Drabble Catch Up
I can't actually believe i have this many to post.
Title: Spark
Author: Redlance
Prompt: Bottled Water
Word Count: 221
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: She should have known better than to drink on a hot day.
I’m sure you’ve all heard about it. The ‘spark’ that sends your entire body head first into the Mexican Jumping Bean Carnival. Caused by even the briefest contact your skin makes with that of her person you desire. I thought the ‘spark’ was fabricated nonsense, dreamt up by the same shmuck who invented Valentine’s Day as another way to torture the single folk and make them feel even more miserable and lonely. I thought it solely limited to fairytales and those adult movies that for some reason decide they need an element of romance. Not that I’ve seen any of those.
And then fate, if you believe in that, just to spite me, decided to smack me right in the face with a ‘spark’ of my very own. I guess I only have myself to blame, I never should have reached for that water bottle. But it was like ninety degrees outside! I was just thirsty! But apparently Brooke was too.
And now I’m royally screwed.
Seconds that should have ticked rhythmically by seemed to stop altogether when her fingers touched mine. I felt that fabled jolt shoot right up my arm and kick-start my heart. And then she looked at me, her eyes shy but glinting knowingly. And I’d never wanted a bottle of water more in my entire life.
Title: Alternative
Author: Redlance
Prompt: refrigerator
Rating: G
Word Count: 138
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Heat wave!
"Sam, will you close that? You’re wasting energy." Sam lifted her head from its position practically inside the refrigerator and looked at her mom’s glare from over the door. She pouted, but after seventeen years, it seemed her mother was impervious. The reported huffed and pulled herself away from the cool air and did as she was told.
"I’m so gross and hot." She flapped the hem of her tank top, attempting to create a breeze.
"We have a perfectly good pool outside, why don’t you use it?" Sam opened her mouth to respond, but stopped short. Why? Because Brooke was out there. In a bikini. With a lot of skin showing. Wet skin. Wet hair. And she was afraid she’d jump her.
Sam blinked.
"I’m just going to take a cold shower instead." Jane shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
Title: Laundry Day
Author: Redlance
Prompt: laundry day
Rating: Um… PG-13? Idk! They’re about to do it. =|
Word Count: 267 (Frick, I try.)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sexy time.
Sam watched from beneath hooded lids as Brooke undid her jeans button with her teeth. The things that girl could do with her mouth never ceased to amaze her. Hazel eyes bore intently into brown, never blinking, never looking away.
"What do you want, Sammie?" The sound of her voice, husky and thick with desire, sent tendrils of hot pleasure and anticipation right to her core. Brooke’s fingers brushed against the fabric covering her lower abdomen, stealing the brunette’s breath, as she slid Sam’s jeans down and off in one swift motion.
And then Brooke went still, staring down at Sam’s lower half. And Sam’s eyes widened and her cheeks flared as she realised just what her girlfriend was looking at. She sat bolt upright and made a grab for her jeans lying next to Brooke, but the blonde just laughed and pushed Sam back down onto the bed.
"Oh Sammie…" Brooke drawled, her voice still husky as she moved to straddle Sam’s now bare legs. The brunette shuddered at the contact, but still used her hands to try and cover herself. "These are just…" Brooke batted her hands away and hooked a finger through the right leg hole of Sam’s underwear. The giant, nondescript, beige pair she was wearing. "Fabulous." If possible, Sam’s blush deepened, and she threw her arms over her face.
"It’s laundry day!" She complained, cursing her inability to operate a washing machine more than once a week. "These were the only pair I had left…"
"Oh I’m not complaining." Brooke reassures her with a chuckle. "You can totally make granny panties hot."
Title: Packing.
Author: Redlance
Prompt: packing
Rating: G
Word Count: 341 (Angst knows no limits!!)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
A/N: For carpesomediem. Because I feel like I’ve posted too much happy for her liking lately ;)
Summary: Sam is packing.
"Please don’t leave." The tears that thicken her words and the sadness that makes them sound so very heavy, so lost, almost brings me to my knees. But I pretend I’m made of steel and somehow stay standing.
"I can’t stay." And it’s the truth. I used to lie awake at night and just… look at her. Now it hurts too much.
"I need you." My hands stall in their decent to the sweater I’m about to fold to place inside the suitcase. I just stare at it for a few seconds. Taking in it’s bright blue colour, it’s slightly worn hem. Remembering the last time I saw her wearing it.
"Like you needed me when you were with him?" The venom in the words burns my tongue, but it feels good to feel something other than numb. I hear her breath catch and her sobs hitch an octave higher in despair.
"It was a mistake!" She’s begging me to understand, like she has been since she told me. Amid other protests of being lonely and confused and, my personal favourite, drunk.
