Five Unusual Accounts
Title: Flower
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: G
Word Count: 273
Summary: River tells Simon a story.
“There’s a flower,” River said.
Simon looked up. There certainly weren’t any flowers anywhere on the ship - unless they were in Inara’s shuttle - so he wasn’t quite sure what River was talking about.
“A flower?” he repeated.
“Yes,” River said, nodding her head. “A flower. It’s rare. One flower. But the people who grew it had to give it up. It was a bargain, you see. To get what they needed to grow it. They gave away their flower and the witch they gave it to took it away and grew it all tall and big. And she looked after the flower but the flower was lonely. Flowers need the sun. Witches don’t. They don’t like the sun. So she hid the flower until the flower grew too big and a man found it and tried to pick it himself. The witch was angry that someone came to pick her flower so she picked his eyes. But the flower had healing juices and it splashed on the man and healed him.”
Simon stared at her. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of all of this. River was looking at him hopefully, as though she wanted him to make sense of the story. Or perhaps …
“That’s a good story,” he said, hoping that he sounded convincing. “Who told it to you?”
“I read it,” River said. “Then I made it better. Hair doesn’t grow to the bottom of a tower. Not possible. Tears do not have healing properties. Flower made more sense.”
Simon managed not to laugh. He leaned forward and stroked her hair instead.
“Quite right, Mei-Mei,” he said. “Quite right.”
Title: Superhero
Fandom: Black Books
Rating: PG
Word Count: 118
Summary: Fran asks a question. This is a mistake.
“Bernard,” Fran said. “Why is there a large blackened patch on the ceiling of your shop?”
Apparently, this wasn’t a good question to ask.
“There was a thing!” Bernard shrieked, flailing his hands dramatically. “A thing, a massive, massive thing! And Manny was being useless, just standing there, flapping around and moaning like, like a dead fish so I had to take charge! I had to be brave and true! Like … like a superhero!”
“Ooooooookay,” Fran said after a moment. “Manny?”
“There was a wasp,” Manny said, sounding rather tired. “I was trying to find a newspaper when Bernard decided to use his lighter and an aerosol … ”
“Superhero,” Bernard muttered smugly, flicking the lighter proudly.
Title: Gentlemen Prefer Blonds
Fandom: Confessions of Dorian Gray
Rating: PG
Word Count: 156
Summary: Dorian wasn't quite expecting the story to go that way ...
The book wasn’t quite what I was expecting.
It was wonderfully written, of course. Dear Oscar had a amazing way with words after all. But there were certain moments where I was left … well, more than a little confused.
“Oscar.”
“Yes, Dorian?”
“When exactly did my hair become blond?”
He blinked at me in an innocent sort of way. I assumed a hurt expression.
“Are you perhaps suggesting that my good looks could be improved?”
“Not at all, my dearest boy! It’s only that there is something particularly … delightful about a youth with blond hair … ”
“Say no more, Oscar. And the ending?”
He gave me an injured look and started talking about expectations and readers and stories. I listened indulgently for a while, then … silenced him successfully.
I don’t mind. He’s right, a good story needs an end of some sort.
I somehow suspect my real story will end quite differently.
Title: Inside Out
Fandom: Blake's 7
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Blake/Avon
Word Count: 1622
Summary: Blake and Avon talk. A little too much.
It was all Vila’s fault.
He was the one who had smuggled alcohol back onto The Liberator. He was the one who had insisted that they all shared it when they’d caught him with it (all right, perhaps actually accepting the offer had been Blake’s mistake but still.) And then he was the one who had started talking about sex.
“No, I mean it,” he insisted, sitting up to try and show how much he meant what he was saying. “You can learn more about a man or a woman if you take them to bed than at any other time.”
“How do you work that out?” Gan asked, sounding gently amused and patting Vila in a gentle sort of way. Vila grinned up at him proudly, clearly pleased to be sharing knowledge with them all.
“Well first off, you see them with their defences down,” he said enthusiastically. “Nobody can keep up all their pretences and masks in bed, it’s just not possible - ”
“You’d like to think that anyway,” Jenna muttered and Blake wondered if there was a story there. Perhaps he would ask her sometime.
“And secondly,” Vila said, clearly determined not to be interrupted. “You can find out all this stuff. What do they like? If you know what they like, you can find out why they like it. You can find out them. Do they have, you know, weird little fetishes? Fetishes are great, I knew this guy once who couldn’t get it up unless his partners were wearing high heeled shoes … ”
He trailed off into another story and it should have all been forgotten. Only just as he’d mentioned finding out “them”, Blake had looked up and met Avon’s eyes. And seen the challenge that had flickered there, just for a second.
When they’d finally split up to go to their quarters, Blake had followed Avon to his. Avon hadn’t tried to stop him. He’d let him in and watched as Blake closed the door behind him, a tiny, twisted smile on his lips.
“Letting that idiot get into your mind, Blake? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Vila’s probably the only person on this ship more likely to get us all killed than you.”
“Is that one of your many threats, Avon?”
“Merely a warning.” Avon folded his arms but he was still smiling that little smile, looking at Blake thoughtfully. “Do you hope to bed me then? Get into my head, find out everything about me?”
“That would be fascinating,” Blake said dryly. “If unlikely. Appealing though.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Avon said. “You’d just love to get inside me, wouldn’t you, Blake?”
Blake wondered if it was the drink that made a small shiver run down his spine at the idea of that. He hoped that it wasn’t noticeable to Avon. This was stupid, he shouldn’t be here … and yet …
“You’d quite like to get inside me, wouldn’t you, Avon?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Avon’s smile flickered, very slightly.
“I’m already inside you, Blake. It’s not hard to get into your mind.”
“No?” Blake asked lightly. “Well then, I suppose I’d better go to the trouble of seducing you then. I’d better make it good or you’ll be bored if there’s nothing to learn.”
