Breakfast of Champions ;; PG13
Apr. 12th, 2010 01:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bootsonTitle: Breakfast of Champions
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: PG13 (for language. Otherwise, pretty PG)
Summary: Chris' choice of breakfast food is insulting and pathetic.
Word Count: 1204
Warnings: None really
Disclaimer: I know nothing, I imply nothing, and I own nothing. That about covers it.
AN: Oh, Hey! Lookit! I wrote something again! I haven't written a thing in ages, which is sad since I used to average, like, a fic a week. Anyway, to get me out of my slump, I asked for prompts and this is the only one I've finished so far.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
babkykid528 gave me dialogue to run with and...this is where I ended up. No beta, so feel free to poke at my typoes and such with a stick. :)
Overcast skies never actually meant rain and that was actually sort of irritating. Chris wasn't sure why, except maybe because he really didn't have the energy to wash his car on a Sunday. It didn't matter, things would probably clear up as the day went on, Chris mused as he started sorting through cabinets for something resembling breakfast food. He'd finished the PopTarts which left him with his choice of CoCoa Puffs, Count Chocula, Frosted Flakes (and he still had no idea how in hell those had ended up in his kitchen), or actually cooking. A quick glance into the fridge to check for milk and it was Count Chocula all the way.
Even half blurry-eyed and waiting on the coffee to finish dripping, it didn't take long for Chris to settle down at his kitchen table with the paper opened to the crossword and a bowl of cereal resting next to it. He'd probably have little drops of chocolate milk covering the page before he was finished, but eh. His tendency toward mess wasn't exactly some sort of surprise to anyone who'd been around for more than a minute.
He was completely involved in the dilemma that was 26 Down (there was apparently an E in the third box which couldn't be right at all, but he was sure the crossing clue was right) and a little under halfway through his bowl of morning sugary goodness and the first cup of coffee when he was viciously attacked. That is, if by vicious you meant a quick poke. Either way, it was enough to startle him into dropping his spoon into the bowl, spraying chocolate-flavored milk on the table top.
Chris was a half-second away from glaring when he felt stubble followed by lips against his neck. Before he could get too comfortable with it, however, sharp teeth swiftly caught his skin and there was the unmistakable scrape of ceramic against polished wood. Whipping around in his chair, Chris sent a glare at Zach...or, he tried to. It was a bit difficult to actually glare at the older man when his hair was flat on one side and there were faint pillow creases on his face. Oh, the fact that he was in nothing but boxers had little to nothing to do with it, if only because Chris forced his eyes to stick to Zach's face to avoid getting distracted.
"What the fuck, Zach? I'm trying to eat my cereal!"
Zach quirked an eyebrow, not bothering to turn away from the bowl he was glaring into. "This puffed sugar and chocolate flavored abomination with tiny, freeze-dried marshmallow bits has absolutely no nutritional value. You know that, right?"
"Thank you oh wise and great Quinto. Can I have my fucking cereal back now?" Okay, maybe that was a tad petulant, but it couldn't be helped when the best part of the day was being insulted.
"No," Zach used a free hand to ruffle his own hair and seemed to reconsider for a moment. Attempting to take advantage of the apparent distraction, Chris tried to make a sneak attack and recover the bowl. Zach turned at the last moment. "I'm dumping this. Just looking at it makes me sick. Do you see the milk?"
"Yes. It's become chocolate milk. Don't even pretend you don't have a weakness for it; I've been grocery shopping with you."
"This isn't chocolate, Christopher." And there was the cereal being poured down the drain while Chris was trying to turn in his seat and watch Zach wander across the room. "It's, like, gray or something. I don't know; I don't care; it's gross. I'm not letting you eat cereal for breakfast."
It was too early in the morning to be mourning the loss of perfectly acceptable dessert-slash-breakfast foods. Regardless, Chris was still left narrowing his eyes and finishing his cooled coffee in a few gulps.
"You're making this up to me."
