20 AUs [ 1/4 ]
title : 20 AUs
author : russian torque
note : I wanted to challenge myself, so I tried writing drabbles for 20 AUs. It was actually surprisingly fun. This is the first installation.
Desert Island“This is your fault.”
Alex ignores Sasha’s griping and goes back to shaking trees. He sees the coconuts up top, ripe and ready to scarf down, but he’s too big to climb the damned things and they’re too high up to throw anything heavier than a shoe at. So he grips the trunk and digs his heels into the sand before giving it a powerful shake.
He’s rewarded with a quiet creak and the coconut wobbles teasingly and doesn’t fall. Time to move on to the next tree.
“If you hadn’t gotten so drunk and crashed the boat-”
This argument again. It would be more bearable if Sasha actually did something other than sit in the shade and whine. Alex doesn’t deny that this entire mess was his fault, but he also doesn’t want to get stiffed with doing all the work. Regardless of circumstances, this is still vacation time and all he really wants to do is lay around in the sun for a bit.
But no, Sasha wants a coconut for breakfast.
“-I mean, your phone is always charged! How could you let it die at a time like this?”
Alex grimaces. Honestly? Someone will come looking for them as soon as they realize the boat went down. They’re in one of those awful places- close enough to see the distant shore, but too far to actually swim the distance. Just give it a couple days.
“Why don’t we just make a raft and-”
“Sasha,” Alex interrupts him, releasing his latest victim and glaring at his lover. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of jeans ripped into shorts, his skin tanned bronze and rescue be damned if he doesn’t look sexy as hell stretched out on the sand like that. “Just shut up for a few minutes, all right?”
He watches Sasha’s lower lip pucker up into a pout and has to curl his toes into the sand to keep from saying something he’ll regret. This entire trip as been rather miserable to say the least. It’s been a constant hard on, complete with blue balls and the same bitching he endures back in DC.
“But I’m hungry.”
Fucking shit. First thing he’s doing once they’re back home is tying his lover up in a closet and leaving him there for a few hours. And then he can kick back on the couch with a beer and all the episodes of Jersey Shore he missed.
But first, coconuts.
X x X x X
Space PiratesThe first thing anyone notices about space is the cold. Before they go out and ogle the stars from the observation deck or try to disengage gravity to roll about on the ceiling like monkeys, they end up curled up in in their cabins clutching a heated blanket close to their chin asking, “Are we there yet?”
It wasn’t because heating was impossible in space that most ships maintained a temperature more appropriate for a walk in refrigerator, it was simply a pain in the ass. If anything, Saturn’s Cry was slightly warmer than most intergalactic models, especially for its size. Not that it meant much to the stowaways hiding in the cargo bay.
The pleasantly frozen pair huddled together in the dark belly of the ship, bickering as quietly as possible over their plight, teeth clattering. On the bridge, the helmsman roared with laughter.
“How stupid can terrans get?” Mike chuckled, setting his screen to the overhead viewer and the entire bridge was instantly graced with the sight of the two stowaways. “Captain, we’ve got guests.”
Beside him, Sasha glanced momentarily up at the screen before elbowing in the side and leaning in to hiss in his ear, “Since when are there cameras down there? You didn’t tell me there were cameras, Mikey. We were down there a week ago-”
Mike coughed nervously and stood. That was a confrontation that could wait for another time, preferably for a time when Alex wasn’t glaring at him from across the bridge, laser rifle in hand.
“Captain?”
“Keelhaul the bastards. Throw ‘em off my ship.” The Captain spoke softly, his outrageous black pirate hat covering most of his face as he tipped back in his seat dozing. “Well, see what they want first and frisk ‘em. Then let Alex deal with ‘em.”
Alex grinned from ear to ear. That’s what he liked to hear and honestly? He couldn’t remember the last time the Saturn got into a proper galactic skirmish, let alone did anything more than simply cart stolen goods from one system to another. And god forbid they actually get any interesting cargo these days; he was honestly beginning to think the Captain had gone soft.
