Let it snow!
Here are another 5 ficlets for your seasonal pleasure. (Are you sensing a theme? Come on, other authors, feel free to join in! :-)) 3 gen, one pre-slash, one slash, and note that two are continuations.
Title: untitled
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: G [ainm-rated]
Author: maaaaa
“Snow is a pain in the butt, Sandburg, not a reason to go bat-shit with joy,” Jim whined, yes actually whined, as he cleared the white mush off Sweetheart’s windshield.
“Geez, you’re a baby Ellison,” Blair retorted as he gathered a handful of snow and started patting it into a ball.
“Me? You’re the one who’s always bellyaching about the cold and wet,” Jim shot back. Catching sight of the snowball now being casually tossed up and down by Blair he growled, “Don’t you dare.”
A second later he was pelted. With retaliation in his eyes, his mood instantly changed.
Title: Snow on the Roof
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: G [ainm-rated]
Author: roslynsmuse
Snow on the Roof
"Well, how many?"
"Wait, there's a lot of hair to look through."
"I pulled that white sucker out when I found it, but there may be more. Come on, with sentinel sight, how hard can it be to find the rest of 'em?"
"Relax, Chief. I'm surprised a few gray hairs would bother you."
"Well, they do say that even if there's some snow on the roof, there's still a fire in the furnace."
"Keep your furnace to yourself. They also say that the larger a man's roof, the more snow it collects."
"What does that mean?"
"Get a haircut."
Title: Perfection
Word Count: 356
Type: Gen
Rating: G [ainm-rated]
Note: follows "Time to remember"
Author: banbury
Perfection
“Shit, I’m late.” Jim watched in amusement as Blair bolted from his room to the bathroom and turned back to the window. Ten minutes later the local hurricane flew down his room and began to rummage through the drawers. “Damn it! Jim! Jim! What time is it now? My alarm clock went to hell again.”
“Six thirty.” Jim melancholy sipped his coffee and examined snowflakes of various forms that landed on the window glass.
“Wha…? But?”
“It’s the snow, Chief. Just snow.”
Blair quietly moved by his friend and stood there silently for some time. The snow was perfect - large, fluffy, soft by the looks of it flakes drifted slowly to the ground. It was bright even if the world outside was still pretty dark and gloomy. Jim opened the balcony door, stuck his palm out - several flakes landed on the warm surface, and began to melt. He quickly drew his hand back and licked the skin.
“How does it taste?” Jim chuckled at the question - once a scientist, always a scientist.
“Like childhood.”
Blair glared at him, thrust his hand out for second and then licked away unfortunate snowflakes. “Yeah!” Jim watched as an amused smile blossomed on animated face. “Yeah! Like Christmas cookies.”
“Don’t know about the cookies, but I haven’t seen such a snow since…”
“Hey, last year was quite snowy.”
“Sure, whatever,” Jim brushed away Sandburg’s words trying to remember the year snow was as perfect as this one. “Since I was at school, I think - seventy-five or seventy-six.”
“Seventy-five.”
Jim frowned.
“I’m sure, man. Really! It’s been the only year we’d spent with Naomi up here before I started at Rainier. The only year I’d seen real snow on Christmas Eve.”
Jim imagined six-year old Blair - all waving hands, bouncing hair and smile - and burst out laughing. “I can fancy it just fine. You and …the snow.”
“You meant - me and poor schmucks I was stuck with.” Jim knew Sandburg wasn’t irritated by this image. They smiled to each other and he putted his friend’s arm.
“I think they weren’t all that upset with you here. Rather the other way round.”
Title: Possibility
Word Count: 168
Type: Pre-slash
Rating: G
Note: follows "Project"
Author: ainm
Possibility
He was hardly a fanciful man on a usual day, but as Jim drove through the quiet streets, he wondered if there weren't really some sort of magic in the snow that still blanketed the city.
Everything seemed possible at this point, though he wouldn't have dreamed he'd be feeling that way less than 24 hours ago when he was breaking his fall from a hastily-procured sled and breaking his finger in the process. But the way Sandburg was acting... he couldn't be misinterpreting it, could he?
