Ficlets: BWOC, My Bodyguard, Brotherhood II
Oh my goodness, when I posted the ficlet request meme I was not expecting anyone to write *me* fic. I guess it really does pay to be a big, dramatic whiner good person!
Seriously, there is an exciting amount of fic in the comments to that post. I'm not allowed to advertise some of it ::cough::Ronon/Kavanaugh::cough::, but it's worth your time. Promise.
And here are the first of the requests that I wrote while I was working this evening. More to come tomorrow.
First up is some femmeslash for nekosmuse. Required elements: morning sunlight, kisses on the nape, and domesticity. I'm thinking of you, hon. You know why.
I. It wasn't much of a honeymoon, according to pretty much everyone who knew them. Not that they'd asked, but people had a tendency to offer their opinions anyway. Luckily, Lori and Becky had both learned to tune them out a long time ago.
Because it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought, especially not about this. It was their honeymoon, after all, and if they wanted to spend it in a place that meant something to them, that was their decision.
And this place meant a lot to both of them; at first Lori had loved it just because Becky did, but after spending a summer vacation at Becky’s parents’ lake cabin, she saw exactly why Becky loved it so much. The cabin wasn’t much, and there were mosquitoes all summer and too much snow in the winter, no heat aside from an old wood stove and most of the time when they were here Becky and Lori were relegated to the pull-out couch in the living room.
But they loved it anyway, because for each tiny complaint there were at least half a dozen things to love about it. There was the lake, crystal clear and shining in the early morning sunshine. There was the cabin itself, shady and cool in the summer and cozy enough in the winter, once they got a fire going. And okay, maybe if they'd gotten married in the winter they would have headed for some exotic beach rather than spend a week shivering and wrestling with the wood stove, but it was June, and it was perfect cabin weather.
It was early when Lori woke up, a breeze blowing the curtains in just enough to let the early morning sun fall across the pillow. Becky's long, dark hair was spread out on the white sheets, falling across her shoulders to reveal the pale expanse of her neck. And it was still hard to believe that this was forever, even after all the years they'd been together.
Lori touched the ring on her finger, the delicate gold band that matched the one Becky was wearing. She smiled and slid a little closer, lips pressed to the back of Becky's neck and when Becky sighed and pressed closer Lori slid a hand down her back.
"Morning," she whispered, punctuating the greeting with another soft kiss against Becky's skin.
"Mmm," Becky murmured, then, "morning", and she rolled onto her back to smile up at Lori. "First day of the rest of our lives?"
"Exactly," Lori answered as she let Becky pull her down for a kiss.
~
Secondly, some My Bodyguard fic for thewolfmistress, who wanted Ricky and Clifford celebrating an anniversary. This isn't exactly that, but I hope it's close enough.
II. "This one looks pretty good," Clifford said, leaning over to pick a twisted piece of metal out of the nearest pile of junk. A year ago he would have thought this was all trash, but it was impossible to spend any time around Ricky and not learn something about cars. And motorcycles, for that matter, and there was even an old speedboat at the back of the junkyard that he'd talked about fixing up a couple times.
If anybody could do it, it would be Ricky. And it might be kind of fun to have a boat to take out when they got tired of riding around the city on Ricky's bike, except that Clifford was pretty sure he'd never get tired of riding on the back of Ricky's bike.
"Not bad," Ricky said as he took the part Clifford held up, then, "maybe" as he tucked it under his arm. They'd been through this enough times that Clifford knew he'd carry the part around with him until they either found something better or got tired of looking, and it was kind of nice, knowing what to expect.
The first time Ricky had brought him to the junkyard, Clifford had no idea what to expect. He didn't really care, though, because Ricky wasn't chasing him off or ignoring him until he gave up, and that was all that mattered. It was still kind of all that mattered, but Clifford would never admit that out loud, because he liked hanging out with Ricky and he didn't want to give Ricky any reason to start rethinking what they were doing.
They hadn't put a name on it yet. Clifford wasn't sure they ever would, but in a way it didn't really matter. They spent all their free time together, either working on Ricky's latest project or hanging out at the hotel, they talked and laughed and listened to music, and a few months ago, when they were all alone in Clifford's room, he'd leaned in and kissed Ricky for the first time.
At first he'd been worried that Ricky was going to run out of the room and never look back. Maybe there was even a tiny little part of him that wanted Ricky to do exactly that, because he'd never wanted to kiss another boy before and he wasn't sure what any of it meant. Then again, he'd never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss Ricky, so in the end he decided the risk was worth it.
Only Ricky hadn't run out. He'd looked a little surprised at first, but he didn't look angry, and when Clifford leaned in to kiss him again he didn't push him away. And they never talked about it, but after that everything changed. Everything was better, because he got to kiss Ricky whenever he wanted - whenever they were alone, anyway - and even when they weren't kissing, things between them were better. More comfortable, like they had a secret that the rest of the world didn't need to know.