But with these orders, his faith was restored once again.
The way down to the cargo bay was alternative to say the least. The Captain wasn’t really one for aesthetics as much as functionality and as a result, most of the maintenance tunnels around the ship were left uncovered. Alex made his way to the closest one that streamlined straight down to the bay and slid in. It was a tight squeeze, but he was used to it and Sasha kept him starved enough to ensure he wouldn’t gain a kilo and get stuck.
Mike followed close after, yanking the knife out of his boot before sliding in. There was always a chance the intruders would be armed, after all. The tube let out right inside the bay, less than a yard away from where the stowaways were slowly turning into terran-sicles and they Alex wasted no time wrenching the first one to his feet and bashing him against the wall.
The noise echoed, as all things on the ship did, and Mike rolled his eyes. Brutality really was his strong suit.
“You come onto the wrong ship today, yeah?” he growled, pressing the barrel of his gun to the poor idiot’s throat. “Who are you?”
“No one! No one! I just needed a ride, man! Show a little compassion!”
The guy sounded honest enough, although he looked like he was about to piss himself- not an admirable quality from the perspective of a pair of space pirates.
“What planet you from?”
“Epsilon Sector,” he was quick to blurt out, “Towa Galaxy, fifth planet. Just another Alliance planet, I’m not a pirate, I swear!”
Alex let the guy go, clutching his side with one hand as he dissolved into a rough laugh. And the stowaway was just stupid enough to laugh right along with him.
“We take you to meet Captain, yeah? Both of you. Get up.”
Mike knew where this was going. “Wait, Alex. Make sure they don’t have anything first.”
The one who’d stayed on the floor cowering in fear rose to her feet. Surprise, surprise. They weren’t the type of pirates who’d keep a pretty lady around for their own business, but that didn’t mean Mike couldn’t look. The chick was hot.
Or at least she was until she broke out into a grin and leaned on the wall. Mike didn’t even have a chance to react- he simply watched as her skin darkened to a thick silver and melted. A god-damned skin dancer.
The Captain wasn’t going to be happy about this one.
Alex and Mike both zeroed in on the Towan. There was nothing in the rules that said they couldn’t have a bit of fun before reporting in and the bay doors leading out to open space were just a few feet away.
X x X x X
Renaissance ItalyTomas lets a few drops of linseed oil drip from the bottle to his palette. The red’s still too thick and it isn’t as light as he wants it to be. The sunset should be a gentle sort of red, almost orange- the color of wildflowers glimmering in the spring rather than blood. He gropes about on the tray beside him blindly until he finds the white and mixes it into the concoction.
Perfection.
The painting before him is far from complete, but with the addition of red blending into the sky and the ground all at once, it’s getting there. And then there’s the figure in the middle. It’s little more than a sketch and he hasn’t even gotten started on the primary coats. Fortunately for him, his model is nothing if not exceedingly patient.
“Are you all right, Milord?” he asks, taking note of a sudden tightening in Henrik’s jaw. “Would you like to take a break?”
“I was hoping you would ask that,” Henrik replies with a smile. His back pops and cracks when he stands from the modeling chair, although it looks more like a throne, and Henrik winces at the sound. “Do you mind if I-?”
Tomas understands the question immediately and he takes a step back from the painting so that Henrik can look at it. His expression is passive, neither disappointed nor filled with pride and Tomas thinks that’s a better reaction than most would have. He’s been told over and over- paint the figure first, background second- but he cannot for the life of him truly capture the moment without at least a hint of color on the canvas.
And he’s heard that other painters have even worse mannerisms, so who is anyone to judge him for his methods?
“I look forward to seeing this complete, Tomas. The last artist I allowed near my person turned me into a scarecrow.”
They both laugh and when Henrik places a hand on Tomas’ shoulder, he nearly jumps out of his skin. Henrik was no common middle class merchant who could afford to be friendly with everyone. He was a noble, and a high ranking one at that.
