Wicked
Title: Laid To Rest
Chapter: Drabbles
Characters/Pairings: Avaric/Elphaba
Spoilers/Warning: none
Summary: Two A/E drabbles
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author'sNote:
They haven’t seen each other in twenty years, but old habits die hard.
All it takes is one quick drink and a few sarcastic jabs before she’s perched on the edge of his desk, the hem of her dress pushed up to her waist and her legs wrapped solidly around his middle. His hands are working quickly to undo the line of buttons trailing down her chest and his face is buried in the crook of her neck, sucking and nibbling and licking her collarbone just the way she likes it, when she suddenly grasps his hair and wrenches his head back with such force it causes him to gasp in surprise.
“My name,” she demands harshly. “What is it?”
“String Bean.”
She growls at his obvious sarcasm.
“Artichoke?”
“Say it,” she hisses, her eyes blazing with fury and lust. “Now.”
“Elphie, Dear,” he smirks wolfishly at her, “do you honestly believe I could have ever forgotten you?”
--- ----- ----- ---
“So this is where you’ve been hiding?"
“Fuck off, Crope.”
Crope looks down at the dirty, dingy booth Avaric has chosen to take up temporary residence in and grimaces. There are so many places he’d rather be right now, but he ignores the urge to run in the opposite direction and slides onto the sticky seat instead.
“I said to fuck off.”
“It’s fine to be upset, you know,” Crope says, completely ignoring his friend’s outbursts. “You were dumped by your,” he frowns as he tries to come up with the best word to describe Avaric and Elphaba’s relationship, “nighttime companion of the past two years. It’s only natural for you to feel betrayed by her disappearing into the cruel underbelly of Emerald City with not a word of warning. No closure, not even a proper goodbye…” Crope sighs dramatically. “That has to sting.”
Avaric slowly looks up from his cup and scowls. “I am not upset.”
“Of course you are.”
“I am not upset,” Avaric hisses. “I am frustrated and I am furious, but I am not upset.”
“Right.” Crope rolls his eyes and nods at Avaric’s drink. “You’re not upset and you’re not drowning your sorrows with whiskey or bourbon or whatever liquor you’re partial to this week.”
“It’s water,” Avaric says through clenched teeth. “And I believe I would need to be sad in order to be drowning my sorrows - which I am not.”
“Water?” Crope barks incredulously. He snatches the cup out of Avaric’s hands, sniffs it suspiciously, and then takes a tiny sip. “Why in Ozma are you drinking water?”
“Because she can’t.”
“No,” Crope snorts sarcastically at Avaric’s obvious denial, “you’re not upset at all.”
Chapter: Drabbles
Characters/Pairings: Avaric/Elphaba
Spoilers/Warning: none
Summary: Two A/E drabbles
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author'sNote:
They haven’t seen each other in twenty years, but old habits die hard.
All it takes is one quick drink and a few sarcastic jabs before she’s perched on the edge of his desk, the hem of her dress pushed up to her waist and her legs wrapped solidly around his middle. His hands are working quickly to undo the line of buttons trailing down her chest and his face is buried in the crook of her neck, sucking and nibbling and licking her collarbone just the way she likes it, when she suddenly grasps his hair and wrenches his head back with such force it causes him to gasp in surprise.
“My name,” she demands harshly. “What is it?”
“String Bean.”
She growls at his obvious sarcasm.
“Artichoke?”
“Say it,” she hisses, her eyes blazing with fury and lust. “Now.”
“Elphie, Dear,” he smirks wolfishly at her, “do you honestly believe I could have ever forgotten you?”
--- ----- ----- ---
“So this is where you’ve been hiding?"
“Fuck off, Crope.”
Crope looks down at the dirty, dingy booth Avaric has chosen to take up temporary residence in and grimaces. There are so many places he’d rather be right now, but he ignores the urge to run in the opposite direction and slides onto the sticky seat instead.
“I said to fuck off.”
“It’s fine to be upset, you know,” Crope says, completely ignoring his friend’s outbursts. “You were dumped by your,” he frowns as he tries to come up with the best word to describe Avaric and Elphaba’s relationship, “nighttime companion of the past two years. It’s only natural for you to feel betrayed by her disappearing into the cruel underbelly of Emerald City with not a word of warning. No closure, not even a proper goodbye…” Crope sighs dramatically. “That has to sting.”
Avaric slowly looks up from his cup and scowls. “I am not upset.”
“Of course you are.”
“I am not upset,” Avaric hisses. “I am frustrated and I am furious, but I am not upset.”
“Right.” Crope rolls his eyes and nods at Avaric’s drink. “You’re not upset and you’re not drowning your sorrows with whiskey or bourbon or whatever liquor you’re partial to this week.”
“It’s water,” Avaric says through clenched teeth. “And I believe I would need to be sad in order to be drowning my sorrows - which I am not.”
“Water?” Crope barks incredulously. He snatches the cup out of Avaric’s hands, sniffs it suspiciously, and then takes a tiny sip. “Why in Ozma are you drinking water?”
“Because she can’t.”
“No,” Crope snorts sarcastically at Avaric’s obvious denial, “you’re not upset at all.”