That was six months ago, and it had been almost a year exactly since their first date in the junkyard. Clifford grinned at that thought, wondering what Ricky would have done way back then if Clifford had called that trip a date.
"What? You find another one?"
"No," Clifford answered, still grinning and now Ricky was eyeing him suspiciously. "I was just thinking about our first date."
That got him an even weirder look, but Clifford just laughed and shook his head.
"Don't you remember? You took me to the junkyard to help find parts for your bike."
"That wasn't a date," Ricky said, and Clifford was glad he knew Ricky so well, because there was a time when he would have thought the gruff quality of Ricky's voice meant he was annoyed. "That was you refusing to take a hint."
"Maybe," Clifford answered. He nudged Ricky's bicep with his shoulder, grinning when Ricky shook his head. "But you're glad I didn't give up."
Ricky shrugged and looked away, out over the piles of junk toward something only he could see. It only lasted for a second, but Clifford knew he was thinking about what it had been like for both of them back then, and how much everything had changed in a year. Then Ricky turned back to him, the faintest trace of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Maybe. When you're not being a pain."
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," Clifford said, and now they were both laughing, but Ricky knew he meant it, and that was all that mattered.
~
And for spoiledjap, Harlan/Marcus futurefic, since I already wrote the Becky/Lori futurefic for Saphron. This fits into the Aftermath universe, but that's pretty obvious if you know that universe at all.
III. Marcus glanced at his watch again and sighed, reaching up to tug at the tie hanging around his neck. He knew better than to loosen it completely; Harlan's father was lurking around somewhere, and he already gave Marcus enough disapproving looks without adding 'slob' to his list of offenses. But he felt like he was choking, and if Harlan was going to torture him with another one of these stupid parties the least he could do was breathe.
Besides, he wasn't one of Mr. Ratcliff's lackeys. He was part of the talent, and he made the company a lot of money with his video games. So really he shouldn't even have to show up to these things is a suit and tie; he was the creative part of the operation, and people should expect him to be eccentric.
He tugged at his tie again and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, swallowing half the contents of the glass as he scanned the room for a familiar face. And that was another thing - Harlan insisted he come to these parties, claimed it was so important and everyone wanted to see him, and then the whole room spent the entire night ignoring him. Including Harlan.
Marcus promised himself for the hundredth time that he wasn't going to give in next time, swallowing the rest of his champagne before he pushed himself off the wall. He wasn't sure where he was going, exactly, but there had to be a door around here somewhere and at least he could get a little fresh air. Maybe he should take up smoking again, just for special occasions. At least it would give him something to do with his hands.
But he knew he wouldn't, because Harlan wouldn't say anything, but he wouldn't like it. Not that it wouldn't serve him right, because every time he promised he wasn't going to ditch Marcus, and every single party Marcus was left all alone and wondering why he'd bothered to show up.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed in the direction he was pretty sure led outside. He wove his way through the crowd, trying to stay on the edges where there was less of a chance he'd run into Harlan's father. And he wasn't sure why the old man still made him so nervous after all this time, but he had a feeling that, at least, would never change.
The door was in sight when Marcus stopped short, a hand closing around his arm and pulling him back into the room. "Where do you think you're going?"
The warm-honey voice in his ear sent a buzz of pleasure down his spine, and he stifled a smile as he let Harlan turn him around. "Just thought I'd get some air. Didn't think anybody would miss me."
"I always miss you, Marcus," Harlan said, arm sliding around his waist to pull Marcus even closer. "I just had a little business to take care of. I was coming to find you."
"That's what you always say."
"It's true."
"I've been bored out of my mind for the past hour, Harlan," Marcus complained, but it was hard to stay mad when Harlan was pressing hot kisses to his jaw in between murmured excuses. "You know I hate coming to these things."
"I'll make it up to you," Harlan said, pulling back to grin at him up close, and Marcus couldn't help smiling back. Because that was one promise Harlan always kept, and he always made it worth a couple hours of standing around feeling like an idiot.
"I don't think anything can make up for this tie. I can't breathe."
"Yeah, but you look good," Harlan said, hands sliding down the front of Marcus' jacket to push underneath, up his back and Marcus leaned into the sensation and turned his face up for a kiss. Harlan's mouth was hot and insistent and gone way too soon, but when Marcus opened his mouth to complain Harlan nodded toward the door.
"Let's get out of here."
"That's the best idea you've had all night," Marcus answered, letting Harlan push him toward the door.
A low, rich laugh sounded in his ear, and Marcus shivered at the sound. "You haven't heard all my ideas yet, Marcus. Just wait 'til I get you home."
