The Outsiders: Brooklyn From New York

Chapter 29: Ice and Aspirin

New chappie! Weeee. We're back to normally scheduled plot this chapter. Boring I know. Just kidding, plot is a necessary element bla bla bla.

Disclaimers:

Don't own, don't sue, slashy goodness, swearing, violence, the whole nine yards.

Summary:

Well, last chapter, tehe, well, maybe this is one chapter you wouldn't mind rereading, eh? Wink wink, nudge nudge. Anyhoo, last chapter, the boys dealt with some relationship business and Pony tried a little something different as far as their relationship "dynamics". So naughty.

When Pony woke, Brooklyn was in the bathroom. He heard the water running as he regained consciousness slowly. He could see why Brooklyn slept so sound after sex. He stretched and rolled to his back. Blissful. He shut his eyes again and dozed.

Brooklyn walked out of the shower to his bedroom and leaned down, kissing Pony. Pony put his hands on Brooklyn's face, lengthening the kiss. He pulled Brooklyn down on him and his towel slipped, exposing a tattooed hip.

"Good morning lover." Pony said, imitating Brooklyn's lower tones.

"Good morning to you too." Brooklyn murmured.

"Last night-"

"Amazing." Brooklyn said.

"Very." Pony said.

"But today, you need to finish your portfolio and I have to clean and do the same." Brooklyn sighed.

"I thought you liked the art class." Pony asked. He stroked Brooklyn's chest, rubbing the dips in his abs.

"I did but for my portfolio I picked subjects I don't want to finish. And color them? Fuck that." Brooklyn muttered.

"It's your own fault you decided to draw that ass Jacoby."

"Jealous much? And I don't have a drawing of him in my portfolio." Brooklyn said.

"Then who is that guy-"

"Damien." Brooklyn said.

"Why did you draw him?" Pony asked.

"Because." Brooklyn said. His expression told Pony to leave the issue.

"Well, are you going to make breakfast?" Pony asked.

"Yeah yeah. Bust out your drawing pencils. I'm making coffee and taking aspirin. Sore as hell thanks to you." He got up and winked over his shoulder as he dropped his towel. Pony whistled as he walked to his closet.

"You really are gorgeous." Pony said.

"Oh shut up, you horn dog."

(We can probably assume real boys would've had sex again, but I'm a little lemon tired. Go read my other ficcies if you're desperate for a lemon, I need coffee, and it's plot time!)

Brooklyn made pancakes and handed Pony the chocolate syrup as the coffee maker spit out browned water. Brooklyn poured a cup and put honey, sugar and cream in it. Pony sniffed at it and shook his head.

"It's the stuff dreams are made of." Brooklyn said. He was only wearing boxers and when he stretched, Pony watched how his muscles moved.

"Have you heard from anyone in New York?"

"Only Ace. I'm sure Jacoby will come around when it's least convenient for me."

(la la la, can we say foreshadow?)

Brooklyn stretched as he walked to his car. Monday mornings were horrid. Sore and stiff from sex and the weekend, and his hands were cramped too since he'd finished that damn art portfolio. It was due tomorrow, he'd have to take Pony and himself to give it to the professor, the thin, blonde creature that'd set her sights on him the moment he walked into her class. Yikes. He didn't go for artsy type women, especially ones that were old enough to be his mother, and especially the ones that didn't shave.