"Yeah." I cover my sniff by zipping up the suitcase and pause to ripe an errant tear from my cheek before turning to her. Her perfect face is lined with tear streaks. Eyes I used to get lost in are red and sore looking. My heart hurts seeing her like this, but I know it’ll hurt more if I stay. "A big one." Suitcase in hand, I exit what used to be our bedroom and make my way down what used to be our hallway.
"Please don’t leave me, Sam." And even just the way she says my name makes me ache. For her, for what she did, for what we’ve lost. I turn to look at her over my shoulder, my own eyes heavy with unshed tears.
"You left me, Brooke." Her eyes close and she dissolves into tears, sliding down the wall to the floor. What used to be the door to our apartment closes behind me.
Title: Perfect
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hotel
Rating: G
Word Count: 248
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sam wants it to be perfect.
Brooke’s hand shook as she handed over the credit card and prayed. With a smile and a few words wishing her a good evening she was free, but the shakes remained. She felt light-headed ascending the stairs, after deciding she needed more time than the elevator would provide her with. Still when she was before the door, the painted on numbers staring at her, she felt as though another flight of stairs would be in order.
The key card slid awkwardly in her clammy palm as she tried to get it into the slot, eventually succeeding on the third attempt. She took a breath and pushed the door open.
And was greeted by a candlelight illuminated smile that made her feel warmer than mere fire ever could. Sam whispered a bashful hello. And that was when Brooke saw the rose petals adorning the bed.
"You’ve been busy." Brooke said, dropping her bag and moving further into the room.
"I wanted things to be… perfect." Sam tucked a long wavy strand of hair behind her ear and Brooke’s nerves melted away. She closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together.
"Was that supposed to calm me down or make me worse?" Sam asked breathlessly once they parted, and Brooke smiled and stroked her cheek.
"All I need for it to be perfect is you." Their lips met again, but Brooke managed a mumbled "But the candles are definitely going to help." before her legs hit the bed.
Title: Call
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hospital
Rating: G
Word Count: 300 (damn it)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke gets a call.
Brooke could barely get her words out as she approached the desk and tried to tell them her name and why she was there.
"I-I-I’m Brooke. McQueen. I got a… there was an-an accident… Sam-" Her breath hitched "Sam and Joseph McPherson?" Her shaking hands brushed windswept hair out of her eyes.
"Are you a relation?"
"My wife and child." Brooke snapped impatiently and then shot the receptionist an apologetic look. The woman returned it with a smile, found a room number and a doctor’s name and waved over an orderly to accompany Brooke.
The hallways seemed twice as long as they should be as she walked, unable to hear anything the young man was telling her. It took far too long to reach the destination and find the doctor she needed to see. It was as though her ears were filled with cotton balls and the words were being filtered through them. Word that, when they finally made sense, told her that Sam and Joseph were fine except for a broken arm, bruised ribs, one cracked, and a few abrasions. And when she was finally let in to see them, she hugged them both so fiercely she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t bruised a rib or two herself.
"Mama look! Dr Kinsey signed my cast!" Joseph, dark-haired and hazel-eyed, was grinning up at her and waving his cast in the air when she finally let them go. Seemingly unaffected and unphased, thank god. "Mommy, what is my cast made of?" This directed at Sam, who hadn’t quiet regained all of her colour and was holding her left arm to her torso. Their eyes met, a world of unspoken words flowing between them, and Sam smiled.
"I don’t know honey, what do you think it’s made of?"
"Snakeskin and glue!"
Title: No Vacancy.
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hostel
Rating: G
Word Count: 127
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke isn’t budging on this one.
"I’m not staying in a hostel, Sam!" Brooke was the embodiment of an 18 year old toddler as she stomped her foot outside of a coffee house in Paris. They’d been sent out into the world for four weeks as a graduation present.
"And why the hell not? I’m not made of money, Brooke. Mr Plastic Fantastic isn’t my best friend." Sam folded her arms across her chest and took a defensive stance.
"Um, I don’t know. How about because I don’t want my teeth pulled out of my head with pliers? Or my intestines tied into a pretty little bow outside of my stomach as my mutilator offers me as a present to Satan." Sam stared at her.
"No more Friday night movies for you, Princess."
Title: Mess
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hot mess
Rating: G
Word Count: 171
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke’s been pushed a little too far.
"Brooke, don’t you dare-"
"Whatcha gonna do, Sammie? Write another article about me? Been there, done that, used to it."
"I’ll get you back. And it’ll be so many times worse than this."
"There isn’t much left for you to do to me. I’m pretty confident in my assumption that I have nothing to loose."
