Title: BAM!

Author: foggynite

Fandom: The Rundown

Pairing: Travis/Beck, established relationship

Rating: PG-13 for language.

Spoilers: Not really.

Summary: Beck likes Emeril, but he likes Travis better.

Notes: Just a little snippet, really. I have this little world in my head where they took the money from the Gato and bought a townhouse in Florida, where Travis goes to school and Beck has a
restaurant, and it's my happily ever after, dammit. So. Smoosh and fluff and waffy stuffs, nyar.

Archive: Yes to rareslash, others please ask.

Series/Sequel: Depends on how much of a life I don't have.

Disclaimer: Really not mine, dude. Like, really.

Warnings: None

BAM!
by foggynite

The front of the townhouse was gated and he couldn't get his damn code to work. He slammed a palm against the keypad and sighed in defeat. Punching the call button, he waited for a response.

And kept waiting.

The front door really needed a new coat of paint, he decided, as he stared intently at the brass knocker. Alas, his Jedi mind tricks were not enough to make it move. Sighing heavily again, he shifted his satchel to his other shoulder and pressed the call button savagely.

Still no response.

After another minute, he leaned on the innocuous little button, which was proving to be the bane of his existence. If he peered at it from over his sunglasses, he could swear it was mocking him. The heavy Florida sun beat down on him, and a trickle of sweat irritatingly crawled its way down his back.

Muttering, he brandished his cell phone and crossed his arms self-consciously across his chest, glaring at curious passers-by.

On the twelfth ring, a very deep-- very distracted-- voice answered, "What?"

"Come open the gate."

"What?"

He gritted his teeth. "Come. Open. The gate."

An amused chuckle reverberated through his ear. "Forget your code again?"

"Hey, fuck you." The laughing grew louder at his indignation. "C'mon, man. This isn't funny. I'm dying out here."

"I can't come down right now."

He could hear the television playing in the background, something with lots of talking and clapping. Also the thunk of what was probably a knife being taken to the cutting board.

"Yes, you can."

"No. I can't."

The television volume was turned up.

"Why the hell not? Please tell me you didn't buy that monkey off Ebay…."

"Nope. This is far more important than monkeys…."

He heard a `BAM!' in the background and groaned.

"I'm locked out of my own house because you're drooling over Emeril?" He squeaked disbelievingly. "Again?!"

"It's a marathon."

"It's neurotic. You are sick, man. Like, in desperate need of psychiatric evaluation…"

"I'm taping it. I need to edit out the commercials…."

Now he was just being teased and he flushed as a bus full of school children crawled past.

While he made funny faces at the kids, he commented, "You know, Beck, slaving away in class all day and then being locked out of his house can make a guy rethink certain amenities his partner would be allowed to indulge in, should said guy be so inclined. Which he was, until about five minutes ago….."

Another thunk, this one more final sounding, and he could hear the slap of bare feet on the marble kitchen floor.

"I don't think there's any need to be hasty, Travis." He heard the beep of the gate control pad in the foyer. "What if said partner was busy slaving away in the kitchen all day, making a lavish feast for said guy?"

Travis smirked as the gate unlocked under his hand. He pushed it open and started up the front walkway.

"Said guy might be willing to rescind his impulsive decision, and strike a bargain with said partner…." He got out his keys and fumbled until he found the right one for the front door. Of course, there were five more dead bolts after that.

"And what would my options be?" There was an answering smirk in Beck's voice that went straight to Travis' groin.

"Well, Option A would be that you help me unlock the goddamn door and then return to your hard labor in the kitchen…." He managed to find two more correct keys.

"And my second option?"

He could hear Beck on the other side of the door and frowned when he dropped his key rings with a harsh jangle.

"Option B would be that you help me unlock the goddamn door and then get to fuck me senseless…."

The last three dead bolts slid easily over and Beck opened the front door, smiling down at Travis with the phone still pressed to his ear. Travis' mouth dried up at the sight of Beck in linen pants, an
apron and little else. He closed his cell phone with a sharp snap of his wrist.

"How about we go with Option C?" Beck asked slyly, pecs rippling as he stood aside so Travis could enter. The scrawny blonde picked up his keys and squeezed past him, tossing his book bag casually to the side.

"And that is?" He turned to Beck, who kicked the door shut and chucked the phone onto an antique hall table.

"Both."

The taller man hauled him close and plundered his mouth. Travis broke away with a gasp.

"I think I could live with that…"