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L Slash R	By : animarelic Category: +G to L > L/R Views: 1401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own L/R, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-L Slash R
- 1
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes,

There beneath the blue suburban skies.

Disclaimer: I don't own these guys (wish I did), and I'm sure not getting paid for my perversion (wish I was). So please don't sue me for damages, though I almost wish anyone cared about L/R enough to do so.

(Author's Note: So where the hell is all the other fanfiction, Hmmmmm?? There should be so much more Jack x Rowe x Jack out there! I command you all to WRITE! ...Or I'll be forced to keep doing it myself. Geez, I'd better be a BNF in this genre if I have to do all the fics for it on my own. -.- Song Lyrics: The Beatles, "Penny Lane". I can't help it, the show apes the Beatles so much.)

"Gimme a light, mate, hmmmm?" When Rowe wanted something, he got persistant. Appearing fresh from the shower, he practically threw himself over the back of the couch, his head half wrapped in his towel. That ponytail always took forever to dry. When the blonde didn't immediately respond, Rowe pressed the issue. "Hmmmmmmm? C'mon?" He allready had a cigarette, probably obtained from Jack's desk - Rowe certainly hadn't gotten it from his -own- pants pockets.

They were in a pile by the ottoman, Jack could see them in the corner of his field of vision, around the edges of the newspaper. So, unless Rowe was wearing only that towel, he'd also snitched a set of Jack's pajamma pants - which he would currently be walking on the cuffs of. No matter how many times the blonde reminded him to roll them up, the answer was invariable. 'That's so uncool, Jack. Look, It won't hurt them all that much.' Turning the page on the paper, Jack wondered exactly how many other little habits they'd aquired.

It would be almost cute, except that Rowe was currently investigating the pockets of his shirt for his lighter, and when that search was fruitless, angling his hands lower. The cigarette was clamped immovably between his teeth. Considering the degree his lean was taking on, this was a good idea.

"Rowe," The tone was lightly reprimanding - it took quite a bit to aggravate THE Jack Hoffner into anything more than that. "You know very well that my lighter is in my pants pocket. My pants, also, are over there." He turned the page again - somehow, with Rowe's wet hair trailing against his shoulder and neck, it was harder to concentrate on what was new in Ishtar.

"Oh," Clearly put out, Rowe gave himself enough of a boost to ooze over the back edge of the couch, navigating his way into Jack's lap as he did like a feline demanding attention. The paper suffered a major crinkling, smooshed into aquiescence beneath the more demanding member of L/R. Through a careful series of tugs and slides, Jack navagated the paper out from his unhelpful partner, without so much as turning cool blue eyes in his direction.

"Look. We've made the news again." The article was small enough to not attract attention. Jack was looking for it, and found it, but for many others it was a 'skipper'. Likely it was only there to appease friends and family members. If the leader of Hornet even still had any of those left.

"Bo-ring!" Rowe assesed, after skimming it half-heartedly. As expected, no mention of Cloud 7 at all, let alone their little 'dog and pony show', as Mister Penny-Lane often called L/R. In a strictly affectionate sense, one could hope. "We'll never get any -real- fame." At this, he mimed a fit of hysterics hands coming up to paw his own face in parody, before he seized at Jack's collar. "I'll never be popular with the ladies this way, Jack! I can't live like this!"

He punctuated his drama with a bit of shaking. Which did exactly what it was designed to do, finally get Jack's attention away from the colums in black and white and focused where - in Rowe's mind, anyway - it should be. On him. Jack folded the paper closed carefully and fixed his partner with a cooly-agitated stare. Seizing his victory, the brunette produced his brightest smile, hoping to warm Jack into something more playful than irritated.

"Despite your penchant for drama, RoweJackJack's smile answered - this was also a habit. It was notoriously difficult to stay angry at someone who could come out of every difficult situation with a big smile and a good outlook. Especially when said someone had saved your life and vice versa on more occasions than one could count. L/R's Rowe was a bit strange, true, but when it came down to matters of importance - well, Jack had never been dissapointed. "You've never been terribly interested in ladies."

"Oh yeah, I suppose I haven't." The tone was one of revelation, and finally he surrendered his hold on the cigarette, pulling it from between his lips and settling it on the table without a care. Well, at lest it was unlit. A minor burn or two on the surface of the wood told stories of times when Rowe hadn't had a care if it was lit or not. Well, this sort of thing was becoming habit, too. Friday night meant a lazy brunnette oozing his way around Jack's appartment, at least until he got what he wanted.

