Drabble and Ficlet Collection
Collection of comment!drabbles and ficlets I've been writing to get my brain working again.
Title: Money
Fandom: Leverage
Character: Parker
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Money is good.
The money wants her to touch it, Parker knows this in a very Zen-like way. The fact that Nate has left it in knife-edge tidy stacks, in the middle of the table, just means that she can't touch it as enthusiastically as she might- as she probably would. But she can get close, close enough to-
"Parker stop smelling the money."
Parker sways upright again.
"I wasn't," she protests, then scowls, because Nate isn't even looking, he's doing his 'knowing things without looking' thing.
She thinks, she should find out how he does that. It seems like a good superpower.
Title: Anxiety
Fandom: Numb3rs
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Charlie/Colby,
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Charlie makes Colby's life more complicated.
There weren't enough paper towels.
Colby worked this out quickly enough. Trying to wipe coffee off of paperwork, when the paper towels were already mostly wet, just left brown smears across Don's neat handwriting.
Halfway through, Colby gave up, put the paper cup back on top of the paperwork, and dumped the towels in the trash.
Though this wasn't Colby's fault. Charlie had obviously left the cup on the stack of Don's paperwork halfway through a conversation, or a math demonstration, or something, and then clearly his brain had forgotten about it, and wandered his body away somewhere else.
The cup had rested forlorn, and forgotten, for a few hours, and then clearly protested its abandonment, by leaking all over the damn place.
"Colby!"
Colby managed, just about, to block the view of paperwork with his own body, possibly getting splatters of cold coffee on the back of his shirt for his trouble.
Don was hanging in the doorway, serious expression on his face.
"Hey, Colby, you seen Charlie?" Don looked perplexed.
The last time Colby had seen Charlie he'd been drawing something that didn't so much look like math, as complicated battle tactics, on one of the boards in garish yellow pen.
When he'd questioned- no when he'd made the mistake of questioning, there'd be an explanation. Which involved a lot of pointing, and long words, and then finally a laugh, and yellow marker on his nose.
Colby had managed to escape with his dignity.
Barely.
Though the sound of laughter had followed him back to his desk.
He shook his head.
"No, no, not for a while."
"He didn't seem to be acting funny to you?"
Charlie always seemed to be acting funny to Colby, Colby suspected Charlie lived on an entirely different scale of normal to him. He tried to think of a polite way to tell Don that his brother, may in fact, be the anti-christ.
There was really no way for that to go over well.
He shook his head instead.
"Nope."
Title: Unquiet
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Character: Jack
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Jack is unhappy with his team.
So, maybe Jack had been a little too in the moment when he'd said 'How hard could it be?'
He should know better by now, honestly he should. That was pretty much like sticking your hand up Fate's skirt and expecting her not to slap you.
Punishment for defiling- and really defiling is such a good word- punishment for defiling the Anuran's sacred scrolls had been five days without a voice.
Nothing overly gruesome. involving sharp knives and tongues (and his grew back- yeah, he didn't really want to think back on exactly when he'd worked that out.) So not sharp knives, some sort of subsonic technology. Rustled up with- Jack lifts his hand and pokes at the rather unattractive looking collar he's currently wearing. No, really he's worn collars before, most of them were fun. This one jabs him in the chin every time he turns his head, and sounds like he's being continually chased by a swarm of angry flies.
So really he's not enjoying this at all.
And it makes him look like a dork.
Which normally he wouldn't complain about, but the angry flies and the chin bruises have been fraying his temper.
Also, no one listens to him when he doesn't have a voice....
No one listens to what he clearly wants people to do. No one pays any attention to his facial expressions. Which is somewhere past disheartening and into downright annoying.
He wonders if it's his own fault?
He's starting to think he's spent too long working innuendo into almost everything, because its very hard to make anyone who works at Torchwood do anything sensible without complicated hand gestures.