"What about the truce?" Brooke’s smile turned devilish, as did the glint in her eyes.
"I love the smell of panic laced fear in the afternoon." She sighed happily, and Sam only had time enough to widen her eyes before the hot mess of gravy soaked mashed potatoes came hurdling towards her, slid right off the paper plate Brooke had thrown, and landed with a wet ‘slop’ against Sam’s face.
There was a brief moment of stunned silence in the cafeteria as the student body gathered there stared as Brooke’s smile turned triumphant and Sam’s potato crusted eyelids opened, a murderous look almost making the blonde’s expression falter.
And then all hell broke loose around them.
Title: Hotness
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hotness
Rating: G
Word Count: 279 (I got carried away… imagining this one.)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke has her own definition.
Hotness, Brooke was sure, had many interpretations. Some people thought knee-high boots were hot, others that lip rings are sexy. Some people also get off on sucking on toes. Brooke isn't so sure about that one. What she is sure of though, is her own definition of hotness. She clocks in at about 5' 6", has shoulder-length dark hair, newly cut over the Summer, a killer smile and an oral fixation that raises the temperature to what feels like a nice even one hundred degrees whenever Brooke witnesses that tongue do something that sends her mind racing full speed to places it definitely shouldn't be going in the middle of chemistry class.
It makes her want to shove Sam into a janitor's closet and do unspeakable things to her in the dark. It makes her want to pin the reporter to the nearest wall and act out her desires in full view of the student body. It makes her want to make sure that tongue is put to good use.
Sam knows this. And still, there she sits in all her hotness, glancing at Brooke from the corner of her eye... practically giving the pen she holds in her left hand a blow job. Well aware of what it's doing to her lab partner. It drives Brooke crazy, but she says nothing and just enjoys the view and what it does to her.
Because later, once they're tucked away in the privacy of her room, or Sam's room, or the bathroom, or their parents room when they aren't home... all the pent up sexual frustration of the day will be released, and it will have been totally worth it.
Title: Duck
Author: Redlance
Prompt: duck
Rating: G
Word Count: 146
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Always listen to Brooke.
"You’re going to want to duck." Brooke told Sam as they sat beneath the shining sun on the school field.
"What? Why?" Sam blinked up at her, a suspicious look on her face.
"Just trust me." Hazel orbs went back to the book on her lap.
"Or, you could just tell me." Sam frowned at her, eyeing Brooke as though she had an ulterior motive. "Unless this is some ploy to get me with a cream pie." The blonde sighed and shrugged.
"Okay, don’t duck."
"I won’t."
"Okay then."
The football connected with Sam’s head as soon as it dropped back down to it’s book viewing position. Brooke had no idea Sam knew so many curse words. Or that she had an arm on her. Unfortunately for the football player coming to retrieve the ball, her learned just how good an arm Sam hand first hand.
Title: Cover Story
Author: Redlance
Prompt: cover
Rating: G
Word Count: 249
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke has hers all worked out.
Everyone always asks her "how?", like she knows the secret to cheating death. The doctors didn’t help, claming she was "a walking miracle". Others, less tactful, saying "she should be dead right now". Whatever the reason, she isn’t.
Nicole had hit her, her body became barely recognisable under the cover of blood. Bones she didn’t know she had had been broken, she’d been in a coma. Doctors had told her parents about the 10% chance she’d wake up, 20% chance she’d ever walk or talk again if she did, and Brooke had proved them wrong. Her parents just stare at her in wonder sometimes and she knows they’re thinking it. Even Sam will get that look in her eyes every so often, but Brooke says nothing, even though she has, maybe not the exact answer they’re looking for, but the answer she believes is right. She has a cover story about being "just lucky, I guess" for when they do ask.
Because she hasn’t yet found the right words to tell anyone that Sam is the reason for her miracle. That Sam is the reason she held on. Memories of the other girl’s face, the sound of her voice; audible over the beeping of her heart. The thought she might never get to tell Sam how she feels, after only realising it herself when Harrison had said Sam’s name. She held on because of Sam. And as soon as Brooke found the words, she was going to tell her.
Title: Chivalry
Author: Redlance
Prompt: jacket
Rating: G
Word Count: 190
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke’s ruins it.
"If you were chivalrous, you'd give it to me."
"If you ask for it, it kind of defeats the purpose of me being chivalrous."
"Sam, i'm cold!"
"I told you to bring a jacket, Princess."
"I didn't think it would rain. Are you the weatherman now?"
"No, i just like being prepared." They huddled together beneath the beach umbrella, waiting for the fireworks. Brooke pouting, Sam grinning.
