Title: Glacial Motion
Genre: RPS, romance, schmooooooooop
Warnings: Schmoooooooop. And RPS
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. These are real people with real lives that bear no relation or resemblance to this work of fiction.
Word Count: ~750
Summary: Some heat is generated, and a question is asked.
Note: For the "Hot cocoa" square on my schmoop_bingo, and the third story in this little 'verse I seem to have started, which I'm thinking I'll call Incremental Movement. Big thanks to morganoconner for help and encouragement – or was that pushing and shoving? ;-) There should be more than talking in the next one, hon, I promise.
They ran the scene yet again and Richard was in fine form, Gabriel coming alive in the cadence of his voice and the snap of his fingers. He yelled at Sam and Sam yelled back, cutting their archangel no slack, arms out wide to put the point across, the very fire of the argument keeping him warm.
At least until the director yelled "cut!"
"Mother-fucker, it's cold," Jared moaned, grabbing his parka from the PA and shrugging into it. Richard muttered something filthy-sounding in some Scandinavian language, huddling into his own coat. Jared eyed him. "Aren't you Nordic types supposed to be hardier and all that?"
Richard flipped him off. "Like you can talk, o Polish one. I'm from the South."
"No, you're from
"Not like this, and I didn't fucking stand around in it half-dressed."
"You're an ac-tor, dude." Jared grinned at him, starting to feel better as the warmth of his coat penetrated a little. "They pay us to do this."
"Possibly not enough," Richard grumbled, putting his hood up and shivering. It was really kind of adorable.
The blessed Craft Services people had tea and coffee and cocoa, all of it as hot as regulations allowed them. Richard was already cradling a cup of something when Jared caught up with him, bare fingers pink against the white cup and holding it close. "Whatcha got?"
"Hot chocolate," Richard said, in tones of worship.
"Get your own."
Which just made Jared grin again. "Some of the crew showed me and Jen some kick-ass hot cocoa recipes that first winter, when we shot outside. I got stuff to make it in my trailer, I think. Y'know, later," Jared offered.
"Involving alcohol, yes?" Richard murmured, nose in his cup.
"Well, yeah." Jared watched the other man, the compact form hidden beneath the heavy coat. Jared himself ran warm, always had, and a few minutes in his own coat had been enough to take the edge off, but Richard – Richard was still shivering. Jared wanted to grab him close, to help.
Jared just wanted to touch him.
Hell, Jared always wanted to touch him.
Richard had been so interesting, back the first time they'd worked together, smart and funny and focused, full of personality much bigger than his 5'8" frame. Jared had been delighted when they'd brought the guy back for "Mystery Spot," expecting that they'd have a great time on set.
What he hadn't expected was to get hit one day in the middle of shooting, from seemingly nowhere, with the force of those tawny, tiger-colored eyes, and abruptly want to peel Richard out of every stitch of the Trickster's clothing. And staring into those eyes, he hadn't been alone in that desire, he'd been pretty sure of that. But he hadn't said anything, of course he hadn't, because they both had commitments and Jared wasn't that kind of guy.
He still wasn't that kind of guy, but the commitments things – those had changed, for both of them.
But…so had Richard. Caution lurked now in tiger eyes; a need for "slow."
Okay, "slow" Jared could do.
"Glacier-movement-type slow," on the other hand? Not so much.
And he could get away with this, he was always doing stuff like this, and it'd be easy to play off if it didn't work.
But God, let this work.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Jared pulled his coat open, the quick-close Velcro tabs on his parka front separating with little ripping sounds. Coat edges in hand, Jared moved around to Richard's back, right behind him, and hugged him close, wrapping the shorter man up completely in Jared's own parka.
Richard went utterly still in Jared's arms. "Jay?"
"You're still cold," Jared murmured, voice pitched only for the two of them. "And I always run hot, so I'm sharing. And that's all it has to be, unless…."
Jared wanted to wince. "Am I reading this wrong?"
Several heartbeats of silence. And then Richard took a breath and relaxed, and leaned back into Jared. "This is all actually a ploy to get my hot chocolate, isn't it?" he said, warm and rich and low.
God, his voice. Jared's arms tightened, a tingle starting low in his belly. "Yup," he said. "I'm propositioning you in order to steal your cocoa."
Richard laughed and Jesus, did that ever feel awesome. "Get your own."