Sometimes he wants to get a little more direct with the hand gestures but he's resisting. They're his people, but much as he wants to be respected while looking like he's wearing a toilet seat round his neck, and making desperate gestures for 'please for the love of god get me a coffee' it's probably a lost cause....
Ten minutes and he's just going to start randomly shooting them.
Title: Menagerie
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Character: Jack
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Jack animal sits.
Jack is implementing a new rule.
The new rule will be 'no touching the alien artifacts.'
He's going to put that into effect just as soon as his team is human again.
No, really he is!
Owen is currently seeing if his hair is edible, because Owen is now some sort of spindly, monkey faced creature, with feathers. Who doesn't seem capable of not climbing everything, and only seems to be happy tangled round Jack's neck, like some sort of enthusiastic, and moody scarf. So he's been, for all intents and purposes, wearing Owen since the whole thing started. But, the bright side of that, is at least he knows where he is.
Gwen is...Jack wants to say 'a horse' because that's the closest he can get, and aside from the six legs, and the tentacles, 'horse' it is pretty close. Judging by the clacking of hooves on grating, she's somewhere over the other side of the hub, rifling in the empty pizza boxes and old bits of machinery.
Ianto has...flown off somewhere, normally he'd worry about that, but the hub is sealed, and Ianto is currently three times the size of Myfanwy, at her most belligerent.
Jack thinks maybe he should be worried for her.
Tosh is...he has no idea where Tosh is, he just remembers that she was a small flash of movement, when the device threw its genetic morphing beam everywhere. So he just hopes she's found somewhere small, away from the hooves, and the claws, until Jack can- until he can- Owen's little spidery monkey hands frantically try and get a grip on his face as Gwen canters past, and Jack is briefly blind, then on his ass in the water.
And really this whole day is pretty much a bust.
So new rule...first thing tomorrow.
Title: This Time I Break
Fandom: Dr. Horrible
Pairing: Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: He should have stopped it.
He should have stopped it already, should have stopped it before it started.
Though he can't remember exactly when it all started.
After Penny everything...everything was thin and stretched out, he doesn't remember exactly.
He doesn't like to remember.
Captain Hammer has never looked right in his bed, there's too much of him, he's an invasion of personal space that grates along every nerve.
And he breaks everything he touches, everything.
Billy doesn't want him there.
But he needs him there.
There's a long bruise on his wrist, that will perfectly match the span of Captain Hammer's hand, it will be purple by tomorrow. But Billy's had worse bruises, he has worse bruises, though not where anyone would notice.
No one else see's him-
No one else ever sees him.
He rubs at it anyway, the sensation a curious distraction, and that hurts too, but he can't quite make himself stop.
Title: Peaches
Fandom: Dr Who
Pairing: Donna/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Donna and Rose explore, and then explore some more.
The temple wasn't as impressive as the Doctor had led them to assume, and of course he'd buggered off somewhere and left Donna and Rose to try and wrangle some entertainment from a forty thousand year old room.
There was even a brochure. Which Rose had stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans, when it became clear it was about as interesting as any ancient monument, public information pack was inclined to be.
Alien dust trickled from the ceiling.
"This place is falling apart at the seams," Donna complained, mostly through her nose.
"Oh I don't know," Rose said, grinning over the broken edge of a column over a column. "It has its charm."
The friezes, on this side of the temple, were interesting only in their alienness.
Aliens cavorting round the wall in various states of dress, fighting monsters, rescuing damsels- granted it had taken Donna a minute to work out which ones were the monsters, and which were the damsels.
"I think 'charm's' taking it a bit far," Donna said dubiously.
"It's history though, isn't it." Rose laughed, like she had her own secret definition of history, that was more interesting than Donna's. Donna huffed, but Rose was already studying the other wall, one hand on her hip, tongue stuck between her teeth.
When she turned around Donna made a short, amused nose.
"That smile you've got there, that's filth that is," Donna told her.
"I was just thinking-" Rose's tongue slid into her cheek, rested there, then she laughed, but didn't finish her sentence.