Affection usually worked. This evening, however, Rowe was loathe to let Jack have anything resembling peace. When the blonde turned his attention back to the newspaper, Rowe found another plan. Jack's pants, as he'd mentioned, were over tangled around one of the legs of the coffee table, one leg outstretched and inverted. They were in suspicious simmilarity of state and proximity to Rowe's, with one notable difference.

The brunnette's pants were thoroughly intertangled with his boxers. And while Jack's suspicion about not only the cigarette had been true, Rowe had not retrieved them before making himself at home in the blonde's underwear drawer. All of this duly noted around the edges of the newspaper column - Rowe's taste in clothing ran toward dark. As for undergarments? Well, it was red tangled in with the black today, and not the only color that Jack see seen. Luckily it was one of the more masculine. It seemed that since someone would actually be seeing his undergarments as of late, the colors had settled into the comfortable range of primaries, forsaking the lavender color that Jack had first found upon thorough investigation of Rowe's pants.

Rowe had mentioned something about a mix-up at the laundry. Jack would not place bets on that as truth. His musings on the state of the pants became suddenly quite strained and distant. His boxers were still situated firmly upon his hips - but this did not mean that he was safe from his partner's advances. No indeed, as boxers are designed with ample holes in the front. Jack would like to think that the original designer of boxers did not have anything involving another man's mouth involved when he put the hole there. However, at this moment in time, Jack would be very lucky to be thinking at all.

Very persistant indeed. Jack deliberately turned the page, and refocused his eyes on the text. It was becoming increasingly difficult to organize the columns of black printed letters into any form of sensible structure. Rowe, at least, had fallen quiet for the moment. He shifted faintly in Jack's lap, one arm sliding over the blonde's thigh to rest an elbow on the couch. When he had a comfortable position, he let his eyes close in concentration.

Jack's concentration, in turn, was slipping. The sports column had never been terribly interesting in the least, and he found it harder and harder to keep his thoughts away from Rowe's -mouth-. More importantly, the heat, how enticingly -wet- it was. A tongue that was smooth in more than just expression, and was quite suddenly making a powerful argument against finding out juho hho had won the rugby match the evening prior. A tongue that was simply - god save the queen.

The paper made only the faintest rustlings of complaint as it slid through Jack's fingers, landing edge first on the floor with a crash that would have been more surprising if both of L/R weren't pleasently distracted. It fluttered a long moment through the air, torn between falling and being dramatic, before it settled at last into the realm of forgotten. Jack's fingers instead occupied themselves in Rowe's hair - loose, for once, of it's tie. His hair was sopping, Jack noticed belatedly, turning the edges of his boxers wet where it touched and his fingers slick.

Then, there was simply no time to think of anything like wet hair. No time to think of anything but heat, my goodness how nice it was to have the couch there to press the back of his head into, what was that noise? Jack's body arched, Rowe made a bit of a shift to accomodate, and for a moment, nothing really mattered but the thundering of Jack's heart. For a moment after that, nothing really mattered except breathing, and then, of course, the messy details.

Not so messy. Rowe swallowed.

He was still settled comfortably in Jack's lap when the blue eyes turned down from the ceiling toward brown. He had settled onto his back, hair fanned out wetly on the couch - well, what parts of it weren't clutched up in Jack's fingers. The blond allowed himself a moment to grin, then tightened his fingers to still protest, and slid his other hand down toward the waistline of his-pajammas-on-Rowe.

"Ah-ah!" The brunnete scolded, capturing Jack's wrist in both of his hands. "-You've- got newsprint fingers, and I've just had a shower." Despite the tightening of fingers at the base of his scalp, Rowe just grinned. "I s'pose that makes -me- L today, my friend."

Not a moment later than that, the grip in his hair reversed, a hand slid underneath Rowe's midsection, and the taller of the pair hefted him up over his shoulder. The hall was a relatively short journey, so Rowe's surprise was enough to keep him from struggling until they at least reached the bathroom.

"I know the answer is, 'Whichever you like,' Rowe," Jack offered a cheerful smile while plunging his hands into the sink to remove the remaining streaks of black while his partner watched.

"But you and I both know the truth."
- 1
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