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Apr. 20th, 2006 02:49 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
nerdcakes.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rareslashTitle: Room Service
Author: SarahMc
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Persuaders
Pairing: Brett Sinclair/Danny Wilde
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even slightly.
The hotel was a nice one. If you ignored the décor and the snooty receptionist and focussed on important things like, say, the bar staff, then it was almost bearable. Danny Wilde followed a pair of legs across the lobby and chatted idly with their owner (blonde, petite and about as British as you can get without a peerage) while Brett Sinclair organised their room with the receptionist.
Danny was halfway through his All-American Boy routine when he felt a familiar tug on his elbow. Without turning to look, he smiled at his new companion. “Sorted it all out, then, your Lordship? I’d like you to meet Stephanie-”
He was interrupted by a firmer squeeze of his elbow and an insistent, ‘Daniel’ hissed in his ear. He turned, frowned at Brett and pointedly turned back to the blonde. “Erm, Stephanie, this is my good friend, Lord Brett Sinclair. And for a Lord he has very bad manners,” he added through gritted teeth, nudging Brett sharply.
Brett sighed, rolled his eyes and shoved a room key into his hand. “Let me know when you’ve finished,” he snapped.
“Fine!” Danny retorted, “what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Don’t tell me they rejected your card again.”
“Never mind,” Brett said. “I’ll be in our room once you’ve finished wasting this lady’s time. I’d advise you not to invite her upstairs, if that was what you were planning. I do hate to be inhospitable, my dear, but we seem to have run into unforeseen difficulties.” He flashed Stephanie a smile and squeezed Danny’s shoulder briefly before turning on his heel and left.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just upset because I saw you first,” Danny beamed at Stephanie as Brett stalked towards the lift. “But since my room is apparently off-limits, maybe we could visit the bar?”
She smiled sweetly, patted him on the arm and shook her head. “I don’t think your friend would really appreciate that,” she said, reaching for her suitcase. “Maybe I’ll see you around the hotel.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Danny smiled his most charming good-loser smile and watched her legs disappear into the crowd. With a sigh, he lifted his own suitcase and, checking the number on his key, headed for the lift. Damn that Sinclair, he thought as he pressed the button for his floor. That had to be the third time this week that the son of a bitch had cost him a date.
Room 503 was on a particularly empty-looking floor, Danny noted to his surprise as he passed through the corridor. Aside from the communal bathroom (toilet, he corrected himself instinctively – he was in England, after all) and a few cleaners’ rooms, there were very few doors to choose from. Not that it bothered him. Probably meant that the Judge had booked them into a decent-sized room for once.
Finding the room, Danny wasted no time unlocking the door. “I’m home, hope you’re dressed!” he trilled, swinging the door open without waiting for an answer and running headlong into Brett Sinclair.
Brett was dressed, Danny noted with a hint of amused disappointment. Not only dressed, he looked like a flower show had just exploded somewhere in his vicinity. Danny reached out and plucked a rose petal off Brett’s jacket, looking up at him curiously.
Brett sighed imperceptibly and nodded towards the room behind him. Stepping inside, Danny suddenly had a flash of understanding as to why Brett had seemed so very put out.
“This has got to be a mistake!”
“No mistake, Daniel,” Brett’s voice was calm and Danny almost caught a hint of amusement. Which was just as well, because he thought he might need a moment to adjust.
“Listen, I know we’re close, but surely this is pushing things a little.”
Brett shrugged, crossing the room to sit heavily on the king-sized double bed. “Well, that’s not what Judge Fulton seems to think.” He brushed the coverlet lightly, scattering the carnations onto the floor and smiled innocently. “Care to join me?”
“Oh, you’d just love that, wouldn’t you? My mom told me all about you English Lords. I know exactly what to watch out for.” Giving the bed an exaggeratedly wide berth, Danny moved to sit in the armchair by the dressing table and picked up the hotel bill. Scanning the sheet of paper, he whistled softly under his breath. “The honeymoon suite, eh?”
“So it would seem. Champagne?”
“Is it complimentary?”
“Does it matter? The Judge is paying for it.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to know whether or not this place is too cheap to spring for complimentary champagne for its newlyweds.”
“Well, you look into that, Daniel.” Brett lifted the bottle and examined the label, “Personally I’d prefer to know the vintage.”
“Help yourself. Have you found out what the hell we’re doing here, anyway? Who we’re bringing to justice today?”