"Thinking what?"
Rose came back down the steps, came down to lean against the same wall as Donna, hair flickering in the breeze from the walkway.
"Thinking what?" Donna asked again.
Instead of replying Rose leant in, hands lifting to hold Donna's head still. She was still laughing when she kissed her. One soft press that was half chaste, and half not. Tiny bits of grit fell from her fingers, to get lost in Donna's hair.
Then Rose drew back, expression all cheek and amusement. Rose was good at expressions.
"What was that for?" Donna's voice wasn't half as sensible as she would have liked.
Rose pulled her lips under her teeth, when she let them go again they were red, and wet.
"Maybe it was for luck."
"You don't normally get tongue for luck," Donna protested.
"I didn't use tongue," Rose smiled, wide and sudden, nodded her head. "You'd know if I used tongue, trust me."
She laughed and shuffled a little closer, all peach smelling lip gloss, and big eyes. Donna wasn't normally the sort to like peach smelling lip gloss, but she didn't move away, didn't do much of anything, but shift her hand, just a little, catch the edge of Rose's coat, slippery leather under her fingers.
This time Rose's hands were all the way inside Donna's hair, gathering it up and holding it between her fingers, mouth playful and half open. She definitely used tongue this time, a slow wet glide that Donna, rather than protest, tilted her head just a little, to make it all easier. Rose's thumbs skidded across her ears, and then she was smiling against Donna's mouth, all breath and smeared lip gloss, and Donna could taste it now too.
"I think the temple isn't quite as dead as the brochure says."
"Really? You think?" Rose still hadn't stepped back.
"Well you're a girl," Donna said flatly, if only to shift that smile on Rose's face.
It didn't budge an inch though.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not bad, not necessarily bad, just different." Rose laughed and Donna rolled her eyes.
But Rose was watching her with that little half smile, all big eyes and filthy mouth and Donna wanted to kiss her again, she wanted to tug her forward by the belt loops of her jeans, and kiss that wide laughing mouth, until Rose kissed her back.
Title: Rain
Fandom: Tin Man
Pairing: Cain/Glitch
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: The rain can hide a lot of things.
It's raining, a steady rhythmic patter of drops on, and through the trees. Cain can hear it, but he can't feel it yet, can't feel it until they reach the open, when it falls against his hat, in a vibration of sound he can feel almost all the way through.
Glitch doesn't seem to care, he walks through the rain like it's just another curious addition to the day, occasionally he'll amble ahead, find a hole in the trees, and stop there, then he'll spread his arms, and tip his head back. Leaving it in the rain, until it's a choice to either move it, or drown.
When Cain catches up to him, his hair is a fall of wet curves, one curling spontaneously across the pale skin of his forehead. Glitch glances at it, one brief eye movement, that looks entirely amused, and Cain can't resist reaching out and pushing it back.
It sticks up stubbornly, in a very Glitch-like way, and Cain has to laugh, briefly, because that's exactly right.
Glitch bounces on his toes, and smiles, and chews at the wet length of his lower lip.
It's a strange point of fascination, for a long curious second, and Cain is not entirely sure which one of them takes a step.
But suddenly they're far too close not to kiss.
Glitch's mouth is slippery, and not entirely real in the rain, and Cain wonders if that's ok, if things that aren't completely real matter at all.
But then Glitch bends, just a little, and there are sharp fingers on the back of Cain's neck
Glitch kisses him hard enough that Cain can feel the warmth inside, away from the coldness of the rain. He makes it real without trying, and Cain can feel everything.
He leans back to breathe, to breathe wet air that smells like pine needles.
"This is reckless," Cain says thickly. "I don't do reckless."
Glitch tips his head back, and water drips off of the ends of his hair, and his nose. He's still smiling like he's found something unexpected and amazing. Cain would have sworn blind that no one had the energy to look like that all the time.
