Title: AC, Popsicles, and Table Tops.

Author: Stage

Email: NillaWuchachacha

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Specs/Dutchy

Status: Cooooomplete. PWP

Feedback: Yes :D

Archive: STN

Summary: Um…there really isn’t one. It’s a hot day and…yeah… XD

Disclaimer: I own *nothing*

Notes: This is as lemony as I get. XD

****

Specs pushed himself out from underneath the car and pushed himself up and off the board he had been lying on. He squinted up at the bright blue sky, wiping the pooling sweat off of the back of his neck.

Specs turned and walked up the steps to the porch and then into the air-conditioned bliss of the house he shared with his boyfriend. He sighed contentedly and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it into a dirty laundry basket.

Wandering into the kitchen, Specs pulled a popsicle out of the freezer. He popped it into his mouth and went to turn down the air conditioning a bit. Dutchy repeatedly went over board with the temperature. Specs licked some of the fruit juice off where it had dripped onto his fingers.

He turned around and smiled at the blonde leaning in the doorframe behind him. “Hey, Dutch, what’s up?”

“You done fixing the car?”

Specs shrugged. “Did what I could.”

“How long this time?”

“About six months, I would guess.” Specs answered, trying to eat his popsicle and hold up a conversation. He blinked as a strange expression flitted across Dutchy’s face. “D’you want one?”

Dutchy’s right eyebrow went up.

“Well?” Specs asked, slurping loudly.

Dutchy strode forward, grabbed Specs, and crushed their lips together in a searing kiss. Specs blinked when he had pulled away.

“Dutchy—” Specs began.

“Shut up,” the blonde stated firmly, advancing on Specs who took steps backwards. “Don’t talk, don’t speak, don’t think.”

“D-Dutchy…” Specs bumped into the table. He pushed himself up onto it and scooted backwards. Dutchy seized Specs’ legs and pulled him back, climbing on the table himself. He kissed Specs on the mouth again and grinned when his gaze fell on the fruity drips from the popsicle across Specs’ chest. Dutchy licked off the sticky sugar, letting the combined taste roll over his tongue.

“Mm,” Dutchy grinned, running his hands up Specs’ still-sweaty sides. “Luscious,”

Specs blushed. “Dutchy…it’s too hot for this.”

“Well, then,” Dutchy smirked, running his fingers over the fastenings to the brunette’s pants before ripping them open. “It’s about to get a lot hotter.”

On the floor, next to the table, and melting away; the popsicle lay forgotten.

****