“Ah, now that’s the interesting thing.” Brett was standing up and pouring two glasses of champagne. “From what the telegram told me, the Judge isn’t actually planning on contacting us until tomorrow.” He looked up, and met Danny’s gaze just as Danny was shifting from bewilderment to an awkward sort of realisation.
“So what you’re saying is-”
“What I’m saying,” Brett said, handing Danny a champagne glass, “is that the judge appears to be bankrolling a night for us in the honeymoon suite.”
“With complimentary champagne,” Danny noted absently, checking the price list.
“With, as you say,” Brett agreed, “complimentary champagne.” He waited for Danny to look up before raising his own glass. They toasted silently and forgot to drink. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds that stretched into a few minutes.
“So,” Danny laughed nervously, “you think he’s trying to tell us something or what?”
“I have never once questioned Judge Fulton’s obviously dubious motivation before,” Brett said easily, “and I’m not about to begin now. But I fully intend to take advantage of what he’s provided.”
Danny blinked. “You mean, uh, the champagne, right?”
Brett smiled serenely and raised his glass to his lips.
Lords are weird. This was hardly a startling revelation to Danny, but it was certainly being reinforced pretty strongly by the effect that the six glasses of very expensive champagne were having on Brett Sinclair.
Wait- Danny tried to clear his head. Six glasses from one bottle? Surely not. He looked up at the sideboard. There were at least three bottles and one of them was empty. Struggling to remember where the second two bottles had come from, he looked up at Brett.
“Hey, are you trying to get me drunk or something?”
Brett looked archly at him, “is that your way of asking for a refill?”
“Like hell it is,” Danny snapped, reaching for the bottle. “You don’t need ten years of finishing school to learn how to pour your own damn champagne.” He topped up his glass, watching Brett as he did so.
The nice thing about making wild guesses about Brett’s upbringing was that every time he did so, he could see Brett deciding not to respond. He decided to tell him so.
“You know what I like about you, kid?” Danny leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee while using the other one to hold champagne and gesture at once. “Not once have you ever sunk to my level. I guess that’s England for you.”
Brett raised an eyebrow and, again, visibly declined to comment.
“No, it’s a good thing,” Danny insisted. He stood, unsteadily, and stumbled about half a foot across the room before losing balance and crashing onto the bed. He landed face-forward next to Brett, who patted his arm affectionately and heaved him up into a more vertical position.
Danny made incoherent drunken noises and went about brushing himself down before noticing that Brett was still holding his arm. He looked up pointedly. Brett made an apologetic sound and released him.
“Do you know what I like about you?” Brett’s voice probably would have been hesitant, were it not for the fact that he was also at least slightly inebriated. And without waiting for a reply, he gestured towards the champagne glass in Danny’s hand.
“I like the fact that you can fall across a bedroom, land face-first on a bed and still manage not to lose any of your drink.”
“Well,” Danny laughed awkwardly, “you know, it’s all very well for you aristocrats. We didn’t have a hell of a lot of champagne back in The Bronx. You drop your lunch on the floor, you pick it back up and eat it or you go hungry, y’know? I knew how to look after food, man. Kids used to pay me to babysit their soup for them while they played stickball.”
Brett swayed slightly, “is there anything you did have in The Bronx?”
“Oh, I see,” Danny made a sweepingly dismissive gesture. “My deprived childhood’s boring you, right?”
“No, no-” Brett caught Danny’s wrist in mid-air and looked at him reproachfully, “Careful with that, you nearly had my eye out.” He paused, trying to regain track of the conversation. “What I mean is that if I had a list of things you did have, then I could give you them without winding up on the receiving end of one of your self-righteous lectures and feeling guilty.”
“Who are you trying to kid? You never felt guilty about anything in your life,” Danny completely failed to pull off a sneer. But his affectionate almost-frown felt close enough.
Brett considered this. “Fair point. But if you loved me, you’d humour me.”
“If I loved you-” Danny replied, leaning too far forward and breathing in the musk of Brett’s cologne, “If I loved you then I’d do a lot more than just humour you.”
“You could try,” Brett said. And Danny squinted at him, wondering if there was something in Brett’s tone that he wasn’t quite catching. “But I imagine they didn’t teach you how to do it properly in The Bronx.”
“I guess. They certainly don’t teach us the finer details of how to make it with our third cousins-” Danny snapped. He spent about half a second feeling smug before Brett unexpectedly kissed him.