"I don't really function very well any other way," Glitch says with a quirk of eyebrow, and a curious tip of his head.
Title: Money
Fandom: Leverage
Character: Parker
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Money is good.
The money wants her to touch it, Parker knows this in a very Zen-like way. The fact that Nate has left it in knife-edge tidy stacks, in the middle of the table, just means that she can't touch it as enthusiastically as she might- as she probably would. But she can get close, close enough to-
"Parker stop smelling the money."
Parker sways upright again.
"I wasn't," she protests, then scowls, because Nate isn't even looking, he's doing his 'knowing things without looking' thing.
She thinks, she should find out how he does that. It seems like a good superpower.
Title: Anxiety
Fandom: Numb3rs
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Charlie/Colby,
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Charlie makes Colby's life more complicated.
There weren't enough paper towels.
Colby worked this out quickly enough. Trying to wipe coffee off of paperwork, when the paper towels were already mostly wet, just left brown smears across Don's neat handwriting.
Halfway through, Colby gave up, put the paper cup back on top of the paperwork, and dumped the towels in the trash.
Though this wasn't Colby's fault. Charlie had obviously left the cup on the stack of Don's paperwork halfway through a conversation, or a math demonstration, or something, and then clearly his brain had forgotten about it, and wandered his body away somewhere else.
The cup had rested forlorn, and forgotten, for a few hours, and then clearly protested its abandonment, by leaking all over the damn place.
"Colby!"
Colby managed, just about, to block the view of paperwork with his own body, possibly getting splatters of cold coffee on the back of his shirt for his trouble.
Don was hanging in the doorway, serious expression on his face.
"Hey, Colby, you seen Charlie?" Don looked perplexed.
The last time Colby had seen Charlie he'd been drawing something that didn't so much look like math, as complicated battle tactics, on one of the boards in garish yellow pen.
When he'd questioned- no when he'd made the mistake of questioning, there'd be an explanation. Which involved a lot of pointing, and long words, and then finally a laugh, and yellow marker on his nose.
Colby had managed to escape with his dignity.
Barely.
Though the sound of laughter had followed him back to his desk.
He shook his head.
"No, no, not for a while."
"He didn't seem to be acting funny to you?"
Charlie always seemed to be acting funny to Colby, Colby suspected Charlie lived on an entirely different scale of normal to him. He tried to think of a polite way to tell Don that his brother, may in fact, be the anti-christ.
There was really no way for that to go over well.
He shook his head instead.
"Nope."
Title: Unquiet
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Character: Jack
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Jack is unhappy with his team.
So, maybe Jack had been a little too in the moment when he'd said 'How hard could it be?'
He should know better by now, honestly he should. That was pretty much like sticking your hand up Fate's skirt and expecting her not to slap you.
Punishment for defiling- and really defiling is such a good word- punishment for defiling the Anuran's sacred scrolls had been five days without a voice.
Nothing overly gruesome. involving sharp knives and tongues (and his grew back- yeah, he didn't really want to think back on exactly when he'd worked that out.) So not sharp knives, some sort of subsonic technology. Rustled up with- Jack lifts his hand and pokes at the rather unattractive looking collar he's currently wearing. No, really he's worn collars before, most of them were fun. This one jabs him in the chin every time he turns his head, and sounds like he's being continually chased by a swarm of angry flies.
So really he's not enjoying this at all.
And it makes him look like a dork.
Which normally he wouldn't complain about, but the angry flies and the chin bruises have been fraying his temper.
Also, no one listens to him when he doesn't have a voice....
No one listens to what he clearly wants people to do. No one pays any attention to his facial expressions. Which is somewhere past disheartening and into downright annoying.
He wonders if it's his own fault?
He's starting to think he's spent too long working innuendo into almost everything, because its very hard to make anyone who works at Torchwood do anything sensible without complicated hand gestures.
