From Russia With Love (Part 3)
Feb. 22nd, 2012 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annabirminghamSummary - Modern day AU/AU. Jack is a fashion stylist and meets Ennis one night in a club.
Length - c1,000 words.
Feedback - yes please!
Thanks and big hugs - to the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sandscrit for the beta.
The following means 'click here' in Russian :D
****
Part 2 saw the boys go their separate ways following a steamy encounter in the club. Jack found Ennis again via Facebook and has just taken the plunge to 'friend' him...
****
Part 3
****
Four days.
Nothing.
Four fucking days. What the fuck did models do with their time? How come they weren’t glued to the internet like every other normal human being on the planet? Jack began to regret ever sending the damn friend request. It was like a freaking mosquito in his brain, buzzing around and refusing to die. What if Ennis had seen it but had chosen to ignore him? Chalk Jack up to just another crazed stalker of sexy models. Great.
Jack had pretty much given up hope when, at some ungodly hour of the following night, during a re-run of Season 2 of Project Runway, he heard his laptop ‘ping’ with a new email.
‘Ennis Dmitriev-Maier accepts your friend request’
There was a single word attached as a message. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Jack said out loud, as if Ennis could here him. “You took your fucking time, bud.”
He pounced on the computer and instantly clicked on Ennis’ profile information. More specifically, the photographs.
Holy crap, the guy had hundreds. Mostly professional; Ennis looking moodily out of a window, Ennis reclining half naked on a couch (Jack lingered a little on that one), Ennis kneeling on a bed pulling his shirt up to reveal his tight abs (Jack lingered a LOT on that one.)
He also discovered that Ennis was twenty-six and lived near Moscow. So contact had finally been established. What now? Jack knew exactly one word of Russian and that wasn’t enough to start a conversation – not to mention that he didn’t know how to spell it. He opened a new message to Ennis and typed in one word. “Hi ☺” He added the smiley face for good luck.
He then sat back and waited. Ennis was still online, the green box by his name glowing like a beacon.
He didn’t have long to wait. Within a minute the Instant Messenger box popped up and Ennis had typed a response.
“Jack. How are you?”
Jack smiled and clicked again on the photo of Ennis kneeling on the bed. Nothing like a little visual reminder, right?
“Fine. How are you?” He typed.
“Good.”
“You remember me?”
Pause. “Yes. Of course.”
“You speak English?”
“A little. Google Translate helps.”
The wonders of modern technology, huh?
“You are American?” Ennis continued.
“Yes. I live in New York.”
“You like it?”
“Yes I do. You like Moscow?”
“Yes.”
Jack did a quick mental calculation. He figured it must be almost noon over there, seeing as it was nearly three in the morning state-side. “What are you doing?” He asked.
Another pause. “Sleeping.”
Well that put a nice vision in Jack’s head, one of Ennis all warm and sleep tousled, lying naked in bed, white sheets bunched around his waist… Hmmm.
“Late night?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
Damn this was tough. It was hard enough trying to have a conversation with someone online, not knowing that person or even speaking the same language just made things all the more tricky. It was as frustrating as hell, no matter how cute Ennis was. There was so much Jack wanted to ask, wanted to know.
“I…” Pause as Ennis typed something else, “… must go.”
“Ok.
“Talk again soon?”
“Of course.” Jack added another smiley face to that one. “Anytime.”
Ennis sent a smiley face in return and Jack laughed. Oh man, this was weird – nice but weird.
“Bye,” he typed, but Ennis had already logged off Facebook.
***
“Jack, babe. Are you ok?”
Jack threaded his fingers through the golden curls in front on him and tried not to imagine they belonged to another man. One who lived far, far away. Ennis’ curls would feel softer than these, he imagined, curls that would wind around your fingers and never left go.
“Jack?” The blond head turned and pale blue eyes watched him anxiously.
Pale blue eyes? No, that wasn’t right.
“Hey.” A hand curled around his waist and patted his backside. “Jack?”
Jack snapped out of his fantasy and looked down at Logan’s face. Logan. His friend, model and muse for the past hour. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
“Yeah, about four and a half thousand miles away.”
Jack blinked. “What?”
“Oh come on, you haven’t been the same since you came back from Moscow last month.”
“Seriously?”
Logan nodded. “Uh huh. Everyone’s saying you met someone out there. We miss you on the party scene, dude. The girls and the boys,” he added with a grin, settling back into the styling chair.
Jack sighed and grabbed a bottle of serum, smearing a little between his palms before combing his fingers through Logan’s hair again. “Maybe I’m just tired. Need a break.”
“Cos you’re such an old man. Aren’t you nearly thirty?”
Jack tugged at Logan’s hair a little sharper than was strictly necessary.
“Ow!” Logan flinched.
Jack smiled and gently rubbed at Logan’s head to numb the pain. “Can’t a guy simply be tired?”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Logan added, clearly not believing a word.
Jack said nothing and swung the chair around so he could look directly at Logan, checking his face and hair for any imperfections that would show up on camera. The guy was very pretty and Jack could definitely appreciate his beauty, but he didn’t set fire to Jack’s loins. Not like Ennis had done.
He tapped Logan lightly on the thigh. “Ok, you’re done, bud.”
Logan leaned forward and whispered in Jack’s ear. “So you’re not remotely interested to hear that Anja Petrova and a few of her friends have been signed up for Fashion Week next month?”
