Title: Wash & Wear Fandom: Queer as Folk, Highlander Pairing: Vince/Methos (well, Adam) Author: Diana DeShaun Rating: G (cause surely kissing doesn't count) warnings: none Wash & Wear by Diana DeShaun It was a dark and stormy night. Very dark and very stormy. Par for the course in Seacouver, Washington, this time of year, though Vince Tyler didn't know that. He only knew that he was stuck struggling to get through half-ton glass doors into an automatic laundromat at an hour when any thinking human being was long asleep. Hence, his nocturnal meanderings. Getting away from Stuart before he killed the bloody wanker was just a side benefit. Vince cursed under his breath as he had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk yet again, set down the cardboard box full of soiled laundry, and scoop up another stray piece of clothing that dared to engineer an escape. Stuart's best black slacks, as it happened. Considering for a moment, he dropped the pants back onto the dirty, wet sidewalk. "Oh dear, just look what's happened! Tsk! Tsk!" With a deliberate grind of his bootclad foot, he executed a quick twirl, stopping abruptly when he almost tripped and fell into the open box. A half-hearted kick to its side did nothing to improve his mood as he tossed the slacks back on top and finally succeeded in opening the door. A muffled snicker made Vince turn his head sharply. Although the garish neon sign had proclaimed the laundromat to be a 24-hour establishment, he'd never really thought anyone else would be around. But there was one other customer. Vince frowned slightly as he headed for the first row of machines, at least he guessed it was another customer. What else would a lone man be doing here at this hour? Briefly, his memory supplied every lurid headline about violence and bloodlust in the States that he'd read in the last decade or so, then he shook himself firmly. Idiot! How many crazed killers carried a ratty old laundry bag full of...yes, there it was, a big, fluffy pile of freshly dried laundry. Briefly, Vince tried to catch the other man's eye, just to be friendly, of course, but he, whoever he was, barely seemed aware of Vince's existence. Hmmm....perhaps the sound he'd heard earlier hadn't been a laugh after all. Wasn't as if he had any time to spare considering a stranger anyway. Stuart Alan Jones, the self-proclaimed Poof Stud of the Western world, had seen to that. The nerve! Ordering Vince to do the laundry, as if he was some sort of serving wench. Cinder-fucking-rella was more like it. And Stuart was the ugly stepmother and all three ugly stepsisters all rolled into--"Oof!" With a mighty thud, Vince crashed to the floor, courtesy of an errant dryer sheet skittering about the premises. As he groped desperately for purchase, he somehow managed to pull the entire box of laundry off the machine where it rested, down onto the top of his hapless self. It wouldn't have been so bad except the bottle of liquid detergent that had also been nestled inside rebounded off his head so hard Vince just knew he was concussed. "Shit! That hurt!" Tugging at a shirt and one black sock--again, Stuart's, he noted absently--he looked up to see the man he'd observed earlier approaching. Alarm flared again as Vince noted how utterly *serious* he looked. How utterly...utterly....Oh my god. The man was gorgeous. And, a close-up look at dancing hazel eyes told Vince he wasn't quite so serious after all. In fact... With a self-deprecating grin, Vince said, "I'd say the laundromat won that round, wouldn't you?" With a burst of laughter, the other man agreed. "Yes, I'd say so. Need help?" He extended a long-fingered hand and Vince grasped it gladly. "Thanks ever so much." Retaining his hold, Vince turned it into a handshake. "You sound like a fellow-countryman. I'm Vince Tyler." "Adam Pierson." Tugging his hand free with another grin, Adam bent to help gather up the clothes. "What brings you this far from home, Vince?" He held up a pair of pants--the same black ones that Vince had danced on earlier. With a measuring look, he held the pants up, looked at Vince, looked at the pants and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "Stuart." Vince snatched the pants away, absently grimacing at their sticky, wet condition. "Brought you here or belongs to the pants?" "Both, actually." "Ah. I see." Adam shrugged minutely then said, "Well, I hope you enjoy your time in America, Vince." "Thank you, and thank you for your help too, Adam." Vince knew he sounded disappointed, but damn it, he couldn't help it. It had been ages since he'd even looked at another man, for all the good it did him with Stuart. Not as if he'd ever get any there. Stuart had made it quite clear that he was still not ready to settle down, and until he was, Vince refused to queue up with the rest of the disposables. He could wait. He *would* wait. But, god, he was horny. With another smile and a wave, Adam went back to his side of the laundromat. Vince heaved a last sigh and began stuffing clothes haphazardly into