“I’m sure you would be dreadful at seduction,” Avon said, his eyes still flicking over Blake’s face. “Like watching a bull in a china shop.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bother with any of the finer points with you,” Blake said quietly, moving just a little closer. “What would be the point? You’d hate being seduced anyway, wouldn’t you? You feel like it was being tricked.”
Avon gave a small shrug. Was it Blake’s imagination or was Avon the littlest bit flushed? He resisted the urge to move even closer to see.
“So, how would you not seduce me then?” Avon asked, his voice still cool as ever. “Throw yourself on me, perhaps? Slobbering like a dog?”
“No,” Blake said, keeping his voice quite composed. “I’d just walk up to you, rather like this and get you by the arms and kiss you. Quite gently. You look like you have quite soft lips, it would be a pity to bruise them.”
“I don’t bruise easily, Blake.”
“Of course not. Still. I’d be gentle anyway. I prefer things gentle. And I wouldn’t want to make you angry. So slow kisses at first, to see if you respond.”
“And you think I would?” Avon was trying to sneer but Blake was sure there was something there, just the faintest touch of … something.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Maybe,” Avon repeated dismissively. “Or maybe I prefer it rough, Blake. Did you think of that? If you kiss me sweetly, I might bite you.”
Oh, that shouldn’t have made him shiver, it shouldn’t, but the thought of Avon biting his lips … Blake had to swallow, had to hope that it didn’t show on his face. It probably did though because Avon’s attempt at a sneer became a smirk and he stepped closer to the table that was between them.
“Yes, I’d bite you,” he said, almost conversationally. “Bite that mouth of yours, make you bleed. I wouldn’t stop either, God, I think I might enjoy hurting you.”
“And maybe I’d enjoy being hurt,” Blake said before he could stop himself. “Or does that not feature in this little fantasy?”
Avon rocked on his feet, just the tiniest bit but oh, Blake saw it. He had to swallow again before he could speak. A part of him was telling him that they needed to stop this ridiculous conversation, that he should make his excuses and leave but another part of him, the bigger part, seemed compelled to keep talking.
“I don’t mind it rough, Avon. I’d let you bite me if that was going to please you. I’m just not going to bite you back, that’s all. So you bite away until I get sick of it and then I think I’ll put my bruised and bloody mouth somewhere else on you.”
That got a twitch. Avon’s eyes were slightly wider than normal now and he’d laid his hands on the table, fingers splayed. He had long fingers, beautiful long fingers that Blake was suddenly paying much more attention to than he ever had before.
“Go on your knees for me, would you, Blake?” Avon’s voice sounded a tiny bit hoarse. “I didn’t see you as the kneeling type.”
“Who said that I’d kneel?” Blake flashed back, trying to sound like he was in control, trying not to picture himself on his knees in front of Avon. “Besides, I’m not going that low yet. No, I’d kiss your throat, start working on stripping you. Peel you out of those leathers.”
“Far too slowly, I’m sure,” Avon said. “I think I’d tear your clothes off. Maybe take off some of your skin too, scratch you and make you bleed.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Blake said. “I’m not going to scratch you back though. I don’t care how much you hurt me, how much you try to bully me into retaliation. I’m going to stay slow with you, Avon, slow and gentle, because I want to see what you’re like when someone just won’t hurt you.”
Avon’s fingers tensed on the table. He swayed a little and Blake wondered what he was thinking. Was he picturing this the way Blake was? Did the idea appeal?
“High and mighty as ever,” Avon whispered, his voice shaking. “I’d hurt you, Blake. The softer you are with me, the more I’ll savage you. You won’t tame me.”
“I don’t want you tamed,” Blake said. “Just … briefly gentled perhaps. I want to see you open, Avon. Violence won’t open you. So no matter what you do to me, I’ll stay slow and gentle and smooth and see what you do.”
“I won’t gentle,” Avon breathed. His hands were trembling on the wood, he was staring at Blake and somehow, their faces had got closer together, too close. “I’ll never gentle with you, Blake. Never.”
“So you’ll fight me?” Blake was trying to keep his voice calm but it wasn’t working. The shudder there had to be obvious now, his own fingers gripping the table too. Picturing Avon in his arms, writhing and scratching and biting, God …
“Every step,” Avon ground out. “Every step of the way, Blake.”
When had their heads got so close together? He could feel Avon’s breath on his mouth.
“I’ll tear you down,” Avon whispered. “I’ll tear you down, Blake. I will make you scream until your throat is broken, make you beg for me at the same time. I will show you all the power I have and I will pin you down beneath it.”
“And I’ll slip inside you,” Blake whispered back. “I’ll seduce you, Avon. You can’t fight me with violence, you can’t stop me. I’ll just sink into every part of you, show you something more than you believe you can have.”
Avon swayed. For a second, for a hot, shining moment, their lips were touching, Avon’s damp, Blake’s dry. Blake longed to deepen it, wanted to taste, wanted -
But Avon twitched back and the moment was shattered. They stared at each other, glassy-eyed and gasping. Avon stepped back and Blake turned and walked out, knowing that if he didn’t, Avon would fight as he’d threatened, use every tool he had to keep Blake away from him. It wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to fight Avon. He wanted -
To be inside him?
Blake leaned against the wall and swallowed. It was entirely possible that Vila had been right.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Title: Straight Up and Bitter
Fandom: Blake's 7
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2640
Summary: The Coffee Shop AU every fandom needs. Avon only went inside to avoid the weather ...
Avon only went into the coffee shop because it started to rain.
He didn’t, on the whole, pay for coffee. What exactly was the point of paying a ridiculous amount for something that you could make more cheaply in your own house? Oh, some people wanted to add ridiculous sprinkles and syrups and God knew what else, but as Avon had better things to do with his life than drink coffee that didn’t even taste like coffee any more.
But he didn’t want to get rained on. The heating in his flat was currently not working properly and it would take forever to dry out if he got wet. Better to buy a coffee now and stay warm in the shop for a little while.
