comment-fic wot got too long.
Mar. 28th, 2009 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
healingmirthBones, Hodgins/Zack, King Of The Lab.
R, for hand-wavy sexing.
unbeta'd, and the first Bones fic I've ever written. set very first-season. possibly even pre-series.
***
Hodgins breaks the late-night silence of the lab to ask, "You know what I miss?" and Zack doesn't look up from the debrided bone fragments that he's sorting out on the table in front of him. It's likely that this question, while not rhetorical in the strictest sense, still does not require an answer. Hodgins frequently has these conversations with himself to break the monotony of identification on their less pressing investigations.
As expected, he continues in the absence of any encouragement. "Having sex in the lab," Hodgins answers himself.
Zack suppresses his horror and embarrassment to evaluate whether this is the start of a conversation, or an attempt to rile him up. In either case, it's best to respond in an offhand and casual manner. "That seems... likely to result in contamination of the evidence," is what he comes up with.
"Nah, not real labs. College though, and grad school? I was like a god! All those idiots in intro labs, desperate for help on their 'experiments' - very grateful, if you get my drift."
There's a long pause, and Zack returns his full attention to the bone fragments. "Shit, man, I totally would though. Some of this equipment is hot." Zack hears the roll of Hodgins's chair as he pushes away from the desk. "Not just the equipment, either, the people, y'know? All that passion for the work, you gotta wonder what it's like to redirect it to another subject. Not to mention, y'know, the sexy librarian thing." Zack doesn't look up, determined to ignore Hodgins and his inappropriate ramblings unless he asks an actual question. Which he does, because probability to the contrary, the world seems to be conspiring against Zack.
"How about you, man," Hodgins continues. "Did you ever?"
With an internal sigh, Zack resigns himself to seeing this conversation through to its likely disturbing conclusion. "I always found the gender inequity in the sciences troubling. I never would have added to the power imbalance by extorting sexual favors in exchange for knowledge." Zack can feel his ears pinking, and hopes against reason that he'll find something to say to redirect Hodgins's attention to his work.
"So no TA nookie." Hodgins makes a clucking sound like he disapproves. "A shame, but not unexpected." The wheels of his chair squeak on the floor again, and he skids to a halt just before colliding with the table. "That doesn't mean never though." Zack doesn't respond, but he's sure now that his ears have moved from pink to red under the cover of his hair, and his neck is probably doing that blotchy thing. Hodgins lets out a hmmm and Zack can feel his scrutiny and a hint of his breath disturbing the air. "Or does it?" he continues, and now he's using his dreaded Idea voice, the one that always gets them in trouble.
At Zack's continued silence, Hodgins cracks his knuckles and starts to spin out scenarios, and Zack gives up entirely on the bones in favor of willing his body to indifference to Hodgins's - or Jack's, because surely this is a first-name conversation - tone.
"So, no TA nookie," Jack repeats. "Late nights, waiting for something to run, you and a buddy killing time? Or trying to find someplace to be alone with your special someone? I had keys to everything. It was awesome." His voice lowers as he continues, becomes more intimate. "I can totally see you, you know, in some crappy basement lab, all fumbling and teenaged and horny, trying not to knock over the glassware."
Zack is losing the battle against his body's reactions, and in desperation he turns to Jack, sacrificing his pride in order to ward off a more public embarrassment. "Jack, please..." but he doesn't get the rest of the sentence out when Jack lays a hand on his leg.
"Aw, Zack, you didn't think I'd leave you hanging like that, did you? I thought you knew me better by now." Jack hooks an ankle around the base of Zack's chair and pulls them closer together, sliding his hand further up Zack's leg.
"C-cameras," Zack stutters, and rather than letting him go, Jack pulls them across to the bank of computers and spins them around until their legs are under the table. Jack props his left elbow up on the table, and gestures to the screen as if pointing out some detail, but he continues a low monologue of promises and suppositions as he palms Zack through his pants.
He has a moment to be grateful that he's sitting in one of the high chairs rather than on a stool when Jack unzips Zack's pants and slides his hand inside his briefs. He clenches his jaw against words escaping as Jack's hand wraps around his length, but a whimper escapes anyway when Jack starts to move, tightening and loosening his grip as if he's trying to find a specific response. Zack's throat is tight, and his grip on the edge of the table slips when Jack settles into a rhythm with the poorly stifled bucking of Zack's hips.
"God, Jack, please," escapes from between his teeth, and he's still talking about the cameras and the inevitable ruin of his career when this gets out, but Jack just adjusts his grip to a shorter stroke, running a thumb through the slickness at the head and sending sparks through Zack's nerves with each brush of his fingers until Zack explodes, literally and figuratively, overwhelmed with sensation. He's still drifting trying not to fall out of the chair, so he doesn't protest when Jack wipes his hands on Zack's underwear before zipping his pants back up. "I think I won this round," he murmurs at Zack's ear, before adjusting himself and pushing back from the table to stand, "but I'll give you good odds on the next one."
Zack makes an unsure movement with his hands, because while his knowledge of homosexual encounters is strictly academic, he's sure there is an expectation of reciprocity, but Jack waves him off and tugs Zack up to his feet.
"I think this can wait til morning, don't you?" Jack says. "How about I drive you home?" he says, and it is again, clearly not a question.
