Work Text:
“Right, Fred, are you listening? This is important, lives at stake and all that,” Gus sighs.
“Of course, yeah, I’m listening.” Freddy mumbles, watching as Anders holds the cigarette between his teeth as he smiles, laughing with Henry, and clapping him on the back before the smaller man heads inside. Anders is left alone, and Freddy’s left talking to Gus about plans he already knows like the back of his hand.
“Well, now I know you’re not listening because I called you Fred and you hate that. You wouldn’t talk to me for a week after I called you that when we first met.” Gus says, matter-of-fact.
“Why would you call me Fred? That’s not my name,” Freddy argues, suddenly listening.
“Because you weren’t listening,” Gus argues back, exasperated.
“But, I heard you call me Fred. So, obviously, I was listening,” Freddy knows it makes no sense, and yet, he argues it anyway.
“Yeah, the second time around. First time around, you were too busy imagining your cock as the cigarette between Lassen’s lips,” Gus is laughing now, a knowing grin on his face.
“I was not,” Freddy scoffs.
“You were,” Gus mumbles, “You were practically drooling where you stood. Tell you what, I’ll be inside. Come find me when you have, at the very least, half a mind to hold a decent conversation.”
Freddy rolls his eyes as Gus presses a hand to his shoulder, simultaneously shoving him in Anders’ direction. Freddy goes to swing on him, only to find Gus has practically run inside, leaving Freddy to hit the air where he once stood.
Anders immediately senses Freddy’s presence, turning from the railing to acknowledge him, a ghost of a smile still playing on his lips. After taking a drag of it himself, he offers Freddy the cigarette, possibly thinking Freddy’s interest is in the stick of tobacco and not the lips wrapped around it, “Want a drag?”
“What, so I can get addicted to the little buggers? No thanks, mate.” Freddy scoffs, patting himself on the back for such a quick comeback. Anders grins at him, taking a drag of the cigarette before blowing it out the corner of his mouth, “I’ll stick to my pipe,” He adds, throat feeling dry all of a sudden.
“I figured,” Anders shrugs.
Freddy clears his throat, “Then why offer?”
“I just thought you’d be interested in something new, that’s all.” Anders turns his back on him, leaning over the railing, and seemingly watching the water push against the boat with great interest. He’s talking about something else, Freddy gets the sense that they’ve delved into an entirely different category. The thought attaches itself to his brain and refuses to let go, it even seems to take control of his body as he makes his way over to where Anders is, still leaning over the railing.
He leans against the railing with his hip, studying the side of Anders’ face and how the cigarette hangs limply between his lips, threatening to fall into the water below, “Right, give it here.”
Anders turns his head to look at him, taking the cigarette from his lips and holding it between his fingers, “So I can hear you complaining about the stench of cigarettes on your hands? I don’t think so,” Anders teases, of course he does. Freddy’s dug himself into this hole, and now he has to get himself out of it.
“Hold it for me then,” Freddy suggests, having no idea where he’s going with this or why he’s fighting so hard for it, either. It works in the end, somewhat, because Anders grins at him.
“Am I your slave now, Freddy? Holding cigarettes for you to smoke? I don’t think our relationship is quite there yet,” Anders mumbles, he turns, leaning an elbow on the ledge as he brings the cigarette to his lips. He smiles at Freddy as he takes a drag, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth as to not hit Freddy. How considerate.
“What do you propose, then?” Freddy asks, trying not to look so visibly shaken when Anders pushes himself from the railing and stands, creeping into his space.
“How bad do you want it?” Anders asks, taking another drag but making sure to blow the smoke directly into Freddy’s face this time.
He goes to stumble away, obnoxiously fanning the smoke as he mumbles under his breath, “I don't understand why I’m even encouraging this,” Only for Anders’ free hand to come up and grasp his shirt in his fist, dragging him back. But, not to where he was standing before, closer this time. To the point where they’re chest to chest now.
