Ficlettes OMG!
Five ficlettes! I was going to write drabbles, but don't have the discipline. So, the ficlettes! (The Inevitable universe ones are in the next post)
Title: In Style
Characters: Dawn and Jean-Claude (BtVS/AB)
For: emony2
Notes: In the Mind the Gap universe. Half a year after MtG ends. Also, a hint of purple.
Dawn turned off her computer and slid her chair behind her desk. If she wanted to catch a cab to get to Buffy's big night on time, she needed to do it soon. Real soon. Like ten minutes ago soon.
The outer office door at Animators Inc. opened slowly, and Dawn turned around, too frazzled to smile. But it was all right, because it wasn't a client.
"Hello, Jean-Claude," Dawn said as she slung her tiny useless purse over her bare shoulder, careful that she didn't snag the delicate purple fabric of her dress.
"Mademoiselle," Jean-Claude said in greeting. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled appreciativly.
Dawn sighed, just a little bit. As usual, the Master vampire looked like sex on wheels. Tonight, he was in an old-fashioned tuxedo without a tie, and the very top button of the shirt undone. Dawn smiled back at him, because it was the polite thing to do, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to smile at her.
She wasn't dead, by any definition of the word. Yes, she knew that Anita would kill her for thinking these things and yes, there was that whole Gregory thing. And after Buffy's little disastrous forays into dating the undead, Dawn so wasn't going there. But there was no way that she could look at Jean-Claude and not have her libido kick it up a notch.
"Anita's already gone," Dawn said, straightening up. "I think she had to run past the police station before the dinner."
"I know, mademoiselle." Jean-Claude turned halfway and gestured out the door. "I have been informed that your vehicle is at the shop." The American term rolled piquantly off his tongue.
"So?" Dawn asked, genuinely confused.
Jean-Claude smiled again, the tiniest hint of humour in his eyes. "So I am here to ensure that you arrive in style."
Dawn glared at him. "Did Anita put you up to this?" she demanded.
"Non, mademoiselle." Jean-Claude dropped the fake smile and just looked at Dawn. "Anita told me that you were without transportation, and how much you were looking forward to this evening. Ma petite planned to give you a ride herself, until this matter with the police arose."
"Oh." Dawn looked down at her shoes. It was still early spring, and she wasn't sure if her new shoes would survive the cab-catching experience. Besides, she reasoned, if Jean-Claude did anything, Anita would kick his ass up one side of the street, then Buffy down the other.
All in all, the safest place she could be that night was with Jean-Claude.
"Okay," Dawn said. "Lead on."
His smile back, Jean-Claude stepped into the office and plucked Dawn's coat out of her hands. "Please, allow me," he said. Dawn let Jean-Claude help her into her jacket, and it wasn't awkward or anything. He adjusted her lapel and offered his arm. "This is a very beautiful dress, mademoiselle. This shade of purple is exquisite, and it almost does your incredible beauty justice."
Damn smooth-tongued vampire. Dawn was blushing as she slid her hand onto Jean-Claude's arm. "Stop it."
"As you wish, mademoiselle." He guided her to the door, and down the hall. "Even if it is the truth," he said under his breath.
Dawn blushed harder.
Title: Calling it a Disaster
Characters: Xander and Asher (BtVS/AB)
For: semirhage527
Notes: There was a request for some Anita rage. Here you go.
"Tell me something, Asher."
"What?" The golden-haired vampire slumped onto the black leather couch in Jean-Claude's office at Guilty Pleasures. He and Xander were waiting for Jean-Claude, again. The way Xander figured it, he'd never get the Watchers' council business in St. Louis done. It had already been three months. Maybe it was time to just give up and rent an apartment.
And if anyone had told Xander a few years ago that he'd have found a friend, a real live friend (or maybe not so alive, but hey, no one was perfect) in a sarcastic, bitter vampire from France, Xander would have carted that person off to the Sunnydale mental ward. But here he was, killing time with Asher.
"Tell me an Anita story."
Asher made a sound that was almost a snort, almost a cough. "I would think you would have had enough of Anita to last you a lifetime," he pointed out.
Xander shrugged. "As far as she's not here, I don't mind her."
To say that Anita and Xander hadn't started off on the right foot would be a massive understatement. Even calling it a disaster would be generous to the word. For some reason, Asher found the whole thing to be quite hilarious, much to Anita's extreme annoyance.
"All right, mon ami." Asher looked up at the cieling. "But first, you must tell me what set her off the first time you met."