machines. One, two, three machines full! God, Stuart was such a clothes horse. When he realized he forgotten to add detergent, Vince was dismayed to find the entire bottle he'd bought less than an hour earlier was empty. Apparently spilled during the earlier melee. Starting the washing machines anyway, he quickly dug into his pocket for more change and approached the detergent dispenser. Several varieties of dry powder were available, and Vince quickly made a selection. He pushed the slot containing the coins in...nothing happened. He pushed harder...still nothing. Putting both hands on the pull tab, he shoved with all his might then jerked backwards. Crack! The metal tab broke off into his hand as a grand total of four boxes of detergent fell into the pickup area. Another sound from Adam had Vince turning a reddened face in his direction. But apparently the other man was simply having a bit of a coughing fit. Rolling his eyes, he carefully placed the broken tab on top of the dispenser then gathered up the four boxes. There was nowhere to leave the rest of the money for the detergent, so resolving to return at a more reasonable time on the morrow to make restitution, Vince proceeded to empty 3 of the boxes into the still filling machines. He considered the fourth box for a minute, then raised the lid of the washer containing the black slacks and poured it in as well. After all, the slacks were a total mess, they might need the extra cleaning boost. Standing back, he watched as each machine in turn finished filling up and began its wash cycle. With a tired but satisfied smile, he wondered briefly if he dared go over to speak to Adam again. Why not? He certainly had nothing better to do to while away the time, and, judging from the way Adam was staring out the plate glass window at the rain-swept sidewalk, neither did he. "Ahem." Instead of jumping in startlement, Adam turned smoothly at the sound. After staring Vince in the eyes for a long moment, he smiled. "Yes, Vince? Did you need something? More quarters, perhaps so you can go after the soda machine too?" With a shout of laughter, Vince shook his head. "Oh my god, was that bloody embarrassing or what? I swear to you, Adam, I'm usually not this accident prone." Laughing in return, Adam assured him, "Oh, I believe you. No one could be." Reaching out slowly, deliberately giving Vince enough time to step back, Adam gave the side of his face a little pat. "So, tell me, Vince Tyler, what's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?" His heart speeding up a bit, Vince leaned one hip casually against a folding table. "Hell if I know, really. I guess I'm on a bit of an adventure with my best mate. How about you?" "Actually, I live here. I'm a grad student at the university. So, Stuart you said?" At Vince's nod, Adam continued. "How is it that your best mate left you with the laundry?" Looking down, Vince acknowledged ruefully. "Well, yes, there is that. Stuart's a good sort, I swear it. It's just, he's a bit flighty at times. If you know what I mean." "Oh, I know exactly what you mean." Adam nodded. "Went out and left you holding the laundry, didn't he?" "Oh my god! How did you know?" Stepping a bit closer and resting a hand on Vince's shoulder, Adam said, "Been there, know the type. Next time you just leave--" Adam's voice trailed off as his eyes fixed on something over Vince's left shoulder. Blithely unaware, Vince leapt to Stuart's defense, "Oh, no! I could never leave Stuart. He's my best friend, and I'm..." Becoming aware that he'd totally lost the other man's attention, he slowly turned around. "OH MY GOD!" A mountain of billowy, white suds was slowly moving down the aisle between the washing machines, swallowing everything in its path. Vince had the insane notion that it was like The Blob--only white instead of red. Well, and without that whole flesh eating side bit. "Holy shit! What's happening?" "Actually, it seems to be coming from one of your washing machines." Adam's voice was very quiet. "One of my...oh no!" Bringing his sticky hands to his face, Vince sniffed at them. He knew that scent. He'd spent half an hour in the market sniffing it out. Mountain Fresh Tide. His hands weren't covered with ground muck at all, they were covered in detergent! The same detergent that had obviously soaked into the black slacks that he had placed in the machine where he then added a box--no, two boxes of detergent! No wonder it had reacted so extravagantly. Echoing Adam's quiet tones, he admitted, "I might have added a bit more detergent than the norm." "A bit." Adam nodded sagely. "I'd think so. Yes. A bit." "Well," Vince carefully took off his jacket and folded it just so on the table beside Adam's freshly stacked laundry. "I'll just be off then." Stepping toward the billowy mound, he looked back at Adam. "If I don't make it out alive..." Suddenly, he darted back and placed a quick smacking kiss on Adam's lips. "Something to remember me by." He grinned cheekily and strode foward. Totally bemused, Adam finally bestirred