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04 February 2011 @ 12:15 am
don't like cricket, g, alex/scott preslash  
Title: Don't Like Cricket
Paring/s: Alex/Scott preslash
Genre: ...there's a genre for this?
Rating: G
Word count: 501
Warnings/Spoilers: NOT BETA'D. But - cricket!
Summary: Admittedly I just kind of wanted to write about cricket and it was convenient that Alex was an Australian and that Scott probably really wouldn't understand how bad we (that is, Australia) did at the Ashes series last/this year.


Scott doesn’t know what the hell Alex’s problem is but when the deep scowl settles on his co-stars normally ridiculously cheerful face and refuses to leave, Scott knows that there’s something amiss. So in one of their tiny breaks between their hectic schedule he leans against a railing and elbows Alex in the ribs none too gently, staring back when that scowl turns inevitably in his direction.

“What’s your issue?” he asks, tugging at the tie around his neck, trying to loosen it up in this stupid heat.

The response he’s not expecting is for Alex’s lips to tip slightly upwards in a bitter grin, accompanied by a shake of the head. Alex’s whole stance screams Steve McGarrett and Scott can’t help the slightly uneasy feeling that settles in his stomach at the thought. But the moment passes when Alex unfolds his arms and eases onto the railing next to him, squinting out toward the sun as he does so. He makes a striking figure in the light and Scott maybe stares a moment too long before looking away when Alex’s eyes slide sideways to meet his, and Jesus is he really blushing like some kind of virgin at the idea of being caught staring? But Alex is opening his mouth to say something so he settles for he hopes is just a curious tilt of his head and not something else.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Alex says, glancing away quickly before looking back and Scott feels kind of stung. He likes the easy-going camaraderie that they’ve managed to build over such a short period – though he’s not sure what else he expected to happen given that they’re practically in each other’s pockets for ninety-five percent of the day.

“Try me,” he ventures, trying to sound casual about the whole thing. He absently rubs a hand behind his head.

“No,” Alex says more emphatically this time, “you really wouldn’t get it.”

“You can’t like explain it to me or anything?” Scott raises his hands in an almost defensive gesture and Alex responds with a vague grin that throws Scott for a loop. “Seriously, what? Are you off your meds again or something? Do I need to call someone to strap you down for another butt injection?”
Alex rolls his eyes with a slight smile on his face and Scott feels pathetic for the surge of pride that runs through him at the thought of putting it there.

“No, but you still won’t get it.”

“Try me,” Scott repeats, more curious than before.

Alex’s hand lands on his shoulder, leaning down slightly to create eye contact and Scott is suddenly aware of the space between them, or lack thereof. Alex’s face is serious, and Scott feels a frown crease his forehead at the sudden change in the situation.

“We drew against England in the first Ashes test,” Alex says seriously, before dropping his hand and walking away.

Scott stares after him for a long while, before shaking his head in disgust.

Crazy Australians.
Mood: boredbored
americandirrtyamericandirrty on February 5th, 2011 04:58 pm (UTC)
This is great!