"'Kay." Xander slumped a little deeper in the chair behind Jean-Claude's desk. Say what you like about the vamp; he had good taste in chairs. "You know that cop buddy of hers, Zerbrowski?"
"Oui."
"Well, when that whole demon sacrifice thing happened, and the cops are there, Anita shows up dressed to the nines, hair all perfect, right? So Zerbrowski asks her where she was. She tells him that it was a date. But he won't let it go. We're all standing there, it's freezing, bloody corpse bits all over, waiting for the tech guys, and Zerbrowski keeps goading Anita on about her date. Anita's getting madder and madder, and I'm just standing there minding my own business, until Zerbrowski asks me for my opinion on Anita's shoes."
Asher groaned. "Did you give it to her?"
"Hell no," Xander replied. "I survived how many years with the Slayer and her shoe problem? But it didn't matter. I looked at her shoes, and Anita thinks I'm giving her the once over, and she loses it on Zerbrowski. Thinks I'm the rookie."
"And when she found out that you were the international expert?"
Xander was torn between laughing and cringing, even at the three-month-old recollection. "Let's just say that she wasn't any more impressed with me."
Asher almost smiled. "I suppose it is my turn, then." He steepled his fingers together in front of his face and thought. "There was one thing, last month..."
"Come on, Asher," Xander prodded when Asher fell silent. "I told you mine."
"This story is rather short, and if you have spent as much time with these Slayers as you claim, I am sure you can see the implication of Anita's reaction." Asher looked at Xander over his fingers, amusement in his blue eyes. "From what I heard of the incident, Jean-Claude and Anita were out for dinner. Anita was in a new dress, and Jean-Claude... I am not sure what his excuse was."
"What happened?" Xander pressed.
"Jean-Claude commented, as Anita was eating her entree, that the dress seemed to fit differently than it had the previous week."
"Fit different how?" Xander asked, already dreading the answer.
"Tighter."
Xander winced. That was the third rule about being friends with a California Valley girl who could break two-by-fours in half. Never, ever comment about the weight.
"How did Anita react?"
"Badly." Asher shrugged. "Of course, in Jean-Claude's defence, Anita had gained a few pounds."
"Yeah, but still." Xander swivelled the chair. He suddenly felt some kind of male camaraderie with the Master of the City. "Is she still upset about it?"
"She claims not, but when Jean-Claude asked her if she would accompany him to dinner this weekend, she asked him if he really thought she needed to pack on some more pounds."
Xander shook his head. "She's not going to let it go, is she?"
Asher gave him a look, and it said everything.
Mental note, Xander thought. Stay the hell away from Anita Blake.
Title: Careful
Characters: Jason and Graham (AB)
For: sabriel_0405
Notes: With a theme of pack hierarchy. Possible ID spoilers.
Jason lounged on the cool blue silk sheets of Jean-Claude's empty bed, reviewing his day. He'd gotten up, had breakfast, gone to the gym for a few hours, then come back to the Circus. Jean-Claude should be awake in a few minutes, and he'd want to feed. So there Jason was, ready to bleed.
There was movement past the open door, and Jason smelled Graham in the hall before he turned his head. The werewolf was looking in the door at Jason, and his expression wasn't entirely friendly.
Careful, Jason thought as he casually rolled into a sitting position.
"Why are you here?" Graham asked bluntly, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.
It was a good sign. It meant Graham wouldn't be lunging at Jason any time soon. Jason decided to give his usual flippancy. "I like the silk."
Graham's eyes narrowed. "Do you really think he's going to keep you forever?"
Jason's eyebrows went up. "Meng-Die said no to your being her pomme de sang, didn't she?"
Graham took another step into the room. "Do you think you're better than the rest of us, because of the Master?" he demanded. "You think it keeps you safe?"
Hell yes, it keeps me safe, Jason thought. Out loud, he said, "This protects me, yeah. It's better than anything else I could have done."
He wasn't talking about other protection options, and it looked like Graham understood. "Maybe you're not as stupid as you look," he said.
"Thanks."
Title: One Night
Characters: Anita and Luna (AB/HP)
For: monique_chan
Notes: Not Inevitable universe. Spoiler free
"Ms..."
"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood." the pale British girl said promptly, looking at Anita with eager eyes.
"Ms. Lovegood." Anita wished desperately for a bottle of aspirin that her lycanthropic metabolism wouldn't digest too quickly for her burgeoning headache. Damn Bert a million times, she thought. "No matter what Bert told you, I am not taking on a student helper for the summer."
Luan leaned forward. "I'm not completely useless," she argued.