Quiet, slightly sleep roughened chuckles bounced around the room. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because, Zachary," Chris started, heading to pull the coffee pot from the warmer, not even thinking before pulling down another mug and fixing two cups this time around. "I don't know if you remember elementary school health class or not, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Also, I'm really fond of high sugar content before 10 a.m."
"You're a child."
"You're a control freak, but hey, we all have our crosses to bear."
"Witty," Zach muttered, eyes locked on the mug Chris was now stirring. As soon as Chris passed over the as-perfect-as-possible-when-it-doesn't-come-from-professionals coffee, Zach leaned a hip against the counter. It really wasn't fair, Chris always thought, that Zach could just waltz into a room and manage to take up every amount of available space with his mere presence without actually doing more than stretching out in a standing position.
"You're making it up to me," he repeated just in case Zach had been distracted and forgotten the whole point of this conversation. That, and he needed to remind himself.
Zach laughed at his tone, tilting his head and sipping quietly for a moment. "Yeah? How, pray tell, am I doing that? What do you want that's so much better to start your day than the reason so many small children are diagnosed with A.D.D.?"
Stepping closer, Chris gave him the most challenging look possible. Zach tugged at Chris' t-shirt until they were practically nose-to-nose. "You already know what I want." His lips quirked into a smirk when Zach leaned in to press their lips together briefly.
"Pancakes?"
"Close."
"Waffles."
"Naturally."
"Only if we still have real syrup. Mrs. Buttersworth doesn't count," Zach reminded Chris, complete with disgusted nose scrunch.
Laughing, Chris went to drag out Zach's syrup from the pantry. "Breakfast snob."
Zach snatched the glass bottle before turning to gather ingredients and the waffle maker. No, Chris was probably never going to get over the fact that Zach actually knew how to make waffles completely from scratch. He also had no desire in learning that particular skill, even though Zach always offered.
"You want me to show you this again?"
Shaking his head even though Zach probably wasn't looking, Chris took his coffee back to the table.
"So, I should know this and I'm going to sound like a dumbass, but what's a five letter word for Tea party crasher?"
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: PG13 (for language. Otherwise, pretty PG)
Summary: Chris' choice of breakfast food is insulting and pathetic.
Word Count: 1204
Warnings: None really
Disclaimer: I know nothing, I imply nothing, and I own nothing. That about covers it.
AN: Oh, Hey! Lookit! I wrote something again! I haven't written a thing in ages, which is sad since I used to average, like, a fic a week. Anyway, to get me out of my slump, I asked for prompts and this is the only one I've finished so far.
babkykid528 gave me dialogue to run with and...this is where I ended up. No beta, so feel free to poke at my typoes and such with a stick. :)Overcast skies never actually meant rain and that was actually sort of irritating. Chris wasn't sure why, except maybe because he really didn't have the energy to wash his car on a Sunday. It didn't matter, things would probably clear up as the day went on, Chris mused as he started sorting through cabinets for something resembling breakfast food. He'd finished the PopTarts which left him with his choice of CoCoa Puffs, Count Chocula, Frosted Flakes (and he still had no idea how in hell those had ended up in his kitchen), or actually cooking. A quick glance into the fridge to check for milk and it was Count Chocula all the way.
Even half blurry-eyed and waiting on the coffee to finish dripping, it didn't take long for Chris to settle down at his kitchen table with the paper opened to the crossword and a bowl of cereal resting next to it. He'd probably have little drops of chocolate milk covering the page before he was finished, but eh. His tendency toward mess wasn't exactly some sort of surprise to anyone who'd been around for more than a minute.
He was completely involved in the dilemma that was 26 Down (there was apparently an E in the third box which couldn't be right at all, but he was sure the crossing clue was right) and a little under halfway through his bowl of morning sugary goodness and the first cup of coffee when he was viciously attacked. That is, if by vicious you meant a quick poke. Either way, it was enough to startle him into dropping his spoon into the bowl, spraying chocolate-flavored milk on the table top.
