Meme drabbles (Heroes, JeteRod)
So, I couldn't resist this meme. Here's the first crop of-- well, "drabbles," since they're longer than 100 words.
This one requires a visual:
Sports Illustrated Doesn't Lie
for annavtree
Lethal Weapon II blared from the surround sound, Jete sprawled next to him on the bed, and Alex was very careful not to ask why they didn't just watch TV in the living room. These sleepovers of theirs had a delicate balance. One little shift, and they'd go from separate bedrooms at the end of the night to flinging off their clothes and boning away on the nearest piece of furniture. Alex didn't think this was just his imagination.
The latest edition of Sports Illustrated was half crumpled under Jete's elbow, open to the centerfold, which, hey, was exactly what it looked like. Whose idea was it again for them to go topless? Alex couldn't remember.
Jete was trying to play it cool, but every now and then, his gaze would flick down at the picture, linger there. This filled Alex with a delightful sense of smugness for, oh, about a second, until it occurred to him that maybe Jete was staring at one of the other guys, at his naked chest, instead of Alex's. He stewed about it through a whole, long car chase scene.
"So, is it Alex Gonzalez?" he asked, finally. The fucker was pretty, and Alex suddenly hated his guts. Really. A lot.
Jete didn't look away from the movie. "Huh?"
"You're staring at that stupid picture!"
Jete shrugged. "I just keep thinking we look like we're holding hands."
For a second, Alex's lungs didn't seem to remember how to work. "They wouldn't have run it if you didn't like it."
Jete turned, grinning. "Nope. They sure wouldn't."
Alex's stomach did a funny little flipflop, the way it felt when he was screaming his lungs out on a roller coaster, the way it felt when everything just suddenly shifted. He grinned back at Jete.
It was handy, really, that the nearest piece of furniture happened to be the bed.
Oh, Those New York Apartments: The Things You Hear
for linden_jay
They were at it again, whispering, although the walls were made of tissue paper, not even Kleenex, but the cheap kind they sold at the Dollar Store. Molly rolled her eyes at her two dads, fondly.
You're not doing it right, Mohinder.
I told you I'm a novice at this, Matt. You promised you'd be patient.
I am. I just-- it's all a matter of putting Tab A in Slot B, you know?
Like this?
Mmmm. Yes. Good. Good.
And now I'm going to--
That's it. That's it. Just keep--
Can you put your hand--
Here?
Yes, yes, now if we both just--
Push.
Harder…
There was some not-so-quiet panting, and what might have been a stifled groan, and then a softly uttered-- well, it was a word Molly wasn't supposed to say.
"God, I can't believe we actually did it." Matt sounded a little winded.
"Not bad for a first time, I'd say." Mohinder was downright smug.
Molly closed her eyes and pulled her pillow closer. Tomorrow, she could stop pretending that she didn't know about the bike they'd gotten her for her birthday, and as long as their workmanship held up, she'd spend the whole day riding it. She smiled. There was a lot to be said for having two dads, really.
RBI
for celli
Yankee Stadium smelled like baseball. Not that Matt could explain what that meant exactly. He just knew it when he came it across. And this? Definitely it.
"The grass looks very nice," Mohinder granted, squinting in the bright July glare despite his sunglasses.
Molly munched away cheerfully on her Cracker Jack.
The top of the first was a quick one-two-three, Andy Pettitte on his game today. A breeze blew in from the outfield, pleasantly, and Matt flagged down a vendor for another round of beer. He handed a cup to Mohinder, who smiled, relaxed and content looking, and Matt realized with a start that he hadn't thought about his job or his father or the Company once since they'd stepped foot on the number 4 train. He smiled back at Mohinder, just as happily.
The Yanks came to bat. Jeter bunted for a base hit. Abreu struck out.
"Watch this," Matt told Molly and Mohinder. "Jeter's on base. I bet you A-Rod gets a hit. He really likes to drive Jeter in."
Mohinder raised an eyebrow, and even though Matt couldn't see his eyes, he felt certain they were bright with amusement.
"I'm talking RBIs!" Matt insisted. "Not-- Okay, fine," he had to concede, "maybe with those two--"
"They broke up," Molly volunteered.
"Really?" Matt said distractedly, eyes on the game, and then it registered. "Wait? What? Where did you hear that?"
"At school." Molly dug through the Cracker Jack box, trying to find her prize. "Kenny Peterson said that they used to be in love, but then A-Rod said something mean, and now they're not anymore. It was in the newspaper and stuff."
"Um--" Matt looked to Mohinder, who just shrugged, no help at all.
"I'm glad you and Mohinder won't ever break up." Molly broke into a sunny, caramel-toothed grin.
"Uh--" Stuttering was becoming a way of life.