He ducked into the place, not really paying much attention until he was inside. It was darker than he expected and it took him a moment to realise that it contained a log fire rather than sensible central heating. Obviously, it was one of those places that went for ambience rather than practicality. There was a jumble of tables that didn’t really match, one of which had a pile of newspapers on.
The counter looked clean, at least. There was a small man leaning against it, doing a magic trick for two girls who were watching him avidly. Avon stared for a moment, then coughed pointedly. The man blinked, then smiled brightly.
“Oh, hello! Do you want coffee?”
“Why else would I come into a coffee shop?” Avon couldn’t help asking. The man didn’t look at all perturbed by the rudeness. Probably he was the sort who heard so many insults that they all rolled off him.
“What would you like? We have everything! We have syrups, we have - ”
“I want coffee,” Avon interrupted. “Normal coffee. Black.”
The man gave him a sad look, as though Avon had personally kicked his puppy. He began to make the drink and Avon looked around, trying to find a menu to see how much he would be paying for this. To his irritation, there wasn’t anything obvious around that would tell him that. The little man happily pushed a mug at him that looked suspiciously like it might have just been pulled out from somewhere random.
“That’s two-fifty please.”
Avon ground his teeth and handed over the money. It was ridiculously expensive, as far as he was concerned, but he supposed he’d chosen that when he’d walked into this daft place. He took his coffee, grabbed a newspaper and found the darkest, quietest corner that he could to sit and read.
It wasn’t a terribly noisy place, that was something. There were quite a few people there, mostly chatting quietly, some reading the way Avon was. Personally, Avon thought it ought to be busier there but he supposed quite a few people would still be at work - if they had jobs.
He scowled at the thought. He couldn’t exactly say that he was sorry to have lost the job. It had been tedious and ridiculous and far beneath his intelligence level. But it was a little galling to be fired when you had been genuinely trying to help.
Although possibly, looking back, he shouldn’t have told his boss that an incompetent monkey could have worked out the solution to the problem. And following that up with suggesting that his boss had been too busy having sex with his secretary to be focused had also probably hadn’t been the best move.
Avon had a little trouble with keeping his mouth shut when people irritated him. This was why he had been fired from three jobs and asked politely to resign from two more.
He sighed and wondered if there was any point looking at jobs pages in the other papers. It was probably sensible to get something small to tide him over - assuming there was anything that would hire him. He was generally over-qualified for everything and it was a little awkward when they asked why he had left his last job.
And now that Tynus had been arrested, he didn’t have anybody for a false reference either. Damn.
He had finished his coffee and it was still raining. Avon looked over at the counter. The little man had gone and now there was a blonde woman, prodding at the coffee machine with a screwdriver. Slightly curious, Avon got up and drifted over.
“What are you doing to it?”
“It’s broken,” the woman said, flashing a quick smile at him. “Again. Luckily, I’m fairly handy with this or all the profits would go to fixing it.”
Avon considered pointing out that fixing something that broke all the time was generally a false economy - better to put out the money for something that didn’t break all the time - but before he could, the woman had prodded the innards of the machine again, put it down and then turned the it on. It whirred into life and the woman smiled.
“Vila! You can stop lazing around in the back, it’s working!”
She turned and directed the smile at Avon. It was a nice smile and Avon briefly considered flirting with her before deciding it was too much effort.
“Well, if it’s fixed, can I have another cup of coffee? Plain.”
She nodded her head and cheerfully began fixing him another mug. The other man - Vila, apparently - trotted out of the back and patted the coffee machine gently.
“You can always fix him. What would we do without you?”
“Make a less honest living, probably,” the woman responded, grinning a bit. Vila grinned back and shrugged in an innocent sort of way. Avon tuned him out and looked at the woman again. She was pushing the coffee towards him.
“One-fifty please.”
Avon blinked but kept his face completely smooth. He was quite happy to pay a pound less, it was her mistake, not his. Served them right for being stupid enough not to have an obvious menu. He handed her the money and slipped back from his seat, picking up another newspaper as he went. Quite a lot of other people were beginning to arrive now and Avon edged further back into his corner, determined to avoid all interaction with them if he possibly could. He glowered at the job section, dismissing most of the jobs as not worth his time. He would either have to settle for that or find someone else to fake a reference for him. Or find a job of a less reputable persuasion …
He sighed. It wasn’t exactly that he had any particular moral objection to the occasional bit of law breaking, particularly not if it was for personal gain, but he had rather hoped to leave that in his past. Some things were better left buried and that was one of those things. But if there was nothing else …
A sudden disturbance at the door made him look up. A man had just marched into the room, followed by a very attractive woman with short hair. She appeared to be trying to argue with him about something and the man seemed to be ignoring her. An uneasy stillness rippled through the customers. Apparently, this meant something to them.
“Everything all right?” Vila piped up, looking uneasy.
“Fine. Servalan is just leaving,” the man said clearly, moving behind the counter and patting him on the shoulder as he went past. He turned and looked at the woman who shook her head and sighed.
“Be reasonable, Blake. How long do you think that you can keep this place open? It’s a dream, that’s all. We’re offering you a more than reasonable sum - ”
“Which I choose not to accept,” Blake said clearly, putting his hands on the counter and glaring at her with cold eyes. “This is my shop and I have no intention of selling it to you or your people. Now please leave my shop.”
This got applause from some of the patrons which Avon thought was rather pathetic. As speeches went, it wasn’t much of one. Servalan gave another expressive sigh.
“Keep thinking Blake,” she said. “Our offer will drop as … viability drops. You may regret your decision.”
She turned and swept gracefully out. Blake gave a soft sigh but smiled around at his apparently very supportive patrons. Avon wondered what that had been about. Obviously, someone wanted to buy this place out and no wonder. It was a good spot. Blake would probably be more sensible to sell it, if he haggled now, he might be able to argue up the price.
