Various and Sundry Prompt Responses
I fail at remembering to post things. So. I wrote a bunch of prompt ficlets ages ago, and posted most of them, and somehow missed one, so that's here, as are the fanfic drabbles I did for that prompt meme a couple weeks ago.
For lambofcurl101th, who requested:
“Dare you,” Danny says, laughing, grin wide and teasing, and Harry really doesn’t want to, it’s a public beach, and, yes, it’s the middle of the night, but someone could come and - “I’ll do it,” Danny says.
Harry hasn’t even gotten his mouth open to protest when Danny’s shirt smacks him in the face, and by the time Harry’s yanked it away, thrown it to the sand, Danny’s jeans and boxers are down around his ankles and he’s hopping down towards the water, yelling as the waves slap against his skin.
“Fuck,” Harry hisses, too low to be heard over the noise Danny’s making, and he pulls his own shirt off, fumbling to get his jeans off, because like hell is he going to let Danny brag that he did what Harry wouldn’t.
Harry curses again, louder, when the cold water swallows his feet, ankles, legs, and now Danny’s laughing at him, and no, it’s not funny, it’s fucking cold - isn’t the water in Australia supposed to be warm? - and there’s only one way to handle that, so he tackles Danny straight into the waves and they both go under, arms and legs flailing until they come up, sputtering and coughing water.
“Knew you’d do it,” Danny says, and the fucker is still laughing, his whole face alive and happy, and the water’s really not so bad now, and Danny’s still got both hands on Harry’s arms, hot against Harry’s skin, and.
“Fuck it,” Harry says, leans in and kisses Danny square on the mouth.
Danny makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but his fingers tighten, and then it’s just salt-taste and warm heat, too-white moon and a million stars reflecting in black water.
+++
For manuanya, who requested:
I’m Guilty but I’m Safe for One More Day
“Come on, come on, this way,” Dougie grabs Harry’s hand, pulls him farther down the beach until the waves are catching at their feet, slapping around their ankles with every other step.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” Harry hisses in shock when the water hits his skin. But Dougie’s running, tugging Harry along with him, feet splashing in the shallows, and he doesn’t stop until they round the corner of the beach and lose sight of the house behind the bluffs.
Dougie flops down just above the water line, grinning as he stretches out in the light of the rising sun.
Harry sits next to him, grinning a little just because Dougie is. “Was there a point to getting wet?” he asks, fully expecting a ‘no’ in reply.
But Dougie’s grin softens into a smile as he turns his head, looking back the way they’ve come. “No footprints,” he says. “That way, no one can follow us.”
Harry turns to follow Dougie’s line of sight and, yeah, the ocean’s washed away any trail they might have left in the sand. He turns back to find Dougie watching him, squinting against the light. He reaches out to lace their fingers together, feels his lips curling up in a return smile. “Good point,” he says. “Definitely worth it.”
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For closercloser, who requested:
Mistaken for a Deer
Drums rumble like thunder in the distance. A band, Guildenstern thinks, but only vaguely, because Rosencrantz is looking at him, head cocked a little to one side like he’s trying to work out a puzzle and having a difficult time.
“What?” Guildenstern asks, and it comes out more harshly than he’d intended.
Rosencrantz’s face twists a little, a look that’s not quite sad and not quite a frown. “You won’t leave me?” he asks.
Guildenstern blinks at him, because it’s completely out of nowhere. At least, he doesn’t think a question like that is coming from somewhere. He hopes not. “No,” he says. “Of course not.” And he frowns a bit himself, trying to think what could have set this off.
Rosencrantz smiles, though, easy and too fucking sweet, and he steps in close, brushing his mouth against Guildenstern’s, innocent and too fucking chaste, then steps back again, turning away before Guildenstern can say anything. “Do you hear that?” he asks.
“What?” and Guildenstern feels like he’s been here before.
“I can hear - I thought I heard - music.” Rosencrantz has his head cocked again, staring off in the direction of the drums.
“Yes,” Guildenstern says, grabs Rosencrantz’s arm, and tugs him in the other direction, hoping to either get away before anyone shows up or else to blend into the background. He has a bad feeling about those drums.
