today's drabble challenge: no using 'smirk'.
Liz and I set a challenge, to keep boredom at bay. The result are the three following drabbles (and one other that's 200 words, but it contains spoilers for later season 8 in SG-1, so I'll post it in a separate entry).
Sam/Jack
Ripley/Call/Hicks
Sam Carter and Bev Crusher (Liz, this is SO your fault. Now come up with a plot for me, bitch)
"Stop that."
"What?"
"That."
"Carter, I have no idea what you're talking about."
A finger poked him in the shoulder. "I don't even have to see your face to know you're doing it."
"What am I doing?"
The finger trailed down his arm, "That would be telling."
"Fine." In a lightning-fast move (well, sort of), he rolled, pinning her to the bed. "Guess I'll have to interrogate you."
"Mmm." She mocked. "Big word, there."
Later, when he was done 'interrogating' her, they were flopped back in the original position, her lips against his back. "Carter."
"Hrm?"
"Now *you're* doing it."
-=-==-
"Well, now. I guess the question becomes, are we the sum of our parts, or merely memories."
She knew that voice.
Knew it like she knew the terrified screams in her nightmares and dreams.
One turn, and she could see him. Call's hand was still wrapped around her wrist. "Ripley?"
There was a sense that if any of the three of them moved, the universe would fracture around them. "Hicks."
"Memories, then." He seemed sure, his head nodding once, his eyes watching her. She'd known those lips, once. Back before it began to hurt.
"I don't understand."
No. Call wouldn't.
-=-==-
"Tea?"
Colonel Sam Carter decided there was something very calming about Dr. Beverly Crusher, as she accepted the mug and sat down, cradling it in both hands. She wondered if the warmth would take away the ache in other parts of her mind.
"Spit it out."
"I suppose I must seem pathetic to you, worried and fidgeting. About, about... him." But she wasn't supposed to worry about him, he wasn't hers.
"Oh, no, Colonel." Crusher's lips tightened, and Sam had a feeling she'd be baring her teeth if she weren't in such civilized company. "You don’t seem pathetic at all."
Sam/Jack
Ripley/Call/Hicks
Sam Carter and Bev Crusher (Liz, this is SO your fault. Now come up with a plot for me, bitch)
"Stop that."
"What?"
"That."
"Carter, I have no idea what you're talking about."
A finger poked him in the shoulder. "I don't even have to see your face to know you're doing it."
"What am I doing?"
The finger trailed down his arm, "That would be telling."
"Fine." In a lightning-fast move (well, sort of), he rolled, pinning her to the bed. "Guess I'll have to interrogate you."
"Mmm." She mocked. "Big word, there."
Later, when he was done 'interrogating' her, they were flopped back in the original position, her lips against his back. "Carter."
"Hrm?"
"Now *you're* doing it."
-=-==-
"Well, now. I guess the question becomes, are we the sum of our parts, or merely memories."
She knew that voice.
Knew it like she knew the terrified screams in her nightmares and dreams.
One turn, and she could see him. Call's hand was still wrapped around her wrist. "Ripley?"
There was a sense that if any of the three of them moved, the universe would fracture around them. "Hicks."
"Memories, then." He seemed sure, his head nodding once, his eyes watching her. She'd known those lips, once. Back before it began to hurt.
"I don't understand."
No. Call wouldn't.
-=-==-
"Tea?"
Colonel Sam Carter decided there was something very calming about Dr. Beverly Crusher, as she accepted the mug and sat down, cradling it in both hands. She wondered if the warmth would take away the ache in other parts of her mind.
"Spit it out."
"I suppose I must seem pathetic to you, worried and fidgeting. About, about... him." But she wasn't supposed to worry about him, he wasn't hers.
"Oh, no, Colonel." Crusher's lips tightened, and Sam had a feeling she'd be baring her teeth if she weren't in such civilized company. "You don’t seem pathetic at all."