Pairings/Characters: Melvin Purvis/Johnny Dillinger
Fandom: Public Enemies
Spoilers: For the movie, natch, especially the sizzling jail scene. :)
Summary: What keeps Melvin Purvis up at night?
Date Of Completion: July 22, 2009
Date Of Posting: July 22, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 374
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Well, I saw Public Enemies again for the second time yesterday, and the jail scene was even slashier than the first time! LOL! Oh, my boys! UST all over the place, little smiles and body language, uh, huh. ;) I picked up some dialogue I’d missed, which I’ll use in another jail story, but this one came to mind. My first slash story in this fandom! Enjoy! :)
Oh, the reference with Clark Gable and the undershirt? Gable started a new trend, so the story goes, of men doffing undershirts to go to bed when he was shown shirtless in 1934’s It Happened One Night. Needless to say, the men’s undergarment industry wasn’t too happy! :)
Blood roared in his ears, coursing hot and fast through his veins, his heart triphammering. The smells were too strong: crumbling brick and dust, acrid sweat, and someone’s pastrami sandwich. The light streaming in through the barred window high up on the wall behind him was too bright.
Even on a hot Arizona day, the wall behind his back was cold. He stared at the man in the cell, John Dillinger resting an arm on rust-flaked bars, smiling an amused smile.
A knowing smile.
He felt drawn in by those eyes, entranced by a charming sorceror, unable to tear his gaze away, his body throbbing, pulsing, singing...he saw the nimbus of piercing light flood the cell, softening with sparkled motes, saw the boyish smile and relaxed posture and was glad the wall was at his back to hold him up, his hands thrust into his pockets to hide their shaking.
He tried to answer the smile, and through a parched mouth he managed to ask, “What keeps you up nights, Mr. Dillinger?”
Lips curved into a crooked smile as the sparkling hazel eyes grew more luminous, raking him up and down with impunity.
Melvin came awake with a gasp, sitting upright in bed. Drenched in sweat despite it being a cool spring night, his limbs trembled as he ran a shaking hand through his dishevelled hair.
He pulled off his undershirt and threw it across the room. If he was going to be called the Clark Gable of the Bureau, he should start acting like him, right? His lips twisted.
Still shaken, he crossed his arms across his chest and waited for his heart to stop beating so wildly, then dragged himself out of bed and yanked off the sticky sheets, throwing them in the hamper and re-making the bed by the light of the moon. He went to the bathroom and took a shower.
Emerging fresh from the shower, he pulled on boxers and pajama bottoms from the drawer, crawling back into bed. He was cold now and pulled up the sheets and blanket as he curled up onto his side.
John Dillinger haunted his dreams…but not because he was supposed to capture him.