Drabble Responses
So I posted a drabble call the other day, and got three takers. It's still open, if you'd like a drabble/ficlet.
BUT! These are the three responses to the prompts I got. So, rowaine, vichan, and denied_heaven, ladies? here are your ficlets.
For rowaine
Title: Spectrum
Rating: PG for snogging
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Prompt: Xander knows he's straight...isn't he?
The bell over the door rang as someone new entered the store. Xander looked up in curiosity and immediately frowned. “Oh. It’s just you.”
Spike just lifted a brow and his usual two finger salute - which, what the hell was that about anyway? Why couldn’t he just flip people off in the normal way? - and strolled over to the stairs to sprawl all sexy-like and completely in the way.
Wait. Xander though. Sexy-like? He shook his head and returned to reading the incredibly dull text Giles had him going through. Note ‘incredibly dull,’ so it wasn’t Xander’s fault when he found himself looking at the very oddly shaped words on the page but thinking of Spike’s legendary - yes, legendary, for no one on God’s green and verdant Earth but Spike could sprawl like that and get away with it - ability to sprawl with indifference. It just wasn’t fair.
“Can smell you over here, Harris.” Spike spoke around the cigarette he was trying to light, not meeting Xander’s eyes. Finally getting it lit, he inhaled sharply and curled his lips and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “See something ya like, boy?”
Even worse that Spike could tell that Xander liked his sprawl.
And that just pissed Xander off. He slammed the book closed, and gave up the pretense. “No, Mr. I’ll Swing Whichever Way The Wind Blows. Contrary to the vampire handbook for unlife, human beings do not change their sexuality to fit the opportunity.”
Spike smiled. It was evil and sly - and a little vulnerable - and Xander’s breath caught in his chest. “Liar.”
“Spike? See, there’s this spectrum.” Xander held his hands up, palm to palm, about two feet apart. “On the one end,” he shook his left hand, “you have your totally gay and completely homosexual tendencies.”
“Mmhmm.”
Xander squinted. “Asshole,” he muttered, then continued. “And on the other,” he shook his right hand, “you have the straight, hetero behaviors.”
Spike chuckled at him.
He sniffed a bit, and shifted his left hand inward a few inches. “Here’s you and every other sexually ambivalent vampire in creation.”
Spike nodded, “Sounds about right.”
“Now, I realize that there can be and are attractive men, and I’m comfortable enough in my very straight straightness to admit that. But Spike,” Xander wagged his right hand. “This is me, way on the other end…from you.”
“Right,” Spike said, taking another drag off his cigarette. Then spread his legs even farther apart, as if that were at all possible.
Xander gulped. “Totally straight.”
Spike blinked, a slow lowering of pale eyelids, then lifted his brow while snuffing out his cigarette on the stair. “You sure ‘bout that?”
“Yeah,” Xander squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Positive.”
The Spike stood up and stalked - stalked - down the stairs, across to the table where Xander sat, throat dry, mouth open, eyes wide. Spike looked down at him, smiled, a gentle curve of his lips, and Xander could only watch as Spike’s long, narrow fingers lifted to sift through his hair.
Then Spike’s smile disappeared and those fingers fisted in the long thick hair at the back of Xander’s head, and then cool lips were covering his.
Oh my god was the last coherent thought that flitted through Xander’s brain. He closed his eyes, swallowed a thick lump of anticipation, then opened his mouth just enough to let Spike’s tongue slide slowly inside.
Spike uttered a low sound of approval, and slanted his lips more fully over Xander’s and then settled himself on Xander’s lap. His hands drifted down Xander’s arms, grabbed his hands, and set them on his own hips.
Xander’s fingers curled into the denim covered flesh, and Spike groaned into the kiss. Xander smiled, and opened his lips more fully, and sucked Spike’s tongue farther into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Spike’s hips and lifted the black cotton of his t-shirt up to let his fingers ghost over the pale skin at the small of Spike’s back. He was surprisingly soft, almost vulnerable there, and Xander liked the feel of it.
