16 August 2012

winryweiss: (Default)
Continuation of the second fill for
http://tintin-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1701.html?thread=1870501#cmt1870501 .
Warning: Tintin/Haddock, drunken logic.

A dinner to remember - part 2/4

Tintin notices Snowy only when he nearly cut him in halves by his own doors.
Crumbs.
Crumbs and great snakes.
Crumbs, great snakes and blistering barnacles.
And ten thousand thundering typhoons at the top.
Captain had kissed him.
He is drunk and he had kissed him. Kissed. But he is drunk.
With a suddenly shaking legs, Tintin press his back to the heavy wooden doors, left hand shooting upwards to gently caress own lips, where the tingle from Captain’s beard is still sensible.
Archibald Haddock had kissed him.
Snowy watches with growing confusion how an idiotic grin spreads across his master’s face. Then the ginger suddenly jumps upward, grabs his snow-white fox terrier and spins with him around and around the room.
“Whoa whoa wha ...” yelps Snowy.
“He kissed me!” Tintin whispers unbelievingly. “He kissed me!” then exclaims enthusiastically, still in low voice. Like if saying it aloud could bring a bad luck.
In his ardour, he does not notice when one of the decorative columns silently slides back deep into the wall to reveal a secret entrance and an armed assassin.

Five minutes.
Archibald desperately wants to rush across the hall to the other bedroom and make an apology. Barnacles, he would even beg for forgiveness on his knees.
But he does need to calm down at first. To get control over himself again, or he will do yet another incredibly stupid thing.
He does need to wait at least five minutes.
Well, four and a half.
Maybe three.
Oh, Columbus.
Tintin is the best thing he ever tasted.

It tasted so amazingly, even though it was scented heavily with that blasted alcohol.
Tintin presses Snowy to his chest even tighter, oblivious to the dog’s sudden uneasiness and silent growling. The assassin sneaks behind the ginger, unsheathing a thin, nasty looking dagger. Snowy barks warningly and Tintin instinctively throws himself to the marble floor, causing the attacker to fall over him. Spotting the dagger, the young adventurer shifts himself for better angle and then kicks forcefully. Aiming excellently for the other’s face. The assassin growled furiously as his nose breaks, dropping the dagger, but nevertheless jerks forward like on springs, surprising Tintin and closing own hands around the ginger’s neck.

Drunken logic always wins.
Archibald sensed an irrational wave of irk washing over him, the need to stand up and yell out his innermost thoughts. He struggles himself to his feet, glaring at the doors.
How could Tintin, his sweet Tintin, said that kissing the one you love is not the right thing to do?!
Captain starts to move slowly towards the doors.
How could he, when he has no idea of how does it feels, huh? To be worried, days and nights when he is not with him, and even more when they are together, fighting for life. To sense own heart stops every time, every friggin’ time, when that boy does something risky, and, oh God, like it ain’t more than often. To love, with everything he has, everything he is. To always hold back.
Oh, he will tell that lad, yes he will.
What the deck is he doing? He turned on heels, pacing back to bed.
Buuut, he couldn’t possibly make things worse, could he? Facing the doors again, he hurries forwards, only to stop still just one step before his goal.
Should he really do it?
Heck yes! He could always pretend a total blackout later.
With those thoughts, Captain throws his doors open, steps into the hall and yells with his full voice, that one which could be heard on the other side of ship during a storm:
“YER LISTEN, YER ACTION MAN!”

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