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Description
Emotional distance was supposed to come with the territory. Or at least, that's what the stereotype was. Desmond personally hated stereotypes, especially when it was one that he knew should be true, and still couldn't uphold.

He would watch Shaun from the corner of his eye, would watch him read over old files and flilp through ancient books. He would watch the way Shaun would chew on the inside of his lower lip when he couldn't quite figure something out, the way he would turn his iPod up especially loud if something was bothering him but he didn't want to talk about it, the way he took his coffee... Desmond, forr all intents and purposes, was head-over-heels in love. He was also well-aware that the emotion was most likely unrequited. It didn't escape his notice that the only person Shaun's scathing remarks weren't directed at were Lucy Stillman.

Desmond was sprawled on the floor in the empty common room. Lucy was collecting some sort of information on Vidic's plans, Rebecca was off talking to some friend of hers about something called "DDR4 RAM" to "Boost processing speed by a fuck-ton", whatever all of that meant, and Shaun... Well, Desmond wasn't entirely sure where Shaun had run off to. Desmond was too busy readin some book he'd found in Lucy's stack of things. It was a trashy paperback romance, but it was something to do.

"Just when I thought you couldn't be anymore of a girl." Shaun smirked.

Desmond glanced at him over the edge of the book and returned to reading. He heard footsteps and was almost glad that Shaun was walking away.

"'Oh James, you always know just what a girl likes,' Claire breathed heavily against the side of his neck..." Shaun read aloud, his accent somehow making the situation seem dirtier than it did in the book, which Desmond closed so he could look up at the Brit.

"Are you done being immature?" Desmond asked tiredly. Shaun's smirk widened.

"I was just reading along." Shaun shrugged.

Desmond rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Are you going to run away?" Shaun taunted.

Desmond turned to face him, but said nothing.

"What's wrong Claire, afraid I won't know just what you like?" Shaun continued teasing Subject Seventeen.

"Don't start what you can't finish." Desmond growled.

"Insinuating that you'd like to act out that little scene from your purloined book?"

Desmond responded by grabbing the front of Shaun's shirt and kissing him. It was firm, but it wasn't rough. Desmond took control, but he took Shaun's wants into consideration as well. Shaun grabbed at Desmond, grabbed at whatever he could. He wanted more, but he wasn't sure what exactly it was that he wanted. Desmond pulled away from him with a faint smile. Shaun took a stuttering breath and his hands curled into fists with the fabric of Desmond's jacket wound in his fingers.

"You missed your line, Claire." Desmond purred teasingly.

"Fuck you, Miles." Shaun smiled.

"Close enough."

Description
Emotional distance was supposed to come with the territory. Or at least, that's what the stereotype was. Desmond personally hated stereotypes, especially when it was one that he knew should be true, and still couldn't uphold.

He would watch Shaun from the corner of his eye, would watch him read over old files and flilp through ancient books. He would watch the way Shaun would chew on the inside of his lower lip when he couldn't quite figure something out, the way he would turn his iPod up especially loud if something was bothering him but he didn't want to talk about it, the way he took his coffee... Desmond, forr all intents and purposes, was head-over-heels in love. He was also well-aware that the emotion was most likely unrequited. It didn't escape his notice that the only person Shaun's scathing remarks weren't directed at were Lucy Stillman.

Desmond was sprawled on the floor in the empty common room. Lucy was collecting some sort of information on Vidic's plans, Rebecca was off talking to some friend of hers about something called "DDR4 RAM" to "Boost processing speed by a fuck-ton", whatever all of that meant, and Shaun... Well, Desmond wasn't entirely sure where Shaun had run off to. Desmond was too busy readin some book he'd found in Lucy's stack of things. It was a trashy paperback romance, but it was something to do.

"Just when I thought you couldn't be anymore of a girl." Shaun smirked.

Desmond glanced at him over the edge of the book and returned to reading. He heard footsteps and was almost glad that Shaun was walking away.

"'Oh James, you always know just what a girl likes,' Claire breathed heavily against the side of his neck..." Shaun read aloud, his accent somehow making the situation seem dirtier than it did in the book, which Desmond closed so he could look up at the Brit.

"Are you done being immature?" Desmond asked tiredly. Shaun's smirk widened.

"I was just reading along." Shaun shrugged.

Desmond rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Are you going to run away?" Shaun taunted.

Desmond turned to face him, but said nothing.

"What's wrong Claire, afraid I won't know just what you like?" Shaun continued teasing Subject Seventeen.

"Don't start what you can't finish." Desmond growled.

"Insinuating that you'd like to act out that little scene from your purloined book?"

Desmond responded by grabbing the front of Shaun's shirt and kissing him. It was firm, but it wasn't rough. Desmond took control, but he took Shaun's wants into consideration as well. Shaun grabbed at Desmond, grabbed at whatever he could. He wanted more, but he wasn't sure what exactly it was that he wanted. Desmond pulled away from him with a faint smile. Shaun took a stuttering breath and his hands curled into fists with the fabric of Desmond's jacket wound in his fingers.

"You missed your line, Claire." Desmond purred teasingly.

"Fuck you, Miles." Shaun smiled.

"Close enough."