He must catch on to Tomas’ sudden discomfort because he draws back with a small smile. “It seems you are quite cautious. Worry not, my dear painter. I expect nothing from you but your best and most honest work.”
X x X x X
Hogwarts“Alohamora!” Alex waves his wand a few times before jabbing the door knob with the tip. “Aloha-fucking-mora! Open, damn you!”
He glares scathingly at the door, then at his wand. His complete and utter lack of any magical aptitude is making his life quite miserable very quickly. Really- he’s already gotten past the Ravenclaw portrait. It’s the door to the actual dorms that’s giving him grief and why the hell couldn’t Sasha have been sorted into Slytherin anyway? They’re practically the same person.
Seconds pass. Alex closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to visualize the spell working and the door opening. Three, two-
“Alohamora.”
There’s a click and he nearly dances a jig from sheer relief. If this hadn’t worked, he’d have had to resort to flying into the damned dorm and probably get caught.
Sasha’s bed sticks out like a sore thumb and it isn’t only because he’s dyed his bed canopy a rather startling purple. His entire living space is just a little ridiculous and Alex has to concentrate on not tripping over things on his way over.
“Wake up!” he whispers, reaching out to shake him gently, “Sasha! Come on, I’ve got something to show you!”
Sasha’s eyes open slowly and his scathing glare is broken by a yawn.
“What’s so important at four in the morning?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Getting Sasha out of bed is easy enough, but Alex ends up carrying him piggyback most of the way through the castle because he doesn’t want his feet touching the stone floor. And Alex doesn’t want to complain, but Sasha isn’t really the lightest person in the tower.
He sets him down once they’re outside the castle and Alex leads him past Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest a ways. Sasha, of course, complains bitterly once his feet start getting pricked with twigs and stones and such, but Alex does a pretty good job of ignoring him. Besides, this surprise is worth it.
He finds the nest right where he left it, covered by overgrown bramble and hidden carefully from view.
“Is that a dragon egg? Alex?” Sasha asks in disbelief. “Are you trying to get expelled?”
“No one’s going to find out about it,” Alex shoots back, “Unless you tell anyone.”
Sasha sighs and pulls out his wand. “You’re an idiot. Lumos.”
A dull glow lights up the space instantly and Alex scowls. It isn’t fair that Sasha’s better at spell casting than him, it just isn’t. Sure- he’s got the upper hand when it comes to Quidditch, but the best student also has to be well rounded.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I dunno.”
Now that it’s lit up, the egg actually manages to look magnificent. It shimmers between colors and every now and then it twitches a little. Alex has been expecting it to hatch soon- maybe not tonight- but sometime in the next month.
“I was thinking we could raise it, you know?” Alex ventures to suggest, a light blush tinging his cheeks. “Kinda like a family.”
Sasha giggles a little, but it’s more out of happiness than any sort of maliciousness and he reaches out to brush his fingertips along the egg.
“You’re totally the mommy,” he states, the mischievous glint in his eye leaving no room for argument. “At least, until it bites your head off.”
“Whatever. We should be getting back.”
The sun is rising a little by the time they’re finally back to the castle and Alex sneaks a kiss on Sasha’s cheek before ducking a swat to the side of his head. It only serves to encourage him though and he leans in for a second, longer kiss on his mouth.
“Slytherin and Ravenclaw have Charms together, I’ll see you then?” Alex asks, lips still pressed to Sasha’s jaw.
“Yes. Now get off before I hex you.”
Alex scampers away with a stupid grin on his face. Hexing is just Sasha’s way of showing he cares.
X x X x X
Fairy Tale
Braden drops to one knee, shoe in hand and a regal smile gracing his lips.
“May I?” he asks, motioning to Michal’s foot. He is not denied, the prince is never denied. Except, of course, by the far-too-small shoe he isn’t able to fit over Michal’s far-too-big foot. No matter how much he struggles, heaves, and curses, the damned thing just will not fit.