Danny had kissed men before. Obviously. And he could handle Lord Brett Sinclair. Most days, at least. But he suddenly couldn’t remember if he’d ever been kissed by a man before. And he could only assume that if being kissed by men was anything like this, then he probably would have remembered.
“I –” he started to say, trying desperately to form sentences – not an easy task when Brett Sinclair is pushing your jacket off your shoulders and whispering something too soft to make out under the throb of your own pulse.
He didn’t know, when he regained his breath, quite how he’d gotten backed up against the solid oak headboard of the bed. Or, indeed, how his tie and top buttons had come undone. But he had a fairly good idea. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the place where the wall met the ceiling, on the polished top frame of the mirror – on anything that meant he didn’t have to look at Brett.
“What I mean is-” he tried again, fumbling in his mind for that expression about rocks and hard places as Brett undid his shirt.
Brett looked up, “do you ever stop talking?”
Danny’s retort was cut off as Brett traced a too-light path down his chest, trailing fingers across his abdomen and making his breath stick somewhere in the back of his throat. Brett was watching him, looking disgustingly self-satisfied. Honestly, Danny told himself, if he weren’t enjoying the way things were panning out here, he’d show that guy a thing or two in half a second.
As it was, he was just a little distracted by the idle circles Brett was tracing just that little bit too low for him to ignore, too busy thrusting upwards into nothing and for Christ’s sake, what the hell was so important that it was stopping the man from opening his pants?
He looked down and noticed that Brett had just turned back to him. Brett’s free hand – the one that hadn’t been casually driving Danny half-insane – was lifting a freshly-poured glass of champagne to his lips. Finishing his extravagantly, unnecessarily long mouthful and setting the glass aside, Brett looked down at Danny’s incredulous expression. “I’m sorry, Daniel, did you want something?”
Danny glared at Brett, keeping his mouth shut. Not trusting himself to be able to form any words beyond please and certainly not wanting to have to say that. Brett smiled indulgently, as though he’d read Danny’s mind anyway, and with a long shuddering breath, Danny realised that he probably would have said anything Brett wanted at that stage.
Danny had seen Brett seduce women before. He’d even felt quietly disdainful of the girls who seemed to lose all power of speech with as little prompting as a pack on the cheek. Once his breathing had returned to normal, he decided that first thing in the morning he was going to sit down and write every one of those girls a letter of appreciation.
Well, maybe second thing.
Somewhere, something cold and damp was spreading through the bedcovers – something that contrasted with the warm dampness he’d been preparing to complain about. He sighed, realising that at some point he’d have to get up and take his clothes off – presuming they weren’t already irreparably damaged. Pity. Now that Brett – already undressed, he noted irritably – had settled next to him, he felt ready to collapse.
He sat up reluctantly and started pulling off his half-removed garments, dropping them into an untidy pile beside the bed. From behind him, he felt Brett’s gaze move lazily across his back.
“Daniel,” Brett Sinclair’s voice was very soft and Danny turned to see him reclining on the downy white cushions. “Daniel,” he repeated, more firmly this time, and Danny followed his gaze to the source of the damp patch.
It couldn’t have been his glass. There was no force on earth that could do that to him. He’d fallen down whole flights of steps as a kid and kept his ice-cream intact. He’d protected his sandwiches from crowds of assholes on the subway, he’d held onto candy bars for dear life – it took more than a few kisses and a quick grope to make him spill a glass of champagne. But sure enough, Brett’s glass was sitting on the dressing table on his side of the bed.
Danny looked up at him incredulously. “You broke my record,” he breathed. “You bastard.”
Brett smiled, leaned forward and kissed Danny on the cheek. “At your service,” he smirked. “But that’s Lord Bastard, if you please.”
Author: SarahMc
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Persuaders
Pairing: Brett Sinclair/Danny Wilde
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even slightly.
The hotel was a nice one. If you ignored the décor and the snooty receptionist and focussed on important things like, say, the bar staff, then it was almost bearable. Danny Wilde followed a pair of legs across the lobby and chatted idly with their owner (blonde, petite and about as British as you can get without a peerage) while Brett Sinclair organised their room with the receptionist.