Anita almost shouted, but managed to stop herself. Damn this no-screaming-for-a-day bet she'd made with Jason. And while she was at it, damn Jason too. "Can you fire a gun?" she asked Luna.
"No, but--"
"Can you control the dead?"
"No, but--"
"Then you're going to be nothing but a liability," Anita said, standing up. "I work alone."
Luna stood up as well. She was thin and willowy, and she towered over Anita. "Just one night," she said. Her face was set with determination. "One night, one zombie. If the answer's still no, I'll be out of your hair in a shake of a Kneezle's tail."
Anita faltered. There was something about the girl-- no, young woman, that reminded Anita a lot of Ronnie. Tough, under that deceptive exterior.
Luna, perhaps sensing weakness, added, "I also make a brilliant cup of coffee."
Anita closed her eyes. "Okay," she said through gritted teeth. "One night."
She really hoped that she wasn't going to regret this.
Title: Blank
Characters: Willow, Weasleys (BtVS/HP)
For: lissa_triana
Notes: Random idea out of nowhere.
Willow tugged at her skirt impatiently as she waited for the Maitre d'. Stupid London taxis, she mentally grumbled. Tonight, of all nights, on Dawn's very special graduation dinner at the swankiest London restaurant Buffy could book without giving Giles heart failure, and Willow got stuck with the worst cabbie in London.
The Maitre d' finally materialized. Before Willow had a chance to open her mouth, he gave her a quick glance and said, "Your party is this way."
Oh. Buffy must have told him they were waiting for Willow. Great, Willow thought as she followed him across the restaurant. How late am I?
The waiter stopped, turned, and indicated with his hand toward a large table. Then he vanished.
Willow was left staring at a table full of redheads. For some reason, she completely blanked. Everyone at the table stared up at her.
This was worse than the tenth grade talent show. Willow was rooted to the spot, trying to remember how to speak.
"Willow!"
A hand a few tables away shot up, to accompany Buffy's voice. Willow looked at her friend, then back at the table of strange red-heads, then mumbled an apology before darting across the room.
She sunk into her chair beside Kennedy, back to the other table, her cheeks burning. Xander was smirking, and Willow glared at him.
"What?" he said. "It's not every day that you turn the colour of your hair."
"I think it's cute,:" Kenney said, taking Willow's hand in hers under the table.
Giles simply sighed, and Dawn giggled.
That was it. No more cab rides for Willow. Ever.
Title: In Style
Characters: Dawn and Jean-Claude (BtVS/AB)
For: emony2
Notes: In the Mind the Gap universe. Half a year after MtG ends. Also, a hint of purple.
Dawn turned off her computer and slid her chair behind her desk. If she wanted to catch a cab to get to Buffy's big night on time, she needed to do it soon. Real soon. Like ten minutes ago soon.
The outer office door at Animators Inc. opened slowly, and Dawn turned around, too frazzled to smile. But it was all right, because it wasn't a client.
"Hello, Jean-Claude," Dawn said as she slung her tiny useless purse over her bare shoulder, careful that she didn't snag the delicate purple fabric of her dress.
"Mademoiselle," Jean-Claude said in greeting. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled appreciativly.
Dawn sighed, just a little bit. As usual, the Master vampire looked like sex on wheels. Tonight, he was in an old-fashioned tuxedo without a tie, and the very top button of the shirt undone. Dawn smiled back at him, because it was the polite thing to do, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to smile at her.
She wasn't dead, by any definition of the word. Yes, she knew that Anita would kill her for thinking these things and yes, there was that whole Gregory thing. And after Buffy's little disastrous forays into dating the undead, Dawn so wasn't going there. But there was no way that she could look at Jean-Claude and not have her libido kick it up a notch.
"Anita's already gone," Dawn said, straightening up. "I think she had to run past the police station before the dinner."
"I know, mademoiselle." Jean-Claude turned halfway and gestured out the door. "I have been informed that your vehicle is at the shop." The American term rolled piquantly off his tongue.
"So?" Dawn asked, genuinely confused.
Jean-Claude smiled again, the tiniest hint of humour in his eyes. "So I am here to ensure that you arrive in style."
Dawn glared at him. "Did Anita put you up to this?" she demanded.
"Non, mademoiselle." Jean-Claude dropped the fake smile and just looked at Dawn. "Anita told me that you were without transportation, and how much you were looking forward to this evening. Ma petite planned to give you a ride herself, until this matter with the police arose."
"Oh." Dawn looked down at her shoes. It was still early spring, and she wasn't sure if her new shoes would survive the cab-catching experience. Besides, she reasoned, if Jean-Claude did anything, Anita would kick his ass up one side of the street, then Buffy down the other.