They kept kissing, slanting over each other, Xander’s hands exploring the soft skin of Spike’s back. Spike’s fingers stroking through Xander’s hair down over his shoulders.
Finally, Spike pulled back, and rested his forehead against Xander’s.
He smiled, and lifted blue eyes to stare into dazed brown ones. “Still convinced of your utter straightness, there, Harris?”
Xander closed his eyes in exasperation. Then he opened them on a grin, let his fingers curl into Spike’s skin. “Yeah. You wanna work on changing my mind?”
for vichan
Title: Hustle
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me
Pairing: Spike/Dean/Sam
Prompt: Spike, Dean, Beer
Note: Sammy butted his way into this. Sorry. Hope you like it.
Spike recognized his type the instant he saw him. He lifted a dark brow and made eye contact with the very pretty boy - they’re all boys to him, so young - racking the balls on the table. Cheap blue felt shone in the threadbare corners, but Spike just said, “Break ‘em.”
The boy was good, concentrating hard, but still smiling and joking. Had Spike not been who he was, he’d have been duped, but Spike’s been around a long damn time and knew a hustler when he saw one. Like recognized like, after all, so he just shook his head and slammed the nine ball home, winning the second of three games.
It was then that the pretense lifted.
“You’re hustling me,” his opponent said, nondescript accent giving nothing away.
“I thought it only fair, boy,” Spike said, hitching a hip against the table’s edge. “Seein’ as you started hustling me first.”
“Son of a bitch,” the boy said, wry grin twisting the lower half of his face, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Dean, you have a problem here?” This from the very tall drink of water his mark had been making eyes with all night. He stared at Spike, muddy green eyes narrow, lips tight, shoulders relaxed.
“Nah, Sammy, just a friendly game.”
Spike watched them, silent. They stood too close to each other, hovering on the edge of dirty, but there was ease and comfort - not anticipation or tension - in the way they talked. Then his opponent, Dean the other one had called him, rested a hand on Sammy’s chest. “Get us a couple beers, huh Sam?”
“You sure?”
Dean smiled. “Yeah.”
Sam nodded, and with a veiled glance at Spike strode to the bar. Dean watched him go, smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head and turned back to Spike. “Play for real?”
“For what?”
Dean cocked an eyebrow.
Something told Spike that money wasn’t what Dean had in mind. He grinned, bit his bottom lip. “All right, then.”
Sam came back with a bucket of beer on ice. Dean popped one open, handed it to Spike, who let his fingers trail over Dean’s on the handoff. Bright green eyes lifted up, startled. Spike grinned, and nearly laughed when Dean winked back at him.
They played six more games, pissing off the regular patrons who’d laid quarters on the edge of the table. They shared the wins, neither coming out on top. Spike was impressed.
Even more impressive was that between the three of them, they managed to polish off three more buckets of beer. Sam and Dean both had constitutions of vampires, Spike thought more than once.
He noticed that with the increased consumption of alcohol came the decreased adherence to discretion. As Spike took his shots, lining up balls and sinking them one after the other, Dean would gravitate to Sam, lean against him, relax. Once, Spike caught him running his fingers through Sam’s hair, and Sam had the look of utter bliss - eyes half closed, lips parted, head thrown back.
More than once it threw off Spike’s game and he’d scratch, or send one of the balls down the wrong angle and bouncing off the bumper. At those times, Dean would laugh, ridicule his game, and take his turn. But Sam, Sam would flash those mossy eyes at him, want lighting a fire that Sam kept banked.
After the last game, Sam stood and stretched, like a cat in the sun, and Spike heard the bones of his spine realign. “Dean. Let’s go.”
“Tired already, Sam?” Dean asked, already laying his cue down on the table.
Sam eyed him steadily, then glanced in Spike’s direction. “No.”
For the first time that night, Dean’s grin stretched wide across his face, lit into his eyes. “Sammy, you dirty, dirty boy.”
“You boys want to fill a bloke in?” Spike asked. He didn’t particularly like the way these two communicated without words - reminded him of a different time, a different place - different circumstances. The memory actually hurt a bit.
