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[004.] SECRET KEEPING
Title: Secret Keeping
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Comic Strip Presents...
Characters: Ace/Squealer [Slags sketch]
Summary: Squealer isn't known for his secret keeping, or his eloquence.
Warnings: None.
Notes: I'm so very sorry for butchering this magnificent show. ;;
"I know what you're like you know, Ace, I know, you know," Squealer mumbles frantically. There's a long pause whilst Ace regards him evenly, then there's the arch of one very fine, very blonde eyebrow.
"Oh you do, do you?"
"Yes! Yesss! I do, because, because Madness, you know Madness, he used to say... Used to say..."
"Used to say what exactly?"
"Used to say... Nothing! Nothing at all! Nope."
There's something distinctly wrong with this situation, distinctly unnerving, that Ace can't quite figure out. He stares at Squealer until finally it hits him.
"Wait a moment," He begins. Squealer freezes, his face almost comically petrified.
"What? Why? Why should I wait? I haven't done anything!" He blurts out again, wringing his hands nervously.
"You, Squealer, cannot keep secrets."
"I can! Anyway! Anyway, it's not as if there are any secrets to keep!" He laughs, a braying, nervous giggle of panic. "Oh god don't hurt me pleasepleaseplease!"
"Tell me what's going on then," Ace demands, fisting a hand in the front of Squealer's flak jacket.
Squealer wriggles wildly, his whole body twitching spasmodically inside his the vest like some sort of epileptic tortoise.
"No, no, no!"
"Squealer."
"Queer! He said you were queer! Oh god, I'm sorry! Don't kill me please don't kill me ohgodohgod..."
"I'm not going to kill you, Squealer."
"B-But, why?" Squealer demands plaintively, giving a few experimental wiggles inside his flak jacket which is still pulling him a little too close to Ace for comfort.
"Because."
"Because what?" Squealer asks, wide eyed.
"What if I am? I'm almost eighteen - it's not a crime." And there it is, cool as ever, without a hint of any shame or denial. For the first time in a long time, Squealer is voluntarily silent, choosing his words carefully.
"Well... Well, you realise that I'm nearly eighteen, too..." Is the best he manages to come up with.
"You aren't very good at this think-before-you-speak thing, are you, Squealer?"
"Nope... No, it's not really my strong point, is it?" He jabbers again worriedly.
Squealer is far too aware of their close proximity, that all he can smell is the bleach and aftershave that composes Ace's signature scent. Then there's his impassive, pale face only inches away, blue eyes giving away nothing.
"Have you got anything more eloquent to say, or should I just let go of you?"
"Er..."
"Was that a no, Squealer?"
A yelp of negativity, "No! No! Wait a second, just give me a second I promise I can do it! Don't let go, Ace, it's okay! I'll manage!"
"You're hopeless, you little rat." Ace growls and kisses him hard. All Squealer can think is how incredibly German the whole thing seems. He wriggles half heartedly, before finally attempting a slightly overenthusiastic kiss back.
"I am, too!" He finally comes out with, about a minute too late, the words spilling out as boisterous and excited as his sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. "I'm a queer, too!"
"Wonderful." Ace pushes him away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand clinically. "We should do this again some time."
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Comic Strip Presents...
Characters: Ace/Squealer [Slags sketch]
Summary: Squealer isn't known for his secret keeping, or his eloquence.
Warnings: None.
Notes: I'm so very sorry for butchering this magnificent show. ;;
"I know what you're like you know, Ace, I know, you know," Squealer mumbles frantically. There's a long pause whilst Ace regards him evenly, then there's the arch of one very fine, very blonde eyebrow.
"Oh you do, do you?"
"Yes! Yesss! I do, because, because Madness, you know Madness, he used to say... Used to say..."
"Used to say what exactly?"
"Used to say... Nothing! Nothing at all! Nope."
There's something distinctly wrong with this situation, distinctly unnerving, that Ace can't quite figure out. He stares at Squealer until finally it hits him.
"Wait a moment," He begins. Squealer freezes, his face almost comically petrified.
"What? Why? Why should I wait? I haven't done anything!" He blurts out again, wringing his hands nervously.
"You, Squealer, cannot keep secrets."
"I can! Anyway! Anyway, it's not as if there are any secrets to keep!" He laughs, a braying, nervous giggle of panic. "Oh god don't hurt me pleasepleaseplease!"
"Tell me what's going on then," Ace demands, fisting a hand in the front of Squealer's flak jacket.
Squealer wriggles wildly, his whole body twitching spasmodically inside his the vest like some sort of epileptic tortoise.
"No, no, no!"
"Squealer."
"Queer! He said you were queer! Oh god, I'm sorry! Don't kill me please don't kill me ohgodohgod..."
"I'm not going to kill you, Squealer."
"B-But, why?" Squealer demands plaintively, giving a few experimental wiggles inside his flak jacket which is still pulling him a little too close to Ace for comfort.
"Because."
"Because what?" Squealer asks, wide eyed.
"What if I am? I'm almost eighteen - it's not a crime." And there it is, cool as ever, without a hint of any shame or denial. For the first time in a long time, Squealer is voluntarily silent, choosing his words carefully.
"Well... Well, you realise that I'm nearly eighteen, too..." Is the best he manages to come up with.
"You aren't very good at this think-before-you-speak thing, are you, Squealer?"
"Nope... No, it's not really my strong point, is it?" He jabbers again worriedly.
Squealer is far too aware of their close proximity, that all he can smell is the bleach and aftershave that composes Ace's signature scent. Then there's his impassive, pale face only inches away, blue eyes giving away nothing.
"Have you got anything more eloquent to say, or should I just let go of you?"
"Er..."
"Was that a no, Squealer?"
A yelp of negativity, "No! No! Wait a second, just give me a second I promise I can do it! Don't let go, Ace, it's okay! I'll manage!"
"You're hopeless, you little rat." Ace growls and kisses him hard. All Squealer can think is how incredibly German the whole thing seems. He wriggles half heartedly, before finally attempting a slightly overenthusiastic kiss back.
"I am, too!" He finally comes out with, about a minute too late, the words spilling out as boisterous and excited as his sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. "I'm a queer, too!"
"Wonderful." Ace pushes him away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand clinically. "We should do this again some time."