set the shovel aside and wiped his forehead. Again. He’d thought that if he got out here early enough, the sun wouldn’t try and kill him. As usual, Zayne had been wrong. With a sigh, he went for the topsoil that he and the narco had brought home last weekend. Dumping the soil into the wheelbarrow – why did Zek even had a wheelbarrow? – he drove it over to the garden patch and began shoveling the dirt into place.
His neck and shoulders were aching by the time he was done. Zayne knew that a hot shower and a nap would make him feel a hundred percent better, but he was annoyed all the same. He was working through a round of stretches when he heard a familiar voice.
“You’re glistening and glittering like a fourteen-year-old’s idea of a vampire,” James teased.
“Shut up,” Zayne shot back without any heat. “Your pale ass probably gets mistaken for a vampire more often than I do.”
James chuckled. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Helping Zek prep the garden,” he said, waving a hand at the freshly turned soil. “His seeds have sprouted and, with the way the weather’s been going, he thinks he ought to be able to transplant them soon.”
“He showed me when we delivered that giant ass bag of soil this weekend,” James said. “He’s so proud of them things.” He laughed again, affectionately. “I wouldn’t know, though. I killed a cactus once.”
“Easy to do,” Zayne said, wiping sweat off his face for the fiftieth time. “Overwatering is usually the culprit.”
“Andy teach you that?”
He shook his head. “Nah, just the kind of shit you pick up growing up along the border in Texas.”
“Or in the Mojave Desert, I’d wager,” James said, thinking of his partner. “I got to admit,” James said, stepping closer and moving a damp lock of dark hair off Zayne’s forehead, “that glistening is a good look on you.”
“Thanks, gingerbread,” Zayne said, winking at his boyfriend. “But I think I ought to wash this glisten off me before our partner gets home. What do you say, wanna lend a hand?”
“Can’t think of anything else I’d rather do, cowboy,” James said. “Lead the way.”
Zayne took James by the hand and dragged him inside.
--
End note: No, Andy did not get his wheelbarrow fromt he Albino either. In case you were wondering. (And if you get this joke, great. If not... I have no hope for you. 🤣)
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Zayne Reyes/James Rosewood
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 529
Summary: Zayne’s working in the yard and, despite the cool temps, is sweating like crazy.
Author’s Note: Written for the A to Z Challenge at 1_million_words. The letter was G and the randomizer spit out ‘glistening’. So, yeah, of course, Zayne is what came to mind. Go figure.
Zayne wasn’t sure where all the sweat was coming from. It was forty-five fucking degrees out and yet, here he was, sweating. Grabbing the hem of his hoodie, he pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the patio table. He’d promised Zek that he’d have the patch of ground he used for a garden ready this afternoon. Although it was still too early to plant anything, even here in the desert where spring was already preparing to pounce, Zek liked to make sure the dirt was ready when his sprouts were.
Those fucking sprouts, he thought. Zeklos talked about them like they were his damn babies or something. But he shouldn’t complain since those sprouts tended to help fill his belly all summer.
“Make a note,” he muttered out loud. “Buy Zeklos a goddamned greenhouse.”
After overturning the last bit of dirt, he set the shovel aside and wiped his forehead. Again. He’d thought that if he got out here early enough, the sun wouldn’t try and kill him. As usual, Zayne had been wrong. With a sigh, he went for the topsoil that he and the narco had brought home last weekend. Dumping the soil into the wheelbarrow – why did Zek even had a wheelbarrow? – he drove it over to the garden patch and began shoveling the dirt into place.
His neck and shoulders were aching by the time he was done. Zayne knew that a hot shower and a nap would make him feel a hundred percent better, but he was annoyed all the same. He was working through a round of stretches when he heard a familiar voice.
“You’re glistening and glittering like a fourteen-year-old’s idea of a vampire,” James teased.
“Shut up,” Zayne shot back without any heat. “Your pale ass probably gets mistaken for a vampire more often than I do.”
James chuckled. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Helping Zek prep the garden,” he said, waving a hand at the freshly turned soil. “His seeds have sprouted and, with the way the weather’s been going, he thinks he ought to be able to transplant them soon.”
“He showed me when we delivered that giant ass bag of soil this weekend,” James said. “He’s so proud of them things.” He laughed again, affectionately. “I wouldn’t know, though. I killed a cactus once.”
“Easy to do,” Zayne said, wiping sweat off his face for the fiftieth time. “Overwatering is usually the culprit.”
“Andy teach you that?”
He shook his head. “Nah, just the kind of shit you pick up growing up along the border in Texas.”
“Or in the Mojave Desert, I’d wager,” James said, thinking of his partner. “I got to admit,” James said, stepping closer and moving a damp lock of dark hair off Zayne’s forehead, “that glistening is a good look on you.”
“Thanks, gingerbread,” Zayne said, winking at his boyfriend. “But I think I ought to wash this glisten off me before our partner gets home. What do you say, wanna lend a hand?”
“Can’t think of anything else I’d rather do, cowboy,” James said. “Lead the way.”
Zayne took James by the hand and dragged him inside.
--
End note: No, Andy did not get his wheelbarrow fromt he Albino either. In case you were wondering. (And if you get this joke, great. If not... I have no hope for you. 🤣)
