[Original: Drabble] "Fitting In" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Fitting In
Prompt: writerverse challenge #02 mini table of doom (‘pariah’)
Word Count: 368
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke isn’t like the other vampires.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Fitting In
The funny thing was, if I had asked to be Bitten, the Vampire Council would have denied my application before the ink had time to dry.
Well, it wasn’t that funny to the Council, and at the time, it wasn’t especially funny to me, but several years later, I could see the humor.
When they had the choice, vampires were extremely picky about who they let into their company. With very few exceptions, they wanted high society people- no necessarily rich, I’d give them that, though it usually hadn’t hurt- but the modern American equivalent of the upper class. Vampires were usually bankers, executives, models or something like that.
They were not part-time assistant librarians and they did not then quit their jobs to become police officers.
So, you could probably see why they didn’t like me much.
And that probably would have bothered me more if I actually cared what any of them thought of me. I only saw other vampires at Council meetings, and then only when I couldn’t get out of them. The meetings were theoretically for ‘communication and support’ but these days, they were more a chance for the snootiest vampires to see and be seen.
I wore my police dress uniform to every one, and smiled brightly at every disapproving look. I tuned out the meeting minutes- a list of names and ridiculous accomplishments that was meaningless to me- munching on tiny sandwiches and other assorted nibbles until I could safely make my escape.
As I reached the bottom of the ornate marble steps, a shadow moved on the other side of the street. If I hadn’t been a vampire or a trained policewoman, I’d probably have been scared, but since I was both, I could recognize my partner’s shape even before he stepped into the light from the nearby streetlamp.
Howell carried a large doughnut box and two cups of coffee. “Jones,” he said, when I reached him.
“Sir,” I said, taking the cup closest to me. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I love you.”
Howell barked out a laugh. “I got you a lemon-filled.”
I grinned and followed him toward the park. “Yep, sir, definitely love.”
THE END
Current Mood:
fangirly
Prompt: writerverse challenge #02 mini table of doom (‘pariah’)
Word Count: 368
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke isn’t like the other vampires.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Fitting In
The funny thing was, if I had asked to be Bitten, the Vampire Council would have denied my application before the ink had time to dry.
Well, it wasn’t that funny to the Council, and at the time, it wasn’t especially funny to me, but several years later, I could see the humor.
When they had the choice, vampires were extremely picky about who they let into their company. With very few exceptions, they wanted high society people- no necessarily rich, I’d give them that, though it usually hadn’t hurt- but the modern American equivalent of the upper class. Vampires were usually bankers, executives, models or something like that.
They were not part-time assistant librarians and they did not then quit their jobs to become police officers.
So, you could probably see why they didn’t like me much.
And that probably would have bothered me more if I actually cared what any of them thought of me. I only saw other vampires at Council meetings, and then only when I couldn’t get out of them. The meetings were theoretically for ‘communication and support’ but these days, they were more a chance for the snootiest vampires to see and be seen.
I wore my police dress uniform to every one, and smiled brightly at every disapproving look. I tuned out the meeting minutes- a list of names and ridiculous accomplishments that was meaningless to me- munching on tiny sandwiches and other assorted nibbles until I could safely make my escape.
As I reached the bottom of the ornate marble steps, a shadow moved on the other side of the street. If I hadn’t been a vampire or a trained policewoman, I’d probably have been scared, but since I was both, I could recognize my partner’s shape even before he stepped into the light from the nearby streetlamp.
Howell carried a large doughnut box and two cups of coffee. “Jones,” he said, when I reached him.
“Sir,” I said, taking the cup closest to me. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I love you.”
Howell barked out a laugh. “I got you a lemon-filled.”
I grinned and followed him toward the park. “Yep, sir, definitely love.”
THE END
Current Mood:
fangirly