He had finished his coffee again. The rain had stopped but Avon was feeling a niggle of curiosity. Blake and Jenna were talking in low voices and after a moment, he drifted up to the counter for the third time. Blake blinked at him and smiled a bright, disarming sort of smile.
“Hello. I haven’t seen you in here before, have I?”
“Black coffee,” Avon said, choosing not to become engaged. He was hoping to eavesdrop, not fake courtesy. Blake blinked in a mildly hurt sort of way and turned to the coffee machine while Avon feigned disinterest.
“She’ll come back,” Jenna said, obviously deciding to continue the conversation. “People like her don’t give up, Blake.”
“Let her come back,” Blake said flatly. “The Liberator is mine, I will never sell her, especially not to someone like Servalan.”
Avon only just managed to stop himself snorting at the ridiculous anthropomorphisation. Her? For God’s sake, it was a shop.
“Here you go. Two seventy-five.”
“What?!” Avon stared at him. “Do you imbeciles realise that you’ve charged me three different prices for the same drink?”
Blake blinked.
“Have we? Jenna, what did you charge?”
“One-fifty. Isn’t that right? It’s only black coffee … Vila must have served him the first time. Vila!”
Vila popped out from the back again, smiling genially.
“How much did you charge this man for coffee?”
“Oh … I forget,” Vila said brightly. “What did he have?”
“Plain black coffee,” Avon ground out. “You charged a pound more than she did!”
“Oh. Oops?”
“Vila,” Blake said in a mild sort of way. Vila sighed and moved over, reaching out and producing a pound coin out of Avon’s ear.
“Oh look,” he said. “There it is!”
Avon snatched the coin, resisting the urge to break the idiot’s fingers at the same time. He had a feeling that the little twit was lifting some of Blake’s profits - and apparently the fool was aware of it!
“Sorry about that,” Blake said comfortably. “Vila gets a bit distracted sometimes.”
“Perhaps if you were able to manage such a thing as a menu, this wouldn’t be such a problem,” Avon said tartly.
“We did have one,” Blake said, looking vaguely around. “I think Zen ate it … ”
Avon refused to ask what Zen was. He shook his head and took his coffee, deciding that he was going to get a free drink out of all this idiocy if nothing else.
“It didn’t occur to you to make a new one?” he asked coldly.
“More important things to sort out,” Blake said.
“Well, if that’s how you see the every day running of your business, perhaps you should sell to Servalan,” Avon said waspishly.
Jenna scowled horribly but Blake absently flapped a hand and she stayed quiet, just glaring daggers. Blake was staring at him in a considering way which Avon was finding rather irritating. He finished his coffee and put the mug down with a clink, intending to stalk out and never set place in this ridiculous place again.
“Sounds like you’ve been coming to a lot of conclusions about my business,” Blake said pleasantly.
“Only that it’s run by idiots, lacks enterprise and is clearly wasting potential,” Avon said, unable to stop himself. Blake had asked after all. Not that Avon would usually let that prevent him speaking the truth anyway. He despised inefficiency and this was clearly ridiculous.
“Are you any good with finances?” Blake asked.
Avon wasn’t entirely sure what that had to do with anything he had just said. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Probably better than any of you.”
“Good,” Blake said, apparently entirely unworried by Avon’s tone. “You can start tomorrow then. We need someone who can handle that side of the business, we’ve been letting it slide lately and with Servalan sniffing around, we could use everything all ship-shape.”
Avon gaped at him. So did Vila. Jenna shook her head slightly, a smile on her face.
“Did you just … order me to do your fiances?” Avon spluttered at last. It had been along time since he’d felt quite so bewildered.
“Oh, I’ll pay you,” Blake said easily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world.
“How much?”
“That depends on how useful you are.”
Avon stared at Blake for a long moment. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of any of this. Was Blake playing a game at Avon’s expense? Avon loathed people laughing at him. But if Blake was offering money … this was as good a way as any to keep money coming in until he’d found something better.
“All right,” he said calmly. “I’ll be here tomorrow. You’d better have some sort of contract set out. And if you’re making fun of me, I will make you very, very sorry.”
“Understood,” Blake said calmly. “I’ll see you at nine.”
Avon collected his coat and left. He was still a little baffled by what had just happened, to say the least. Still. If Blake actually paid him what he was worth, it wouldn’t necessarily be too bad. Especially if Vila stayed away from him. Avon had serious suspicions about that little idiot.
The flat was as cold as he had been dreading. Avon didn’t bother turning on the light - it had taken to flickering anyway, another thing that needed sorting and that the incompetents who owned this place needed to sort out. He turned on his laptop and looked up Blake’s name and The Liberator. Quite a lot came up and Avon began sorting through it. Blake was apparently quite political - his name came up linked to various groups, some of which met in The Liberator on assorted nights. Avon rolled his eyes at that. There was no point trying to change the system, it was fundamentally what it was. The only thing you could do was live in it and get to the top if you could. Blake was obviously a delusional who couldn’t see that.
He searched for Vila next and quickly discovered Vila Restal who had spent time in prison for theft. Avon wondered if Blake knew. Well, he’d seemed pretty unsurprised by the idea that Vila might have pocketed a pound.
Searching for Jenna, even when adding Blake’s name or The Liberator’s bought up nothing. He’d need a last name to get anything substantial for her. Well, at least he had something on Blake. He did still wonder how the man had got that shop though. He would have to ask.
With a low sigh, he turned the machine off and sat back in the dark. This was probably going to be troublesome … but he couldn’t help feeling flickers of interest. He wasn’t sure that he wanted that. Interest usually led to disappointment, or worse, involvement. He knew better than to care about people, it was always a mistake. It wasn’t a good idea to care about possessions either, except for keeping them safe. It was better not to care at all.
Well, he wouldn’t end up caring for these idiots, that was for sure. He would just get whatever job Blake wanted him to do done, sort out the accounts and get himself something better.
