More word ficlets
Here are a couple of random-word fics. I don't think the words could be more random than these. About 1,200 words for the pair.
Naiad
Timmy wasn’t the kind of guy who yelled. He spoke in a well-modulated voice, one that commanded attention, yet conveyed respect. At least, that’s how he put it. So when I heard him yelling at something in the backyard, I had to investigate.
I found him on his hands and knees, inspecting his water feature. Since it spouted water, I would have called it a fountain, but as it was “the focal point of our backyard,” Timmy insisted it was a water feature.
“What’s all the noise about?”
He looked up at me, his expression murderous. Murderous for Timmy, annoyed for a regular person.
“There are naiads in my water feature.”
I leaned over to have a look. “What are naiads?”
He pointed at the water. “Mayfly spawn. Can’t you see them?”
I got down beside him. “You mean these little lobster-looking things?”
“Yes. Get rid of them for me.”
“Why? They can’t drink all that much.”
Timmy huffed at me. “They’ll develop into disgusting mayflies. Mayflies get all over everything.”
I was sure he was exaggerating, but this was no time to argue with him. I went back into the house and returned with a colander.
“What are you doing with that?” He pointed at the colander. “You can’t put bugs in our cookware.”
“Either I use this or you can take care of your own naiads,” I said, kneeling beside the water feature.
He grumped for a second or two, but then he gave me the OK.
It took a while, but I fished out every last naiad. Timmy had me put them in a zip-top Price Chopper sandwich bag and dispose of them in the garbage can. My good deed done for the day, I got myself a cold one and settled down on the couch. The Yankees were playing, and I wanted to ogle Derek Jeter. I turned on the TV and propped my feet on the coffee table.
Timmy strode into the living room, car keys in hand. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
I kept one eye on the guy bending over at shortstop and one eye on Timmy. “Where are you off to?”
“We need a new colander.”
I didn’t bother explaining the science behind soap and water. He wouldn’t have listened, anyway.
Canker
Three days is a long time to go without Timmy. I think I hated his business trips even more than he did. But he was coming home today, would arrive in a few minutes, in fact, and I couldn’t wait to be with him again - in more ways than one.
We’d only known each other for six months and lived together for one. At first, I wasn’t sure about setting up housekeeping together, what with my aversion to cleaning and my lack of an equalivalent income, but Timmy said sharing our lives and one bed would be a good idea, both economically and emotionally. Actually, it didn’t take all that much to convince me, now that I think about it.
As soon as I heard his key in the door, I ran to meet him. I flung the door open just as soon as he turned the knob, almost yanking him off his feet.
“Hey, honey, you’re home.” I grinned even more idiotically than usual. “I missed you.”
Timmy’s smile was a little strained, but I put that down to being tired and missing me. I took his suitcase and messenger bag and urged him into the living room. “Dinner’s all ready, but it can wait.”
“You actually cooked?”
“Yep. Thai takeout.”
He groaned, and I put it down to him being hungry for some decent food.
I tossed the bags on the couch and drew him into my arms. God, he felt good. I kissed his neck, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and getting horny as hell. I cupped his face in my hands, intending to plant one on him, but he turned away and I caught his cheek instead.
I tried again. He turned away again. I got that sick feeling in my stomach, the one I always get when I screw up something big.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something? Forget something?”
Timmy tried to pull away from me, but I didn’t let him. If we were going to have our first argument as roommates and lovers, then we were getting everything on the table right now.
“What did I do?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then what’s with the no-welcome-home-kiss thing?”
Timmy smiled, then clamped his hand over his mouth. “Ow.”
I relaxed. Maybe I really hadn’t done anything. “Sore tooth?”
“No.”
“Chapped lips?”
He shook his head.
“Your own words come back to bite your tongue?”
He grimaced in pain. “Oh, shut up.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He huffed in annoyance. “I’ve got a canker.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is that all? Let me see it.”
“No. It’s ugly.”
“I’ve seen a lot of ugly things in my life.”
“Not like this.”
I gave him a little push toward the couch. “Sit down and open wide. I promise I won’t stick anything in there.”
“You’re disgusting.” He sat down. “Really disgusting.”
“That’s why you love me.” I leaned over him. “Now open up.”
“It’s nasty. You’ll never want to kiss me again.”
“Probably not.” I traced his lips with my forefinger. “Open your mouth.”
His lips twitched. “It’s behind my lower lip. Be careful.”
I eased back his lower lip, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally bite my finger, and scanned the area in question. Yep, there it was - a big, old, gross canker sore.
“That looks awful.” I let go of his lip. “It’s so awful, I’ll have to move out. I can’t live with anyone whose mouth looks like this. I might catch something.”
He put his hand over his mouth and glared at me.
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. Yes, it was gross and it probably hurt like hell. But trust Timmy to worry more about my reaction to it than his own pain.
I combed my fingers through his hair, smiling as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you have anything to put on it?”
“I didn’t have time to get anything.”
“Do we have anything around here?”
“No.”
I’d rather have stayed right where I was, running my fingers through his soft, dark hair, but duty called. “I’ll go to Walgreen’s.” I leaned over and gently kissed his lower lip. “Wait here.”
“I’m not moving.”
I got my jacket, fished around in the pockets for my car keys and headed for the door.
“Don?”
I turned to look at him. He was already curled up on the couch, good suit, shoes and all. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad to be home.”
“I’m glad you’re back, baby.”
He opened one eye. “Could you get me something else?”
“Anything.”
“Chicken soup from Izzy’s? I don’t think I can eat Thai.”
I laughed. “Sure.”
As I hopped into my car and pulled out of the parking lot, happy to be helping Timmy for a change, I decided this moving-in thing wasn’t just a good idea. It was a great idea.