"It was sunny when we left." Someone shouted something inaudible, but seconds later the first rocket shot into the air. The night sky lit up with reds and blues and yellows, and the chattering of Brooke's teeth was drowned out momentarily. Sam waited until the next rocket went off before she quietly slid her jacket off her shoulders and draped it across Brooke's.
"Ruin my planned spontaneous moment of chivalry by asking for the jacket..." She grumbled, smiling and rolling her eyes. "Jeez, Brooke."
"I’m sorry." Brooke said, zipping up the jacket and trying to burrow inside of it. She grabbed hold of Sam’s hand and laced their fingers together, pulling it inside of her pocket. "Next time I'll be quiet."
"Yeah, yeah."
Title: Caught
Author: Redlance
Prompt: t-shirt
Rating: G
Word Count: 249
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sam gets caught.
"Brooke!" A hand is clamped over her mouth almost before she can get the word out.
"Be quiet!"
"What are you doing?" Brooke shifts a little on top of Sam, adjusting her position so her hands are on either side of the brunette's head.
"I thought we should have a sleep over."
"I thought we agreed that was too risky." Brooke grins impishly. Sam sounds panicked and for some reason that makes her want to do it even more.
"You don't like being bad?" Brooke pouts, pulling the covers back and running her hand down over Sam's chest. "I know you..." Brooke frowns slightly, then grins so wide it lights up the room "Are you wearing my t-shirt?"
"What? No!" With an almighty yank that almost knocks Brooke from her straddling position, Sam pulls the covers almost up to her nose. Brooke can't contain her laughter, fighting with the reporter for position of the quilt. Amused determination win out over embarrassment and Brooke manages to get the covers behind her and straddles Sam's gloriously bare thighs.
"Yeah, i'm pretty sure this is my shirt." Sam attempts a glare but fails.
"I miss you when i'm alone." Even though Brooke is sure Sam's big brown eyes are working their magic, she doesn't care. She'll let them because Sam is so cute it almost sends butterflies exploding out through her ears.
"You're so damn cute, McPherson." And to stop the protest she's sure is coming, Brooke presses her lips against Sam's.
Title: Torture
Author: Redlance
Prompt: tank top
Rating: G
Word Count: 206
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Slow and painful, but oh dear god it’s enjoyable.
Sam does it on purpose to drive her crazy. Brooke is sure she shrinks them before she wears them just to drive her insane in public. She’s asked her not to, explained that she won’t be held responsible when she finally can’t take it anymore and takes Sam hard and fast in the middle of a packed Kennedy hallway. And still Sam wears the tank tops.
It’s the fifth day in a row. Brooke wonders if Sam has an endless supply of tight, midriff-revealing, breast accentuating, ‘makes you want to lick every inch of exposed skin’ tank tops or if she actually goes to the trouble of washing her own clothes, purely for the sake of driving Brooke into a horny frenzy.
"Excuuuuse me." Sam says with a grin after making her way through the crowded hallway towards Brooke. And then squeezing herself between co-captains, plastering her front against Brooke’s in the process. There was no need for it. She could have easily gone around. But that would have meant she’d gone a whole five minutes without torturing Brooke.
"I think Spam just came onto me." Nicole is staring after the reporter with a curiously murderous expression. Brooke stares too, trying desperately not to spontaneously combust.
Title: Skirts Are Fun
Author: Redlance
Prompt: skirt
Word Count: 198
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
A/N: I totally stand by, and agree with, my title choice. ^^
Summary: It’s Brooke’s birthday.
The club was packed, but that was okay. That was how Brooke liked it. So filled with people they’d be pressed together on the dance floor later. They were out with friends from college, celebrating Brooke’s 22nd birthday. Sam returned to the table, next round on a tray in her hands, and sat beside Brooke, placing drinks in front of everyone. They talked and laughed, and neither of their friends seemed to notice when Brooke suddenly went quiet. Didn’t notice the smirk with which Sam accented her words.
Unseen beneath the table, Sam’s fingers were trailing slow, languorous patterns along Brooke thigh. Teasing the edge of the short skirt Sam had pushed her to wear.
Now she knew why.
Finger tips inched closer, brushing inner thighs and moving higher. Nails bit lightly into sensitive flesh and then caressed any possible pain away. She managed to contain a moan as fingers brushed her now aching center, then suddenly she was aware of her name being called.
"What?"
"I asked what Sam got you." Brooke sighed as she felt Sam’s hand slip from her lap and grudgingly met the eyes of her friend.
"She hasn’t given it to me yet."
Title: Hate
Author: Redlance
Prompt: shorts
Rating: G
Word Count: 172
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sam hates gym.
