riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2011-01-15 09:27 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2011-01-15 09:27 pm
"Close." (Sunfish, 1984)
Title: Close.
Rating: PG
Summary: Why is it always Cody getting in the line of damage with these cases?
Cody tested the water carefully before he stepped into the Riptide's tiny shower cubicle and shut the door firmly behind him. It had been a long day, a long week, a long case. And despite all their hard work--despite Murray's listening devices and phone taps, despite Nick's flying tackle and Cody's sprint across the airfield toward the departing chopper--the bad guys had gotten away.
Cody looked down at his wet palm, watched water running over it and down, pattering to the molded plastic floor. He could still feel the metal skid slipping away, out of his grasp, dropping him a good twelve, fifteen feet to the tarmac below.
Cody closed his eyes and leaned into the spray, letting the hot water run over him, over the scrape along his thigh and the ankle he'd sprained. Over ribs he'd cracked when he landed. Over bruises he could feel but not see, too early yet to provide proof of how hard he'd tried to get these guys.
Just as Cody reached for the shampoo, he heard the door to the head open, then shut again. He looked over, peering through the pebbled glass even though he already knew who was out there.
Cody washed his hair while Nick got undressed without a sound.
He was just rinsing the suds away, eyes closed, when Nick opened the shower door and stepped inside, pressing himself against Cody's wet skin, slipping one arm round Cody's waist while he closed the door behind them.
There wasn't room for two people in the shower cubicle; there was barely enough room for one. But somehow they made it work, found a way for the two of them to occupy one space together.
Cody leaned his head back, directly under the shower head, and let the spray wash suds all down his back, a cascade of them from head to feet, while Nick held him up.
He straightened up and turned, meeting Nick's eyes. Then he cupped Nick's face and claimed his mouth, trying to draw out the worry and pain Nick held in him. They moved closer, fitting together like a jigsaw, threading their feet and legs together, cocks brushing against each other. When Nick breathed out, Cody breathed in, their stomachs working in tandem.
Cody awkwardly maneuvered his arms in the confined space, getting them down and around Nick, holding him tight, breathing in the diesel-sweat smell of him rising with the steam, feeling the heat of Nick, the rough hair that covered him prickling Cody's slick wet skin.
Nick was unmarked from the fight at the airport; Cody'd always been able to outrun him with a good start, and just as the chopper lifted off, carrying Cody away, he'd felt Nick's fingers grab for his shoe, pulling it off.
And then seconds later, the fall.
Cody tightened his grip as Nick swallowed a sob against him. More rough maneuvering and Cody was able to cradle the back of Nick's neck, where he knew tight and aching muscles waited.
Water continued to hit Cody's back and run down his ass and legs as he held Nick, as Nick gave in and laid his head on Cody's shoulder, turning his face to the spray.
They made no sound, but stood locked together holding each other up until the water turned cold, then sputtered and ran dry.
Rating: PG
Summary: Why is it always Cody getting in the line of damage with these cases?
Cody tested the water carefully before he stepped into the Riptide's tiny shower cubicle and shut the door firmly behind him. It had been a long day, a long week, a long case. And despite all their hard work--despite Murray's listening devices and phone taps, despite Nick's flying tackle and Cody's sprint across the airfield toward the departing chopper--the bad guys had gotten away.
Cody looked down at his wet palm, watched water running over it and down, pattering to the molded plastic floor. He could still feel the metal skid slipping away, out of his grasp, dropping him a good twelve, fifteen feet to the tarmac below.
Cody closed his eyes and leaned into the spray, letting the hot water run over him, over the scrape along his thigh and the ankle he'd sprained. Over ribs he'd cracked when he landed. Over bruises he could feel but not see, too early yet to provide proof of how hard he'd tried to get these guys.
Just as Cody reached for the shampoo, he heard the door to the head open, then shut again. He looked over, peering through the pebbled glass even though he already knew who was out there.
Cody washed his hair while Nick got undressed without a sound.
He was just rinsing the suds away, eyes closed, when Nick opened the shower door and stepped inside, pressing himself against Cody's wet skin, slipping one arm round Cody's waist while he closed the door behind them.
There wasn't room for two people in the shower cubicle; there was barely enough room for one. But somehow they made it work, found a way for the two of them to occupy one space together.
Cody leaned his head back, directly under the shower head, and let the spray wash suds all down his back, a cascade of them from head to feet, while Nick held him up.
He straightened up and turned, meeting Nick's eyes. Then he cupped Nick's face and claimed his mouth, trying to draw out the worry and pain Nick held in him. They moved closer, fitting together like a jigsaw, threading their feet and legs together, cocks brushing against each other. When Nick breathed out, Cody breathed in, their stomachs working in tandem.
Cody awkwardly maneuvered his arms in the confined space, getting them down and around Nick, holding him tight, breathing in the diesel-sweat smell of him rising with the steam, feeling the heat of Nick, the rough hair that covered him prickling Cody's slick wet skin.
Nick was unmarked from the fight at the airport; Cody'd always been able to outrun him with a good start, and just as the chopper lifted off, carrying Cody away, he'd felt Nick's fingers grab for his shoe, pulling it off.
And then seconds later, the fall.
Cody tightened his grip as Nick swallowed a sob against him. More rough maneuvering and Cody was able to cradle the back of Nick's neck, where he knew tight and aching muscles waited.
Water continued to hit Cody's back and run down his ass and legs as he held Nick, as Nick gave in and laid his head on Cody's shoulder, turning his face to the spray.
They made no sound, but stood locked together holding each other up until the water turned cold, then sputtered and ran dry.