Mohinder just smiled, mouth softly tilted up, and not for the first time, Matt thought that a smiling Mohinder was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. "I'm really glad too, Molly."
This one requires a visual:
Sports Illustrated Doesn't Lie
for annavtree
Lethal Weapon II blared from the surround sound, Jete sprawled next to him on the bed, and Alex was very careful not to ask why they didn't just watch TV in the living room. These sleepovers of theirs had a delicate balance. One little shift, and they'd go from separate bedrooms at the end of the night to flinging off their clothes and boning away on the nearest piece of furniture. Alex didn't think this was just his imagination.
The latest edition of Sports Illustrated was half crumpled under Jete's elbow, open to the centerfold, which, hey, was exactly what it looked like. Whose idea was it again for them to go topless? Alex couldn't remember.
Jete was trying to play it cool, but every now and then, his gaze would flick down at the picture, linger there. This filled Alex with a delightful sense of smugness for, oh, about a second, until it occurred to him that maybe Jete was staring at one of the other guys, at his naked chest, instead of Alex's. He stewed about it through a whole, long car chase scene.
"So, is it Alex Gonzalez?" he asked, finally. The fucker was pretty, and Alex suddenly hated his guts. Really. A lot.
Jete didn't look away from the movie. "Huh?"
"You're staring at that stupid picture!"
Jete shrugged. "I just keep thinking we look like we're holding hands."
For a second, Alex's lungs didn't seem to remember how to work. "They wouldn't have run it if you didn't like it."
Jete turned, grinning. "Nope. They sure wouldn't."
Alex's stomach did a funny little flipflop, the way it felt when he was screaming his lungs out on a roller coaster, the way it felt when everything just suddenly shifted. He grinned back at Jete.
It was handy, really, that the nearest piece of furniture happened to be the bed.
Oh, Those New York Apartments: The Things You Hear
for linden_jay
They were at it again, whispering, although the walls were made of tissue paper, not even Kleenex, but the cheap kind they sold at the Dollar Store. Molly rolled her eyes at her two dads, fondly.
You're not doing it right, Mohinder.
I told you I'm a novice at this, Matt. You promised you'd be patient.
I am. I just-- it's all a matter of putting Tab A in Slot B, you know?
Like this?
Mmmm. Yes. Good. Good.
And now I'm going to--
That's it. That's it. Just keep--
Can you put your hand--
Here?
Yes, yes, now if we both just--
Push.
Harder…
There was some not-so-quiet panting, and what might have been a stifled groan, and then a softly uttered-- well, it was a word Molly wasn't supposed to say.
"God, I can't believe we actually did it." Matt sounded a little winded.
"Not bad for a first time, I'd say." Mohinder was downright smug.
Molly closed her eyes and pulled her pillow closer. Tomorrow, she could stop pretending that she didn't know about the bike they'd gotten her for her birthday, and as long as their workmanship held up, she'd spend the whole day riding it. She smiled. There was a lot to be said for having two dads, really.
RBI
for celli
Yankee Stadium smelled like baseball. Not that Matt could explain what that meant exactly. He just knew it when he came it across. And this? Definitely it.
"The grass looks very nice," Mohinder granted, squinting in the bright July glare despite his sunglasses.
Molly munched away cheerfully on her Cracker Jack.
The top of the first was a quick one-two-three, Andy Pettitte on his game today. A breeze blew in from the outfield, pleasantly, and Matt flagged down a vendor for another round of beer. He handed a cup to Mohinder, who smiled, relaxed and content looking, and Matt realized with a start that he hadn't thought about his job or his father or the Company once since they'd stepped foot on the number 4 train. He smiled back at Mohinder, just as happily.
The Yanks came to bat. Jeter bunted for a base hit. Abreu struck out.
"Watch this," Matt told Molly and Mohinder. "Jeter's on base. I bet you A-Rod gets a hit. He really likes to drive Jeter in."
Mohinder raised an eyebrow, and even though Matt couldn't see his eyes, he felt certain they were bright with amusement.
"I'm talking RBIs!" Matt insisted. "Not-- Okay, fine," he had to concede, "maybe with those two--"
"They broke up," Molly volunteered.
"Really?" Matt said distractedly, eyes on the game, and then it registered. "Wait? What? Where did you hear that?"
"At school." Molly dug through the Cracker Jack box, trying to find her prize. "Kenny Peterson said that they used to be in love, but then A-Rod said something mean, and now they're not anymore. It was in the newspaper and stuff."
"Um--" Matt looked to Mohinder, who just shrugged, no help at all.
"I'm glad you and Mohinder won't ever break up." Molly broke into a sunny, caramel-toothed grin.
"Uh--" Stuttering was becoming a way of life.
Mohinder just smiled, mouth softly tilted up, and not for the first time, Matt thought that a smiling Mohinder was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. "I'm really glad too, Molly."