Jim reviewed yet again the exchanges he and Blair had been having ever since Matt came into town on business four days ago. He'd laid awake much of the night, turning over the evidence that his senses had captured during the argument they'd had, and Blair's behavior this morning seemed to validate his analysis...
Well, he'd find out soon enough. Matt was headed home to Chicago and Jim was headed home to the loft, to Blair. He just couldn't be wrong...
Title: Tumbled
Word Count: 332
Type: Slash
Rating: R
Author: janedavitt
Tumbled
Blair's hands, wet from the snowball he'd hurled at Jim, who dodged, slipped on ice, and fell hard, are sun-hot on Jim's winter-chilled skin. A contrite Blair, words spilling out as dizzyingly fast as the flakes that fall around them, pats and strokes him, the layers of clothing that Jim's wearing both an obstacle and a blessing, as the only thing bruised beside his ass is his pride.
"Tell me where it hurts," Blair begs earnestly and fumbles Jim's coat open at Jim's deceitfully weak gesture and bitten-off groan. "Here?"
Even through a thick sweater and a thin T-shirt, Jim can feel the hand exploring his chest. Jim feels his nipples crisp up to points, his skin wake up from a long hibernation. He closes his eyes and enjoys that deliberate, anxious touch until he realizes that Blair has no reason to be touching him there, low down on his stomach.
He cracks his eyes open and stares up into a wicked smile and a warning. A moment later, his sweater is yanked up, taking the T-shirt and a warmed layer of air with it, and Blair's bare, cold, wet hand lands on the flinch of Jim's skin with an audible smack, his little finger taking advantage of Jim's sucked-in breath and sliding into the new gap between Jim's stomach and his jeans.
"Or here?" Blair asks, the words a dare, a challenge.
"Lower," Jim grits out and watches Blair's eyes widen and then fill with an anticipation that's flattery enough.
The button on Jim's jeans pops, his zipper is tugged down -- and then Blair's doing just what every first-aid book recommends and he's applying ice to reduce a swelling.
Except it's not working.
The slow massage that follows, Blair's gasped, panting, appreciative breath a sparkling mist in the snowy air of the forest, his full lip bitten to a bright red as Jim writhes beneath him, pushing up into that strong grip -- that works.
That works just fine.
Title: untitled
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: G [ainm-rated]
Author: maaaaa
“Snow is a pain in the butt, Sandburg, not a reason to go bat-shit with joy,” Jim whined, yes actually whined, as he cleared the white mush off Sweetheart’s windshield.
“Geez, you’re a baby Ellison,” Blair retorted as he gathered a handful of snow and started patting it into a ball.
“Me? You’re the one who’s always bellyaching about the cold and wet,” Jim shot back. Catching sight of the snowball now being casually tossed up and down by Blair he growled, “Don’t you dare.”
A second later he was pelted. With retaliation in his eyes, his mood instantly changed.
Title: Snow on the Roof
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: G [ainm-rated]
Author: roslynsmuse
Snow on the Roof
"Well, how many?"
"Wait, there's a lot of hair to look through."
"I pulled that white sucker out when I found it, but there may be more. Come on, with sentinel sight, how hard can it be to find the rest of 'em?"
"Relax, Chief. I'm surprised a few gray hairs would bother you."
"Well, they do say that even if there's some snow on the roof, there's still a fire in the furnace."
"Keep your furnace to yourself. They also say that the larger a man's roof, the more snow it collects."
"What does that mean?"
"Get a haircut."
Title: Perfection
Word Count: 356
Type: Gen
Rating: G [ainm-rated]
Note: follows "Time to remember"
Author: banbury
Perfection
“Shit, I’m late.” Jim watched in amusement as Blair bolted from his room to the bathroom and turned back to the window. Ten minutes later the local hurricane flew down his room and began to rummage through the drawers. “Damn it! Jim! Jim! What time is it now? My alarm clock went to hell again.”
“Six thirty.” Jim melancholy sipped his coffee and examined snowflakes of various forms that landed on the window glass.
“Wha…? But?”
“It’s the snow, Chief. Just snow.”
