TW: Kisses, RPF

"I fucking swear, mate, this is not how I envisioned this plan playing out." Smith's breath was hot against Trott's ear as he spoke, and Trott was beginning to feel just a teeny tiny bit claustrophobic as he did his very best to get his thigh away from its current position in between Smith's legs. His efforts seemed to be entirely in vain, as doing so only resulted in a knee to Smith's groin, and now the taller man was doubled over in a flurry of curses, his face pressed uncomfortably against Trott's neck.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- can you please back off just a bloody inch, I haven't even got space to think." Trott managed to get his hands up to Smith's chest and gave him a shove. This served only to make things worse as his back hit the shelves behind him and a load of cleaning products were jostled free to rain down on their heads.

Truth be told, calling this situation claustrophobic was an understatement. The broom cupboard they had somehow found themselves in was packed so tightly with junk that they could barely move, let alone get enough leverage to try and force the door open.

"Why did you even feel the need to fucking pull me in here in the first place, you complete asshole?"

Trott already knew the answer to that, of course. With Smith, the answer to anything was almost always 'because I thought it would be funny'. He rather suspected that it probably didn't seem as funny to him now that his balls had become collateral damage, but you never did know when it came to Smith.

"...Just thought it'd be a laugh." Came Smith's muffled, still rather pained sounding voice, confirming what Trott had already been thinking. He could sort of see the logic behind the original idea, at least if he put on his Smith-Goggles. There was nothing the ginger bearded bastard liked more than trolling his friends, and suddenly jumping out of a closet and grabbing someone in the hallway of their place of work after hours when most everyone else had gone home was a pretty good way of making them scream like a five year old girl. Not that Trott had screamed like a five year old girl. More like one in her early teens. Preteens at the very worst.

Smith couldn't possibly have anticipated that the door would shut behind them, or that it would have locked from the outside.

...Or perhaps he could have? He didn't seem terribly concerned by their predicament, if his sudden burst of laughter was any indication.

"What could possibly be funny now? You do realize that unless we're very lucky and someone comes in again for some reason, we're stuck here, yeah? Possibly all night? I dunno about you, but my back won't handle that well." Trott's slightly grumpy words did absolutely nothing to stifle Smith's laughter, and the taller man managed to pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, brows giving a suggestive wiggle.

"If Ross were here, this would literally be the start of that filthy god damn fic Kim slid under my door."

Of course it was something like that. Trott wasn't even surprised. It was just like Smith to take an already awkward situation and make it even worse, because the thought of the two of them involved in some kind of erotic scenario with their other best friend and co-worker was the last thing Trott needed right then.

"In that case, I'm glad Ross isn't here. Wouldn't want you getting any ideas, your mind is already dirty enough." Trott regretted the words almost as soon as they'd escaped his mouth, as Smith's mouth quirked into a dangerous smirk. This would not end well.

"Ross doesn't need to be here for me to get ideas, mate." Smith's voice had taken on a husky tone by now, and he leaned in closer to Trott, immediately closing the tiny distance that Trott's shove had managed to create. Trott really should have known better. It was always a challenge with Smith. Still, that didn't mean he had to like it.

Returning his hands to their previous place at Smith's chest, he did his best to shove him back again, whilst concentrating on literally anything but how close they now were. There wasn't enough space to get him back more than a few inches, and the stupid look on Smith's face told Trott that he wasn't likely to get real help from him any time soon.

"Could you stop? This is absolutely ridic-" Trott only had time to scold Smith for a few seconds before the taller man pressed his lips to Trott's in an extremely enthusiastic kiss. Trott was kissing back before he even really thought about it, one hand snaking up under Smith's burgundy t-shirt. This was ridiculous, and the very last thing that Trott had been expecting, but he wasn't about to complain. At least, he wasn't about to complain until the door suddenly opened.

Trott pulled back suddenly, trying to shove Smith away, only to find himself face to face with a rather bemused looking Ross.

"I really don't care what you fuckers get up to, but I'd appreciate it if you did it in your own fucking flats. I can't be rescuing you every god damn day."

Trott at least had the shame to blush. Smith, meanwhile, was grinning shamelessly.

"You could join us next time, you know." He murmured, giving Ross a smirk. Ross, for his part, just gave a heavy sigh. "Yeah... thanks, but I'm going to pass. Just get the hell out of the cupboard."

Ross really was the most mature member of their trio. He didn't even really react when Smith slapped his ass on their way out.

Credit to breakfastatmilliways on Ao3