It would all work out fine.
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: G
Word Count: 273
Summary: River tells Simon a story.
“There’s a flower,” River said.
Simon looked up. There certainly weren’t any flowers anywhere on the ship - unless they were in Inara’s shuttle - so he wasn’t quite sure what River was talking about.
“A flower?” he repeated.
“Yes,” River said, nodding her head. “A flower. It’s rare. One flower. But the people who grew it had to give it up. It was a bargain, you see. To get what they needed to grow it. They gave away their flower and the witch they gave it to took it away and grew it all tall and big. And she looked after the flower but the flower was lonely. Flowers need the sun. Witches don’t. They don’t like the sun. So she hid the flower until the flower grew too big and a man found it and tried to pick it himself. The witch was angry that someone came to pick her flower so she picked his eyes. But the flower had healing juices and it splashed on the man and healed him.”
Simon stared at her. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of all of this. River was looking at him hopefully, as though she wanted him to make sense of the story. Or perhaps …
“That’s a good story,” he said, hoping that he sounded convincing. “Who told it to you?”
“I read it,” River said. “Then I made it better. Hair doesn’t grow to the bottom of a tower. Not possible. Tears do not have healing properties. Flower made more sense.”
Simon managed not to laugh. He leaned forward and stroked her hair instead.
“Quite right, Mei-Mei,” he said. “Quite right.”
Title: Superhero
Fandom: Black Books
Rating: PG
Word Count: 118
Summary: Fran asks a question. This is a mistake.
“Bernard,” Fran said. “Why is there a large blackened patch on the ceiling of your shop?”
Apparently, this wasn’t a good question to ask.
“There was a thing!” Bernard shrieked, flailing his hands dramatically. “A thing, a massive, massive thing! And Manny was being useless, just standing there, flapping around and moaning like, like a dead fish so I had to take charge! I had to be brave and true! Like … like a superhero!”
“Ooooooookay,” Fran said after a moment. “Manny?”
“There was a wasp,” Manny said, sounding rather tired. “I was trying to find a newspaper when Bernard decided to use his lighter and an aerosol … ”
“Superhero,” Bernard muttered smugly, flicking the lighter proudly.
Title: Gentlemen Prefer Blonds
Fandom: Confessions of Dorian Gray
Rating: PG
Word Count: 156
Summary: Dorian wasn't quite expecting the story to go that way ...
The book wasn’t quite what I was expecting.
It was wonderfully written, of course. Dear Oscar had a amazing way with words after all. But there were certain moments where I was left … well, more than a little confused.
“Oscar.”
“Yes, Dorian?”
“When exactly did my hair become blond?”
He blinked at me in an innocent sort of way. I assumed a hurt expression.
“Are you perhaps suggesting that my good looks could be improved?”
“Not at all, my dearest boy! It’s only that there is something particularly … delightful about a youth with blond hair … ”
“Say no more, Oscar. And the ending?”
He gave me an injured look and started talking about expectations and readers and stories. I listened indulgently for a while, then … silenced him successfully.
I don’t mind. He’s right, a good story needs an end of some sort.
I somehow suspect my real story will end quite differently.
Title: Inside Out
Fandom: Blake's 7
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Blake/Avon
Word Count: 1622
Summary: Blake and Avon talk. A little too much.
It was all Vila’s fault.
He was the one who had smuggled alcohol back onto The Liberator. He was the one who had insisted that they all shared it when they’d caught him with it (all right, perhaps actually accepting the offer had been Blake’s mistake but still.) And then he was the one who had started talking about sex.
“No, I mean it,” he insisted, sitting up to try and show how much he meant what he was saying. “You can learn more about a man or a woman if you take them to bed than at any other time.”
“How do you work that out?” Gan asked, sounding gently amused and patting Vila in a gentle sort of way. Vila grinned up at him proudly, clearly pleased to be sharing knowledge with them all.
“Well first off, you see them with their defences down,” he said enthusiastically. “Nobody can keep up all their pretences and masks in bed, it’s just not possible - ”
“You’d like to think that anyway,” Jenna muttered and Blake wondered if there was a story there. Perhaps he would ask her sometime.
“And secondly,” Vila said, clearly determined not to be interrupted. “You can find out all this stuff. What do they like? If you know what they like, you can find out why they like it. You can find out them. Do they have, you know, weird little fetishes? Fetishes are great, I knew this guy once who couldn’t get it up unless his partners were wearing high heeled shoes … ”
He trailed off into another story and it should have all been forgotten. Only just as he’d mentioned finding out “them”, Blake had looked up and met Avon’s eyes. And seen the challenge that had flickered there, just for a second.
When they’d finally split up to go to their quarters, Blake had followed Avon to his. Avon hadn’t tried to stop him. He’d let him in and watched as Blake closed the door behind him, a tiny, twisted smile on his lips.
“Letting that idiot get into your mind, Blake? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Vila’s probably the only person on this ship more likely to get us all killed than you.”
“Is that one of your many threats, Avon?”
“Merely a warning.” Avon folded his arms but he was still smiling that little smile, looking at Blake thoughtfully. “Do you hope to bed me then? Get into my head, find out everything about me?”
“That would be fascinating,” Blake said dryly. “If unlikely. Appealing though.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Avon said. “You’d just love to get inside me, wouldn’t you, Blake?”
Blake wondered if it was the drink that made a small shiver run down his spine at the idea of that. He hoped that it wasn’t noticeable to Avon. This was stupid, he shouldn’t be here … and yet …
“You’d quite like to get inside me, wouldn’t you, Avon?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Avon’s smile flickered, very slightly.
“I’m already inside you, Blake. It’s not hard to get into your mind.”
“No?” Blake asked lightly. “Well then, I suppose I’d better go to the trouble of seducing you then. I’d better make it good or you’ll be bored if there’s nothing to learn.”
