Round 2: Other Pairing Drabble Submissions
Below are the prompts. Please submit your drabble as a reply to this entry. If you are new to the community or are just needing a refresher on how to post/respond to drabbles, please visit this post first. And remember - HAVE FUN!
( the prompts: round two )
( the prompts: round two )
When they've left the club and are heading uptown, towards his place, she says, "Ugh. Those guys put the 'anus' in 'Here we are now, entertain us.'"
Conan laughs uncontrollably for about ten seconds, then says, "There's no way you just thought of that."
"No," she admits. "It came to me during minute twelve of 'Heart-Shaped Box.' More like 'Fart-Shaped Box,' right?"
"Now that I'll believe was improvised."
They're holding hands, but he's walking quickly, as he always does. Between that and the foot of difference in their heights, she hurries to keep up. Though he doesn't like taking cabs, Conan walks like he doesn't want anyone to notice him. He's never less than polite, but sometimes only that. As they walk up Columbus tonight, he nods in recognition to the drunken, overaged frat types who yell, "Triumph!" and "Year 2000!"
Later, in his bedroom, he says, as he occasionally does, "It's time to look into the future, Elizabeth."
"The future, Conan?"
"All the way into the year 2000."
"In the year 2000," Liz starts, and then it hits her. "Oh, God. I'll be thirty."
"And I'll be...fifty-one."
"Thirty-seven," she says, smacking his shoulder lightly. "That's not so bad."
"At least we'll be in the same decade. So how come me turning thirty-seven isn't bad, but you turning thirty is the end of the world?"
" 'Cause I'm a girl, and we're weird. Next year. Wow. OK...in the year 2000, I finally lose twenty pounds."
"Liz..."
"There was a picture of us in the Post today. They called me 'Mandy Richter.' I was eating a shish kebab, and of course they took it from the worst angle possible."
Conan shakes his fist threateningly. "I'll have their jobs, I will!" Then, more seriously: "I was hoping you hadn't seen that."
"I liked it better when they just wrote 'Conan Steps Out With Mystery Woman.'"
"You know that was typed up by a 300-pound guy living in his mother's basement."
Liz isn't exactly comforted to think she's faring better than some gross newspaper dude. "Yeah, I guess."
"I thought of something weird the other day. I wasn't going to tell you, but...you know what you remind me of?"
"A guitar?" Liz says, mildly sarcastic; everything reminds Conan of his guitar.
"...Actually, yes." He's quiet a moment; then he reaches down and pulls his guitar out from under the bed. He plays the opening chords of what she recognizes as "Love Minus Zero."
"See," he says, touching the neck of the guitar. "This is your neck." Running his hand farther down: "These are your hips." Fingering the strings: "And here's where I put my prick--I mean, my pick."
"Ooh," she says. "Paging Dr. Freud!"
"Seriously, Liz. If I wanted to play the flute, I would."
She's horrible at these moments. She doesn't know how to say Thank you for that. "Still," she says. "It wouldn't kill me to eat a salad once in a while."
"No matter what happens to you, I'll still be freakishly tall with a pasty ass."
"That's sweet," she says. "But if I wanted to...you know, date a tan guy, and all that. I would."
"Quit stealing my lines, lady." Conan puts the guitar back, then leans over and kisses her. He says, "In the year 2000, you stop wasting money on a fifth-floor walkup in Astoria."
He's trying to look casual but can't hide the improbably hopeful expression on his face. Although she knows what he wants her to say, all she can offer is, "In the year 2000, I'm still here."
"You're here."
It's enough. For now, it's enough.
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