Michal has to stifle a giggle. Sure, he’s got the hots for Prince Braden, who doesn’t? But he’s not about to dress up like a girl and go to a ball in some glass slippers just to marry the man. And from the look on his step-sister’s crestfallen expression from the night before, he’s got an inkling of just who was the mysterious lady at the ball.
Rather than discourage the prince, however, he puts on his regrettably ill-practiced falsetto and says, “Oh, my feet must be swollen from dancing all night. Maybe we should try again another day?”
Braden nods, glad to finally be able to set down the shoe.
“Trying again will not be necessary. I know who my bride will be.”
This is a pleasant surprise. There he was, ready to sulk through another day of being treated like a sack of shit and now the Prince of the Kingdom may or may not be suggesting-
“Will you marry me?”
Michal does an inward fist pump and nods daintily, “Anything for you, my prince.”
And that’s when Braden cracks. Unable to keep a straight face for any longer, he buries his face in Michal’s thigh and shakes in silent peels of laughter.
“I can’t do it, I just- I can’t.”
Michal has to laugh along with him because this was a pretty stupid fucking idea, although Cinderella isn’t quite as bad as Rapunzel could have been. The last thing he wants is Braden breaking his neck in an attempt to scale the apartment building.
“Does this mean we’re stopping?” Michal manages to compose himself enough to ask. “I was looking forward to what came next.”
The wedding part and consequently, the wedding night part, were really the entire point of doing this role playing monstrosity, but someone had the bright idea of starting with the ball and having a merry old dance around the apartment first. To ‘put them in the mood.’
Braden stops laughing long enough to look up at Michal and he can’t really get past the fact that Michal is wearing eyeliner. But that doesn’t stop him from springing up and tackling him to the floor, pinning his wrists to his sides and leaning in for a kiss.
“Let’s just skip to the end. That’s the only good part anyway.”
X x X x X
author : russian torque
note : I wanted to challenge myself, so I tried writing drabbles for 20 AUs. It was actually surprisingly fun. This is the first installation.
Desert Island“This is your fault.”
Alex ignores Sasha’s griping and goes back to shaking trees. He sees the coconuts up top, ripe and ready to scarf down, but he’s too big to climb the damned things and they’re too high up to throw anything heavier than a shoe at. So he grips the trunk and digs his heels into the sand before giving it a powerful shake.
He’s rewarded with a quiet creak and the coconut wobbles teasingly and doesn’t fall. Time to move on to the next tree.
“If you hadn’t gotten so drunk and crashed the boat-”
This argument again. It would be more bearable if Sasha actually did something other than sit in the shade and whine. Alex doesn’t deny that this entire mess was his fault, but he also doesn’t want to get stiffed with doing all the work. Regardless of circumstances, this is still vacation time and all he really wants to do is lay around in the sun for a bit.
But no, Sasha wants a coconut for breakfast.
“-I mean, your phone is always charged! How could you let it die at a time like this?”
Alex grimaces. Honestly? Someone will come looking for them as soon as they realize the boat went down. They’re in one of those awful places- close enough to see the distant shore, but too far to actually swim the distance. Just give it a couple days.
“Why don’t we just make a raft and-”
“Sasha,” Alex interrupts him, releasing his latest victim and glaring at his lover. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of jeans ripped into shorts, his skin tanned bronze and rescue be damned if he doesn’t look sexy as hell stretched out on the sand like that. “Just shut up for a few minutes, all right?”
He watches Sasha’s lower lip pucker up into a pout and has to curl his toes into the sand to keep from saying something he’ll regret. This entire trip as been rather miserable to say the least. It’s been a constant hard on, complete with blue balls and the same bitching he endures back in DC.
“But I’m hungry.”