All in all, the safest place she could be that night was with Jean-Claude.
"Okay," Dawn said. "Lead on."
His smile back, Jean-Claude stepped into the office and plucked Dawn's coat out of her hands. "Please, allow me," he said. Dawn let Jean-Claude help her into her jacket, and it wasn't awkward or anything. He adjusted her lapel and offered his arm. "This is a very beautiful dress, mademoiselle. This shade of purple is exquisite, and it almost does your incredible beauty justice."
Damn smooth-tongued vampire. Dawn was blushing as she slid her hand onto Jean-Claude's arm. "Stop it."
"As you wish, mademoiselle." He guided her to the door, and down the hall. "Even if it is the truth," he said under his breath.
Dawn blushed harder.
Title: Calling it a Disaster
Characters: Xander and Asher (BtVS/AB)
For: semirhage527
Notes: There was a request for some Anita rage. Here you go.
"Tell me something, Asher."
"What?" The golden-haired vampire slumped onto the black leather couch in Jean-Claude's office at Guilty Pleasures. He and Xander were waiting for Jean-Claude, again. The way Xander figured it, he'd never get the Watchers' council business in St. Louis done. It had already been three months. Maybe it was time to just give up and rent an apartment.
And if anyone had told Xander a few years ago that he'd have found a friend, a real live friend (or maybe not so alive, but hey, no one was perfect) in a sarcastic, bitter vampire from France, Xander would have carted that person off to the Sunnydale mental ward. But here he was, killing time with Asher.
"Tell me an Anita story."
Asher made a sound that was almost a snort, almost a cough. "I would think you would have had enough of Anita to last you a lifetime," he pointed out.
Xander shrugged. "As far as she's not here, I don't mind her."
To say that Anita and Xander hadn't started off on the right foot would be a massive understatement. Even calling it a disaster would be generous to the word. For some reason, Asher found the whole thing to be quite hilarious, much to Anita's extreme annoyance.
"All right, mon ami." Asher looked up at the cieling. "But first, you must tell me what set her off the first time you met."
"'Kay." Xander slumped a little deeper in the chair behind Jean-Claude's desk. Say what you like about the vamp; he had good taste in chairs. "You know that cop buddy of hers, Zerbrowski?"
"Oui."
"Well, when that whole demon sacrifice thing happened, and the cops are there, Anita shows up dressed to the nines, hair all perfect, right? So Zerbrowski asks her where she was. She tells him that it was a date. But he won't let it go. We're all standing there, it's freezing, bloody corpse bits all over, waiting for the tech guys, and Zerbrowski keeps goading Anita on about her date. Anita's getting madder and madder, and I'm just standing there minding my own business, until Zerbrowski asks me for my opinion on Anita's shoes."
Asher groaned. "Did you give it to her?"
"Hell no," Xander replied. "I survived how many years with the Slayer and her shoe problem? But it didn't matter. I looked at her shoes, and Anita thinks I'm giving her the once over, and she loses it on Zerbrowski. Thinks I'm the rookie."
"And when she found out that you were the international expert?"
Xander was torn between laughing and cringing, even at the three-month-old recollection. "Let's just say that she wasn't any more impressed with me."
Asher almost smiled. "I suppose it is my turn, then." He steepled his fingers together in front of his face and thought. "There was one thing, last month..."
"Come on, Asher," Xander prodded when Asher fell silent. "I told you mine."
"This story is rather short, and if you have spent as much time with these Slayers as you claim, I am sure you can see the implication of Anita's reaction." Asher looked at Xander over his fingers, amusement in his blue eyes. "From what I heard of the incident, Jean-Claude and Anita were out for dinner. Anita was in a new dress, and Jean-Claude... I am not sure what his excuse was."
"What happened?" Xander pressed.
"Jean-Claude commented, as Anita was eating her entree, that the dress seemed to fit differently than it had the previous week."
"Fit different how?" Xander asked, already dreading the answer.
"Tighter."
Xander winced. That was the third rule about being friends with a California Valley girl who could break two-by-fours in half. Never, ever comment about the weight.
"How did Anita react?"
"Badly." Asher shrugged. "Of course, in Jean-Claude's defence, Anita had gained a few pounds."
"Yeah, but still." Xander swivelled the chair. He suddenly felt some kind of male camaraderie with the Master of the City. "Is she still upset about it?"
"She claims not, but when Jean-Claude asked her if she would accompany him to dinner this weekend, she asked him if he really thought she needed to pack on some more pounds."
