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RPF: Slash Fanfiction 101 -- Lesson 2

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Jan. 6th, 2008 | 11:56 pm
mood: busybusy
posted by: tvjunkie1013 in michaelxmahone

Title: Slash Fanfic 101 - Lesson 2
Author: Me
Pairing: Wentworth/William; Michael/Mahone
Rating: Let's just say M, even though it won't be that until later lessons.
Word Count: 900

Disclaimer: See Slash Fanfiction 101 -- Part 1


* * * * * * * * * *




An hour and a half later, Wentworth was sitting comfortably on his sofa; a cold beer in one hand and his laptop resting across his legs. He sighed contentedly and took a long pull of his beer. There was a soft snap as he lifted the cover of his computer. It immediately came to life and Went clicked on his email icon.

“Fuck,” he swore when he saw that there were over five hundred messages that he had to weed through. Scrolling to the bottom of the list, he found Dom’s email. Wentworth chuckled softly at the address.

“'DP_is_1_hot_aussie'. Heh! Kills me every time I see it.”

He moved the message into the folder he created specifically for all the crap Dom sent him, then he began to clear the rest of his email. Not fifteen minutes had passed when there was a knock on the trailer door.

“Come on in,” Went yelled and took another drink from his beer.

“Hey, it’s me.” The door swung open and Bill stepped into the trailer, allowing the door to slam shut behind him. He slumped back against it and inhaled deeply. “They ended the shoot early. Too fucking hot out there.”

Wentworth glanced over his shoulder at his friend. His eyes widened and a bark of laughter slipped out of his mouth. Bill was covered in sweat; his clothes soaked through and clinging to his body like a second layer of skin. His hair was wet and messier than usual. A total disaster, actually. Half of it was plastered to his forehead, the rest was sticking out as if he’d stuck one of his fingers in to a light socket. His face was tomato red.

“Wow, Bill,” Wentworth’s knuckles went up to his mouth and he continued to snicker behind them, ”you look like shit.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Bill cocked his head to the side and fixed his gaze on the beer in Went’s hand. He licked his dry lips. “Got an extra one of those for me?”

“Of course,” he gestured at the fridge and dropped his eyes back to the computer, “in there. Why don’t you take a shower too?”

“Are you implying that I stink?”

“That, and I’d rather not have your sweaty, scummy, dusty Sona-wear dirtying up my micro fiber.”

“What, exactly, am I supposed to wear? Unless you’d prefer Bill Fichtner: au natural?”

“I’m not one of your legions of fan girls, so I’ll take a pass on that one,” Went finished his beer and stood to get another. He grabbed two and handed one to Bill. “It’s all in there. Clean towels. Shorts. T-shirts. Fruit of the Looms,” he sat back down and replaced his laptop. “Whatever you need.”

“Look, man, you’re my friend and I love you, but I’m not going to wear your skivies.”

Wentworth turned and leaned over the back of the sofa. He gave William an incredulous look.

“Bill,” he said, his tone one that a teacher or parent might use when dealing with a child, “there are unopened packages in there. Just like I’m sure you have stocked in *your* trailer. Take some of those.”

“Yes, dad,” Bill snarked and walked over to the small bathroom. “Hey, did you have a chance to look at that stuff from Dom yet?”

“Nope,” Went replied, popping the top off his beer then flicking the cap across the room into a garbage can. “I’ve got about five hundred messages, about half of which are crap, to get through first.”

“Well, why don’t you wait until I’m finished? It’ll only be about ten minutes. Is that cool with you?”

“M’kay,” Wentworth mumbled around the lip of his bottle. He turned around again, just as Bill was peeling off his scummy black t-shirt. Wentworth wrinkled his nose, “And toss those clothes into my wardrobe bag. The laundry is supposed to be picked up in the morning.”

One of Bill’s eyebrows shot up.

“Aren’t you worried what people will think when they find my clothes in your bag?”

“Whatever,” he waved his hand dismissively. “People already say a lot of things about me that aren’t true. Besides, it’s stupid for you to go all the way to your trailer, shower and come right back here when my shower works just fine. And as far as people wondering why your clothes are in my bag?” Wentworth shrugged and drank down about a fourth of his second beer. “Who cares what they think? But if you’re so worried about your reputation, there’s some plastic bags under the sink, Put ‘em in one and take them back with you,” he stared at Bill for a moment. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take a fucking shower and get out here. Let me worry about my reputation. Besides,” Wentworth’s gaze slid over Bill’s nude chest and back up to his face. He tried to keep his eyes neutral, but he felt the heat of a blush burning up the back of his neck. To mask it, Wentworth forced one corner of his mouth to curl into a smirk, “I could do worse than you.”

Bill stood there in shocked silence for only about a second. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

“And you said Dom was certifiable.”

He spun on his heels and went into the bathroom …

… but not before Wentworth saw that his cheeks were blossoming with crimson.


~TBC in Lesson 3~

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