Zack hadn't given much thought to his living arrangements before, beyond the obvious, but they are suddenly looking much more advantageous.
also! SGA, Rodney/author's choice (Radek), dark bruises on pale skin
R, for hand-wavy sexing.
unbeta'd, and the first Bones fic I've ever written. set very first-season. possibly even pre-series.
***
Hodgins breaks the late-night silence of the lab to ask, "You know what I miss?" and Zack doesn't look up from the debrided bone fragments that he's sorting out on the table in front of him. It's likely that this question, while not rhetorical in the strictest sense, still does not require an answer. Hodgins frequently has these conversations with himself to break the monotony of identification on their less pressing investigations.
As expected, he continues in the absence of any encouragement. "Having sex in the lab," Hodgins answers himself.
Zack suppresses his horror and embarrassment to evaluate whether this is the start of a conversation, or an attempt to rile him up. In either case, it's best to respond in an offhand and casual manner. "That seems... likely to result in contamination of the evidence," is what he comes up with.
"Nah, not real labs. College though, and grad school? I was like a god! All those idiots in intro labs, desperate for help on their 'experiments' - very grateful, if you get my drift."
There's a long pause, and Zack returns his full attention to the bone fragments. "Shit, man, I totally would though. Some of this equipment is hot." Zack hears the roll of Hodgins's chair as he pushes away from the desk. "Not just the equipment, either, the people, y'know? All that passion for the work, you gotta wonder what it's like to redirect it to another subject. Not to mention, y'know, the sexy librarian thing." Zack doesn't look up, determined to ignore Hodgins and his inappropriate ramblings unless he asks an actual question. Which he does, because probability to the contrary, the world seems to be conspiring against Zack.
"How about you, man," Hodgins continues. "Did you ever?"
With an internal sigh, Zack resigns himself to seeing this conversation through to its likely disturbing conclusion. "I always found the gender inequity in the sciences troubling. I never would have added to the power imbalance by extorting sexual favors in exchange for knowledge." Zack can feel his ears pinking, and hopes against reason that he'll find something to say to redirect Hodgins's attention to his work.
"So no TA nookie." Hodgins makes a clucking sound like he disapproves. "A shame, but not unexpected." The wheels of his chair squeak on the floor again, and he skids to a halt just before colliding with the table. "That doesn't mean never though." Zack doesn't respond, but he's sure now that his ears have moved from pink to red under the cover of his hair, and his neck is probably doing that blotchy thing. Hodgins lets out a hmmm and Zack can feel his scrutiny and a hint of his breath disturbing the air. "Or does it?" he continues, and now he's using his dreaded Idea voice, the one that always gets them in trouble.
At Zack's continued silence, Hodgins cracks his knuckles and starts to spin out scenarios, and Zack gives up entirely on the bones in favor of willing his body to indifference to Hodgins's - or Jack's, because surely this is a first-name conversation - tone.
"So, no TA nookie," Jack repeats. "Late nights, waiting for something to run, you and a buddy killing time? Or trying to find someplace to be alone with your special someone? I had keys to everything. It was awesome." His voice lowers as he continues, becomes more intimate. "I can totally see you, you know, in some crappy basement lab, all fumbling and teenaged and horny, trying not to knock over the glassware."
Zack is losing the battle against his body's reactions, and in desperation he turns to Jack, sacrificing his pride in order to ward off a more public embarrassment. "Jack, please..." but he doesn't get the rest of the sentence out when Jack lays a hand on his leg.
"Aw, Zack, you didn't think I'd leave you hanging like that, did you? I thought you knew me better by now." Jack hooks an ankle around the base of Zack's chair and pulls them closer together, sliding his hand further up Zack's leg.
"C-cameras," Zack stutters, and rather than letting him go, Jack pulls them across to the bank of computers and spins them around until their legs are under the table. Jack props his left elbow up on the table, and gestures to the screen as if pointing out some detail, but he continues a low monologue of promises and suppositions as he palms Zack through his pants.
He has a moment to be grateful that he's sitting in one of the high chairs rather than on a stool when Jack unzips Zack's pants and slides his hand inside his briefs. He clenches his jaw against words escaping as Jack's hand wraps around his length, but a whimper escapes anyway when Jack starts to move, tightening and loosening his grip as if he's trying to find a specific response. Zack's throat is tight, and his grip on the edge of the table slips when Jack settles into a rhythm with the poorly stifled bucking of Zack's hips.
"God, Jack, please," escapes from between his teeth, and he's still talking about the cameras and the inevitable ruin of his career when this gets out, but Jack just adjusts his grip to a shorter stroke, running a thumb through the slickness at the head and sending sparks through Zack's nerves with each brush of his fingers until Zack explodes, literally and figuratively, overwhelmed with sensation. He's still drifting trying not to fall out of the chair, so he doesn't protest when Jack wipes his hands on Zack's underwear before zipping his pants back up. "I think I won this round," he murmurs at Zack's ear, before adjusting himself and pushing back from the table to stand, "but I'll give you good odds on the next one."
Zack makes an unsure movement with his hands, because while his knowledge of homosexual encounters is strictly academic, he's sure there is an expectation of reciprocity, but Jack waves him off and tugs Zack up to his feet.
"I think this can wait til morning, don't you?" Jack says. "How about I drive you home?" he says, and it is again, clearly not a question.
Zack hadn't given much thought to his living arrangements before, beyond the obvious, but they are suddenly looking much more advantageous.
also! SGA, Rodney/author's choice (Radek), dark bruises on pale skin
