Original -- Not Too Bright
Title: Not Too Bright
Rating: G
Word Count: 215
Warnings: angel!fail
Prompt: Your touch is electric / I felt it the first time you held me / The way we connected / So easily - 'Bliss' - John Mayer with Alice Peacock at pulped_fictions
Summary: In which Maion learns the hard way.
Author's Note: Prompt abuse is a serious offense. So is the art of the PUNCHLINE! drabble.
NOT TOO BRIGHT
“I’m telling you,” Vincent says, “don’t do it.”
Maion’s hair gleams dramatically as he tilts his head first one way and then the other, peering at the object of his insatiable curiosity. “I’m a seraph,” he says, as if Vincent could possibly forget. “It’s not going to hurt me. I just want to find out what it will do.”
“Hurt you,” Vincent suggests.
Maion half-turns to subject him to a few seconds of the Pout. He does not deign to add any words to the Pout before he resumes his extremely stupid project.
“I’m going to say ‘I told you so,’” Vincent warns him. “And I’m going to savor it.”
Maion sniffs. “You won’t get the chance.”
Resolved, the angel draws himself up to his full kneeling height and jams his finger into the electrical socket.
The pop-sizzle-snap is somewhat deafening, and all the lights in the house go out. There is a distinct possibility that all of the lights in the neighborhood have followed suit.
Vincent’s eyes adjust quickly to the dim moonbeams sidling through the window, which gives him a front-row seat to Maion lying on the ground and twitching.
“I told you so,” Vincent says.
“Oh, God,” Maion whimpers.
“To be honest, He’s probably laughing at you, too.”
Rating: G
Word Count: 215
Warnings: angel!fail
Prompt: Your touch is electric / I felt it the first time you held me / The way we connected / So easily - 'Bliss' - John Mayer with Alice Peacock at pulped_fictions
Summary: In which Maion learns the hard way.
Author's Note: Prompt abuse is a serious offense. So is the art of the PUNCHLINE! drabble.
NOT TOO BRIGHT
“I’m telling you,” Vincent says, “don’t do it.”
Maion’s hair gleams dramatically as he tilts his head first one way and then the other, peering at the object of his insatiable curiosity. “I’m a seraph,” he says, as if Vincent could possibly forget. “It’s not going to hurt me. I just want to find out what it will do.”
“Hurt you,” Vincent suggests.
Maion half-turns to subject him to a few seconds of the Pout. He does not deign to add any words to the Pout before he resumes his extremely stupid project.
“I’m going to say ‘I told you so,’” Vincent warns him. “And I’m going to savor it.”
Maion sniffs. “You won’t get the chance.”
Resolved, the angel draws himself up to his full kneeling height and jams his finger into the electrical socket.
The pop-sizzle-snap is somewhat deafening, and all the lights in the house go out. There is a distinct possibility that all of the lights in the neighborhood have followed suit.
Vincent’s eyes adjust quickly to the dim moonbeams sidling through the window, which gives him a front-row seat to Maion lying on the ground and twitching.
“I told you so,” Vincent says.
“Oh, God,” Maion whimpers.
“To be honest, He’s probably laughing at you, too.”