And that was the kind of promise Marcus knew Harlan would keep.
~
Seriously, there is an exciting amount of fic in the comments to that post. I'm not allowed to advertise some of it ::cough::Ronon/Kavanaugh::cough::, but it's worth your time. Promise.
And here are the first of the requests that I wrote while I was working this evening. More to come tomorrow.
First up is some femmeslash for nekosmuse. Required elements: morning sunlight, kisses on the nape, and domesticity. I'm thinking of you, hon. You know why.
I. It wasn't much of a honeymoon, according to pretty much everyone who knew them. Not that they'd asked, but people had a tendency to offer their opinions anyway. Luckily, Lori and Becky had both learned to tune them out a long time ago.
Because it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought, especially not about this. It was their honeymoon, after all, and if they wanted to spend it in a place that meant something to them, that was their decision.
And this place meant a lot to both of them; at first Lori had loved it just because Becky did, but after spending a summer vacation at Becky’s parents’ lake cabin, she saw exactly why Becky loved it so much. The cabin wasn’t much, and there were mosquitoes all summer and too much snow in the winter, no heat aside from an old wood stove and most of the time when they were here Becky and Lori were relegated to the pull-out couch in the living room.
But they loved it anyway, because for each tiny complaint there were at least half a dozen things to love about it. There was the lake, crystal clear and shining in the early morning sunshine. There was the cabin itself, shady and cool in the summer and cozy enough in the winter, once they got a fire going. And okay, maybe if they'd gotten married in the winter they would have headed for some exotic beach rather than spend a week shivering and wrestling with the wood stove, but it was June, and it was perfect cabin weather.
It was early when Lori woke up, a breeze blowing the curtains in just enough to let the early morning sun fall across the pillow. Becky's long, dark hair was spread out on the white sheets, falling across her shoulders to reveal the pale expanse of her neck. And it was still hard to believe that this was forever, even after all the years they'd been together.
Lori touched the ring on her finger, the delicate gold band that matched the one Becky was wearing. She smiled and slid a little closer, lips pressed to the back of Becky's neck and when Becky sighed and pressed closer Lori slid a hand down her back.
"Morning," she whispered, punctuating the greeting with another soft kiss against Becky's skin.
"Mmm," Becky murmured, then, "morning", and she rolled onto her back to smile up at Lori. "First day of the rest of our lives?"
"Exactly," Lori answered as she let Becky pull her down for a kiss.
~
Secondly, some My Bodyguard fic for thewolfmistress, who wanted Ricky and Clifford celebrating an anniversary. This isn't exactly that, but I hope it's close enough.
II. "This one looks pretty good," Clifford said, leaning over to pick a twisted piece of metal out of the nearest pile of junk. A year ago he would have thought this was all trash, but it was impossible to spend any time around Ricky and not learn something about cars. And motorcycles, for that matter, and there was even an old speedboat at the back of the junkyard that he'd talked about fixing up a couple times.
If anybody could do it, it would be Ricky. And it might be kind of fun to have a boat to take out when they got tired of riding around the city on Ricky's bike, except that Clifford was pretty sure he'd never get tired of riding on the back of Ricky's bike.
"Not bad," Ricky said as he took the part Clifford held up, then, "maybe" as he tucked it under his arm. They'd been through this enough times that Clifford knew he'd carry the part around with him until they either found something better or got tired of looking, and it was kind of nice, knowing what to expect.
The first time Ricky had brought him to the junkyard, Clifford had no idea what to expect. He didn't really care, though, because Ricky wasn't chasing him off or ignoring him until he gave up, and that was all that mattered. It was still kind of all that mattered, but Clifford would never admit that out loud, because he liked hanging out with Ricky and he didn't want to give Ricky any reason to start rethinking what they were doing.
They hadn't put a name on it yet. Clifford wasn't sure they ever would, but in a way it didn't really matter. They spent all their free time together, either working on Ricky's latest project or hanging out at the hotel, they talked and laughed and listened to music, and a few months ago, when they were all alone in Clifford's room, he'd leaned in and kissed Ricky for the first time.
At first he'd been worried that Ricky was going to run out of the room and never look back. Maybe there was even a tiny little part of him that wanted Ricky to do exactly that, because he'd never wanted to kiss another boy before and he wasn't sure what any of it meant. Then again, he'd never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss Ricky, so in the end he decided the risk was worth it.
Only Ricky hadn't run out. He'd looked a little surprised at first, but he didn't look angry, and when Clifford leaned in to kiss him again he didn't push him away. And they never talked about it, but after that everything changed. Everything was better, because he got to kiss Ricky whenever he wanted - whenever they were alone, anyway - and even when they weren't kissing, things between them were better. More comfortable, like they had a secret that the rest of the world didn't need to know.
