I'm a realist / I'm a romantic (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} arcadian_dream) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} jazzandpipes,@ 2008-04-22 21:19:00 |
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| Current mood: |  confused |
| Current music: | 'Kiss and Swallow' - IAMX |
| Entry tags: | crack!fic, pairing: taboo, the mighty boosh |
Tenderness: TMB; Tony Harrison/Saboo
Title: Tenderness
Author: arcadian_dream
Pairing: Tony Harrison/Saboo
Rating: PG
Warnings: crack! slash, unbeta'd
Disclaimer: I disclaim!
Summary: The Shaman are out of town at a conference - and Saboo is forced to share a room with Tony.
Words: 768
Comments: welcomed and appreciated :)
“Saboo! Saboo!” the familiar strained voice came from the other side of the door.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Saboo spat, flinging the duvet back. He padded angrily to the door, muttering under his breath before turning the handle.
“What do you want?” he asked brusquely as he looked down at the bulbous pink lobes of Tony Harrison.
“Saboo, there’s been a mix up at the front desk – they’ve left me without a room,” Tony began.
“And? How exactly is that my problem?” Saboo tapped his foot impatiently.
“Can I bunk in ‘ere with you tonight?”
“Can you bunk in here with me? Gee, let me think about that…no,” Saboo answered. He made to close the door, leaving Tony on the other side of it, but was unable to do so: Tony had managed to squeeze a tentacle in between the door and the doorjamb.
“Come on, Saboo,” Tony pleaded, his large eyes bulging pathetically.
“Can’t you go and stay with Denis or something?”
“Denis? Denis pissed off with Naboo and Bollo an hour ago. No one’s seen ‘em since. Come on, I’ll be no trouble.”
Unconvinced, Saboo proceeded: “No trouble. Yeah, right. What about Kirk?”
“Kirk? Kirk’s off his tits! Didn’t even recognise me when he opened the door. C’mon mate, you won’t even notice I’m here.”
Saboo rolled his eyes. Sighing deeply he bent down to scoop Tony up off the corridor floor. “Fine, but you’re taking the couch.”
“The couch?” Tony asked as Saboo set him down on the malodorous cushions, “Come on, Saboo – can’t I just hop into bed with you?”
“Absolutely not, Tony.”
“There’s no way I’m going to get a wink of sleep tonight on this thing.” Tony squirmed, his tentacles flailing against the pilled fabric.
“Shut it, Tony. You’re lucky you even made it past the threshold of the room.”
“But…”
“No.”
An hour or so later, Saboo was still awake: indeed, it seemed that each and every time he was about to stumble into the realm of sleep Tony would emit some loud groan of discomfort and shake Saboo from his barely conscious state. Frustrated, Saboo tucked the covers up around his ears.
But it was useless.
“Tony!”
“What?” Tony’s disembodied voice croaked from the couch.
“Could you keep it down over there?”
“I’m trying, but I told you this would happen. If you’d just let me in the bed…”
“I am not letting you in the bed.”
“Come on, Saboo – you won’t hear a peep outta me if you do.”
Irritated and exhausted, Saboo conceded defeat: “Fine. But not a word, you hear me? And keep those bloody things,” Saboo gestured to Tony’s tentacles, “to yourself.”
***
“Mmm,” Saboo sighed into the brisk morning air, his eyes fluttering open.
“Mmm,” he repeated, as something tenderly stroked the side of his face.
And then he realised.
Horrified at the flailing, fleshy pink tube that was caressing his skin, Saboo sat bolt upright in the bed.
“Tony!”
“What?” Tony croaked innocently, but unable to conceal the smirk that rested firmly on his lips.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Feeling ill and somewhat violated, Saboo hoisted the covers up around his chin.
“Don’t be like that Saboo,” Tony answered as he inched towards Saboo, “Don’t try and deny it.”
“Deny what, Tony?”
“That you’ve got feelings for me. I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way your eyes search my face, my tentacles…”
“That’s because you’re a freak, Tony” Saboo spat.
“Come on, Saboo – don’t you remember Denis’ stag? The way you rubbed that sunscreen all over my lobes, your long fingers massaging my cleft, working the lotion deep into my warm, pink skin? You can’t fake that kind of tenderness.” Tony licked his bottom lip at the memory.
“Oh Christ,” Saboo exhaled, leaping out of the bed, flinging the duvet and Tony across the room in the process.
“Out!” he shouted, pointing towards the door.
“Saboo,” Tony pleaded, “It’s alright, Mrs Harrison doesn’t mind, she’s up for it, quite adventurous is the missus…”
Ignoring Tony’s exhortations, Saboo stormed to where the taut, pink head sat on the floor. He reached down with one hand and, as he opened the door with the other, sent Tony tumbling down the corridor.
“Saboo!” Tony cried as he floated through the air, “This is an outrage!”
As Tony’s voice faded away down the corridor, Saboo slammed the door. Leaning against the wood grain panels, he stroked his jaw, tracing the place where Tony’s tentacle had caressed his skin.
“No,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as though it would remove the events of the morning, or the seed of the idea that Tony had planted.