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severity_softlyTitle: How to Pick Up Women for Nerds, Version 4.2
Fandom: The IT Crowd
Pairing: Moss/Roy
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1,000
Summary: Moss and Roy spend New Years Eve together, and the night comes with some interesting developments. Betaed/Britpicked by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and nebula99
Moss downed the shot and put the glass back on the table that Roy had managed to squeeze into his tiny living room. It made it nearly impossible to walk in there, but it was good for nights like this.
"Roy?" Moss said after a moment, blinking at his glass as Roy refilled it.
"Yes?"
"I feel funny. Are we actually drinking water?"
Roy stared at Moss for a moment, his brows drawing together. "Out of a vodka bottle?" he asked, disbelieving. "That was a joke, Moss."
"Ah," Moss said, nodding sagely. "I did think it tasted a bit off. I was going to suggest a filter on your tap, but now I see wherein the problem lies, with the beverage, not the tap." He paused and played with the shot glass for a moment. "Am I drunk?"
"Ah, more than likely."
"Oh. How should I behave then?"
"Like an arsehole, Moss. Like a total arsehole." Roy filled his shot glass again.
"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with that idea."
Roy looked at Moss, then snorted. "Then you're not drunk enough."
"I have a high metabolism."
"Drink faster."
"All right." Moss did the shot in front of him and poured another. Then he made a face. "Do you have anything less bitter?"
"Ah, no. Because I'm not a lady." Roy lifted his glass to his lips as Moss drank his and poured another shot. He was nodding in that way he did when he was certain he understood something he didn't understand before.
"Right. We're men." He downed another shot and made a sour face. "Men who drink manly drinks." Another shot. "Like vodka. Or Carling Black Label." Another shot. "Or coffee without the milk."
Moss went to pour another shot, and Roy grasped his wrist quickly. "Whoa, whoa, slow down."
"You said drink faster," Moss said, his expression going utterly confused.
"It's not a marathon," Roy explained.
"You should be more specific," Moss replied, lifting a finger in emphasis.
"Okay. How about I pour, and you... don't."
Moss blinked at Roy for a moment, and Roy could see his expression change from wanting to argue the point to acceptance. "All right."
"Good," Roy said, and poured them both another shot before putting the bottle down on the floor next to him, where Moss couldn't get to it. They fell silent for a while after that, watching the telly. Roy was pouring their drinks from time to time, and was starting to feel a little warm himself by the time Moss was loudly pointing out the technical inaccuracies in the programme they were watching. After that went on for longer than Roy could stand, which wasn't very long, he turned the telly off with a huff.
Moss immediately turned his head to face Roy. "What did you do that for?" he asked innocently. Roy couldn't find it in him to do anything but stare at Moss with exasperated fondness. Moss pressed his lips together when Roy didn't answer, then sat there for a few moments before saying, "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"
"That would be the vodka," Roy explained.
Moss laughed. "That's ridiculous! The vodka's not hot!"
Roy pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. "How do you feel?"
When he looked up, Moss was grinning. "Like I could rebuild a hard drive with my eyes closed, using only my toes. If it wouldn't tickle so flippin' much, that is."
"You're drunk," Roy told him.
"Oh!" Moss looked at Roy as if it was the first time he'd seen him all night. He waved, and cheerfully said, "Hello!"
"Hi."
"I thought my face felt funny... Roy?"
"What?"
Moss shifted in his seat a little, straightening in falsely confident way. "Pardon me, I seem to have lost my phone number, could I borrow yours?"
"What?"
"No, that's not a Logitech MX-100 in my pants, but thanks for noticing."
Roy frowned in confusion. "Moss--"
"Want to see my hard drive? I promise it isn't three and a half inches, and it isn't floppy."
"Moss, what the hell are you--"
"That one doesn't even make sense, actually. A hard drive and a floppy disc aren't the same thing, and who even uses floppy discs anymore? I mean, the entire premise of that-- Oh, flip it! This isn't working like the website said it would."
Roy's eyebrows shot up of their own accord. "What website?!"
"How to pick up women for nerds, version 4.2." Roy only managed a squeaky noise before Moss continued. "Except you're not a woman. I didn't think it mattered that much in regards to how this works, though."
"Oh, it matters very much that I'm not a woman; I have all the wrong bits," Roy protested, still too shocked to even think of how to respond to Moss having made advances on him.
"Or maybe it's all the right bits," Moss said, in that clever tone he used sometimes, and lifted his finger to emphasize his point too late.
Roy thought for a moment about how he should explain that this didn't make any sense to him. "You're a man," he told Moss.
"I thought we'd already established this," Moss replied, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"I'm a man. We're men."
"And your point is?" Moss asked.
Roy opened his mouth to reply, but then nothing came out. He didn't really have a retort to that. He'd never considered it before, but he was closer to Moss than anyone, and Moss put up with him.
No. No, this wasn't happening.
Moss flipped on the telly again, just in time to watch as the penny dropped. Then before Roy knew what was happening, Moss pounced on him, pressing his lips to his. It was clumsy and awkward, and Moss had no idea how to keep their teeth from clicking against each other's, which made it uncomfortable as well... but there was a definite warmth that spread through Roy's body.
Moss was panting when he pulled back, then he picked up a party blower, grinned, and exclaimed, "Happy New Year!"
All Roy could do was stare at him as he sounded the party blower with a childish enthusiasm. All he could think was that this might be the closest relationship he had... and the strangest.