Sam hates gym. It’s not that she dislikes exercise or their teacher. It’s not that she feels self-conscious, parading around and doing stretches and the like in front of her classmates. It’s not even that she feels sweaty and gross afterwards.
No. Sam hates gym because she has it with Brooke McQueen. She hates having to pretend like she’s not staring at Brooke while she does the same stretches she’s doing. Hates seeing her walk around in the gym-regulation blue shorts that look like crap on everyone else, but make Brooke look like an athletic Goddess.
She hates watching her run, hates the way her eyes stray when Brooke leaves her line of sight. She hates the way Brooke insists on being her ‘gym buddy’ and helping with stretches, hates the way Brooke hands feel on her when she does.
Mostly what Sam hates about gym is that it makes her giddy and light-headed and want to act on her feelings. And she hates that she’s too afraid to make a move.
Title: Scent
Author: Redlance
Prompt: sweatshirt
Rating: G
Word Count: 279
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
A/N: Carpesomediem’s second. ;)
Summary: Brooke is cold.
She makes her way into the dark, silent room. There's a new, unfamiliar chill in the air that doesn't belong. It used to be filled with warmth, it used to give her a strange sense of comfort, but now it's as cold and unwelcoming as she's become.
Her feet drag slightly as she walks across the carpet, her steps uncoordinated, her eyes bleery and unseeing. But she doesn't need to be able to see. She could make this walk with her eyes closed, she's made it that many times before. Her numb fingers tentatively reach out and then grasp the brass knob, pulling the closet door open. Her breath catches and she resists the urge to simply crawl inside, instead stroking a few of the garments until her hand touches the one she's looking for. It's big and it's baggy, and she doesn't care because it swallows her as she pulls it over her head and for a second she can pretend she doesn't exist. That the last few months have just been some nightmare she can't escape from.
As she stumbles onto the bed and curls into a ball, she inhales deeply, taking in the scent still linger on the sweater. Then her swollen eyes close and tears begin to fall from them again. Because she doesn't understand. She's alone in a room that's now nothing more than a museum of memories. Memories that are all she has left, expect for a few sweaters.
And she doesn't understand. Why it happened. Why Sam pushed her out of her way. Why Sam threw everything away to save her life.
Brooke will never understand that to Sam, Brooke was everything.
Title: Comfort
Author: Redlance
Prompt: sweat pants
Rating: G
Word Count: 165
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Don’t get too comfortable.
To look at Brooke McQueen as she roamed the halls of Kennedy, you wouldn’t think the girl knew the first thing about comfortable clothing. But behind closed doors, when the house is empty and there’s no chance of visitors, she becomes the comfort queen. She relishes the sparse moments where she can sit splayed on her bed, de-make-up’ed and sweat panted, and not have to worry about looking good for the masses of people who expect her to.
She’s so comfortable in fact, enveloped in the old blue pyjama shirt that has seen better, less holey days, that she doesn’t hear the door open. Doesn’t register anyone else’s presence until a flash lights the room. She blinks away the black spots until she can see Sam’s beaming face.
"Now that is one for the yearbook." And she’s gone. Brooke blinks once, then gets halfway into the second before she tears out of bed, screaming Sam’s name and various threats at the top of her voice.
Title: Spark
Author: Redlance
Prompt: Bottled Water
Word Count: 221
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: She should have known better than to drink on a hot day.
I’m sure you’ve all heard about it. The ‘spark’ that sends your entire body head first into the Mexican Jumping Bean Carnival. Caused by even the briefest contact your skin makes with that of her person you desire. I thought the ‘spark’ was fabricated nonsense, dreamt up by the same shmuck who invented Valentine’s Day as another way to torture the single folk and make them feel even more miserable and lonely. I thought it solely limited to fairytales and those adult movies that for some reason decide they need an element of romance. Not that I’ve seen any of those.
And then fate, if you believe in that, just to spite me, decided to smack me right in the face with a ‘spark’ of my very own. I guess I only have myself to blame, I never should have reached for that water bottle. But it was like ninety degrees outside! I was just thirsty! But apparently Brooke was too.
And now I’m royally screwed.
Seconds that should have ticked rhythmically by seemed to stop altogether when her fingers touched mine. I felt that fabled jolt shoot right up my arm and kick-start my heart. And then she looked at me, her eyes shy but glinting knowingly. And I’d never wanted a bottle of water more in my entire life.
Title: Alternative
Author: Redlance
Prompt: refrigerator
Rating: G
Word Count: 138
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Heat wave!
"Sam, will you close that? You’re wasting energy." Sam lifted her head from its position practically inside the refrigerator and looked at her mom’s glare from over the door. She pouted, but after seventeen years, it seemed her mother was impervious. The reported huffed and pulled herself away from the cool air and did as she was told.