“How bad,” Anders starts again, enunciating his words in that accent of his while smoothing out Freddy’s shirt where he grabbed him, “do you want it?” He finishes, tilting his head at Freddy, keeping his hand flat on Freddy’s chest, tracing shapes Freddy hasn’t the brain capacity to figure out.
“Pretty bad, Lassen,” Freddy says, voice cracking as he says the words, but unable to find himself caring about that at the moment. Because, Anders is grinning at him, sliding his hand from his chest to his shoulder, then cupping the side of his neck.
Anders presses his thumb underneath Freddy’s chin, tilting his head up, “Inhale,” He says, nearly giving Freddy no time to prepare before he brings the cigarette back to his lips. Freddy’s confused, confused as to what he’s supposed to be inhaling, before Anders moves in.
Freddy gets the hint just before Anders starts to exhale, he takes the smoke into his mouth, trying his best not to think about how close Anders’ lips are to his as to not throughly embarrass himself.
“Hold it in,” Anders instructs, playing with Freddy’s hair, smoothing it out before ruffling it back up, grinning as he does it, “Perfect, Freddy, blow it out now,” He whispers, voice sounding full and warm and dripping with innuendos.
Freddy does as he’s told, trying his best to blow it out the corner of his mouth like he’s seen Anders do so many times before. He makes it look easier than it actually is because Freddy ends up sputtering the rest of the smoke out, coughing in Anders’ face.
“How was that?” Anders asks through a laugh, “Any difference from your favored pipe?”
“Can I,” Freddy turns his head to cough into his fist, “Can I have another go?” He asks, looking for redemption, dumbstruck by Anders as a whole but set on proving himself to the man.
“Sure,” Anders says, though, he flicks the cigarette into the ocean before he’s pulling Freddy in for a kiss. His hand moves across Freddy’s shoulder blades, so his arm is hooked around Freddy’s neck, the other losing itself in Freddy’s hair. His lips are surprisingly soft, his stubble rubbing against Freddy’s own, a welcomed and new sensation. And when Freddy’s hands find Anders’ hips, he knows he’s screwed.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t taste tobacco on Anders’ tongue. He tastes hints of mint that have him nearly rising onto the tips of his toes to kiss Anders deeper. He presses flush to Anders, maneuvers them so that Anders is wedged between the railing and Freddy’s body. Freddy squeezes his hips, begs him for more, only to find out that Anders speaks his language, sliding his tongue into Freddy’s mouth with ease.
Sadly, though, he doesn’t get to delve deeper into what Anders’ tongue had planned because someone clearing their throat has them stumbling apart. Or, more so, Freddy stumbling away from one Anders Lassen that has decided to lean against the railing, visibly winded. A sense of pride spreads through Freddy’s chest.
“So sorry for interrupting, boys,” Gus says, a stupidly wide grin nearly splitting his face in two.
“Apology not accepted,” Freddy mumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair.
“Screw you and your shitty timing, Gus,” Anders sighs, smiling at Gus with a look of murder in his eyes.
Gus holds his hands up in surrender, “Just quickly want to say two things, then you can get back to your activities. First, I’ve put the kettle on for a quick cup of tea. Take your time, no rush. And, second, I fully support this endeavor between you both.” He turns, laughing maniacally as he ducks inside, leaving Freddy and Anders to ponder his words on the deck and possibly to gush to the rest of the crew what exactly he’d just walked in on.
In detail.
Freddy looks up, trying to find something interesting in the stars of the night sky, refusing to let this get awkward when his biggest dream had just come true. He takes a page out of Gus’ book and voices exactly what comes to mind, “I’d like to kiss you again,” Freddy says to the sky, squinting his eyes as if he’d found a particularly captivating star.
“I bet you would,” Anders replies, easily welcoming Freddy against him again, showing him exactly that he’d intended to do with his tongue before they were rudely interrupted.