Ficlets: BWOC, WAT, Suicide Kings
I'd forgotten how hard it is to write flashfic. Especially for someone as verbose as myself. And a one-sentence fic...how on earth does one write a recognizable pairing into one sentence? A character, maybe. But a pairing? I can barely do that in a paragraph.
But it was a good exercise for me, and I'm hoping to finish the rest after a Moosehead and a nice evening swim.
I bet slashophile thought she'd stumped me with this one. Haha. It was the first one I wrote.
Vanilla, maybe. Could be banana, though, or that gross rice pudding they serve when they're really desperate. Not that it matters, because it's distracting and if he wants to pass their Latin test, the only thing he can do is remove the distraction. That's the only reason he pushes Avery into the bathroom, ignoring the shock and fear in Avery's eyes as he leans in and licks the dot of pudding off the corner of Avery's mouth.
It takes him a minute to figure out what the flavor is, but by the time he makes it back out into the hall he realizes it's that white chocolate they just started serving. And he's never been a big chocolate fan, but it's a lot better when it's Avery-flavored.
~
It's not his favorite picture of himself. At least their gowns were black, but the cap completely hides his hair and makes him look way too much like everyone else in their class. But Tommy's standing next to him, arm slung around Merton's shoulders and smile lighting up his whole face, making him look every bit the all-American boy next door everybody in Pleasantville still thinks he is. So he puts the picture in a frame and sets it on the desk in his new dorm room, where any of his classmates will think it's just a picture of Merton and one of his friends from back home. They don't have to know it's really a picture of The One Who Got Away, or even The Boy He Left Behind.
After all, Tommy doesn't even know that, so there's no reason anyone else has to.
~
A lot of things have changed since Martin started; Jack's divorced, Vivian's fighting for her life, they've all been positive at one point or another that the team was going to be broken up. But they're still together, and there are other things that haven't changed. Vivian's still as stubborn as ever even though she needs help now most of all, Sam's still in love with Jack, and Martin's still wearing the ugliest ties Danny's ever seen. It's...comforting, in a weird way, and Danny grins as he wraps a hand around one of Martin's uglier specimens and pulls him into a kiss.
"What was that for?" Martin asks when Danny finally lets him up for air.
"Nothing. Just glad you stuck around is all."
"Where would I have gone?"
And there are a million answers to that question, but none Danny wants to say out loud, so he just shakes his head and pulls Martin in for another kiss.
~
This is why I don't write Firefly fic, people.
He'd never admit it out loud, but there's something almost mesmerizing about the sight of Jayne standing shirtless in front of a cloudy mirror, arms flexed and all that strength focused on the simple act of trimming his beard with…
"Are those my suture scissors?"
Jayne glances down at the scissors in question and grunts unintelligibly before turning back to the task at hand.
"I've been looking everywhere for those."
"Guess you found 'em."
He resists the urge to scream. He doesn't even roll his eyes, although he feels his teeth clenching and he's sure just breathing the same air as Jayne will have them ground to dust within a year. But he doesn't say anything else, because he knows the conversation would be completely fruitless. And Jayne really does look good trimming his beard with Simon's suture scissors.
~
I had two goes at this next one. I don't know why.
"Ow," Brett hisses through clenched teeth. "Jesus, Avery, would you watch it?"
"It doesn't hurt," Avery answers, dabbing a little more iodine on the angry red gash stretched across Brett's knuckles. It probably does hurt, but the only other think he can think to do is lean over and kiss it better, and that would really piss Brett off.
He finishes cleaning the cut and tosses the cotton ball in the trash, very carefully not looking at Brett while he puts the iodine back in the medicine cabinet. "Just for the record, you didn't have to defend my honor."
There's a second of silence, then a hand slides under his chin to force his gaze upward. "If I don't, who's gonna do it? You?"
Avery shrugs, but they both know what it means: no. He's never been a fighter - he's more the cut and run type - but he's always thought that was what makes them such a good team. And when Brett shakes his head before he leans in and kisses Avery, he's pretty sure Brett thinks so too.
~
He's pretty sure he could stay just like this all day, shoulder pressed against Brett's thigh and Brett's skin warm against his. And he's not sure how long he's been idly tracing the curve of Brett's knuckle where it rests on the sheet, but Brett hasn't said anything yet and as far as he's concerned, that means they can stay like this forever.