“I’m sure you would be dreadful at seduction,” Avon said, his eyes still flicking over Blake’s face. “Like watching a bull in a china shop.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bother with any of the finer points with you,” Blake said quietly, moving just a little closer. “What would be the point? You’d hate being seduced anyway, wouldn’t you? You feel like it was being tricked.”
Avon gave a small shrug. Was it Blake’s imagination or was Avon the littlest bit flushed? He resisted the urge to move even closer to see.
“So, how would you not seduce me then?” Avon asked, his voice still cool as ever. “Throw yourself on me, perhaps? Slobbering like a dog?”
“No,” Blake said, keeping his voice quite composed. “I’d just walk up to you, rather like this and get you by the arms and kiss you. Quite gently. You look like you have quite soft lips, it would be a pity to bruise them.”
“I don’t bruise easily, Blake.”
“Of course not. Still. I’d be gentle anyway. I prefer things gentle. And I wouldn’t want to make you angry. So slow kisses at first, to see if you respond.”
“And you think I would?” Avon was trying to sneer but Blake was sure there was something there, just the faintest touch of … something.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Maybe,” Avon repeated dismissively. “Or maybe I prefer it rough, Blake. Did you think of that? If you kiss me sweetly, I might bite you.”
Oh, that shouldn’t have made him shiver, it shouldn’t, but the thought of Avon biting his lips … Blake had to swallow, had to hope that it didn’t show on his face. It probably did though because Avon’s attempt at a sneer became a smirk and he stepped closer to the table that was between them.
“Yes, I’d bite you,” he said, almost conversationally. “Bite that mouth of yours, make you bleed. I wouldn’t stop either, God, I think I might enjoy hurting you.”
“And maybe I’d enjoy being hurt,” Blake said before he could stop himself. “Or does that not feature in this little fantasy?”
Avon rocked on his feet, just the tiniest bit but oh, Blake saw it. He had to swallow again before he could speak. A part of him was telling him that they needed to stop this ridiculous conversation, that he should make his excuses and leave but another part of him, the bigger part, seemed compelled to keep talking.
“I don’t mind it rough, Avon. I’d let you bite me if that was going to please you. I’m just not going to bite you back, that’s all. So you bite away until I get sick of it and then I think I’ll put my bruised and bloody mouth somewhere else on you.”
That got a twitch. Avon’s eyes were slightly wider than normal now and he’d laid his hands on the table, fingers splayed. He had long fingers, beautiful long fingers that Blake was suddenly paying much more attention to than he ever had before.
“Go on your knees for me, would you, Blake?” Avon’s voice sounded a tiny bit hoarse. “I didn’t see you as the kneeling type.”
“Who said that I’d kneel?” Blake flashed back, trying to sound like he was in control, trying not to picture himself on his knees in front of Avon. “Besides, I’m not going that low yet. No, I’d kiss your throat, start working on stripping you. Peel you out of those leathers.”
“Far too slowly, I’m sure,” Avon said. “I think I’d tear your clothes off. Maybe take off some of your skin too, scratch you and make you bleed.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Blake said. “I’m not going to scratch you back though. I don’t care how much you hurt me, how much you try to bully me into retaliation. I’m going to stay slow with you, Avon, slow and gentle, because I want to see what you’re like when someone just won’t hurt you.”
Avon’s fingers tensed on the table. He swayed a little and Blake wondered what he was thinking. Was he picturing this the way Blake was? Did the idea appeal?
“High and mighty as ever,” Avon whispered, his voice shaking. “I’d hurt you, Blake. The softer you are with me, the more I’ll savage you. You won’t tame me.”
“I don’t want you tamed,” Blake said. “Just … briefly gentled perhaps. I want to see you open, Avon. Violence won’t open you. So no matter what you do to me, I’ll stay slow and gentle and smooth and see what you do.”
“I won’t gentle,” Avon breathed. His hands were trembling on the wood, he was staring at Blake and somehow, their faces had got closer together, too close. “I’ll never gentle with you, Blake. Never.”
“So you’ll fight me?” Blake was trying to keep his voice calm but it wasn’t working. The shudder there had to be obvious now, his own fingers gripping the table too. Picturing Avon in his arms, writhing and scratching and biting, God …
“Every step,” Avon ground out. “Every step of the way, Blake.”
When had their heads got so close together? He could feel Avon’s breath on his mouth.
“I’ll tear you down,” Avon whispered. “I’ll tear you down, Blake. I will make you scream until your throat is broken, make you beg for me at the same time. I will show you all the power I have and I will pin you down beneath it.”
“And I’ll slip inside you,” Blake whispered back. “I’ll seduce you, Avon. You can’t fight me with violence, you can’t stop me. I’ll just sink into every part of you, show you something more than you believe you can have.”
Avon swayed. For a second, for a hot, shining moment, their lips were touching, Avon’s damp, Blake’s dry. Blake longed to deepen it, wanted to taste, wanted -
But Avon twitched back and the moment was shattered. They stared at each other, glassy-eyed and gasping. Avon stepped back and Blake turned and walked out, knowing that if he didn’t, Avon would fight as he’d threatened, use every tool he had to keep Blake away from him. It wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to fight Avon. He wanted -
To be inside him?
Blake leaned against the wall and swallowed. It was entirely possible that Vila had been right.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Title: Straight Up and Bitter
Fandom: Blake's 7
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2640
Summary: The Coffee Shop AU every fandom needs. Avon only went inside to avoid the weather ...
Avon only went into the coffee shop because it started to rain.
He didn’t, on the whole, pay for coffee. What exactly was the point of paying a ridiculous amount for something that you could make more cheaply in your own house? Oh, some people wanted to add ridiculous sprinkles and syrups and God knew what else, but as Avon had better things to do with his life than drink coffee that didn’t even taste like coffee any more.
But he didn’t want to get rained on. The heating in his flat was currently not working properly and it would take forever to dry out if he got wet. Better to buy a coffee now and stay warm in the shop for a little while.