Fucking shit. First thing he’s doing once they’re back home is tying his lover up in a closet and leaving him there for a few hours. And then he can kick back on the couch with a beer and all the episodes of Jersey Shore he missed.
But first, coconuts.
X x X x X
Space PiratesThe first thing anyone notices about space is the cold. Before they go out and ogle the stars from the observation deck or try to disengage gravity to roll about on the ceiling like monkeys, they end up curled up in in their cabins clutching a heated blanket close to their chin asking, “Are we there yet?”
It wasn’t because heating was impossible in space that most ships maintained a temperature more appropriate for a walk in refrigerator, it was simply a pain in the ass. If anything, Saturn’s Cry was slightly warmer than most intergalactic models, especially for its size. Not that it meant much to the stowaways hiding in the cargo bay.
The pleasantly frozen pair huddled together in the dark belly of the ship, bickering as quietly as possible over their plight, teeth clattering. On the bridge, the helmsman roared with laughter.
“How stupid can terrans get?” Mike chuckled, setting his screen to the overhead viewer and the entire bridge was instantly graced with the sight of the two stowaways. “Captain, we’ve got guests.”
Beside him, Sasha glanced momentarily up at the screen before elbowing in the side and leaning in to hiss in his ear, “Since when are there cameras down there? You didn’t tell me there were cameras, Mikey. We were down there a week ago-”
Mike coughed nervously and stood. That was a confrontation that could wait for another time, preferably for a time when Alex wasn’t glaring at him from across the bridge, laser rifle in hand.
“Captain?”
“Keelhaul the bastards. Throw ‘em off my ship.” The Captain spoke softly, his outrageous black pirate hat covering most of his face as he tipped back in his seat dozing. “Well, see what they want first and frisk ‘em. Then let Alex deal with ‘em.”
Alex grinned from ear to ear. That’s what he liked to hear and honestly? He couldn’t remember the last time the Saturn got into a proper galactic skirmish, let alone did anything more than simply cart stolen goods from one system to another. And god forbid they actually get any interesting cargo these days; he was honestly beginning to think the Captain had gone soft.
But with these orders, his faith was restored once again.
The way down to the cargo bay was alternative to say the least. The Captain wasn’t really one for aesthetics as much as functionality and as a result, most of the maintenance tunnels around the ship were left uncovered. Alex made his way to the closest one that streamlined straight down to the bay and slid in. It was a tight squeeze, but he was used to it and Sasha kept him starved enough to ensure he wouldn’t gain a kilo and get stuck.
Mike followed close after, yanking the knife out of his boot before sliding in. There was always a chance the intruders would be armed, after all. The tube let out right inside the bay, less than a yard away from where the stowaways were slowly turning into terran-sicles and they Alex wasted no time wrenching the first one to his feet and bashing him against the wall.
The noise echoed, as all things on the ship did, and Mike rolled his eyes. Brutality really was his strong suit.
“You come onto the wrong ship today, yeah?” he growled, pressing the barrel of his gun to the poor idiot’s throat. “Who are you?”
“No one! No one! I just needed a ride, man! Show a little compassion!”
The guy sounded honest enough, although he looked like he was about to piss himself- not an admirable quality from the perspective of a pair of space pirates.
“What planet you from?”
“Epsilon Sector,” he was quick to blurt out, “Towa Galaxy, fifth planet. Just another Alliance planet, I’m not a pirate, I swear!”
Alex let the guy go, clutching his side with one hand as he dissolved into a rough laugh. And the stowaway was just stupid enough to laugh right along with him.
“We take you to meet Captain, yeah? Both of you. Get up.”
Mike knew where this was going. “Wait, Alex. Make sure they don’t have anything first.”
The one who’d stayed on the floor cowering in fear rose to her feet. Surprise, surprise. They weren’t the type of pirates who’d keep a pretty lady around for their own business, but that didn’t mean Mike couldn’t look. The chick was hot.