"I’m so gross and hot." She flapped the hem of her tank top, attempting to create a breeze.
"We have a perfectly good pool outside, why don’t you use it?" Sam opened her mouth to respond, but stopped short. Why? Because Brooke was out there. In a bikini. With a lot of skin showing. Wet skin. Wet hair. And she was afraid she’d jump her.
Sam blinked.
"I’m just going to take a cold shower instead." Jane shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
Title: Laundry Day
Author: Redlance
Prompt: laundry day
Rating: Um… PG-13? Idk! They’re about to do it. =|
Word Count: 267 (Frick, I try.)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sexy time.
Sam watched from beneath hooded lids as Brooke undid her jeans button with her teeth. The things that girl could do with her mouth never ceased to amaze her. Hazel eyes bore intently into brown, never blinking, never looking away.
"What do you want, Sammie?" The sound of her voice, husky and thick with desire, sent tendrils of hot pleasure and anticipation right to her core. Brooke’s fingers brushed against the fabric covering her lower abdomen, stealing the brunette’s breath, as she slid Sam’s jeans down and off in one swift motion.
And then Brooke went still, staring down at Sam’s lower half. And Sam’s eyes widened and her cheeks flared as she realised just what her girlfriend was looking at. She sat bolt upright and made a grab for her jeans lying next to Brooke, but the blonde just laughed and pushed Sam back down onto the bed.
"Oh Sammie…" Brooke drawled, her voice still husky as she moved to straddle Sam’s now bare legs. The brunette shuddered at the contact, but still used her hands to try and cover herself. "These are just…" Brooke batted her hands away and hooked a finger through the right leg hole of Sam’s underwear. The giant, nondescript, beige pair she was wearing. "Fabulous." If possible, Sam’s blush deepened, and she threw her arms over her face.
"It’s laundry day!" She complained, cursing her inability to operate a washing machine more than once a week. "These were the only pair I had left…"
"Oh I’m not complaining." Brooke reassures her with a chuckle. "You can totally make granny panties hot."
Title: Packing.
Author: Redlance
Prompt: packing
Rating: G
Word Count: 341 (Angst knows no limits!!)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
A/N: For carpesomediem. Because I feel like I’ve posted too much happy for her liking lately ;)
Summary: Sam is packing.
"Please don’t leave." The tears that thicken her words and the sadness that makes them sound so very heavy, so lost, almost brings me to my knees. But I pretend I’m made of steel and somehow stay standing.
"I can’t stay." And it’s the truth. I used to lie awake at night and just… look at her. Now it hurts too much.
"I need you." My hands stall in their decent to the sweater I’m about to fold to place inside the suitcase. I just stare at it for a few seconds. Taking in it’s bright blue colour, it’s slightly worn hem. Remembering the last time I saw her wearing it.
"Like you needed me when you were with him?" The venom in the words burns my tongue, but it feels good to feel something other than numb. I hear her breath catch and her sobs hitch an octave higher in despair.
"It was a mistake!" She’s begging me to understand, like she has been since she told me. Amid other protests of being lonely and confused and, my personal favourite, drunk.
"Yeah." I cover my sniff by zipping up the suitcase and pause to ripe an errant tear from my cheek before turning to her. Her perfect face is lined with tear streaks. Eyes I used to get lost in are red and sore looking. My heart hurts seeing her like this, but I know it’ll hurt more if I stay. "A big one." Suitcase in hand, I exit what used to be our bedroom and make my way down what used to be our hallway.
"Please don’t leave me, Sam." And even just the way she says my name makes me ache. For her, for what she did, for what we’ve lost. I turn to look at her over my shoulder, my own eyes heavy with unshed tears.
"You left me, Brooke." Her eyes close and she dissolves into tears, sliding down the wall to the floor. What used to be the door to our apartment closes behind me.
Title: Perfect
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hotel
Rating: G
Word Count: 248
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sam wants it to be perfect.
Brooke’s hand shook as she handed over the credit card and prayed. With a smile and a few words wishing her a good evening she was free, but the shakes remained. She felt light-headed ascending the stairs, after deciding she needed more time than the elevator would provide her with. Still when she was before the door, the painted on numbers staring at her, she felt as though another flight of stairs would be in order.
The key card slid awkwardly in her clammy palm as she tried to get it into the slot, eventually succeeding on the third attempt. She took a breath and pushed the door open.
And was greeted by a candlelight illuminated smile that made her feel warmer than mere fire ever could. Sam whispered a bashful hello. And that was when Brooke saw the rose petals adorning the bed.