himself. "Wait. I'll come with you." Placing his long coat besides Vince's, he stepped foward into the fray and pressed up against Vince's back. "After all," he whispered into the younger man's ear, "they say two heads are better than one, and between us we've got four." The hot breath sent chills down Vince's spine straight into his very interested cock. "Oh my god." Vince moaned weakly. Turning around, he found himself chest to chest with the other man. "Adam, I--I--" "Later. Right now, we have clothes to rescue, Sir Vince." With a smile again quirking the side of his mouth, Vince saluted smartly, "Right you are, good sir. We'll continue this later. For now, onward!" He turned and quickly vanished into the foam. "Indeed." Adam took a deep breath and stepped forward as well. It was a hard fought battle, but eventually the washing machine had to yield the ground to the greater force. With much laughter and sputtering of soap suds, the two men managed to stop the machine and find the articles of clothing inside. After making several trips between the war zone and another machine, Vince threw the black slacks that had started it all inside with a flourish. "That's the last of it." With a wide smile, Adam carefully started the new washer, *without* additional soap and leaned back to survey his shield mate. Vince looked...endearingly, beguilingly young. Beautiful really. Bits and blobs of bubbles still clung to him here and there, and Adam reached up to flick some away before it could slide into Vince's wide, green eyes. Turning the move into a carress, he watched as a thousand expressions danced across the other man's face. Leaning foward, Adam gave Vince a gentle kiss. "Because you made it back successfully." "Ah, yes." Vince's answering smile was open and happy, as if he'd made a decision about something. "I suppose I should do the same for you." "I suppose you should." Wrapping his arms around Adam's neck, Vince pulled him down into another kiss. It was still gentle, but deeper, with a promise of even more. Adam placed his arms around Vince's waist and sat him up on the washing machine. Vince giggled a bit at the vibrations, but soon lost interest in anything but Adam and his very experienced mouth. The man was a world class kisser. Vince concentrated on giving back as good as he received. A cold breeze and a sudden exclamation were the first indications that they were no longer alone. "What the fuck!?" Vince jumped back in Adam's embrace as if he'd been jolted with a cattle prod. Frowning, Adam tightened his arms and said, "The famous Stuart, I presume?" "That's right. Who the hell are you, and just what are you doing with my mate?" "Your mate! You have an awfully strange way of keeping up with your mate, Stu." "Stu-art. You bloody sod. I ought to--" "Stop right there, Stuart Alan Jones. Adam is absolutely right. You made the rules for this relationship. I abide by them and so must you." Sliding out of Adam's arms and down the front of the machine to stand on the floor, he continued. "I am glad you're here though." Slightly mollifed, Stuart sniffed. "Well, I should think so. Got tired of waiting on you so I decided to come see if you had...I mean, if you needed any help." He had the grace to smile sheepishly. "You need a clean shirt to sleep in, don't you?" Vince asked. "Well, yes. It's cold in that bloody hotel room. But, I did come to see if you needed any help too." Stuart smiled his most charming smile. Walking over to the table that held his jacket, Vince shrugged into it then watched as Adam moved swiftly to stuff his own clean laundry back into his laundry bag and donned his own coat as well. With a bland smile and a quick wave, Vince sailed past the gaping form of his best friend. Opening the door, he smiled sweetly, "Thank you so much, Stuart, for volunteering to finish up here. Adam and I have places to go, things to do...you know how it is, old man. Coming, Adam?" "Right behind you, Vince." As Vince stepped outside, Adam headed after him, making a brief detour to stop beside Stuart. "Don't worry, Stu-art. I'll return him in one piece. We're just off for a bit of R and R." With an exaggerated wink and an elbow to the ribs, Adam continued, "Heh. If you know what I mean. Tell you what though, if you need a snuggle tonight, I suggest you use this." Shoving a box of fabric softener sheets into the unresisting man's hands, Adam whacked him firmly on the back. "Good-bye, Stuart, old sod. Better watch the time. I'd hate for you to turn back into a pumpkin. Then again, it's already after midnight, now isn't it?" Stepping out, Adam gathered Vince to his side, and whispered something that made the younger man shout with laughter. Both turned and waved to Stuart, then vanished into the dark and stormy night, leaving the Poof Stud of the Western world standing ankle deep in disintegrating soap suds, a box of bloody, fucking Snuggle crushed in his hand. end ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back to Main page back to Highlander fanfic email: [email protected] |