Blair quietly moved by his friend and stood there silently for some time. The snow was perfect - large, fluffy, soft by the looks of it flakes drifted slowly to the ground. It was bright even if the world outside was still pretty dark and gloomy. Jim opened the balcony door, stuck his palm out - several flakes landed on the warm surface, and began to melt. He quickly drew his hand back and licked the skin.
“How does it taste?” Jim chuckled at the question - once a scientist, always a scientist.
“Like childhood.”
Blair glared at him, thrust his hand out for second and then licked away unfortunate snowflakes. “Yeah!” Jim watched as an amused smile blossomed on animated face. “Yeah! Like Christmas cookies.”
“Don’t know about the cookies, but I haven’t seen such a snow since…”
“Hey, last year was quite snowy.”
“Sure, whatever,” Jim brushed away Sandburg’s words trying to remember the year snow was as perfect as this one. “Since I was at school, I think - seventy-five or seventy-six.”
“Seventy-five.”
Jim frowned.
“I’m sure, man. Really! It’s been the only year we’d spent with Naomi up here before I started at Rainier. The only year I’d seen real snow on Christmas Eve.”
Jim imagined six-year old Blair - all waving hands, bouncing hair and smile - and burst out laughing. “I can fancy it just fine. You and …the snow.”
“You meant - me and poor schmucks I was stuck with.” Jim knew Sandburg wasn’t irritated by this image. They smiled to each other and he putted his friend’s arm.
“I think they weren’t all that upset with you here. Rather the other way round.”
Title: Possibility
Word Count: 168
Type: Pre-slash
Rating: G
Note: follows "Project"
Author: ainm
Possibility
He was hardly a fanciful man on a usual day, but as Jim drove through the quiet streets, he wondered if there weren't really some sort of magic in the snow that still blanketed the city.
Everything seemed possible at this point, though he wouldn't have dreamed he'd be feeling that way less than 24 hours ago when he was breaking his fall from a hastily-procured sled and breaking his finger in the process. But the way Sandburg was acting... he couldn't be misinterpreting it, could he?
Jim reviewed yet again the exchanges he and Blair had been having ever since Matt came into town on business four days ago. He'd laid awake much of the night, turning over the evidence that his senses had captured during the argument they'd had, and Blair's behavior this morning seemed to validate his analysis...
Well, he'd find out soon enough. Matt was headed home to Chicago and Jim was headed home to the loft, to Blair. He just couldn't be wrong...
Title: Tumbled
Word Count: 332
Type: Slash
Rating: R
Author: janedavitt
Tumbled
Blair's hands, wet from the snowball he'd hurled at Jim, who dodged, slipped on ice, and fell hard, are sun-hot on Jim's winter-chilled skin. A contrite Blair, words spilling out as dizzyingly fast as the flakes that fall around them, pats and strokes him, the layers of clothing that Jim's wearing both an obstacle and a blessing, as the only thing bruised beside his ass is his pride.
"Tell me where it hurts," Blair begs earnestly and fumbles Jim's coat open at Jim's deceitfully weak gesture and bitten-off groan. "Here?"
Even through a thick sweater and a thin T-shirt, Jim can feel the hand exploring his chest. Jim feels his nipples crisp up to points, his skin wake up from a long hibernation. He closes his eyes and enjoys that deliberate, anxious touch until he realizes that Blair has no reason to be touching him there, low down on his stomach.
He cracks his eyes open and stares up into a wicked smile and a warning. A moment later, his sweater is yanked up, taking the T-shirt and a warmed layer of air with it, and Blair's bare, cold, wet hand lands on the flinch of Jim's skin with an audible smack, his little finger taking advantage of Jim's sucked-in breath and sliding into the new gap between Jim's stomach and his jeans.
"Or here?" Blair asks, the words a dare, a challenge.
"Lower," Jim grits out and watches Blair's eyes widen and then fill with an anticipation that's flattery enough.
The button on Jim's jeans pops, his zipper is tugged down -- and then Blair's doing just what every first-aid book recommends and he's applying ice to reduce a swelling.
Except it's not working.
The slow massage that follows, Blair's gasped, panting, appreciative breath a sparkling mist in the snowy air of the forest, his full lip bitten to a bright red as Jim writhes beneath him, pushing up into that strong grip -- that works.
That works just fine.