Or at least she was until she broke out into a grin and leaned on the wall. Mike didn’t even have a chance to react- he simply watched as her skin darkened to a thick silver and melted. A god-damned skin dancer.
The Captain wasn’t going to be happy about this one.
Alex and Mike both zeroed in on the Towan. There was nothing in the rules that said they couldn’t have a bit of fun before reporting in and the bay doors leading out to open space were just a few feet away.
X x X x X
Renaissance ItalyTomas lets a few drops of linseed oil drip from the bottle to his palette. The red’s still too thick and it isn’t as light as he wants it to be. The sunset should be a gentle sort of red, almost orange- the color of wildflowers glimmering in the spring rather than blood. He gropes about on the tray beside him blindly until he finds the white and mixes it into the concoction.
Perfection.
The painting before him is far from complete, but with the addition of red blending into the sky and the ground all at once, it’s getting there. And then there’s the figure in the middle. It’s little more than a sketch and he hasn’t even gotten started on the primary coats. Fortunately for him, his model is nothing if not exceedingly patient.
“Are you all right, Milord?” he asks, taking note of a sudden tightening in Henrik’s jaw. “Would you like to take a break?”
“I was hoping you would ask that,” Henrik replies with a smile. His back pops and cracks when he stands from the modeling chair, although it looks more like a throne, and Henrik winces at the sound. “Do you mind if I-?”
Tomas understands the question immediately and he takes a step back from the painting so that Henrik can look at it. His expression is passive, neither disappointed nor filled with pride and Tomas thinks that’s a better reaction than most would have. He’s been told over and over- paint the figure first, background second- but he cannot for the life of him truly capture the moment without at least a hint of color on the canvas.
And he’s heard that other painters have even worse mannerisms, so who is anyone to judge him for his methods?
“I look forward to seeing this complete, Tomas. The last artist I allowed near my person turned me into a scarecrow.”
They both laugh and when Henrik places a hand on Tomas’ shoulder, he nearly jumps out of his skin. Henrik was no common middle class merchant who could afford to be friendly with everyone. He was a noble, and a high ranking one at that.
He must catch on to Tomas’ sudden discomfort because he draws back with a small smile. “It seems you are quite cautious. Worry not, my dear painter. I expect nothing from you but your best and most honest work.”
X x X x X
Hogwarts“Alohamora!” Alex waves his wand a few times before jabbing the door knob with the tip. “Aloha-fucking-mora! Open, damn you!”
He glares scathingly at the door, then at his wand. His complete and utter lack of any magical aptitude is making his life quite miserable very quickly. Really- he’s already gotten past the Ravenclaw portrait. It’s the door to the actual dorms that’s giving him grief and why the hell couldn’t Sasha have been sorted into Slytherin anyway? They’re practically the same person.
Seconds pass. Alex closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to visualize the spell working and the door opening. Three, two-
“Alohamora.”
There’s a click and he nearly dances a jig from sheer relief. If this hadn’t worked, he’d have had to resort to flying into the damned dorm and probably get caught.
Sasha’s bed sticks out like a sore thumb and it isn’t only because he’s dyed his bed canopy a rather startling purple. His entire living space is just a little ridiculous and Alex has to concentrate on not tripping over things on his way over.
“Wake up!” he whispers, reaching out to shake him gently, “Sasha! Come on, I’ve got something to show you!”
Sasha’s eyes open slowly and his scathing glare is broken by a yawn.
“What’s so important at four in the morning?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Getting Sasha out of bed is easy enough, but Alex ends up carrying him piggyback most of the way through the castle because he doesn’t want his feet touching the stone floor. And Alex doesn’t want to complain, but Sasha isn’t really the lightest person in the tower.
He sets him down once they’re outside the castle and Alex leads him past Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest a ways. Sasha, of course, complains bitterly once his feet start getting pricked with twigs and stones and such, but Alex does a pretty good job of ignoring him. Besides, this surprise is worth it.
He finds the nest right where he left it, covered by overgrown bramble and hidden carefully from view.
