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Swimming Home (m/m)


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Was feeling a lil like writing, so I drabbled out a quick thing on my Tumblr, and figured I'd repost here too :) OCs Marlowe and Dane from I Can't Tell You That




Marlowe's shoes squeaked as he walked, the sensible shoes having become waterlogged long ago due to the tears in the toes.

It was raining, and had been for the past three days he'd walked home, without a ride, without spending money on a cab, without going nearly twenty extra minutes and bus fare out of his way. He could walk just fine.

The only thing he regretted was neglecting to bring an umbrella, any of those days. Any of them.

He gently pressed a knuckle to his nose, trying to quell the itch he had barely registered this morning but had steadily grown throughout the day into something undeniable. The lovely thing about being a barista? Helping people and the discount on coffee. The downside? It was cold season, and more than his fair share of clearly infectious individuals had come in for the boost of caffeine required to survive until lunch. He had already joined them, barely scraping through the end of the shift without having to send himself home for the incessant sniffling in front of customers.

"Heh-! ...nnn." He grimaced at the false start, and rubbed a bit more brutally than would be deemed necessary.

It took another thirty minutes of walking before he trudged up the steps to his apartment, fumbling with the keys before letting himself in. He sighed, and dropped his keys onto the table, shrugging off his sopping jacket. What he really wanted was--

"Did you swim home?" A voice on the couch cut off his thoughts, and he jumped out of his skins. For such an imposing figure--a solid 6'2, with a robust frame to match--he was rather easily startled.

On the couch, an open book on his lap, Dane had sat up from his comfortably reclined position. "You're not supposed to be here until--" Thursday. Also known as today. He groaned inwardly and came to sit beside his boyfriend.

"Did you forget what day it was? Don't you have a phone or something that usually tells you that kind of thing? Or a work schedule?" Dane teased, sliding his legs aside to allow Marlowe room to sit. The couch creaked as he sat down, fatigued body practically melting against it.

"Are you...okay?" He looked Marlowe over with concern, ashen hair darkened to a brunette from the rain, fair complexion drained of colour, grey blue eyes red rimmed. He looked...well, not that great.

Marlowe's response was a sniffle, tired expression flickering to one of need as he immediately cupped his hands over his nose, issuing a singular, harsh sneeze into them. "Hh'ARSH'uh!" He blinked owlishly for a moment before wiping his hands on his pants and harshly scrubbing at his pink nostrils. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was saying you're getting your ass in bed and calling out tomorrow." Dane replied matter-of-factly, his usual snark replaced with hard edged concern. Tough love, Marlowe reminded himself.

"Fine, but I...nGKXT! I needa go to work tomorrow. 's importan' I'b there." Congestion from the stifle edged in on his words, threatening syllables and marring letters.

"I'm fairly certain that's the exact opposite of what I just told you." Dane replied, moving ahead of Marlowe and pointedly tossing dry clothing onto the bed. "We'll talk more in the morning. If the alarm clock doesn't start with at least a nine when you wake up, you're not leaving these covers."

"Bossy." Marlowe replied half-heartedly, peeling his layer of wet clothing off and standing in his drawers, shivering. "Liked it bedder when you were the one sdeezi'g." He said, ignoring putting on pyjamas and sliding under the covers as he was.

"I'll be on the couch if you need something." Dane gave his thigh a pat through the blankets, and frowned at the way Marlowe was shivering. He looked horrid. He could only hope tomorrow would be another story.

"Dane?" He asked, trying to sniffle back the runny liquid from his pink nostrils to little effect.

"What?" He turned back from the doorway, resting his weight against the frame.

"Do you still love be?" He seemed almost pleading as he asked.

"Of course, you oversized teddy bear." He returned to the bedside, planting a kiss onto Marlowe's feverish forehead. "And don't you go forgetting it."

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I like this story, it's well written and it made me happy to read. Will you continue the story?

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If people are interested, I'd love to continue! :D work is starting back up so it might take me some time, but I'll do my best to be prompt!

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6 hours ago, JustAnotherGuy said:

If people are interested, I'd love to continue! :D work is starting back up so it might take me some time, but I'll do my best to be prompt!

Yay, I would definitely love to see this continued! :D 

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V short update, my bad




Dane was dozing off in the bed beside Marlowe, straddling the line between awake and asleep, and soaking up the warmth Marlowe radiated. He was like a furnace, and Dane didn't mind that one bit. It was nice to have body heat to soak up, and even nicer when he got to thinking about who it was that he was receiving it from.

Beside him, Marlowe mumbled something, voice low and rough with sleep. He fidgeted just a bit, shifting against the blankets and threatening to push Dane off of the bed.

"Oh yeah? Tell me more." Dane replied sleepily, glancing over at his boyfriend's blanket swaddled body. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and scooted closer. He was tired, but if Marlowe was awake and needed something he wanted to be there for him.

He mumbled something more, before his breath was snatched away from his throat. His nose crinkled before nostrils flared, but even these actions seemed tired. "Hih...hrsh'uh!" The sleepy sneeze worked its way out before Marlowe could free his arms, and he blinked blearily at Dane. " 'm sorry." He murmured before rolling over and snuggling close to his boyfriend, body spooned against him like a warm comma.

"Bless you, teddy bear." Dane obliged and draped an arm over Marlowe's side, unable to resist the smile at this large man trying to be the little spoon. God, he was ridiculous. What a loser. His loser.