He ducked into the place, not really paying much attention until he was inside. It was darker than he expected and it took him a moment to realise that it contained a log fire rather than sensible central heating. Obviously, it was one of those places that went for ambience rather than practicality. There was a jumble of tables that didn’t really match, one of which had a pile of newspapers on.
The counter looked clean, at least. There was a small man leaning against it, doing a magic trick for two girls who were watching him avidly. Avon stared for a moment, then coughed pointedly. The man blinked, then smiled brightly.
“Oh, hello! Do you want coffee?”
“Why else would I come into a coffee shop?” Avon couldn’t help asking. The man didn’t look at all perturbed by the rudeness. Probably he was the sort who heard so many insults that they all rolled off him.
“What would you like? We have everything! We have syrups, we have - ”
“I want coffee,” Avon interrupted. “Normal coffee. Black.”
The man gave him a sad look, as though Avon had personally kicked his puppy. He began to make the drink and Avon looked around, trying to find a menu to see how much he would be paying for this. To his irritation, there wasn’t anything obvious around that would tell him that. The little man happily pushed a mug at him that looked suspiciously like it might have just been pulled out from somewhere random.
“That’s two-fifty please.”
Avon ground his teeth and handed over the money. It was ridiculously expensive, as far as he was concerned, but he supposed he’d chosen that when he’d walked into this daft place. He took his coffee, grabbed a newspaper and found the darkest, quietest corner that he could to sit and read.
It wasn’t a terribly noisy place, that was something. There were quite a few people there, mostly chatting quietly, some reading the way Avon was. Personally, Avon thought it ought to be busier there but he supposed quite a few people would still be at work - if they had jobs.
He scowled at the thought. He couldn’t exactly say that he was sorry to have lost the job. It had been tedious and ridiculous and far beneath his intelligence level. But it was a little galling to be fired when you had been genuinely trying to help.
Although possibly, looking back, he shouldn’t have told his boss that an incompetent monkey could have worked out the solution to the problem. And following that up with suggesting that his boss had been too busy having sex with his secretary to be focused had also probably hadn’t been the best move.
Avon had a little trouble with keeping his mouth shut when people irritated him. This was why he had been fired from three jobs and asked politely to resign from two more.
He sighed and wondered if there was any point looking at jobs pages in the other papers. It was probably sensible to get something small to tide him over - assuming there was anything that would hire him. He was generally over-qualified for everything and it was a little awkward when they asked why he had left his last job.
And now that Tynus had been arrested, he didn’t have anybody for a false reference either. Damn.
He had finished his coffee and it was still raining. Avon looked over at the counter. The little man had gone and now there was a blonde woman, prodding at the coffee machine with a screwdriver. Slightly curious, Avon got up and drifted over.
“What are you doing to it?”
“It’s broken,” the woman said, flashing a quick smile at him. “Again. Luckily, I’m fairly handy with this or all the profits would go to fixing it.”
Avon considered pointing out that fixing something that broke all the time was generally a false economy - better to put out the money for something that didn’t break all the time - but before he could, the woman had prodded the innards of the machine again, put it down and then turned the it on. It whirred into life and the woman smiled.
“Vila! You can stop lazing around in the back, it’s working!”
She turned and directed the smile at Avon. It was a nice smile and Avon briefly considered flirting with her before deciding it was too much effort.
“Well, if it’s fixed, can I have another cup of coffee? Plain.”
She nodded her head and cheerfully began fixing him another mug. The other man - Vila, apparently - trotted out of the back and patted the coffee machine gently.
“You can always fix him. What would we do without you?”
“Make a less honest living, probably,” the woman responded, grinning a bit. Vila grinned back and shrugged in an innocent sort of way. Avon tuned him out and looked at the woman again. She was pushing the coffee towards him.
“One-fifty please.”
Avon blinked but kept his face completely smooth. He was quite happy to pay a pound less, it was her mistake, not his. Served them right for being stupid enough not to have an obvious menu. He handed her the money and slipped back from his seat, picking up another newspaper as he went. Quite a lot of other people were beginning to arrive now and Avon edged further back into his corner, determined to avoid all interaction with them if he possibly could. He glowered at the job section, dismissing most of the jobs as not worth his time. He would either have to settle for that or find someone else to fake a reference for him. Or find a job of a less reputable persuasion …
He sighed. It wasn’t exactly that he had any particular moral objection to the occasional bit of law breaking, particularly not if it was for personal gain, but he had rather hoped to leave that in his past. Some things were better left buried and that was one of those things. But if there was nothing else …
A sudden disturbance at the door made him look up. A man had just marched into the room, followed by a very attractive woman with short hair. She appeared to be trying to argue with him about something and the man seemed to be ignoring her. An uneasy stillness rippled through the customers. Apparently, this meant something to them.
“Everything all right?” Vila piped up, looking uneasy.
“Fine. Servalan is just leaving,” the man said clearly, moving behind the counter and patting him on the shoulder as he went past. He turned and looked at the woman who shook her head and sighed.
“Be reasonable, Blake. How long do you think that you can keep this place open? It’s a dream, that’s all. We’re offering you a more than reasonable sum - ”
“Which I choose not to accept,” Blake said clearly, putting his hands on the counter and glaring at her with cold eyes. “This is my shop and I have no intention of selling it to you or your people. Now please leave my shop.”
This got applause from some of the patrons which Avon thought was rather pathetic. As speeches went, it wasn’t much of one. Servalan gave another expressive sigh.
“Keep thinking Blake,” she said. “Our offer will drop as … viability drops. You may regret your decision.”
She turned and swept gracefully out. Blake gave a soft sigh but smiled around at his apparently very supportive patrons. Avon wondered what that had been about. Obviously, someone wanted to buy this place out and no wonder. It was a good spot. Blake would probably be more sensible to sell it, if he haggled now, he might be able to argue up the price.