Dean chuckled. “Pretty sure a smart guy like you can figure it out.”
Dean shrugged into his jacket, clapped Sam on the back and started out the door.
Sam cocked a brow at Spike. “You comin’?”
Spike sniffed, considered, then grinned. “Yeah.”
fordenied_heaven
Title: Unexpected
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me
Pairing: Chris/Steve
Prompt: Chris and Steve
Steve smiled. He knew he should have had Florida on his list of tour sites. The fans there were awesome.
He finished up the set, was in the middle of thanking the audience for being so damn awesome, when a voice rose above the rest.
“What the hell? Kane?” Steve frowned, staring into the crowd, looking for the owner of the voice.
“Hey, son!”
Just then the audience started screaming. And Chris was making his way to the stage.
“You son of a bitch!” Steve said, laughing. “I didn’t know you were comin’ down.”
“It’s a hop and a skip from Nashville, buddy,” Chris said, hopping up on stage, “like I wouldn’t come see you.” Then Steve was wrapped up in a big Texas hug.
Chris was bigger, filled out, comfortable. Steve wrapped his arms around him and held on. It’d been a while, and he’d missed this. Nashville being a continent away from L.A., and Chris on the verge of real stardom, they hadn’t had a chance to see each other in what felt like forever.
The audience’s screams had shifted to ‘awww’s and Steve blushed furiously while Chris chuckled in his ear. “Still the same old fans, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Steve whispered.
Chris backed off, still holding on, though, to look him in the face. “You okay?”
He forgot the mike. “Yeah, buddy. Just..just fuckin’ miss you.”
The crowd grew silent. The air tightened around them, a bubble of anticipation that seemed as though it would burst if just one of them even breathed wrong.
Chris hugged him tight again, then said, “You’re more than I deserve, you know that?”
Steve smiled. “Yeah.” Then he let go of Chris, asked “You ready?”
Chris laughed, said, “Hell yeah, mother fucker, bring it on!”
And Steve turned to the crowd. “Looks like I’ve got time for a couple more. Y’all wanna hear Chris sing?”
Then Chris leaned over, grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him. “Love you, man.”
BUT! These are the three responses to the prompts I got. So, rowaine, vichan, and denied_heaven, ladies? here are your ficlets.
For rowaine
Title: Spectrum
Rating: PG for snogging
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Prompt: Xander knows he's straight...isn't he?
The bell over the door rang as someone new entered the store. Xander looked up in curiosity and immediately frowned. “Oh. It’s just you.”
Spike just lifted a brow and his usual two finger salute - which, what the hell was that about anyway? Why couldn’t he just flip people off in the normal way? - and strolled over to the stairs to sprawl all sexy-like and completely in the way.
Wait. Xander though. Sexy-like? He shook his head and returned to reading the incredibly dull text Giles had him going through. Note ‘incredibly dull,’ so it wasn’t Xander’s fault when he found himself looking at the very oddly shaped words on the page but thinking of Spike’s legendary - yes, legendary, for no one on God’s green and verdant Earth but Spike could sprawl like that and get away with it - ability to sprawl with indifference. It just wasn’t fair.
“Can smell you over here, Harris.” Spike spoke around the cigarette he was trying to light, not meeting Xander’s eyes. Finally getting it lit, he inhaled sharply and curled his lips and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “See something ya like, boy?”
Even worse that Spike could tell that Xander liked his sprawl.
And that just pissed Xander off. He slammed the book closed, and gave up the pretense. “No, Mr. I’ll Swing Whichever Way The Wind Blows. Contrary to the vampire handbook for unlife, human beings do not change their sexuality to fit the opportunity.”
Spike smiled. It was evil and sly - and a little vulnerable - and Xander’s breath caught in his chest. “Liar.”
“Spike? See, there’s this spectrum.” Xander held his hands up, palm to palm, about two feet apart. “On the one end,” he shook his left hand, “you have your totally gay and completely homosexual tendencies.”
“Mmhmm.”
Xander squinted. “Asshole,” he muttered, then continued. “And on the other,” he shook his right hand, “you have the straight, hetero behaviors.”