Sometimes he wants to get a little more direct with the hand gestures but he's resisting. They're his people, but much as he wants to be respected while looking like he's wearing a toilet seat round his neck, and making desperate gestures for 'please for the love of god get me a coffee' it's probably a lost cause....
Ten minutes and he's just going to start randomly shooting them.
Title: Menagerie
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Character: Jack
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Jack animal sits.
Jack is implementing a new rule.
The new rule will be 'no touching the alien artifacts.'
He's going to put that into effect just as soon as his team is human again.
No, really he is!
Owen is currently seeing if his hair is edible, because Owen is now some sort of spindly, monkey faced creature, with feathers. Who doesn't seem capable of not climbing everything, and only seems to be happy tangled round Jack's neck, like some sort of enthusiastic, and moody scarf. So he's been, for all intents and purposes, wearing Owen since the whole thing started. But, the bright side of that, is at least he knows where he is.
Gwen is...Jack wants to say 'a horse' because that's the closest he can get, and aside from the six legs, and the tentacles, 'horse' it is pretty close. Judging by the clacking of hooves on grating, she's somewhere over the other side of the hub, rifling in the empty pizza boxes and old bits of machinery.
Ianto has...flown off somewhere, normally he'd worry about that, but the hub is sealed, and Ianto is currently three times the size of Myfanwy, at her most belligerent.
Jack thinks maybe he should be worried for her.
Tosh is...he has no idea where Tosh is, he just remembers that she was a small flash of movement, when the device threw its genetic morphing beam everywhere. So he just hopes she's found somewhere small, away from the hooves, and the claws, until Jack can- until he can- Owen's little spidery monkey hands frantically try and get a grip on his face as Gwen canters past, and Jack is briefly blind, then on his ass in the water.
And really this whole day is pretty much a bust.
So new rule...first thing tomorrow.
Title: This Time I Break
Fandom: Dr. Horrible
Pairing: Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: He should have stopped it.
He should have stopped it already, should have stopped it before it started.
Though he can't remember exactly when it all started.
After Penny everything...everything was thin and stretched out, he doesn't remember exactly.
He doesn't like to remember.
Captain Hammer has never looked right in his bed, there's too much of him, he's an invasion of personal space that grates along every nerve.
And he breaks everything he touches, everything.
Billy doesn't want him there.
But he needs him there.
There's a long bruise on his wrist, that will perfectly match the span of Captain Hammer's hand, it will be purple by tomorrow. But Billy's had worse bruises, he has worse bruises, though not where anyone would notice.
No one else see's him-
No one else ever sees him.
He rubs at it anyway, the sensation a curious distraction, and that hurts too, but he can't quite make himself stop.
Title: Peaches
Fandom: Dr Who
Pairing: Donna/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Donna and Rose explore, and then explore some more.
The temple wasn't as impressive as the Doctor had led them to assume, and of course he'd buggered off somewhere and left Donna and Rose to try and wrangle some entertainment from a forty thousand year old room.
There was even a brochure. Which Rose had stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans, when it became clear it was about as interesting as any ancient monument, public information pack was inclined to be.
Alien dust trickled from the ceiling.
"This place is falling apart at the seams," Donna complained, mostly through her nose.
"Oh I don't know," Rose said, grinning over the broken edge of a column over a column. "It has its charm."
The friezes, on this side of the temple, were interesting only in their alienness.
Aliens cavorting round the wall in various states of dress, fighting monsters, rescuing damsels- granted it had taken Donna a minute to work out which ones were the monsters, and which were the damsels.
"I think 'charm's' taking it a bit far," Donna said dubiously.
"It's history though, isn't it." Rose laughed, like she had her own secret definition of history, that was more interesting than Donna's. Donna huffed, but Rose was already studying the other wall, one hand on her hip, tongue stuck between her teeth.
When she turned around Donna made a short, amused nose.
"That smile you've got there, that's filth that is," Donna told her.
"I was just thinking-" Rose's tongue slid into her cheek, rested there, then she laughed, but didn't finish her sentence.