He had finished his coffee again. The rain had stopped but Avon was feeling a niggle of curiosity. Blake and Jenna were talking in low voices and after a moment, he drifted up to the counter for the third time. Blake blinked at him and smiled a bright, disarming sort of smile.
“Hello. I haven’t seen you in here before, have I?”
“Black coffee,” Avon said, choosing not to become engaged. He was hoping to eavesdrop, not fake courtesy. Blake blinked in a mildly hurt sort of way and turned to the coffee machine while Avon feigned disinterest.
“She’ll come back,” Jenna said, obviously deciding to continue the conversation. “People like her don’t give up, Blake.”
“Let her come back,” Blake said flatly. “The Liberator is mine, I will never sell her, especially not to someone like Servalan.”
Avon only just managed to stop himself snorting at the ridiculous anthropomorphisation. Her? For God’s sake, it was a shop.
“Here you go. Two seventy-five.”
“What?!” Avon stared at him. “Do you imbeciles realise that you’ve charged me three different prices for the same drink?”
Blake blinked.
“Have we? Jenna, what did you charge?”
“One-fifty. Isn’t that right? It’s only black coffee … Vila must have served him the first time. Vila!”
Vila popped out from the back again, smiling genially.
“How much did you charge this man for coffee?”
“Oh … I forget,” Vila said brightly. “What did he have?”
“Plain black coffee,” Avon ground out. “You charged a pound more than she did!”
“Oh. Oops?”
“Vila,” Blake said in a mild sort of way. Vila sighed and moved over, reaching out and producing a pound coin out of Avon’s ear.
“Oh look,” he said. “There it is!”
Avon snatched the coin, resisting the urge to break the idiot’s fingers at the same time. He had a feeling that the little twit was lifting some of Blake’s profits - and apparently the fool was aware of it!
“Sorry about that,” Blake said comfortably. “Vila gets a bit distracted sometimes.”
“Perhaps if you were able to manage such a thing as a menu, this wouldn’t be such a problem,” Avon said tartly.
“We did have one,” Blake said, looking vaguely around. “I think Zen ate it … ”
Avon refused to ask what Zen was. He shook his head and took his coffee, deciding that he was going to get a free drink out of all this idiocy if nothing else.
“It didn’t occur to you to make a new one?” he asked coldly.
“More important things to sort out,” Blake said.
“Well, if that’s how you see the every day running of your business, perhaps you should sell to Servalan,” Avon said waspishly.
Jenna scowled horribly but Blake absently flapped a hand and she stayed quiet, just glaring daggers. Blake was staring at him in a considering way which Avon was finding rather irritating. He finished his coffee and put the mug down with a clink, intending to stalk out and never set place in this ridiculous place again.
“Sounds like you’ve been coming to a lot of conclusions about my business,” Blake said pleasantly.
“Only that it’s run by idiots, lacks enterprise and is clearly wasting potential,” Avon said, unable to stop himself. Blake had asked after all. Not that Avon would usually let that prevent him speaking the truth anyway. He despised inefficiency and this was clearly ridiculous.
“Are you any good with finances?” Blake asked.
Avon wasn’t entirely sure what that had to do with anything he had just said. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Probably better than any of you.”
“Good,” Blake said, apparently entirely unworried by Avon’s tone. “You can start tomorrow then. We need someone who can handle that side of the business, we’ve been letting it slide lately and with Servalan sniffing around, we could use everything all ship-shape.”
Avon gaped at him. So did Vila. Jenna shook her head slightly, a smile on her face.
“Did you just … order me to do your fiances?” Avon spluttered at last. It had been along time since he’d felt quite so bewildered.
“Oh, I’ll pay you,” Blake said easily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world.
“How much?”
“That depends on how useful you are.”
Avon stared at Blake for a long moment. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of any of this. Was Blake playing a game at Avon’s expense? Avon loathed people laughing at him. But if Blake was offering money … this was as good a way as any to keep money coming in until he’d found something better.
“All right,” he said calmly. “I’ll be here tomorrow. You’d better have some sort of contract set out. And if you’re making fun of me, I will make you very, very sorry.”
“Understood,” Blake said calmly. “I’ll see you at nine.”
Avon collected his coat and left. He was still a little baffled by what had just happened, to say the least. Still. If Blake actually paid him what he was worth, it wouldn’t necessarily be too bad. Especially if Vila stayed away from him. Avon had serious suspicions about that little idiot.
The flat was as cold as he had been dreading. Avon didn’t bother turning on the light - it had taken to flickering anyway, another thing that needed sorting and that the incompetents who owned this place needed to sort out. He turned on his laptop and looked up Blake’s name and The Liberator. Quite a lot came up and Avon began sorting through it. Blake was apparently quite political - his name came up linked to various groups, some of which met in The Liberator on assorted nights. Avon rolled his eyes at that. There was no point trying to change the system, it was fundamentally what it was. The only thing you could do was live in it and get to the top if you could. Blake was obviously a delusional who couldn’t see that.
He searched for Vila next and quickly discovered Vila Restal who had spent time in prison for theft. Avon wondered if Blake knew. Well, he’d seemed pretty unsurprised by the idea that Vila might have pocketed a pound.
Searching for Jenna, even when adding Blake’s name or The Liberator’s bought up nothing. He’d need a last name to get anything substantial for her. Well, at least he had something on Blake. He did still wonder how the man had got that shop though. He would have to ask.
With a low sigh, he turned the machine off and sat back in the dark. This was probably going to be troublesome … but he couldn’t help feeling flickers of interest. He wasn’t sure that he wanted that. Interest usually led to disappointment, or worse, involvement. He knew better than to care about people, it was always a mistake. It wasn’t a good idea to care about possessions either, except for keeping them safe. It was better not to care at all.
Well, he wouldn’t end up caring for these idiots, that was for sure. He would just get whatever job Blake wanted him to do done, sort out the accounts and get himself something better.
It would all work out fine.