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Title: Crossed Wires - Part 1
Characters/Pairing: Emil/Lalli
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 500 words
Summary: Four times they tried to take things to another level, and one time they did.
Other: This was a collaborative challenge with Solo. The challenge: write a 5-drabble sequence of kissing moments between Emil and Lalli. I wrote from Lalli's point of view; Solo wrote from Emil's. Even though we didn't know what precisely the other was writing, our works turned out in a coincidentally chronological order.

The fic under the part is only my section of the challenge. I recommend reading it on Ao3, because then you can read Solo's part of the story, too.



Crossed Wires

Lalli doesn't expect the first kiss.

Palms cupping his face, warm, gentle, bare. Closing his eyes, he rests into that, takes it for what it is, just another weird gesture.

But the press to his mouth is something new.

Startled, he allows it, and thinks – after the first breath – well, actually, that's okay.

The second one comes, and he accepts it gladly.

But the third is not like the second; the third has tongue, and he shoves Emil away.

Lalli's cheeks are hot, and Emil is red too, spilling out apologies.

It was just – slimy. Gross. No.

He can't explain.




Lalli returns, as always. At the edges the sky brightens, washing blue the sky's blackness, dark as it is with only a sliver of moon.

Return. Decontaminate. Debrief. Deliver his findings, scribble things on the map and mutter, yawning, to his cousin.

Someone is not awake.

He slinks like a cat to the back of the tank, slides onto the bunk, curls up to that warm body.

Blinks as Emil turns over. He allows one kiss– then squirms away, rolls out and then under the bunk.

It is not that he doesn't like it.

He's just too tired for this.




Night drops. Lalli waits. Traces the map, takes one last look. The rest have left, gone to turn in, take their sleep.

Footsteps. He knows who they belong to even before he feels Emil's fingertips brush along his shoulder, the warmth as arms wrap around him. Hears words that mean nothing. Turns his head and accepts the kiss that he's offered.

The kiss is a plea to take care, sinking in deeper than words. He takes it, allows it, lingers too long. Tonight, Emil clings, but he can't.

He can't.

Lalli pushes him away and steps out into the night.




Hair in his face. Again.

Lalli nudges Emil back. Huffs and brushes the strands out the way. Tries, unsuccessfully, to tuck them behind Emil's ears. Again. But Emil's hair refuses to stay in place.

Emil looks embarrassed. Mutters something, nonsense as usual, in response to the accusing look, the annoyance. It sounds like an apology.

Well. Fine.

He allows another kiss – no.

No.

No. That won't do.

Ugh, it's in his mouth – gross.

Lalli huffs and rolls over, presses his face into the pillow. Closes his eyes, ignores the apologies, and resolves to make Emil tie it back next time.




He wakes to the sound of a word, soft. Blinks open his eyes. They're alone.

The others are outside; let them stay out. Emil gives him a mug of mint tea, sits by him on the bunk, talks.

Lalli listens and drinks and says nothing.

Slowly, the mug is set aside.

Slowly, his fingertips go to that round face. Give a warm touch, warmer as the skin heats underneath.

Slowly, he tilts his head, takes a kiss without asking.

And as he nudges Emil down, he kisses him again, and again, and again, and prays the door will not open.

I'd love to hear from you

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