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Wednesday - Movie-Prompt Day

Today's Movie-Prompt day! Leave a title of a film as your prompt...or maybe a quote. Just one little requirement - leave the name of the film somewhere in your prompt (as the prompt, or in brackets just after it) - I'm a very nosy host today! XD

Now, please, please remember to be kind to your hardworking codemonkeys and leave your prompts looking like this (the second is for crossovers):

Fandom(/s), pairing, prompt (name of film)

Once Upon A Time In Mexico, El/Sands, "Television! Television is the explanation for this - you see this in bad television!" (The Boondock Saints)
Leverage/SPN, Eliot/Dean, Robin Hood: Men in Tights

Just a couple of rules - although I'm sure you all know them already!
- No more than 5 prompts in a row and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If one of your prompts is answered, then you can leave another one! Just don't go crazy and try to space your prompts out through the day.
- No spoiler prompts for a week after its aired - and, if your ficlet contains spoilers, put a warning in bold and leave three spaces.

Remember, if nothing strikes your fancy today, please, head on over to the Lonely Prompts and see if there's something there you like!


(Deleted comment)
Jul. 4th, 2009 09:48 pm (UTC)
Eliot placed a palm flat on the door. The wood was strange - the contours familiar but there was a new lacquer, sticky in the humidity of the night. He breathed out, his stomach roiling with nerves, and scowled at his shaking hand. This was stupid. They'd still get along - that hadn't changed, surely, the bantering connection they shared, the talent for getting under each other's skins and tickling their muscles into action. They were still colleagues. They were still a team.

But his mind kept flashing with images, speculations, pictures of those long, skilled hands tangled in someone else's hair, those lips tracing someone else's skin, and his hand didn't stop shaking.

He shoved the key in the lock and twisted almost viciously. The door opened easily, silently, and he stepped into a house that hadn't been his in years.

He could hear explosions from the room to his left, and his mind seized on them, trying to find what was exploding before he caught it. Computer-generated, he told it, and put his keys in his pocket.

He walked into the study. The flickering light from the screen fell across Hardison's face, illuminating his cheekbones, his long eyelashes, his lips curving in a small smirk. Eliot took a moment to just look at him, ignoring the way his heart ached and deciding he just wanted to see what had changed.

There was a scar on Hardison's forehead, above his eye, and Eliot's fists twitched. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Alec?"

Hardison spun. "What - " He stopped, mouth half open, and Eliot heart thundered in his chest, though he kept as still as possible. What happened next would determine...everything.

Hardison smiled, and breathed, "Eliot." He expected the smile - though that it would be so brilliant, so wide, so utterly joyful that he could hardly breathe did surprise him. He expected that Hardison would put out a hand, or pull him into a hug.

He did not expect that Hardison would leap from his chair and tackle him, pressing small, needy kisses into his neck, his ears, that he would be trembling with relief, both of them trembling like bells rung in succession. He didn't expect that Hardison would pull back and cup his face in his long fingers and just look at him, his face full of relief and love.

He did not expect to cry.

"God, Eliot." Hardison murmured, pulling him back into a hug. "I thought you were dead."

Eliot swallowed. "Not that easy to get rid of me." He rasped, and ran his hands up and down Hardison's sides, his ribs so familiar, so right against his palms. He closed his eyes against the tears. "Alec." He said , and swallowed again. "Alec. I. I'm sorry."

Hardison looked at him. "Eliot, did you...you thought I would be angry?"

Eliot didn't answer, wanting to fold his arms over his chest but not wanting to move them from their places on Hardison's hips.

"I'm not Amy, Eliot. I know you. I know you do this, you vanish, man, and that's...it's just you. I never really thought it'd be for that long, but...it's cool."

Eliot shook his head. "Never meant it to be. Never. Thought I could be back here in a mater of months, not years. I still got a lot to learn, I guess."

Hardison adopted what Eliot disparagingly (affectionately) called his Yoda Face. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn," he began, and then dropped his eyes. "Is to...you know, love. And..." He looked back up, lashes suspiciously dark. "To be loved in return."

They'd never really said it, not in so many words, and technically they still hadn't. But it was there between them, in the relieved dark, as Hardison's soldier died a screaming death on the screen. Eliot breathed it in and sighed it out into Hardison's mouth, before pulling away and narrowing his eyes. "You've been watching movies with Sophie again."

Hardison grinned, and went towards the kitchen, fingers twined in Eliot's. "Yeah, but let me tell you, watching movies with her is better than watching her in a movie will be."

Eliot's steps faltered. "You're kidding. She actually got a part? What crazy son of a bitch would hire her?"

Hardison levelled a look at him. "It's hollywood, Eliot. There's nothing but crazy sons of bitches."

They made coffee in the dark, and Eliot breathed easy for the first time in two years.
Jul. 17th, 2009 09:13 am (UTC)
*slowly exhales* Wow. That was fantastic. How the mood is described... wow. And, uh, Sophie got a part in a movie?? *slowly backs off* That's scary! *lol*


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