+++
For cobalt_violet, who requested:
Orpheus watches through the window as Jason forces another ludicrously brilliant flamingo into the ground in front of their house. There are already half a dozen of them littered across the lawn like so many bright pink horrors, and Orpheus thinks they’re as bad as anything the Argonauts faced when they were alive, but Jason likes them, and Orpheus likes Jason, so he doesn’t say anything. At least they’re not as disturbing as the gnomes the people across the street have - Orpheus really doesn’t know what to do about those, thinks maybe it’s something that came into fashion after he died. Then again, in his day, no one used flamingos as lawn ornaments either, so he’s not really one to talk.
The sound of something smashing carries across the street. Orpheus pulls the curtain a little further back in time to see the guy with the garden gnomes start yelling at the blond who lives next door - Orpheus thinks he probably ought to learn their names, it’s been centuries now, but, well, they have gnomes. The guy with the gnomes gestures furiously in the direction of Orpheus’ house, and Jason is at the fence yelling back before Orpheus can blink.
Well, shit, Orpheus thinks, and stalks to the door. He stands on the porch for a minute, wondering what the hell is going on, and sees two men standing in the doors of the houses opposite, looking almost exactly like Orpheus feels. He meets the eyes of the guy directly opposite - at the gnome house - and the guy rolls his eyes.
Orpheus can’t help it, he grins, and looks at the other guy, who’s making a ‘do you want tea?’ gesture with his hands, miming lifting a teacup. Orpheus glances at Jason, who’s now in the middle of the street yelling at the blond and the guy with the gnomes, then looks back at the blond’s companion and nods.
Five minutes later, introductions over, he, Patroclus, and Hephaistion are sitting around Hephaistion’s kitchen table, munching on carrots and celery sticks, waiting for a pot of tea to boil.
Things, Orpheus thinks, could definitely be worse.
+++
For evolia, who requested:
Say, Lend Me Your Coat (Baby, It’s Cold Outside)
“I’m cold,” Dougie says, and it’s the understatement of the fucking year. It’s a fucking blizzard outside, the heating in the warehouse they’re using as a film studio is for shit, and she’s done up in some ridiculous costume that makes her look like a high class whore - which is maybe the point, but still. She did not sign on for this.
“Suck it up, Poynter,” Harry tells her, like he’s one to talk. He’s fully covered, and wearing a heavy leather jacket to boot.
“My tits are going to freeze off, and then you’ll be sorry,” she warns, he just raises an eyebrow.
“Your tits look fine to me,” Danny says, eyes them for a moment, then grins up at Dougie’s face.
“Oh, fuck right off,” she snaps, because he’s also dressed at least twice as warmly as she is.
Tom laughs for about half a second, but when she turns to glare at him, he just holds out his arms, “Hey, I’m freezing, too,” he says, “come snuggle with me.” And Tom’s wearing more than she is - at least his legs are fully covered - but not much, so she goes, curls her arms around his bare midriff, and tucks her head against his shoulder.
“I like you best,” she tells the soft black cotton under her cheek, tilts her head back to grin at him, still has the urge to do a double-take at his dark hair, even though it’s been that way since before they left London for the shoot.
“Hey!” Danny says, “I complimented your tits!”
Dougie snorts, says, “You should have offered to keep them warm, instead.”
Danny makes an indignant noise, but half a second later both he and Harry have clustered in around Dougie and Tom, and, sure enough, one of Danny’s giant hands has crept up between them to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her top.
“Thanks,” Dougie says, a little sarcastic, but she shivers anyway, and not from the cold this time.
Harry laughs, breath soft against the back of Dougie’s neck, and his arm wraps around her hips, thumb sliding just a little under the waistband of her skirt. “Anything you want,” he says, and she can feel him grin.
“Um…”
Dougie twists to look out from the tangle of boy-limbs to see one of the PAs hovering a few feet away, looking between them and the film crew on the other side of the warehouse.
“Yes?” Tom asks over her head, doesn’t let go.
“They’re ready to start shooting again,” the PA says, shifts a little awkwardly on his feet. “Performance shot? From the, uh, chorus?”
“All right,” Harry says comfortably. “We’ll be right there.”
“Right. Good.” The PA - who is a really spectacular shade of red, Dougie can’t help but notice, nods twice and stumbles backwards a few steps before turning and hurrying away.
“Time to freeze again,” Tom says, and pulls away.
“You owe me a warm bed, tonight,” Dougie tells them all, then follows Tom and the PA over to the set.