Danny was halfway through his All-American Boy routine when he felt a familiar tug on his elbow. Without turning to look, he smiled at his new companion. “Sorted it all out, then, your Lordship? I’d like you to meet Stephanie-”
He was interrupted by a firmer squeeze of his elbow and an insistent, ‘Daniel’ hissed in his ear. He turned, frowned at Brett and pointedly turned back to the blonde. “Erm, Stephanie, this is my good friend, Lord Brett Sinclair. And for a Lord he has very bad manners,” he added through gritted teeth, nudging Brett sharply.
Brett sighed, rolled his eyes and shoved a room key into his hand. “Let me know when you’ve finished,” he snapped.
“Fine!” Danny retorted, “what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Don’t tell me they rejected your card again.”
“Never mind,” Brett said. “I’ll be in our room once you’ve finished wasting this lady’s time. I’d advise you not to invite her upstairs, if that was what you were planning. I do hate to be inhospitable, my dear, but we seem to have run into unforeseen difficulties.” He flashed Stephanie a smile and squeezed Danny’s shoulder briefly before turning on his heel and left.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just upset because I saw you first,” Danny beamed at Stephanie as Brett stalked towards the lift. “But since my room is apparently off-limits, maybe we could visit the bar?”
She smiled sweetly, patted him on the arm and shook her head. “I don’t think your friend would really appreciate that,” she said, reaching for her suitcase. “Maybe I’ll see you around the hotel.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Danny smiled his most charming good-loser smile and watched her legs disappear into the crowd. With a sigh, he lifted his own suitcase and, checking the number on his key, headed for the lift. Damn that Sinclair, he thought as he pressed the button for his floor. That had to be the third time this week that the son of a bitch had cost him a date.
Room 503 was on a particularly empty-looking floor, Danny noted to his surprise as he passed through the corridor. Aside from the communal bathroom (toilet, he corrected himself instinctively – he was in England, after all) and a few cleaners’ rooms, there were very few doors to choose from. Not that it bothered him. Probably meant that the Judge had booked them into a decent-sized room for once.
Finding the room, Danny wasted no time unlocking the door. “I’m home, hope you’re dressed!” he trilled, swinging the door open without waiting for an answer and running headlong into Brett Sinclair.
Brett was dressed, Danny noted with a hint of amused disappointment. Not only dressed, he looked like a flower show had just exploded somewhere in his vicinity. Danny reached out and plucked a rose petal off Brett’s jacket, looking up at him curiously.
Brett sighed imperceptibly and nodded towards the room behind him. Stepping inside, Danny suddenly had a flash of understanding as to why Brett had seemed so very put out.
“This has got to be a mistake!”
“No mistake, Daniel,” Brett’s voice was calm and Danny almost caught a hint of amusement. Which was just as well, because he thought he might need a moment to adjust.
“Listen, I know we’re close, but surely this is pushing things a little.”
Brett shrugged, crossing the room to sit heavily on the king-sized double bed. “Well, that’s not what Judge Fulton seems to think.” He brushed the coverlet lightly, scattering the carnations onto the floor and smiled innocently. “Care to join me?”
“Oh, you’d just love that, wouldn’t you? My mom told me all about you English Lords. I know exactly what to watch out for.” Giving the bed an exaggeratedly wide berth, Danny moved to sit in the armchair by the dressing table and picked up the hotel bill. Scanning the sheet of paper, he whistled softly under his breath. “The honeymoon suite, eh?”
“So it would seem. Champagne?”
“Is it complimentary?”
“Does it matter? The Judge is paying for it.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to know whether or not this place is too cheap to spring for complimentary champagne for its newlyweds.”
“Well, you look into that, Daniel.” Brett lifted the bottle and examined the label, “Personally I’d prefer to know the vintage.”
“Help yourself. Have you found out what the hell we’re doing here, anyway? Who we’re bringing to justice today?”
“Ah, now that’s the interesting thing.” Brett was standing up and pouring two glasses of champagne. “From what the telegram told me, the Judge isn’t actually planning on contacting us until tomorrow.” He looked up, and met Danny’s gaze just as Danny was shifting from bewilderment to an awkward sort of realisation.
“So what you’re saying is-”
“What I’m saying,” Brett said, handing Danny a champagne glass, “is that the judge appears to be bankrolling a night for us in the honeymoon suite.”
“With complimentary champagne,” Danny noted absently, checking the price list.
“With, as you say,” Brett agreed, “complimentary champagne.” He waited for Danny to look up before raising his own glass. They toasted silently and forgot to drink. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds that stretched into a few minutes.