“Is that a dragon egg? Alex?” Sasha asks in disbelief. “Are you trying to get expelled?”
“No one’s going to find out about it,” Alex shoots back, “Unless you tell anyone.”
Sasha sighs and pulls out his wand. “You’re an idiot. Lumos.”
A dull glow lights up the space instantly and Alex scowls. It isn’t fair that Sasha’s better at spell casting than him, it just isn’t. Sure- he’s got the upper hand when it comes to Quidditch, but the best student also has to be well rounded.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I dunno.”
Now that it’s lit up, the egg actually manages to look magnificent. It shimmers between colors and every now and then it twitches a little. Alex has been expecting it to hatch soon- maybe not tonight- but sometime in the next month.
“I was thinking we could raise it, you know?” Alex ventures to suggest, a light blush tinging his cheeks. “Kinda like a family.”
Sasha giggles a little, but it’s more out of happiness than any sort of maliciousness and he reaches out to brush his fingertips along the egg.
“You’re totally the mommy,” he states, the mischievous glint in his eye leaving no room for argument. “At least, until it bites your head off.”
“Whatever. We should be getting back.”
The sun is rising a little by the time they’re finally back to the castle and Alex sneaks a kiss on Sasha’s cheek before ducking a swat to the side of his head. It only serves to encourage him though and he leans in for a second, longer kiss on his mouth.
“Slytherin and Ravenclaw have Charms together, I’ll see you then?” Alex asks, lips still pressed to Sasha’s jaw.
“Yes. Now get off before I hex you.”
Alex scampers away with a stupid grin on his face. Hexing is just Sasha’s way of showing he cares.
X x X x X
Fairy Tale
Braden drops to one knee, shoe in hand and a regal smile gracing his lips.
“May I?” he asks, motioning to Michal’s foot. He is not denied, the prince is never denied. Except, of course, by the far-too-small shoe he isn’t able to fit over Michal’s far-too-big foot. No matter how much he struggles, heaves, and curses, the damned thing just will not fit.
Michal has to stifle a giggle. Sure, he’s got the hots for Prince Braden, who doesn’t? But he’s not about to dress up like a girl and go to a ball in some glass slippers just to marry the man. And from the look on his step-sister’s crestfallen expression from the night before, he’s got an inkling of just who was the mysterious lady at the ball.
Rather than discourage the prince, however, he puts on his regrettably ill-practiced falsetto and says, “Oh, my feet must be swollen from dancing all night. Maybe we should try again another day?”
Braden nods, glad to finally be able to set down the shoe.
“Trying again will not be necessary. I know who my bride will be.”
This is a pleasant surprise. There he was, ready to sulk through another day of being treated like a sack of shit and now the Prince of the Kingdom may or may not be suggesting-
“Will you marry me?”
Michal does an inward fist pump and nods daintily, “Anything for you, my prince.”
And that’s when Braden cracks. Unable to keep a straight face for any longer, he buries his face in Michal’s thigh and shakes in silent peels of laughter.
“I can’t do it, I just- I can’t.”
Michal has to laugh along with him because this was a pretty stupid fucking idea, although Cinderella isn’t quite as bad as Rapunzel could have been. The last thing he wants is Braden breaking his neck in an attempt to scale the apartment building.
“Does this mean we’re stopping?” Michal manages to compose himself enough to ask. “I was looking forward to what came next.”
The wedding part and consequently, the wedding night part, were really the entire point of doing this role playing monstrosity, but someone had the bright idea of starting with the ball and having a merry old dance around the apartment first. To ‘put them in the mood.’
Braden stops laughing long enough to look up at Michal and he can’t really get past the fact that Michal is wearing eyeliner. But that doesn’t stop him from springing up and tackling him to the floor, pinning his wrists to his sides and leaning in for a kiss.
“Let’s just skip to the end. That’s the only good part anyway.”
X x X x X