~
But it was a good exercise for me, and I'm hoping to finish the rest after a Moosehead and a nice evening swim.
I bet slashophile thought she'd stumped me with this one. Haha. It was the first one I wrote.
Vanilla, maybe. Could be banana, though, or that gross rice pudding they serve when they're really desperate. Not that it matters, because it's distracting and if he wants to pass their Latin test, the only thing he can do is remove the distraction. That's the only reason he pushes Avery into the bathroom, ignoring the shock and fear in Avery's eyes as he leans in and licks the dot of pudding off the corner of Avery's mouth.
It takes him a minute to figure out what the flavor is, but by the time he makes it back out into the hall he realizes it's that white chocolate they just started serving. And he's never been a big chocolate fan, but it's a lot better when it's Avery-flavored.
~
It's not his favorite picture of himself. At least their gowns were black, but the cap completely hides his hair and makes him look way too much like everyone else in their class. But Tommy's standing next to him, arm slung around Merton's shoulders and smile lighting up his whole face, making him look every bit the all-American boy next door everybody in Pleasantville still thinks he is. So he puts the picture in a frame and sets it on the desk in his new dorm room, where any of his classmates will think it's just a picture of Merton and one of his friends from back home. They don't have to know it's really a picture of The One Who Got Away, or even The Boy He Left Behind.
After all, Tommy doesn't even know that, so there's no reason anyone else has to.
~
A lot of things have changed since Martin started; Jack's divorced, Vivian's fighting for her life, they've all been positive at one point or another that the team was going to be broken up. But they're still together, and there are other things that haven't changed. Vivian's still as stubborn as ever even though she needs help now most of all, Sam's still in love with Jack, and Martin's still wearing the ugliest ties Danny's ever seen. It's...comforting, in a weird way, and Danny grins as he wraps a hand around one of Martin's uglier specimens and pulls him into a kiss.
"What was that for?" Martin asks when Danny finally lets him up for air.
"Nothing. Just glad you stuck around is all."
"Where would I have gone?"
And there are a million answers to that question, but none Danny wants to say out loud, so he just shakes his head and pulls Martin in for another kiss.
~
This is why I don't write Firefly fic, people.
He'd never admit it out loud, but there's something almost mesmerizing about the sight of Jayne standing shirtless in front of a cloudy mirror, arms flexed and all that strength focused on the simple act of trimming his beard with…
"Are those my suture scissors?"
Jayne glances down at the scissors in question and grunts unintelligibly before turning back to the task at hand.
"I've been looking everywhere for those."
"Guess you found 'em."
He resists the urge to scream. He doesn't even roll his eyes, although he feels his teeth clenching and he's sure just breathing the same air as Jayne will have them ground to dust within a year. But he doesn't say anything else, because he knows the conversation would be completely fruitless. And Jayne really does look good trimming his beard with Simon's suture scissors.
~
I had two goes at this next one. I don't know why.
"Ow," Brett hisses through clenched teeth. "Jesus, Avery, would you watch it?"
"It doesn't hurt," Avery answers, dabbing a little more iodine on the angry red gash stretched across Brett's knuckles. It probably does hurt, but the only other think he can think to do is lean over and kiss it better, and that would really piss Brett off.
He finishes cleaning the cut and tosses the cotton ball in the trash, very carefully not looking at Brett while he puts the iodine back in the medicine cabinet. "Just for the record, you didn't have to defend my honor."
There's a second of silence, then a hand slides under his chin to force his gaze upward. "If I don't, who's gonna do it? You?"
Avery shrugs, but they both know what it means: no. He's never been a fighter - he's more the cut and run type - but he's always thought that was what makes them such a good team. And when Brett shakes his head before he leans in and kisses Avery, he's pretty sure Brett thinks so too.
~
He's pretty sure he could stay just like this all day, shoulder pressed against Brett's thigh and Brett's skin warm against his. And he's not sure how long he's been idly tracing the curve of Brett's knuckle where it rests on the sheet, but Brett hasn't said anything yet and as far as he's concerned, that means they can stay like this forever.
~