“So,” Danny laughed nervously, “you think he’s trying to tell us something or what?”
“I have never once questioned Judge Fulton’s obviously dubious motivation before,” Brett said easily, “and I’m not about to begin now. But I fully intend to take advantage of what he’s provided.”
Danny blinked. “You mean, uh, the champagne, right?”
Brett smiled serenely and raised his glass to his lips.
Lords are weird. This was hardly a startling revelation to Danny, but it was certainly being reinforced pretty strongly by the effect that the six glasses of very expensive champagne were having on Brett Sinclair.
Wait- Danny tried to clear his head. Six glasses from one bottle? Surely not. He looked up at the sideboard. There were at least three bottles and one of them was empty. Struggling to remember where the second two bottles had come from, he looked up at Brett.
“Hey, are you trying to get me drunk or something?”
Brett looked archly at him, “is that your way of asking for a refill?”
“Like hell it is,” Danny snapped, reaching for the bottle. “You don’t need ten years of finishing school to learn how to pour your own damn champagne.” He topped up his glass, watching Brett as he did so.
The nice thing about making wild guesses about Brett’s upbringing was that every time he did so, he could see Brett deciding not to respond. He decided to tell him so.
“You know what I like about you, kid?” Danny leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee while using the other one to hold champagne and gesture at once. “Not once have you ever sunk to my level. I guess that’s England for you.”
Brett raised an eyebrow and, again, visibly declined to comment.
“No, it’s a good thing,” Danny insisted. He stood, unsteadily, and stumbled about half a foot across the room before losing balance and crashing onto the bed. He landed face-forward next to Brett, who patted his arm affectionately and heaved him up into a more vertical position.
Danny made incoherent drunken noises and went about brushing himself down before noticing that Brett was still holding his arm. He looked up pointedly. Brett made an apologetic sound and released him.
“Do you know what I like about you?” Brett’s voice probably would have been hesitant, were it not for the fact that he was also at least slightly inebriated. And without waiting for a reply, he gestured towards the champagne glass in Danny’s hand.
“I like the fact that you can fall across a bedroom, land face-first on a bed and still manage not to lose any of your drink.”
“Well,” Danny laughed awkwardly, “you know, it’s all very well for you aristocrats. We didn’t have a hell of a lot of champagne back in The Bronx. You drop your lunch on the floor, you pick it back up and eat it or you go hungry, y’know? I knew how to look after food, man. Kids used to pay me to babysit their soup for them while they played stickball.”
Brett swayed slightly, “is there anything you did have in The Bronx?”
“Oh, I see,” Danny made a sweepingly dismissive gesture. “My deprived childhood’s boring you, right?”
“No, no-” Brett caught Danny’s wrist in mid-air and looked at him reproachfully, “Careful with that, you nearly had my eye out.” He paused, trying to regain track of the conversation. “What I mean is that if I had a list of things you did have, then I could give you them without winding up on the receiving end of one of your self-righteous lectures and feeling guilty.”
“Who are you trying to kid? You never felt guilty about anything in your life,” Danny completely failed to pull off a sneer. But his affectionate almost-frown felt close enough.
Brett considered this. “Fair point. But if you loved me, you’d humour me.”
“If I loved you-” Danny replied, leaning too far forward and breathing in the musk of Brett’s cologne, “If I loved you then I’d do a lot more than just humour you.”
“You could try,” Brett said. And Danny squinted at him, wondering if there was something in Brett’s tone that he wasn’t quite catching. “But I imagine they didn’t teach you how to do it properly in The Bronx.”
“I guess. They certainly don’t teach us the finer details of how to make it with our third cousins-” Danny snapped. He spent about half a second feeling smug before Brett unexpectedly kissed him.
Danny had kissed men before. Obviously. And he could handle Lord Brett Sinclair. Most days, at least. But he suddenly couldn’t remember if he’d ever been kissed by a man before. And he could only assume that if being kissed by men was anything like this, then he probably would have remembered.
“I –” he started to say, trying desperately to form sentences – not an easy task when Brett Sinclair is pushing your jacket off your shoulders and whispering something too soft to make out under the throb of your own pulse.
He didn’t know, when he regained his breath, quite how he’d gotten backed up against the solid oak headboard of the bed. Or, indeed, how his tie and top buttons had come undone. But he had a fairly good idea. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the place where the wall met the ceiling, on the polished top frame of the mirror – on anything that meant he didn’t have to look at Brett.