Spike chuckled at him.
He sniffed a bit, and shifted his left hand inward a few inches. “Here’s you and every other sexually ambivalent vampire in creation.”
Spike nodded, “Sounds about right.”
“Now, I realize that there can be and are attractive men, and I’m comfortable enough in my very straight straightness to admit that. But Spike,” Xander wagged his right hand. “This is me, way on the other end…from you.”
“Right,” Spike said, taking another drag off his cigarette. Then spread his legs even farther apart, as if that were at all possible.
Xander gulped. “Totally straight.”
Spike blinked, a slow lowering of pale eyelids, then lifted his brow while snuffing out his cigarette on the stair. “You sure ‘bout that?”
“Yeah,” Xander squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Positive.”
The Spike stood up and stalked - stalked - down the stairs, across to the table where Xander sat, throat dry, mouth open, eyes wide. Spike looked down at him, smiled, a gentle curve of his lips, and Xander could only watch as Spike’s long, narrow fingers lifted to sift through his hair.
Then Spike’s smile disappeared and those fingers fisted in the long thick hair at the back of Xander’s head, and then cool lips were covering his.
Oh my god was the last coherent thought that flitted through Xander’s brain. He closed his eyes, swallowed a thick lump of anticipation, then opened his mouth just enough to let Spike’s tongue slide slowly inside.
Spike uttered a low sound of approval, and slanted his lips more fully over Xander’s and then settled himself on Xander’s lap. His hands drifted down Xander’s arms, grabbed his hands, and set them on his own hips.
Xander’s fingers curled into the denim covered flesh, and Spike groaned into the kiss. Xander smiled, and opened his lips more fully, and sucked Spike’s tongue farther into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Spike’s hips and lifted the black cotton of his t-shirt up to let his fingers ghost over the pale skin at the small of Spike’s back. He was surprisingly soft, almost vulnerable there, and Xander liked the feel of it.
They kept kissing, slanting over each other, Xander’s hands exploring the soft skin of Spike’s back. Spike’s fingers stroking through Xander’s hair down over his shoulders.
Finally, Spike pulled back, and rested his forehead against Xander’s.
He smiled, and lifted blue eyes to stare into dazed brown ones. “Still convinced of your utter straightness, there, Harris?”
Xander closed his eyes in exasperation. Then he opened them on a grin, let his fingers curl into Spike’s skin. “Yeah. You wanna work on changing my mind?”
for vichan
Title: Hustle
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me
Pairing: Spike/Dean/Sam
Prompt: Spike, Dean, Beer
Note: Sammy butted his way into this. Sorry. Hope you like it.
Spike recognized his type the instant he saw him. He lifted a dark brow and made eye contact with the very pretty boy - they’re all boys to him, so young - racking the balls on the table. Cheap blue felt shone in the threadbare corners, but Spike just said, “Break ‘em.”
The boy was good, concentrating hard, but still smiling and joking. Had Spike not been who he was, he’d have been duped, but Spike’s been around a long damn time and knew a hustler when he saw one. Like recognized like, after all, so he just shook his head and slammed the nine ball home, winning the second of three games.
It was then that the pretense lifted.
“You’re hustling me,” his opponent said, nondescript accent giving nothing away.
“I thought it only fair, boy,” Spike said, hitching a hip against the table’s edge. “Seein’ as you started hustling me first.”
“Son of a bitch,” the boy said, wry grin twisting the lower half of his face, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Dean, you have a problem here?” This from the very tall drink of water his mark had been making eyes with all night. He stared at Spike, muddy green eyes narrow, lips tight, shoulders relaxed.
“Nah, Sammy, just a friendly game.”
Spike watched them, silent. They stood too close to each other, hovering on the edge of dirty, but there was ease and comfort - not anticipation or tension - in the way they talked. Then his opponent, Dean the other one had called him, rested a hand on Sammy’s chest. “Get us a couple beers, huh Sam?”
“You sure?”
Dean smiled. “Yeah.”
Sam nodded, and with a veiled glance at Spike strode to the bar. Dean watched him go, smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head and turned back to Spike. “Play for real?”