Chris was a half-second away from glaring when he felt stubble followed by lips against his neck. Before he could get too comfortable with it, however, sharp teeth swiftly caught his skin and there was the unmistakable scrape of ceramic against polished wood. Whipping around in his chair, Chris sent a glare at Zach...or, he tried to. It was a bit difficult to actually glare at the older man when his hair was flat on one side and there were faint pillow creases on his face. Oh, the fact that he was in nothing but boxers had little to nothing to do with it, if only because Chris forced his eyes to stick to Zach's face to avoid getting distracted.
"What the fuck, Zach? I'm trying to eat my cereal!"
Zach quirked an eyebrow, not bothering to turn away from the bowl he was glaring into. "This puffed sugar and chocolate flavored abomination with tiny, freeze-dried marshmallow bits has absolutely no nutritional value. You know that, right?"
"Thank you oh wise and great Quinto. Can I have my fucking cereal back now?" Okay, maybe that was a tad petulant, but it couldn't be helped when the best part of the day was being insulted.
"No," Zach used a free hand to ruffle his own hair and seemed to reconsider for a moment. Attempting to take advantage of the apparent distraction, Chris tried to make a sneak attack and recover the bowl. Zach turned at the last moment. "I'm dumping this. Just looking at it makes me sick. Do you see the milk?"
"Yes. It's become chocolate milk. Don't even pretend you don't have a weakness for it; I've been grocery shopping with you."
"This isn't chocolate, Christopher." And there was the cereal being poured down the drain while Chris was trying to turn in his seat and watch Zach wander across the room. "It's, like, gray or something. I don't know; I don't care; it's gross. I'm not letting you eat cereal for breakfast."
It was too early in the morning to be mourning the loss of perfectly acceptable dessert-slash-breakfast foods. Regardless, Chris was still left narrowing his eyes and finishing his cooled coffee in a few gulps.
"You're making this up to me."
Quiet, slightly sleep roughened chuckles bounced around the room. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because, Zachary," Chris started, heading to pull the coffee pot from the warmer, not even thinking before pulling down another mug and fixing two cups this time around. "I don't know if you remember elementary school health class or not, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Also, I'm really fond of high sugar content before 10 a.m."
"You're a child."
"You're a control freak, but hey, we all have our crosses to bear."
"Witty," Zach muttered, eyes locked on the mug Chris was now stirring. As soon as Chris passed over the as-perfect-as-possible-when-it-doesn't-come-from-professionals coffee, Zach leaned a hip against the counter. It really wasn't fair, Chris always thought, that Zach could just waltz into a room and manage to take up every amount of available space with his mere presence without actually doing more than stretching out in a standing position.
"You're making it up to me," he repeated just in case Zach had been distracted and forgotten the whole point of this conversation. That, and he needed to remind himself.
Zach laughed at his tone, tilting his head and sipping quietly for a moment. "Yeah? How, pray tell, am I doing that? What do you want that's so much better to start your day than the reason so many small children are diagnosed with A.D.D.?"
Stepping closer, Chris gave him the most challenging look possible. Zach tugged at Chris' t-shirt until they were practically nose-to-nose. "You already know what I want." His lips quirked into a smirk when Zach leaned in to press their lips together briefly.
"Pancakes?"
"Close."
"Waffles."
"Naturally."
"Only if we still have real syrup. Mrs. Buttersworth doesn't count," Zach reminded Chris, complete with disgusted nose scrunch.
Laughing, Chris went to drag out Zach's syrup from the pantry. "Breakfast snob."
Zach snatched the glass bottle before turning to gather ingredients and the waffle maker. No, Chris was probably never going to get over the fact that Zach actually knew how to make waffles completely from scratch. He also had no desire in learning that particular skill, even though Zach always offered.
"You want me to show you this again?"
Shaking his head even though Zach probably wasn't looking, Chris took his coffee back to the table.
"So, I should know this and I'm going to sound like a dumbass, but what's a five letter word for Tea party crasher?"
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