"You’ve been busy." Brooke said, dropping her bag and moving further into the room.
"I wanted things to be… perfect." Sam tucked a long wavy strand of hair behind her ear and Brooke’s nerves melted away. She closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together.
"Was that supposed to calm me down or make me worse?" Sam asked breathlessly once they parted, and Brooke smiled and stroked her cheek.
"All I need for it to be perfect is you." Their lips met again, but Brooke managed a mumbled "But the candles are definitely going to help." before her legs hit the bed.
Title: Call
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hospital
Rating: G
Word Count: 300 (damn it)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke gets a call.
Brooke could barely get her words out as she approached the desk and tried to tell them her name and why she was there.
"I-I-I’m Brooke. McQueen. I got a… there was an-an accident… Sam-" Her breath hitched "Sam and Joseph McPherson?" Her shaking hands brushed windswept hair out of her eyes.
"Are you a relation?"
"My wife and child." Brooke snapped impatiently and then shot the receptionist an apologetic look. The woman returned it with a smile, found a room number and a doctor’s name and waved over an orderly to accompany Brooke.
The hallways seemed twice as long as they should be as she walked, unable to hear anything the young man was telling her. It took far too long to reach the destination and find the doctor she needed to see. It was as though her ears were filled with cotton balls and the words were being filtered through them. Word that, when they finally made sense, told her that Sam and Joseph were fine except for a broken arm, bruised ribs, one cracked, and a few abrasions. And when she was finally let in to see them, she hugged them both so fiercely she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t bruised a rib or two herself.
"Mama look! Dr Kinsey signed my cast!" Joseph, dark-haired and hazel-eyed, was grinning up at her and waving his cast in the air when she finally let them go. Seemingly unaffected and unphased, thank god. "Mommy, what is my cast made of?" This directed at Sam, who hadn’t quiet regained all of her colour and was holding her left arm to her torso. Their eyes met, a world of unspoken words flowing between them, and Sam smiled.
"I don’t know honey, what do you think it’s made of?"
"Snakeskin and glue!"
Title: No Vacancy.
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hostel
Rating: G
Word Count: 127
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke isn’t budging on this one.
"I’m not staying in a hostel, Sam!" Brooke was the embodiment of an 18 year old toddler as she stomped her foot outside of a coffee house in Paris. They’d been sent out into the world for four weeks as a graduation present.
"And why the hell not? I’m not made of money, Brooke. Mr Plastic Fantastic isn’t my best friend." Sam folded her arms across her chest and took a defensive stance.
"Um, I don’t know. How about because I don’t want my teeth pulled out of my head with pliers? Or my intestines tied into a pretty little bow outside of my stomach as my mutilator offers me as a present to Satan." Sam stared at her.
"No more Friday night movies for you, Princess."
Title: Mess
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hot mess
Rating: G
Word Count: 171
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke’s been pushed a little too far.
"Brooke, don’t you dare-"
"Whatcha gonna do, Sammie? Write another article about me? Been there, done that, used to it."
"I’ll get you back. And it’ll be so many times worse than this."
"There isn’t much left for you to do to me. I’m pretty confident in my assumption that I have nothing to loose."
"What about the truce?" Brooke’s smile turned devilish, as did the glint in her eyes.
"I love the smell of panic laced fear in the afternoon." She sighed happily, and Sam only had time enough to widen her eyes before the hot mess of gravy soaked mashed potatoes came hurdling towards her, slid right off the paper plate Brooke had thrown, and landed with a wet ‘slop’ against Sam’s face.
There was a brief moment of stunned silence in the cafeteria as the student body gathered there stared as Brooke’s smile turned triumphant and Sam’s potato crusted eyelids opened, a murderous look almost making the blonde’s expression falter.
And then all hell broke loose around them.
Title: Hotness
Author: Redlance
Prompt: hotness
Rating: G
Word Count: 279 (I got carried away… imagining this one.)
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke has her own definition.
Hotness, Brooke was sure, had many interpretations. Some people thought knee-high boots were hot, others that lip rings are sexy. Some people also get off on sucking on toes. Brooke isn't so sure about that one. What she is sure of though, is her own definition of hotness. She clocks in at about 5' 6", has shoulder-length dark hair, newly cut over the Summer, a killer smile and an oral fixation that raises the temperature to what feels like a nice even one hundred degrees whenever Brooke witnesses that tongue do something that sends her mind racing full speed to places it definitely shouldn't be going in the middle of chemistry class.
It makes her want to shove Sam into a janitor's closet and do unspeakable things to her in the dark. It makes her want to pin the reporter to the nearest wall and act out her desires in full view of the student body. It makes her want to make sure that tongue is put to good use.