“For what?”
Dean cocked an eyebrow.
Something told Spike that money wasn’t what Dean had in mind. He grinned, bit his bottom lip. “All right, then.”
Sam came back with a bucket of beer on ice. Dean popped one open, handed it to Spike, who let his fingers trail over Dean’s on the handoff. Bright green eyes lifted up, startled. Spike grinned, and nearly laughed when Dean winked back at him.
They played six more games, pissing off the regular patrons who’d laid quarters on the edge of the table. They shared the wins, neither coming out on top. Spike was impressed.
Even more impressive was that between the three of them, they managed to polish off three more buckets of beer. Sam and Dean both had constitutions of vampires, Spike thought more than once.
He noticed that with the increased consumption of alcohol came the decreased adherence to discretion. As Spike took his shots, lining up balls and sinking them one after the other, Dean would gravitate to Sam, lean against him, relax. Once, Spike caught him running his fingers through Sam’s hair, and Sam had the look of utter bliss - eyes half closed, lips parted, head thrown back.
More than once it threw off Spike’s game and he’d scratch, or send one of the balls down the wrong angle and bouncing off the bumper. At those times, Dean would laugh, ridicule his game, and take his turn. But Sam, Sam would flash those mossy eyes at him, want lighting a fire that Sam kept banked.
After the last game, Sam stood and stretched, like a cat in the sun, and Spike heard the bones of his spine realign. “Dean. Let’s go.”
“Tired already, Sam?” Dean asked, already laying his cue down on the table.
Sam eyed him steadily, then glanced in Spike’s direction. “No.”
For the first time that night, Dean’s grin stretched wide across his face, lit into his eyes. “Sammy, you dirty, dirty boy.”
“You boys want to fill a bloke in?” Spike asked. He didn’t particularly like the way these two communicated without words - reminded him of a different time, a different place - different circumstances. The memory actually hurt a bit.
Dean chuckled. “Pretty sure a smart guy like you can figure it out.”
Dean shrugged into his jacket, clapped Sam on the back and started out the door.
Sam cocked a brow at Spike. “You comin’?”
Spike sniffed, considered, then grinned. “Yeah.”
fordenied_heaven
Title: Unexpected
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me
Pairing: Chris/Steve
Prompt: Chris and Steve
Steve smiled. He knew he should have had Florida on his list of tour sites. The fans there were awesome.
He finished up the set, was in the middle of thanking the audience for being so damn awesome, when a voice rose above the rest.
“What the hell? Kane?” Steve frowned, staring into the crowd, looking for the owner of the voice.
“Hey, son!”
Just then the audience started screaming. And Chris was making his way to the stage.
“You son of a bitch!” Steve said, laughing. “I didn’t know you were comin’ down.”
“It’s a hop and a skip from Nashville, buddy,” Chris said, hopping up on stage, “like I wouldn’t come see you.” Then Steve was wrapped up in a big Texas hug.
Chris was bigger, filled out, comfortable. Steve wrapped his arms around him and held on. It’d been a while, and he’d missed this. Nashville being a continent away from L.A., and Chris on the verge of real stardom, they hadn’t had a chance to see each other in what felt like forever.
The audience’s screams had shifted to ‘awww’s and Steve blushed furiously while Chris chuckled in his ear. “Still the same old fans, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Steve whispered.
Chris backed off, still holding on, though, to look him in the face. “You okay?”
He forgot the mike. “Yeah, buddy. Just..just fuckin’ miss you.”
The crowd grew silent. The air tightened around them, a bubble of anticipation that seemed as though it would burst if just one of them even breathed wrong.
Chris hugged him tight again, then said, “You’re more than I deserve, you know that?”
Steve smiled. “Yeah.” Then he let go of Chris, asked “You ready?”
Chris laughed, said, “Hell yeah, mother fucker, bring it on!”
And Steve turned to the crowd. “Looks like I’ve got time for a couple more. Y’all wanna hear Chris sing?”
Then Chris leaned over, grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him. “Love you, man.”