“What I mean is-” he tried again, fumbling in his mind for that expression about rocks and hard places as Brett undid his shirt.
Brett looked up, “do you ever stop talking?”
Danny’s retort was cut off as Brett traced a too-light path down his chest, trailing fingers across his abdomen and making his breath stick somewhere in the back of his throat. Brett was watching him, looking disgustingly self-satisfied. Honestly, Danny told himself, if he weren’t enjoying the way things were panning out here, he’d show that guy a thing or two in half a second.
As it was, he was just a little distracted by the idle circles Brett was tracing just that little bit too low for him to ignore, too busy thrusting upwards into nothing and for Christ’s sake, what the hell was so important that it was stopping the man from opening his pants?
He looked down and noticed that Brett had just turned back to him. Brett’s free hand – the one that hadn’t been casually driving Danny half-insane – was lifting a freshly-poured glass of champagne to his lips. Finishing his extravagantly, unnecessarily long mouthful and setting the glass aside, Brett looked down at Danny’s incredulous expression. “I’m sorry, Daniel, did you want something?”
Danny glared at Brett, keeping his mouth shut. Not trusting himself to be able to form any words beyond please and certainly not wanting to have to say that. Brett smiled indulgently, as though he’d read Danny’s mind anyway, and with a long shuddering breath, Danny realised that he probably would have said anything Brett wanted at that stage.
Danny had seen Brett seduce women before. He’d even felt quietly disdainful of the girls who seemed to lose all power of speech with as little prompting as a pack on the cheek. Once his breathing had returned to normal, he decided that first thing in the morning he was going to sit down and write every one of those girls a letter of appreciation.
Well, maybe second thing.
Somewhere, something cold and damp was spreading through the bedcovers – something that contrasted with the warm dampness he’d been preparing to complain about. He sighed, realising that at some point he’d have to get up and take his clothes off – presuming they weren’t already irreparably damaged. Pity. Now that Brett – already undressed, he noted irritably – had settled next to him, he felt ready to collapse.
He sat up reluctantly and started pulling off his half-removed garments, dropping them into an untidy pile beside the bed. From behind him, he felt Brett’s gaze move lazily across his back.
“Daniel,” Brett Sinclair’s voice was very soft and Danny turned to see him reclining on the downy white cushions. “Daniel,” he repeated, more firmly this time, and Danny followed his gaze to the source of the damp patch.
It couldn’t have been his glass. There was no force on earth that could do that to him. He’d fallen down whole flights of steps as a kid and kept his ice-cream intact. He’d protected his sandwiches from crowds of assholes on the subway, he’d held onto candy bars for dear life – it took more than a few kisses and a quick grope to make him spill a glass of champagne. But sure enough, Brett’s glass was sitting on the dressing table on his side of the bed.
Danny looked up at him incredulously. “You broke my record,” he breathed. “You bastard.”
Brett smiled, leaned forward and kissed Danny on the cheek. “At your service,” he smirked. “But that’s Lord Bastard, if you please.”
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NOTHING CAN EXPRESS MY LOVE
Date: 2006-04-20 02:28 am (UTC)I LOVE YOU. I HEART YOU. I LOOOOOOOOOVE YOU.
I love them so much, and I love this fic, and I love them and love them and love them and I love just that there IS fic, as well as it being beautiful gorgeous fic, which I am going to thoroughly compliment in a moment yes, and I love them so much and I love the champagne and I love them and the fact that their voice are in my head and in your words and I LOVE THEM and I love you for writing fic even though you pretend that you can't do that any more and I love that you write such BEAUTIFUL fic and you wrote it with the persuaders in it and that they are so perfect and that you are quite perfect too and and and I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE.
I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. Everything.
I love that it's persuaders fic, and that they are PERFECT and that there wasn't a moment where Danny Wilde didn't sound like Danny Wilde, and that Lord Brett called him Daniel in JUST THE RIGHT WAY, and that it is PERFECT and that the judge totally match made them because OMG THE LOVE and just everything and I LOVE THEM.
“Well, you look into that, Daniel.” Brett lifted the bottle and examined the label, “Personally I’d prefer to know the vintage.”
I LOVE HIM.
“Do you know what I like about you?” Brett’s voice probably would have been hesitant, were it not for the fact that he was also at least slightly inebriated. And without waiting for a reply, he gestured towards the champagne glass in Danny’s hand.