+++
cobalt_violet also requested an Alexander/Hephaistion drabble from my High School!AU, which is posted over at my non-fanfic journal, as it's not actually fanfic.
I Know We Can't Go Wrong.
For lambofcurl101th, who requested:
“Dare you,” Danny says, laughing, grin wide and teasing, and Harry really doesn’t want to, it’s a public beach, and, yes, it’s the middle of the night, but someone could come and - “I’ll do it,” Danny says.
Harry hasn’t even gotten his mouth open to protest when Danny’s shirt smacks him in the face, and by the time Harry’s yanked it away, thrown it to the sand, Danny’s jeans and boxers are down around his ankles and he’s hopping down towards the water, yelling as the waves slap against his skin.
“Fuck,” Harry hisses, too low to be heard over the noise Danny’s making, and he pulls his own shirt off, fumbling to get his jeans off, because like hell is he going to let Danny brag that he did what Harry wouldn’t.
Harry curses again, louder, when the cold water swallows his feet, ankles, legs, and now Danny’s laughing at him, and no, it’s not funny, it’s fucking cold - isn’t the water in Australia supposed to be warm? - and there’s only one way to handle that, so he tackles Danny straight into the waves and they both go under, arms and legs flailing until they come up, sputtering and coughing water.
“Knew you’d do it,” Danny says, and the fucker is still laughing, his whole face alive and happy, and the water’s really not so bad now, and Danny’s still got both hands on Harry’s arms, hot against Harry’s skin, and.
“Fuck it,” Harry says, leans in and kisses Danny square on the mouth.
Danny makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but his fingers tighten, and then it’s just salt-taste and warm heat, too-white moon and a million stars reflecting in black water.
+++
For manuanya, who requested:
I’m Guilty but I’m Safe for One More Day
“Come on, come on, this way,” Dougie grabs Harry’s hand, pulls him farther down the beach until the waves are catching at their feet, slapping around their ankles with every other step.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” Harry hisses in shock when the water hits his skin. But Dougie’s running, tugging Harry along with him, feet splashing in the shallows, and he doesn’t stop until they round the corner of the beach and lose sight of the house behind the bluffs.
Dougie flops down just above the water line, grinning as he stretches out in the light of the rising sun.
Harry sits next to him, grinning a little just because Dougie is. “Was there a point to getting wet?” he asks, fully expecting a ‘no’ in reply.
But Dougie’s grin softens into a smile as he turns his head, looking back the way they’ve come. “No footprints,” he says. “That way, no one can follow us.”
Harry turns to follow Dougie’s line of sight and, yeah, the ocean’s washed away any trail they might have left in the sand. He turns back to find Dougie watching him, squinting against the light. He reaches out to lace their fingers together, feels his lips curling up in a return smile. “Good point,” he says. “Definitely worth it.”
+++
For closercloser, who requested:
Mistaken for a Deer
Drums rumble like thunder in the distance. A band, Guildenstern thinks, but only vaguely, because Rosencrantz is looking at him, head cocked a little to one side like he’s trying to work out a puzzle and having a difficult time.
“What?” Guildenstern asks, and it comes out more harshly than he’d intended.
Rosencrantz’s face twists a little, a look that’s not quite sad and not quite a frown. “You won’t leave me?” he asks.
Guildenstern blinks at him, because it’s completely out of nowhere. At least, he doesn’t think a question like that is coming from somewhere. He hopes not. “No,” he says. “Of course not.” And he frowns a bit himself, trying to think what could have set this off.
Rosencrantz smiles, though, easy and too fucking sweet, and he steps in close, brushing his mouth against Guildenstern’s, innocent and too fucking chaste, then steps back again, turning away before Guildenstern can say anything. “Do you hear that?” he asks.
“What?” and Guildenstern feels like he’s been here before.
“I can hear - I thought I heard - music.” Rosencrantz has his head cocked again, staring off in the direction of the drums.
“Yes,” Guildenstern says, grabs Rosencrantz’s arm, and tugs him in the other direction, hoping to either get away before anyone shows up or else to blend into the background. He has a bad feeling about those drums.
+++
For cobalt_violet, who requested:
Orpheus watches through the window as Jason forces another ludicrously brilliant flamingo into the ground in front of their house. There are already half a dozen of them littered across the lawn like so many bright pink horrors, and Orpheus thinks they’re as bad as anything the Argonauts faced when they were alive, but Jason likes them, and Orpheus likes Jason, so he doesn’t say anything. At least they’re not as disturbing as the gnomes the people across the street have - Orpheus really doesn’t know what to do about those, thinks maybe it’s something that came into fashion after he died. Then again, in his day, no one used flamingos as lawn ornaments either, so he’s not really one to talk.