But that was probably okay.
Fandom: The IT Crowd
Pairing: Moss/Roy
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1,000
Summary: Moss and Roy spend New Years Eve together, and the night comes with some interesting developments. Betaed/Britpicked by
innerslytherin and nebula99Moss downed the shot and put the glass back on the table that Roy had managed to squeeze into his tiny living room. It made it nearly impossible to walk in there, but it was good for nights like this.
"Roy?" Moss said after a moment, blinking at his glass as Roy refilled it.
"Yes?"
"I feel funny. Are we actually drinking water?"
Roy stared at Moss for a moment, his brows drawing together. "Out of a vodka bottle?" he asked, disbelieving. "That was a joke, Moss."
"Ah," Moss said, nodding sagely. "I did think it tasted a bit off. I was going to suggest a filter on your tap, but now I see wherein the problem lies, with the beverage, not the tap." He paused and played with the shot glass for a moment. "Am I drunk?"
"Ah, more than likely."
"Oh. How should I behave then?"
"Like an arsehole, Moss. Like a total arsehole." Roy filled his shot glass again.
"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with that idea."
Roy looked at Moss, then snorted. "Then you're not drunk enough."
"I have a high metabolism."
"Drink faster."
"All right." Moss did the shot in front of him and poured another. Then he made a face. "Do you have anything less bitter?"
"Ah, no. Because I'm not a lady." Roy lifted his glass to his lips as Moss drank his and poured another shot. He was nodding in that way he did when he was certain he understood something he didn't understand before.
"Right. We're men." He downed another shot and made a sour face. "Men who drink manly drinks." Another shot. "Like vodka. Or Carling Black Label." Another shot. "Or coffee without the milk."
Moss went to pour another shot, and Roy grasped his wrist quickly. "Whoa, whoa, slow down."
"You said drink faster," Moss said, his expression going utterly confused.
"It's not a marathon," Roy explained.
"You should be more specific," Moss replied, lifting a finger in emphasis.
"Okay. How about I pour, and you... don't."
Moss blinked at Roy for a moment, and Roy could see his expression change from wanting to argue the point to acceptance. "All right."
"Good," Roy said, and poured them both another shot before putting the bottle down on the floor next to him, where Moss couldn't get to it. They fell silent for a while after that, watching the telly. Roy was pouring their drinks from time to time, and was starting to feel a little warm himself by the time Moss was loudly pointing out the technical inaccuracies in the programme they were watching. After that went on for longer than Roy could stand, which wasn't very long, he turned the telly off with a huff.
Moss immediately turned his head to face Roy. "What did you do that for?" he asked innocently. Roy couldn't find it in him to do anything but stare at Moss with exasperated fondness. Moss pressed his lips together when Roy didn't answer, then sat there for a few moments before saying, "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"
"That would be the vodka," Roy explained.
Moss laughed. "That's ridiculous! The vodka's not hot!"
Roy pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. "How do you feel?"
When he looked up, Moss was grinning. "Like I could rebuild a hard drive with my eyes closed, using only my toes. If it wouldn't tickle so flippin' much, that is."
"You're drunk," Roy told him.
"Oh!" Moss looked at Roy as if it was the first time he'd seen him all night. He waved, and cheerfully said, "Hello!"
"Hi."
"I thought my face felt funny... Roy?"
"What?"
Moss shifted in his seat a little, straightening in falsely confident way. "Pardon me, I seem to have lost my phone number, could I borrow yours?"
"What?"
"No, that's not a Logitech MX-100 in my pants, but thanks for noticing."
Roy frowned in confusion. "Moss--"
"Want to see my hard drive? I promise it isn't three and a half inches, and it isn't floppy."
"Moss, what the hell are you--"
"That one doesn't even make sense, actually. A hard drive and a floppy disc aren't the same thing, and who even uses floppy discs anymore? I mean, the entire premise of that-- Oh, flip it! This isn't working like the website said it would."
Roy's eyebrows shot up of their own accord. "What website?!"
"How to pick up women for nerds, version 4.2." Roy only managed a squeaky noise before Moss continued. "Except you're not a woman. I didn't think it mattered that much in regards to how this works, though."
"Oh, it matters very much that I'm not a woman; I have all the wrong bits," Roy protested, still too shocked to even think of how to respond to Moss having made advances on him.
"Or maybe it's all the right bits," Moss said, in that clever tone he used sometimes, and lifted his finger to emphasize his point too late.
Roy thought for a moment about how he should explain that this didn't make any sense to him. "You're a man," he told Moss.
"I thought we'd already established this," Moss replied, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"I'm a man. We're men."
"And your point is?" Moss asked.
Roy opened his mouth to reply, but then nothing came out. He didn't really have a retort to that. He'd never considered it before, but he was closer to Moss than anyone, and Moss put up with him.
No. No, this wasn't happening.
Moss flipped on the telly again, just in time to watch as the penny dropped. Then before Roy knew what was happening, Moss pounced on him, pressing his lips to his. It was clumsy and awkward, and Moss had no idea how to keep their teeth from clicking against each other's, which made it uncomfortable as well... but there was a definite warmth that spread through Roy's body.
Moss was panting when he pulled back, then he picked up a party blower, grinned, and exclaimed, "Happy New Year!"
All Roy could do was stare at him as he sounded the party blower with a childish enthusiasm. All he could think was that this might be the closest relationship he had... and the strangest.
But that was probably okay.
