Out-of-millicanon shenaniganings.

[stuck_mynock]

Atton is in the Paradox Squadron hanger (Force knows how they managed to get a hanger into the upper floors at the bar, Atton just isn't going to ask), doing repairs on his Dart.

(The Dart is a good ship. A compact, one-person light fighter in an arrowhead shape, coloured dark grey, with as many guns as the Republic's engineers could fit on it. It's one of the smaller ships there, with only the A-Wings being smaller, and even then not by much.

The Paradox Squadron symbol is etched on one wing, along with a tally of kills which is somewhat astronomical.)

This involves lying on his stomach on the top of the ship, curved over the cockpit, in jeans, an undershirt (both oil-soaked) and a rather large welding mask, poking at an open panel with something that sparks every so often.

"Shhhh, shhhh, darling. S'okay, we're nearly there ..."

Comments

[stuck_mynock]

Well, he does at least get a reprieve from the oil, as Atton braces himself on the floor and shuts his eyes.

"Guh. No, no, this is - this is the definition of not fair, you're a terrible person."

[necessary_child]

"I am a terrible person who is trapped underneath a well-oiled, good-looking, horrible man." Sam might as well be the platonic (or, er, non-platonic. As the case may be) definition of smug right now.

"And therefore I feel duty-bound to point out to you that whilst I am indeed a terrible person, I'm also a really fun one."

[stuck_mynock]

Atton tries not to blush, he really does. But, well, compliment.

"S'engine oil. Not good oil," Atton says, because he can't think of anything else.

Beat.

"Also, you are not fun at all."

[necessary_child]

Firmly, "It's good oil."

Sam bucks his hips up deliberately, just enough to get a reaction whilst still just about being able to claim that what, he's just trying to get away, okay.

"And I'm not fun yet. There is a difference."

[stuck_mynock]

Atton bites back a groan, and his own hips buck in response. He will vehemently deny that happened if asked.

"You are never fun, although you're always ugly. S'why I hate you."

[necessary_child]

...Um.

Sam doesn't groan, but he does suck in a slightly involuntary breath.

"The hatred is really showing right now, Atton, I have to say."

[stuck_mynock]

Defensively: "That's my lightsaber."

It's possible this is a lie.

[necessary_child]

Sam laughs.

"Is that a lightsaber in your pocket, Atton, or are you just pleased to see me?"

With a small mischievous squirm, just to remove all possibility of doubt.

[stuck_mynock]

"Hate."

[necessary_child]

Smirkety smirk smirk.

"So?"

[stuck_mynock]

Huffily: "I just thought you should know."

[necessary_child]

"I'm well aware," Sam assures him. "You've always been very, ah, firm on that point."

[stuck_mynock]

Atton just gives Sam a Look.

It's a 'How could you do this to me' look.

[necessary_child]

Blandly innocent, "What?"

[stuck_mynock]

"That was terrible. You're terrible."

[necessary_child]

"I know!" Sam is entirely too happy about this. "I could do it again, if you like."

[stuck_mynock]

Atton eyes him for a moment.

Then sulkily bucks his hips. That'll learn him.

[necessary_child]

"Mmm."

Sam bucks back! What, like he was going to be put off or something?

"I'm sorry, did you have a point? Aside from the obvious one."

[stuck_mynock]

Fine, two can play at that game. Atton bucks back, harder.

"My point is that you're foolish."

[necessary_child]

Sam groans, quietly ... and then, not to be outdone, squirms back.

"And you're ugly!"

[stuck_mynock]

Atton groans, then grinds against Sam.

"Not as ugly as you!"

[necessary_child]

"I am beautiful and you're a liar!"

Sam pushes back, hips lifting to meet Atton's.

"A filthy liar!"

[stuck_mynock]

"Lies," Atton bucks his hips down harder. "All lies."

[necessary_child]

Sam groans, but doesn't let up. That would be tantamount to letting Atton win, after all.

"Only you are lying!"

[stuck_mynock]

"No! That too is a lie!"

Atton does roll off Sam, though, for reasons of dignity.