TBC
Length - c1,000 words.
Feedback - yes please!
Thanks and big hugs - to the lovely
sandscrit for the beta. The following means 'click here' in Russian :D
****
Part 2 saw the boys go their separate ways following a steamy encounter in the club. Jack found Ennis again via Facebook and has just taken the plunge to 'friend' him...
****
Part 3
****
Four days.
Nothing.
Four fucking days. What the fuck did models do with their time? How come they weren’t glued to the internet like every other normal human being on the planet? Jack began to regret ever sending the damn friend request. It was like a freaking mosquito in his brain, buzzing around and refusing to die. What if Ennis had seen it but had chosen to ignore him? Chalk Jack up to just another crazed stalker of sexy models. Great.
Jack had pretty much given up hope when, at some ungodly hour of the following night, during a re-run of Season 2 of Project Runway, he heard his laptop ‘ping’ with a new email.
‘Ennis Dmitriev-Maier accepts your friend request’
There was a single word attached as a message. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Jack said out loud, as if Ennis could here him. “You took your fucking time, bud.”
He pounced on the computer and instantly clicked on Ennis’ profile information. More specifically, the photographs.
Holy crap, the guy had hundreds. Mostly professional; Ennis looking moodily out of a window, Ennis reclining half naked on a couch (Jack lingered a little on that one), Ennis kneeling on a bed pulling his shirt up to reveal his tight abs (Jack lingered a LOT on that one.)
He also discovered that Ennis was twenty-six and lived near Moscow. So contact had finally been established. What now? Jack knew exactly one word of Russian and that wasn’t enough to start a conversation – not to mention that he didn’t know how to spell it. He opened a new message to Ennis and typed in one word. “Hi ☺” He added the smiley face for good luck.
He then sat back and waited. Ennis was still online, the green box by his name glowing like a beacon.
He didn’t have long to wait. Within a minute the Instant Messenger box popped up and Ennis had typed a response.
“Jack. How are you?”
Jack smiled and clicked again on the photo of Ennis kneeling on the bed. Nothing like a little visual reminder, right?
“Fine. How are you?” He typed.
“Good.”
“You remember me?”
Pause. “Yes. Of course.”
“You speak English?”
“A little. Google Translate helps.”
The wonders of modern technology, huh?
“You are American?” Ennis continued.
“Yes. I live in New York.”
“You like it?”
“Yes I do. You like Moscow?”
“Yes.”
Jack did a quick mental calculation. He figured it must be almost noon over there, seeing as it was nearly three in the morning state-side. “What are you doing?” He asked.
Another pause. “Sleeping.”
Well that put a nice vision in Jack’s head, one of Ennis all warm and sleep tousled, lying naked in bed, white sheets bunched around his waist… Hmmm.
“Late night?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
Damn this was tough. It was hard enough trying to have a conversation with someone online, not knowing that person or even speaking the same language just made things all the more tricky. It was as frustrating as hell, no matter how cute Ennis was. There was so much Jack wanted to ask, wanted to know.
“I…” Pause as Ennis typed something else, “… must go.”
“Ok.
“Talk again soon?”
“Of course.” Jack added another smiley face to that one. “Anytime.”
Ennis sent a smiley face in return and Jack laughed. Oh man, this was weird – nice but weird.
“Bye,” he typed, but Ennis had already logged off Facebook.
***
“Jack, babe. Are you ok?”
Jack threaded his fingers through the golden curls in front on him and tried not to imagine they belonged to another man. One who lived far, far away. Ennis’ curls would feel softer than these, he imagined, curls that would wind around your fingers and never left go.
“Jack?” The blond head turned and pale blue eyes watched him anxiously.
Pale blue eyes? No, that wasn’t right.
“Hey.” A hand curled around his waist and patted his backside. “Jack?”
Jack snapped out of his fantasy and looked down at Logan’s face. Logan. His friend, model and muse for the past hour. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
“Yeah, about four and a half thousand miles away.”
Jack blinked. “What?”
“Oh come on, you haven’t been the same since you came back from Moscow last month.”
“Seriously?”
Logan nodded. “Uh huh. Everyone’s saying you met someone out there. We miss you on the party scene, dude. The girls and the boys,” he added with a grin, settling back into the styling chair.
Jack sighed and grabbed a bottle of serum, smearing a little between his palms before combing his fingers through Logan’s hair again. “Maybe I’m just tired. Need a break.”
“Cos you’re such an old man. Aren’t you nearly thirty?”
Jack tugged at Logan’s hair a little sharper than was strictly necessary.
“Ow!” Logan flinched.
Jack smiled and gently rubbed at Logan’s head to numb the pain. “Can’t a guy simply be tired?”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Logan added, clearly not believing a word.
Jack said nothing and swung the chair around so he could look directly at Logan, checking his face and hair for any imperfections that would show up on camera. The guy was very pretty and Jack could definitely appreciate his beauty, but he didn’t set fire to Jack’s loins. Not like Ennis had done.
He tapped Logan lightly on the thigh. “Ok, you’re done, bud.”
Logan leaned forward and whispered in Jack’s ear. “So you’re not remotely interested to hear that Anja Petrova and a few of her friends have been signed up for Fashion Week next month?”
TBC
