7 or 8 Ghost?

lostcybertronian:

I really really reallyreallyreally wanted to try some Google/Author (Ghosthor?) SO HERE YOU ARE

Title: The Cat

“This can’t be the zombie apocalypse can it? I’m not caught up on my favorite shows.”

Google regarded the Author with disdain. “Do you ever shut up?”

“I like my characters to know I’m coming,” the Author informed him, his flashlight beam sweeping over crates, over abandoned cow stalls, over mysterious objects- Google estimated them to be old, rusty farm equipment- covered in dusty tarps. “Besides, it’s too fucking quiet in here.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to fill it with your-” Google started, but suddenly the Author whirled on him, holding a finger to his lips.

“Shh!” He said, then motioned with his flashlight to a pile of overturned crates, out from behind which poked a suspicious-looking shadow.

Google nodded, and they split up, the Author creeping around to the right of the crates, Google to the left.

He could hear something shuffling, something that sounded distinctly non-human, but he didn’t have time to point this out to the Author because the Author was already springing into action with a shout of “Aha! Caught you-”

His triumphant exclamation quickly morphed into a high-pitched scream as the Author came barrelling back out from behind the crates, stumbling blindly into Google and sending them both down in a pile of limbs and dust and dirt.

“Author!” Google spluttered, just as a cat ran by his head. He struggled to get up, but the Author was on top of him, pinning him down. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I thought- I thought it was-” The Author stammered, “a monster!”

Google fixed him with a glare. “Try a cat.”

“Ah- I knew that from the beginning. I was just trying to scare you.” the Author began to backpedal, to try and talk himself out of his corner but it was too late; he had thoroughly humiliated himself.

Google smirked, satisfied, even though they hadn’t caught up with their quarry, But in his smugness he failed to notice that the Author had stopped talking and was now staring down at him with an odd expression on his face.

Google returned his gaze, puzzled. “What-”

Then the Author kissed him, slow and gentle and everything he normally wasn’t and Google was sure his systems had malfunctioned because it actually felt good to be kissing the Author and then-

The Author pulled away, rolled himself off Google and got up. He brushed himself off before extending a hand.

Google took it, and when he was on his feet once more he leaned in again.

This time, it was longer before they broke apart, the Author breathless and Google’s core whirring a little too loud for comfort.

“Dark doesn’t have to know about this,” Google said after a long moment.

The Author ran a hand through his hair, making it spike up with dirt and sweat. Then he nodded and grinned. “Deal.”