Xander shook his head. "She's not going to let it go, is she?"
Asher gave him a look, and it said everything.
Mental note, Xander thought. Stay the hell away from Anita Blake.
Title: Careful
Characters: Jason and Graham (AB)
For: sabriel_0405
Notes: With a theme of pack hierarchy. Possible ID spoilers.
Jason lounged on the cool blue silk sheets of Jean-Claude's empty bed, reviewing his day. He'd gotten up, had breakfast, gone to the gym for a few hours, then come back to the Circus. Jean-Claude should be awake in a few minutes, and he'd want to feed. So there Jason was, ready to bleed.
There was movement past the open door, and Jason smelled Graham in the hall before he turned his head. The werewolf was looking in the door at Jason, and his expression wasn't entirely friendly.
Careful, Jason thought as he casually rolled into a sitting position.
"Why are you here?" Graham asked bluntly, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.
It was a good sign. It meant Graham wouldn't be lunging at Jason any time soon. Jason decided to give his usual flippancy. "I like the silk."
Graham's eyes narrowed. "Do you really think he's going to keep you forever?"
Jason's eyebrows went up. "Meng-Die said no to your being her pomme de sang, didn't she?"
Graham took another step into the room. "Do you think you're better than the rest of us, because of the Master?" he demanded. "You think it keeps you safe?"
Hell yes, it keeps me safe, Jason thought. Out loud, he said, "This protects me, yeah. It's better than anything else I could have done."
He wasn't talking about other protection options, and it looked like Graham understood. "Maybe you're not as stupid as you look," he said.
"Thanks."
Title: One Night
Characters: Anita and Luna (AB/HP)
For: monique_chan
Notes: Not Inevitable universe. Spoiler free
"Ms..."
"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood." the pale British girl said promptly, looking at Anita with eager eyes.
"Ms. Lovegood." Anita wished desperately for a bottle of aspirin that her lycanthropic metabolism wouldn't digest too quickly for her burgeoning headache. Damn Bert a million times, she thought. "No matter what Bert told you, I am not taking on a student helper for the summer."
Luan leaned forward. "I'm not completely useless," she argued.
Anita almost shouted, but managed to stop herself. Damn this no-screaming-for-a-day bet she'd made with Jason. And while she was at it, damn Jason too. "Can you fire a gun?" she asked Luna.
"No, but--"
"Can you control the dead?"
"No, but--"
"Then you're going to be nothing but a liability," Anita said, standing up. "I work alone."
Luna stood up as well. She was thin and willowy, and she towered over Anita. "Just one night," she said. Her face was set with determination. "One night, one zombie. If the answer's still no, I'll be out of your hair in a shake of a Kneezle's tail."
Anita faltered. There was something about the girl-- no, young woman, that reminded Anita a lot of Ronnie. Tough, under that deceptive exterior.
Luna, perhaps sensing weakness, added, "I also make a brilliant cup of coffee."
Anita closed her eyes. "Okay," she said through gritted teeth. "One night."
She really hoped that she wasn't going to regret this.
Title: Blank
Characters: Willow, Weasleys (BtVS/HP)
For: lissa_triana
Notes: Random idea out of nowhere.
Willow tugged at her skirt impatiently as she waited for the Maitre d'. Stupid London taxis, she mentally grumbled. Tonight, of all nights, on Dawn's very special graduation dinner at the swankiest London restaurant Buffy could book without giving Giles heart failure, and Willow got stuck with the worst cabbie in London.
The Maitre d' finally materialized. Before Willow had a chance to open her mouth, he gave her a quick glance and said, "Your party is this way."
Oh. Buffy must have told him they were waiting for Willow. Great, Willow thought as she followed him across the restaurant. How late am I?
The waiter stopped, turned, and indicated with his hand toward a large table. Then he vanished.
Willow was left staring at a table full of redheads. For some reason, she completely blanked. Everyone at the table stared up at her.
This was worse than the tenth grade talent show. Willow was rooted to the spot, trying to remember how to speak.
"Willow!"
A hand a few tables away shot up, to accompany Buffy's voice. Willow looked at her friend, then back at the table of strange red-heads, then mumbled an apology before darting across the room.
She sunk into her chair beside Kennedy, back to the other table, her cheeks burning. Xander was smirking, and Willow glared at him.
"What?" he said. "It's not every day that you turn the colour of your hair."
"I think it's cute,:" Kenney said, taking Willow's hand in hers under the table.
Giles simply sighed, and Dawn giggled.
That was it. No more cab rides for Willow. Ever.