Marlowe replied with little more than a tired grunt, before falling back into quiet snoring. Apparently, he had not been anywhere near as awake as Dane had thought.

Dane snorted and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, the soft, downy hairs brushing against his face. "I love you too, Marlowe."

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  • 3 weeks later...

This had been a terrible plan. Marlowe regretted being a kind person. He regretted being unable to say no to a sad face. He regretted being tall and able bodied. But mostly, he regretted being allergic to dust.

As the fifth sneeze in a ten minute period scraped his throat and piled on more congestion to his already stuffed sinuses, Marlowe hung his head in defeat.

"My! Bless you, dear. Are you sure you're alright?" The concerned voice of his elderly neighbour came from behind him, a gentle hand placed on his shoulder.

"Mhm." Was all he managed in response, before tensing and turning away, shielding the woman from his next action. "Hh'RRRSH'uh!" He sniffled as best he could, allergic tears spilling down his cheeks. "Sorry. Where do you...snfff! Where did you want this one?"

"Over here. You can go home, if you need. I'll bring over cookies for you and that nice boyfriend of yours tomorrow! Just as a thank-you for helping me." She assured, moving around him and gesturing to another pile of boxes.

He had spent the past three hours in a dusty home, helping to box and move the belongings of Mrs. Marjorie Petroski, his 90-some odd year old neighbour, with the help of her daughter. She had moved to one of those old folks homes, and only so many items could come with her. Which left the frail 70 year old daughter with a house full of antiques to move and no help to do it.

Which was, of course, where he came in. A sturdy 6'1, with a rather robust frame--not muscular, per se, but endowed with strength nonetheless--and the ability to work like a mule. Dane was a toothpick who could hardly lift his own arm sometimes, so he would be no help. But Marlowe, being the "sweet, kindhearted, strapping young lad" he was had been unable to say no when she knocked on his door.

"HhURSH'Uuh!" The first hour had been fine. A few sniffles, eyes a bit itchy, nothing too bad. The second hour had been more trying--constant sniffles, watery eyes, itchy throat--but still, nothing he was too concerned with. He could work through it without much trouble. But the third hour had been Hell. He had been moving things off the top shelves, and the frequent, throat scraping sneezes and thick congestion were terrible.

"Go home, dear." Mrs. Petunia said softly, patting his bicep and humming as she made her way into the kitchen. "We can do more tomorrow, if you're still willing."

Unfortunately, they both knew he would still be willing. "Thank you, ma'am." He said in his most polite tone of voice, though his syllables were dulled and mangled, voice husky and deep. He would have been embarrassed, had he not been so miserable and exhausted as he shuffled out the door and back to his home.

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The door slammed as Marlowe trudged in, scrubbing at his nose with a tired sigh.

"A plus plan there, champ. Nothing fixes having a cold like also having allergies." Dane said sarcastically, tossing the box of tissues off the coffee table to his boyfriend with ease. He followed the soothing projectile, and allowed his eyes to wander over Marlowe.

Blue eyes were ringed in red, threadlike veins spiderwebbing across them in an itchy pattern that Dane knew was going to require eyedrops of some form to soothe. His lips were chapped, slightly parted as breath passed through, clearly unable to travel through his nose.

His nose. God, the poor thing. What had been a warm pink this morning had deepened to an angry, chapped red that he knew would hurt to touch even a little. Nostrils flickered, damp and alive with the buzzing tickles that threatened to swell and produce a wet, congested fit he would finally allow himself now that they were in the privacy of their own home.

"You look like shit." There was a sympathetic note to his voice, but he grimaced as Marlowe pawed at his nose again.

"Feel like it too." He slumped down onto the sofa, pulling a handful of tissues from the box and holding them at the ready. "Hh..." His head tipped back, hands steepled in front of where his face would return to. "Hhah-!" Allergic tears studded his lashes like dew on a spiderweb, and his shoulders tensed.

"You ever gonna sneeze or just put on a show?" Dane asked, flicking the tip of Marlowe's scrunched nose.

"HARSH'Uhh! 'SHUuu! Hh'RRRSH'uh! Hh...hh'aRSH'uh!" Marlowe's entire body seemed to shudder with each release as he curled in on himself and the wad of now useless tissues. Had he been standing, Dane was certain he would have needed to brace himself against something.

"Better?" He asked after he was certain the grizzly bear on the sofa was finished.

"No." Marlowe said simply, grabbing another handful of tissues and giving a thick, gurgling blow into them. He gave a cautious, experimental sniff before a relieved sigh. "Now I am." He looked over to his boyfriend, watery eyes and relieved smile.

Dane's heart melted at the sight. "Well good. Oh! And, uh, bless you or whatever."

"Mm. Thank you." He leaned over, putting his head into Dane's lap after making him sit. "I'm sleepy."

"Take some Benadryl, and then you can really sleep." He carded his fingers through his boyfriend's sweaty hair, eventually moving down to rub one brawny shoulder.

Marlowe grunted in response to the request, already half asleep as it was. Dane's loving touch was all he needed to feel better and drift off into a contented sleep.

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Your writing is so amazing. I love all your stories so much. This update was adorable. I was having a crappy day and now am grinning like an idiot so thank you. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Well done! I hope this continues. I really enjoy this style of writing and the characters are so adorable.

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