The sound of something smashing carries across the street. Orpheus pulls the curtain a little further back in time to see the guy with the garden gnomes start yelling at the blond who lives next door - Orpheus thinks he probably ought to learn their names, it’s been centuries now, but, well, they have gnomes. The guy with the gnomes gestures furiously in the direction of Orpheus’ house, and Jason is at the fence yelling back before Orpheus can blink.
Well, shit, Orpheus thinks, and stalks to the door. He stands on the porch for a minute, wondering what the hell is going on, and sees two men standing in the doors of the houses opposite, looking almost exactly like Orpheus feels. He meets the eyes of the guy directly opposite - at the gnome house - and the guy rolls his eyes.
Orpheus can’t help it, he grins, and looks at the other guy, who’s making a ‘do you want tea?’ gesture with his hands, miming lifting a teacup. Orpheus glances at Jason, who’s now in the middle of the street yelling at the blond and the guy with the gnomes, then looks back at the blond’s companion and nods.
Five minutes later, introductions over, he, Patroclus, and Hephaistion are sitting around Hephaistion’s kitchen table, munching on carrots and celery sticks, waiting for a pot of tea to boil.
Things, Orpheus thinks, could definitely be worse.
+++
For evolia, who requested:
Say, Lend Me Your Coat (Baby, It’s Cold Outside)
“I’m cold,” Dougie says, and it’s the understatement of the fucking year. It’s a fucking blizzard outside, the heating in the warehouse they’re using as a film studio is for shit, and she’s done up in some ridiculous costume that makes her look like a high class whore - which is maybe the point, but still. She did not sign on for this.
“Suck it up, Poynter,” Harry tells her, like he’s one to talk. He’s fully covered, and wearing a heavy leather jacket to boot.
“My tits are going to freeze off, and then you’ll be sorry,” she warns, he just raises an eyebrow.
“Your tits look fine to me,” Danny says, eyes them for a moment, then grins up at Dougie’s face.
“Oh, fuck right off,” she snaps, because he’s also dressed at least twice as warmly as she is.
Tom laughs for about half a second, but when she turns to glare at him, he just holds out his arms, “Hey, I’m freezing, too,” he says, “come snuggle with me.” And Tom’s wearing more than she is - at least his legs are fully covered - but not much, so she goes, curls her arms around his bare midriff, and tucks her head against his shoulder.
“I like you best,” she tells the soft black cotton under her cheek, tilts her head back to grin at him, still has the urge to do a double-take at his dark hair, even though it’s been that way since before they left London for the shoot.
“Hey!” Danny says, “I complimented your tits!”
Dougie snorts, says, “You should have offered to keep them warm, instead.”
Danny makes an indignant noise, but half a second later both he and Harry have clustered in around Dougie and Tom, and, sure enough, one of Danny’s giant hands has crept up between them to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her top.
“Thanks,” Dougie says, a little sarcastic, but she shivers anyway, and not from the cold this time.
Harry laughs, breath soft against the back of Dougie’s neck, and his arm wraps around her hips, thumb sliding just a little under the waistband of her skirt. “Anything you want,” he says, and she can feel him grin.
“Um…”
Dougie twists to look out from the tangle of boy-limbs to see one of the PAs hovering a few feet away, looking between them and the film crew on the other side of the warehouse.
“Yes?” Tom asks over her head, doesn’t let go.
“They’re ready to start shooting again,” the PA says, shifts a little awkwardly on his feet. “Performance shot? From the, uh, chorus?”
“All right,” Harry says comfortably. “We’ll be right there.”
“Right. Good.” The PA - who is a really spectacular shade of red, Dougie can’t help but notice, nods twice and stumbles backwards a few steps before turning and hurrying away.
“Time to freeze again,” Tom says, and pulls away.
“You owe me a warm bed, tonight,” Dougie tells them all, then follows Tom and the PA over to the set.
+++
cobalt_violet also requested an Alexander/Hephaistion drabble from my High School!AU, which is posted over at my non-fanfic journal, as it's not actually fanfic.
I Know We Can't Go Wrong.