Filling in Time
Trowa let the curtain drop, closing off another day of rain. Two days into the intell gathering mission, they were put on stand-by. He was ready for action, ready for the bust, ready for home. Behind him, the vid set was on, its volume set to a low murmur. On the table, he knew a worn deck of cards waited another hand... of solitaire, or, if Milliardo felt inclined a run of cribbage.
There was always another nap.
"Any word?" he asked turning from the window. He knew the answer already, but the conversation would eat up a couple of minutes into the day.
"Not in the last five minutes," Milliardo drawled out, looking across the room at him, "since the last time you asked."
Trowa nodded and crossed his arms; Milliardo was smirking at him. He hadn't expected more; the man was even more restless than he was. Though, Trowa narrowed his eyes at the man, he wasn't acting restless. More... contemplative. He shifted his gaze to the table and back, wondering what was about breakfast that held his partner's interest.
"It isn't a weapon." Trowa was smiling slightly. "It isn't going to hurt you."
"That depends." Milliardo was looking up at him again, lips giving only a hint of a smile. "If I indulge in another, it could hurt." Trowa looked at the donut and back to Milliardo, an eyebrow lifting. "Every calorie counts when you get older," seemed to be the only answer Trowa was going to get.
Instead of commenting further, he strode the distant between them, rounded the table to stand next to Milliardo. He leaned down, arms braced on the table, to peer at the donut and canted his head to the side. "Exercise more." And now he was the one smirking.
"Exercising alone holds little interest for me," Milliardo was saying, sitting back in his chair and an arm hooked over the end-dowel on the chair back.
Trowa straightened, reached for the donut and turned about to perch on the table edge. Keeping his eyes on Milliardo, he pulled off a small piece of the donut, rich, red filling dripping from its center. His tongue caught the dropping strand and he licked at the center. He made an appreciative noise and popped the bite in his mouth. Chewing it slow, he watched Milliardo watch him.
"Cherry," was his only comment. Another small piece, and filling dripped down the side of his fingers and the length of his thumb. Trowa bit into the piece and was eating it when Milliardo reached for his wrist.
Without a word, Milliardo drew Trowa's hand closer. His tongue was broad and flat and licked up the path of the filling; Milliardo's lips slid over Trowa's thumb and for a moment, Trowa forgot he was eating. Milliardo's mouth closed down on his thumb, his tongue lightly rasping up the pad and his teeth leaving pressure marks.
Milliardo slipped Trowa's thumb from his mouth and his tongue licked at the filling clinging to Trowa's finger. "I prefer lemon filling," Milliardo was saying letting go of Trowa's hand. "But cherry has a certain... innocence about it."
Trowa swallowed his bite and tossed what was left of the donut over hit shoulder. He held out his icing covered fingers for Milliardo's attention. "Maybe you should have some more," he suggested.
"But the calories." Milliardo touched his lips to the tips of Trowa's fingers.
"Then maybe you need to find an exercise partner," Trowa said softly pushing his fingers against Milliardo's lips.
"Are you volunteering for the position?" Milliardo's tongue darted over the finger pads. Trowa swallowed and nodded. "Good." Milliardo opened his mouth and sucked both fingers inside.
He was smirking again, but Trowa didn't care. The rain didn't matter. The mission didn't matter. And he was sure he wouldn't care if their 'stand-by' lasted a week. Between jelly donuts and card games, this one wasn't solitaire.