Series: The Persuaders
Codes: PG-15, Humor
Summary: Brett should be careful with the things he starts. They could backfire.
Disclaimer: This story’s mine, but I do not intend to touch the rights of the owner of the characters I’ve used. No moneymaking, no offence meant. English is not my native language, so please be patient with my mistakes. Thanks to Lady Charena for the beta. For all remaining errors, blame me.
Now there he was laying on his back, like a stranded turtle. Totally unworthy of a british Lord. Brett Sinclair sighed. But it was his own fault. Why did he allow himself to become involved in Danny’s complications ever again and again? The man was a catastrophe magnet. Yes! To bump into somebody by chance, lift a statue with an original Hitler autograph, be photographed exactly at this moment, appearing in the newspaper and then to have murderers on his heels – this could only happen to Daniel Wilde.
And now, when they finally had survived everything happily - and thank God with an unhurt skin - the jealous husband of a former flame of Danny had to hit him straight so that he landed on his blue-blooded ass. Okay, Danny had got over the last days a couple of slaps which had been meant for him and now was laying next to him because Frank had given him the second swing. But Brett wasn't in the mood to interpret this in favour of his friend. On the contrary. And besides, he only got the slaps because he repeatedly had to interrupt his date hastily in order to save Danny’s life. Therefore Danny was the only person to blame for the current situation.
All he had wished for was a pleasant evening with an old friend and maybe later some more pleasure, after all he only was a man, who had certain needs. With all their adventures he hardly did find the time for such things.
“Na, was this a big joy?” Danny smiles at him. "I had quite fun. Your Lordship, too, was amused?”
Amuse? Fun? Brett preferred to see things a bit different. He had literally been ill because of the constant attacks on Danny’s live. Not to mention the worry for his own. One somehow clung to his life, didn’t one?
He looked at his friend and started to protest when an idea suddenly was formed in his head, one with it he finally could cure Danny of his big mouth -- for a while at least. Brett smiled. Yes, this would certainly stuff the big flap. And a little revenge for his messed up date also was in order.
At a sudden he rolled over Danny and pressed his friend, who just was about to rise, down with his weight.
"What’s this about?” The American protested. "Do we exercise for the Olympic wrestling finale?”
“I’m horny. You have driven my old friend away. So late in the evening I don’t find a new one. Therefore I expect compensation from you now,” Brett explained and pressed his mouth briefly on Danny’s. He then prepared inwardly for the rush of indignation at his impossible request, which undoubtedly would begin any moment. He also prepared for being pushed aside from Danny soon.
But nothing happened.
For a long moment there was silence between them. Then Danny suddenly whispered, sounding somehow strangely rough: "I thought you would never ask.”
“What?” mumbled Brett confused.
Then Danny’s lips pressed on his.