“I like the fact that you can fall across a bedroom, land face-first on a bed and still manage not to lose any of your drink.”
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Sorry. this was meant to be more about how much i love your fic, but but but but it is like as if it is really in there and I love him so much and this is so perfectly perfect and I LOVE HIM I DO and OH god you have made me happy.
“If I loved you-” Danny replied, leaning too far forward and breathing in the musk of Brett’s cologne, “If I loved you then I’d do a lot more than just humour you.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!11 OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH. I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE BRETT AND I LOVE THIS.
Brett looked up, “do you ever stop talking?”
Danny’s retort was cut off as Brett traced a too-light path down his chest, trailing fingers across his abdomen and making his breath stick somewhere in the back of his throat. Brett was watching him, looking disgustingly self-satisfied. Honestly, Danny told himself, if he weren’t enjoying the way things were panning out here, he’d show that guy a thing or two in half a second.
I will stop before I literally quote EVERYTHING at you now, but REALLY. IT IS TOO BEAUTIFUL TOO BEAUTIFUL OH.
You are the most SHINEFUL AND WONDERFUL PERSON. And this is beautiful and has made me so happy I could die. And you are fantastic and all other words that are meaning generally the same thing as fantastic. And this is BEAUTIFUL. Beautiful like Lord Brett Sinclair. Or Danny Wilde if you prefer. Danny Wilde in his BEST jacket and his beautiful green scarf tie thing and and and and and and OH GOD I GLOVE YOU.
:):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):)
x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x
::DANCES YOU FOREVER::
Re: NOTHING CAN EXPRESS MY LOVE
Date: 2006-04-20 01:11 pm (UTC)Also, that I am reassured that the voices are good, because this is what I worry about and that you picked out some of my favourite lines and that is just special. But while it may be beautiful like Lord Brett, I feel honour-bound to point out that NOTHING is as beautiful as Danny in his green jacket and scarf-tie thing. For true. *gloves you liek woah*
Re: NOTHING CAN EXPRESS MY LOVE
Date: 2006-04-20 03:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 07:43 am (UTC)This is very right. The words are right and the people saying them are perfect. And the things they say are said in the right voices and it is truly a thing of wonder.
this bit: The nice thing about making wild guesses about Brett’s upbringing was that every time he did so, he could see Brett deciding not to respond. He decided to tell him so.
“You know what I like about you, kid?” Danny leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee while using the other one to hold champagne and gesture at once. “Not once have you ever sunk to my level. I guess that’s England for you.”
Brett raised an eyebrow and, again, visibly declined to comment
for example sounds spot on, and
this bit: Danny had kissed men before. Obviously.
is lovely!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 10:49 pm (UTC)This is late, but ...
Date: 2006-06-30 11:39 pm (UTC)OMG, I *loved* this! I could hear every word perfectly -- you really captured their voices, and the touches, and the looks, and *everything*! It's sweet, and funny, and sexy, and so, so *them*. I was going to quote favorite lines, but that'd be like, everything, so... Oh, can't resist:
“You know what I like about you, kid?” Danny leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee while using the other one to hold champagne and gesture at once. “Not once have you ever sunk to my level. I guess that’s England for you.”
That is so absolutely what Danny would say, and it combines the humor with the serious (Danny wanting to know more about Brett's life; Brett's resistance to tell more; Danny dropping in a casual joke that puts himself down).
And: I knew how to look after food, man. Kids used to pay me to babysit their soup for them while they played stickball.
Which I can just *hear* him saying. Exactly. Perfectly.
All of it makes me so, so happy: the complimentary champagne! The hint that Judge Fulton set them up (so like the judge, isn't it?)! The way Brett says "Daniel" (purrrr)! And that kiss on the cheek at the end, and perfect Brett line!
*HUGE happy sigh and grin*. This totally rocks, I totally love it, and I'm insanely gushing incoherently. Anyway, thank you!
Re: This is late, but ...
Date: 2006-07-01 02:23 pm (UTC)I am rubbish at responding to long feedback, but I'm so glad you liked the fic. This was a lovely thing to find in my inbox when I got up today and you picked out some of the lines that I was particularly proud of and it's always nice when that happens. Oh, and The Persuaders really are just fantastic and there aren't enough people who appreciate the LOVE that is them and it reminded me of how great they are and it was all just LOVELY. Yes. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-03 12:36 pm (UTC)