That was six months ago, and it had been almost a year exactly since their first date in the junkyard. Clifford grinned at that thought, wondering what Ricky would have done way back then if Clifford had called that trip a date.
"What? You find another one?"
"No," Clifford answered, still grinning and now Ricky was eyeing him suspiciously. "I was just thinking about our first date."
That got him an even weirder look, but Clifford just laughed and shook his head.
"Don't you remember? You took me to the junkyard to help find parts for your bike."
"That wasn't a date," Ricky said, and Clifford was glad he knew Ricky so well, because there was a time when he would have thought the gruff quality of Ricky's voice meant he was annoyed. "That was you refusing to take a hint."
"Maybe," Clifford answered. He nudged Ricky's bicep with his shoulder, grinning when Ricky shook his head. "But you're glad I didn't give up."
Ricky shrugged and looked away, out over the piles of junk toward something only he could see. It only lasted for a second, but Clifford knew he was thinking about what it had been like for both of them back then, and how much everything had changed in a year. Then Ricky turned back to him, the faintest trace of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Maybe. When you're not being a pain."
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," Clifford said, and now they were both laughing, but Ricky knew he meant it, and that was all that mattered.
~
And for spoiledjap, Harlan/Marcus futurefic, since I already wrote the Becky/Lori futurefic for Saphron. This fits into the Aftermath universe, but that's pretty obvious if you know that universe at all.
III. Marcus glanced at his watch again and sighed, reaching up to tug at the tie hanging around his neck. He knew better than to loosen it completely; Harlan's father was lurking around somewhere, and he already gave Marcus enough disapproving looks without adding 'slob' to his list of offenses. But he felt like he was choking, and if Harlan was going to torture him with another one of these stupid parties the least he could do was breathe.
Besides, he wasn't one of Mr. Ratcliff's lackeys. He was part of the talent, and he made the company a lot of money with his video games. So really he shouldn't even have to show up to these things is a suit and tie; he was the creative part of the operation, and people should expect him to be eccentric.
He tugged at his tie again and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, swallowing half the contents of the glass as he scanned the room for a familiar face. And that was another thing - Harlan insisted he come to these parties, claimed it was so important and everyone wanted to see him, and then the whole room spent the entire night ignoring him. Including Harlan.
Marcus promised himself for the hundredth time that he wasn't going to give in next time, swallowing the rest of his champagne before he pushed himself off the wall. He wasn't sure where he was going, exactly, but there had to be a door around here somewhere and at least he could get a little fresh air. Maybe he should take up smoking again, just for special occasions. At least it would give him something to do with his hands.
But he knew he wouldn't, because Harlan wouldn't say anything, but he wouldn't like it. Not that it wouldn't serve him right, because every time he promised he wasn't going to ditch Marcus, and every single party Marcus was left all alone and wondering why he'd bothered to show up.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed in the direction he was pretty sure led outside. He wove his way through the crowd, trying to stay on the edges where there was less of a chance he'd run into Harlan's father. And he wasn't sure why the old man still made him so nervous after all this time, but he had a feeling that, at least, would never change.
The door was in sight when Marcus stopped short, a hand closing around his arm and pulling him back into the room. "Where do you think you're going?"
The warm-honey voice in his ear sent a buzz of pleasure down his spine, and he stifled a smile as he let Harlan turn him around. "Just thought I'd get some air. Didn't think anybody would miss me."
"I always miss you, Marcus," Harlan said, arm sliding around his waist to pull Marcus even closer. "I just had a little business to take care of. I was coming to find you."
"That's what you always say."
"It's true."
"I've been bored out of my mind for the past hour, Harlan," Marcus complained, but it was hard to stay mad when Harlan was pressing hot kisses to his jaw in between murmured excuses. "You know I hate coming to these things."
"I'll make it up to you," Harlan said, pulling back to grin at him up close, and Marcus couldn't help smiling back. Because that was one promise Harlan always kept, and he always made it worth a couple hours of standing around feeling like an idiot.
"I don't think anything can make up for this tie. I can't breathe."
"Yeah, but you look good," Harlan said, hands sliding down the front of Marcus' jacket to push underneath, up his back and Marcus leaned into the sensation and turned his face up for a kiss. Harlan's mouth was hot and insistent and gone way too soon, but when Marcus opened his mouth to complain Harlan nodded toward the door.
"Let's get out of here."
"That's the best idea you've had all night," Marcus answered, letting Harlan push him toward the door.
A low, rich laugh sounded in his ear, and Marcus shivered at the sound. "You haven't heard all my ideas yet, Marcus. Just wait 'til I get you home."
And that was the kind of promise Marcus knew Harlan would keep.
~