"Thinking what?"
Rose came back down the steps, came down to lean against the same wall as Donna, hair flickering in the breeze from the walkway.
"Thinking what?" Donna asked again.
Instead of replying Rose leant in, hands lifting to hold Donna's head still. She was still laughing when she kissed her. One soft press that was half chaste, and half not. Tiny bits of grit fell from her fingers, to get lost in Donna's hair.
Then Rose drew back, expression all cheek and amusement. Rose was good at expressions.
"What was that for?" Donna's voice wasn't half as sensible as she would have liked.
Rose pulled her lips under her teeth, when she let them go again they were red, and wet.
"Maybe it was for luck."
"You don't normally get tongue for luck," Donna protested.
"I didn't use tongue," Rose smiled, wide and sudden, nodded her head. "You'd know if I used tongue, trust me."
She laughed and shuffled a little closer, all peach smelling lip gloss, and big eyes. Donna wasn't normally the sort to like peach smelling lip gloss, but she didn't move away, didn't do much of anything, but shift her hand, just a little, catch the edge of Rose's coat, slippery leather under her fingers.
This time Rose's hands were all the way inside Donna's hair, gathering it up and holding it between her fingers, mouth playful and half open. She definitely used tongue this time, a slow wet glide that Donna, rather than protest, tilted her head just a little, to make it all easier. Rose's thumbs skidded across her ears, and then she was smiling against Donna's mouth, all breath and smeared lip gloss, and Donna could taste it now too.
"I think the temple isn't quite as dead as the brochure says."
"Really? You think?" Rose still hadn't stepped back.
"Well you're a girl," Donna said flatly, if only to shift that smile on Rose's face.
It didn't budge an inch though.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not bad, not necessarily bad, just different." Rose laughed and Donna rolled her eyes.
But Rose was watching her with that little half smile, all big eyes and filthy mouth and Donna wanted to kiss her again, she wanted to tug her forward by the belt loops of her jeans, and kiss that wide laughing mouth, until Rose kissed her back.
Title: Rain
Fandom: Tin Man
Pairing: Cain/Glitch
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: The rain can hide a lot of things.
It's raining, a steady rhythmic patter of drops on, and through the trees. Cain can hear it, but he can't feel it yet, can't feel it until they reach the open, when it falls against his hat, in a vibration of sound he can feel almost all the way through.
Glitch doesn't seem to care, he walks through the rain like it's just another curious addition to the day, occasionally he'll amble ahead, find a hole in the trees, and stop there, then he'll spread his arms, and tip his head back. Leaving it in the rain, until it's a choice to either move it, or drown.
When Cain catches up to him, his hair is a fall of wet curves, one curling spontaneously across the pale skin of his forehead. Glitch glances at it, one brief eye movement, that looks entirely amused, and Cain can't resist reaching out and pushing it back.
It sticks up stubbornly, in a very Glitch-like way, and Cain has to laugh, briefly, because that's exactly right.
Glitch bounces on his toes, and smiles, and chews at the wet length of his lower lip.
It's a strange point of fascination, for a long curious second, and Cain is not entirely sure which one of them takes a step.
But suddenly they're far too close not to kiss.
Glitch's mouth is slippery, and not entirely real in the rain, and Cain wonders if that's ok, if things that aren't completely real matter at all.
But then Glitch bends, just a little, and there are sharp fingers on the back of Cain's neck
Glitch kisses him hard enough that Cain can feel the warmth inside, away from the coldness of the rain. He makes it real without trying, and Cain can feel everything.
He leans back to breathe, to breathe wet air that smells like pine needles.
"This is reckless," Cain says thickly. "I don't do reckless."
Glitch tips his head back, and water drips off of the ends of his hair, and his nose. He's still smiling like he's found something unexpected and amazing. Cain would have sworn blind that no one had the energy to look like that all the time.
"I don't really function very well any other way," Glitch says with a quirk of eyebrow, and a curious tip of his head.