Naiad
Timmy wasn’t the kind of guy who yelled. He spoke in a well-modulated voice, one that commanded attention, yet conveyed respect. At least, that’s how he put it. So when I heard him yelling at something in the backyard, I had to investigate.
I found him on his hands and knees, inspecting his water feature. Since it spouted water, I would have called it a fountain, but as it was “the focal point of our backyard,” Timmy insisted it was a water feature.
“What’s all the noise about?”
He looked up at me, his expression murderous. Murderous for Timmy, annoyed for a regular person.
“There are naiads in my water feature.”
I leaned over to have a look. “What are naiads?”
He pointed at the water. “Mayfly spawn. Can’t you see them?”
I got down beside him. “You mean these little lobster-looking things?”
“Yes. Get rid of them for me.”
“Why? They can’t drink all that much.”
Timmy huffed at me. “They’ll develop into disgusting mayflies. Mayflies get all over everything.”
I was sure he was exaggerating, but this was no time to argue with him. I went back into the house and returned with a colander.
“What are you doing with that?” He pointed at the colander. “You can’t put bugs in our cookware.”
“Either I use this or you can take care of your own naiads,” I said, kneeling beside the water feature.
He grumped for a second or two, but then he gave me the OK.
It took a while, but I fished out every last naiad. Timmy had me put them in a zip-top Price Chopper sandwich bag and dispose of them in the garbage can. My good deed done for the day, I got myself a cold one and settled down on the couch. The Yankees were playing, and I wanted to ogle Derek Jeter. I turned on the TV and propped my feet on the coffee table.
Timmy strode into the living room, car keys in hand. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
I kept one eye on the guy bending over at shortstop and one eye on Timmy. “Where are you off to?”
“We need a new colander.”
I didn’t bother explaining the science behind soap and water. He wouldn’t have listened, anyway.
Canker
Three days is a long time to go without Timmy. I think I hated his business trips even more than he did. But he was coming home today, would arrive in a few minutes, in fact, and I couldn’t wait to be with him again - in more ways than one.
We’d only known each other for six months and lived together for one. At first, I wasn’t sure about setting up housekeeping together, what with my aversion to cleaning and my lack of an equalivalent income, but Timmy said sharing our lives and one bed would be a good idea, both economically and emotionally. Actually, it didn’t take all that much to convince me, now that I think about it.
As soon as I heard his key in the door, I ran to meet him. I flung the door open just as soon as he turned the knob, almost yanking him off his feet.
“Hey, honey, you’re home.” I grinned even more idiotically than usual. “I missed you.”
Timmy’s smile was a little strained, but I put that down to being tired and missing me. I took his suitcase and messenger bag and urged him into the living room. “Dinner’s all ready, but it can wait.”
“You actually cooked?”
“Yep. Thai takeout.”
He groaned, and I put it down to him being hungry for some decent food.
I tossed the bags on the couch and drew him into my arms. God, he felt good. I kissed his neck, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and getting horny as hell. I cupped his face in my hands, intending to plant one on him, but he turned away and I caught his cheek instead.
I tried again. He turned away again. I got that sick feeling in my stomach, the one I always get when I screw up something big.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something? Forget something?”
Timmy tried to pull away from me, but I didn’t let him. If we were going to have our first argument as roommates and lovers, then we were getting everything on the table right now.
“What did I do?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then what’s with the no-welcome-home-kiss thing?”
Timmy smiled, then clamped his hand over his mouth. “Ow.”
I relaxed. Maybe I really hadn’t done anything. “Sore tooth?”
“No.”
“Chapped lips?”
He shook his head.
“Your own words come back to bite your tongue?”
He grimaced in pain. “Oh, shut up.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He huffed in annoyance. “I’ve got a canker.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is that all? Let me see it.”
“No. It’s ugly.”
“I’ve seen a lot of ugly things in my life.”
“Not like this.”
I gave him a little push toward the couch. “Sit down and open wide. I promise I won’t stick anything in there.”
“You’re disgusting.” He sat down. “Really disgusting.”
“That’s why you love me.” I leaned over him. “Now open up.”
“It’s nasty. You’ll never want to kiss me again.”
“Probably not.” I traced his lips with my forefinger. “Open your mouth.”
His lips twitched. “It’s behind my lower lip. Be careful.”
I eased back his lower lip, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally bite my finger, and scanned the area in question. Yep, there it was - a big, old, gross canker sore.
“That looks awful.” I let go of his lip. “It’s so awful, I’ll have to move out. I can’t live with anyone whose mouth looks like this. I might catch something.”
He put his hand over his mouth and glared at me.
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. Yes, it was gross and it probably hurt like hell. But trust Timmy to worry more about my reaction to it than his own pain.
I combed my fingers through his hair, smiling as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you have anything to put on it?”
“I didn’t have time to get anything.”
“Do we have anything around here?”
“No.”
I’d rather have stayed right where I was, running my fingers through his soft, dark hair, but duty called. “I’ll go to Walgreen’s.” I leaned over and gently kissed his lower lip. “Wait here.”
“I’m not moving.”
I got my jacket, fished around in the pockets for my car keys and headed for the door.
“Don?”
I turned to look at him. He was already curled up on the couch, good suit, shoes and all. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad to be home.”
“I’m glad you’re back, baby.”
He opened one eye. “Could you get me something else?”
“Anything.”
“Chicken soup from Izzy’s? I don’t think I can eat Thai.”
I laughed. “Sure.”
As I hopped into my car and pulled out of the parking lot, happy to be helping Timmy for a change, I decided this moving-in thing wasn’t just a good idea. It was a great idea.