Sam knows this. And still, there she sits in all her hotness, glancing at Brooke from the corner of her eye... practically giving the pen she holds in her left hand a blow job. Well aware of what it's doing to her lab partner. It drives Brooke crazy, but she says nothing and just enjoys the view and what it does to her.
Because later, once they're tucked away in the privacy of her room, or Sam's room, or the bathroom, or their parents room when they aren't home... all the pent up sexual frustration of the day will be released, and it will have been totally worth it.
Title: Duck
Author: Redlance
Prompt: duck
Rating: G
Word Count: 146
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Always listen to Brooke.
"You’re going to want to duck." Brooke told Sam as they sat beneath the shining sun on the school field.
"What? Why?" Sam blinked up at her, a suspicious look on her face.
"Just trust me." Hazel orbs went back to the book on her lap.
"Or, you could just tell me." Sam frowned at her, eyeing Brooke as though she had an ulterior motive. "Unless this is some ploy to get me with a cream pie." The blonde sighed and shrugged.
"Okay, don’t duck."
"I won’t."
"Okay then."
The football connected with Sam’s head as soon as it dropped back down to it’s book viewing position. Brooke had no idea Sam knew so many curse words. Or that she had an arm on her. Unfortunately for the football player coming to retrieve the ball, her learned just how good an arm Sam hand first hand.
Title: Cover Story
Author: Redlance
Prompt: cover
Rating: G
Word Count: 249
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke has hers all worked out.
Everyone always asks her "how?", like she knows the secret to cheating death. The doctors didn’t help, claming she was "a walking miracle". Others, less tactful, saying "she should be dead right now". Whatever the reason, she isn’t.
Nicole had hit her, her body became barely recognisable under the cover of blood. Bones she didn’t know she had had been broken, she’d been in a coma. Doctors had told her parents about the 10% chance she’d wake up, 20% chance she’d ever walk or talk again if she did, and Brooke had proved them wrong. Her parents just stare at her in wonder sometimes and she knows they’re thinking it. Even Sam will get that look in her eyes every so often, but Brooke says nothing, even though she has, maybe not the exact answer they’re looking for, but the answer she believes is right. She has a cover story about being "just lucky, I guess" for when they do ask.
Because she hasn’t yet found the right words to tell anyone that Sam is the reason for her miracle. That Sam is the reason she held on. Memories of the other girl’s face, the sound of her voice; audible over the beeping of her heart. The thought she might never get to tell Sam how she feels, after only realising it herself when Harrison had said Sam’s name. She held on because of Sam. And as soon as Brooke found the words, she was going to tell her.
Title: Chivalry
Author: Redlance
Prompt: jacket
Rating: G
Word Count: 190
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Brooke’s ruins it.
"If you were chivalrous, you'd give it to me."
"If you ask for it, it kind of defeats the purpose of me being chivalrous."
"Sam, i'm cold!"
"I told you to bring a jacket, Princess."
"I didn't think it would rain. Are you the weatherman now?"
"No, i just like being prepared." They huddled together beneath the beach umbrella, waiting for the fireworks. Brooke pouting, Sam grinning.
"It was sunny when we left." Someone shouted something inaudible, but seconds later the first rocket shot into the air. The night sky lit up with reds and blues and yellows, and the chattering of Brooke's teeth was drowned out momentarily. Sam waited until the next rocket went off before she quietly slid her jacket off her shoulders and draped it across Brooke's.
"Ruin my planned spontaneous moment of chivalry by asking for the jacket..." She grumbled, smiling and rolling her eyes. "Jeez, Brooke."
"I’m sorry." Brooke said, zipping up the jacket and trying to burrow inside of it. She grabbed hold of Sam’s hand and laced their fingers together, pulling it inside of her pocket. "Next time I'll be quiet."
"Yeah, yeah."
Title: Caught
Author: Redlance
Prompt: t-shirt
Rating: G
Word Count: 249
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sam gets caught.
"Brooke!" A hand is clamped over her mouth almost before she can get the word out.
"Be quiet!"
"What are you doing?" Brooke shifts a little on top of Sam, adjusting her position so her hands are on either side of the brunette's head.
"I thought we should have a sleep over."
"I thought we agreed that was too risky." Brooke grins impishly. Sam sounds panicked and for some reason that makes her want to do it even more.
"You don't like being bad?" Brooke pouts, pulling the covers back and running her hand down over Sam's chest. "I know you..." Brooke frowns slightly, then grins so wide it lights up the room "Are you wearing my t-shirt?"
"What? No!" With an almighty yank that almost knocks Brooke from her straddling position, Sam pulls the covers almost up to her nose. Brooke can't contain her laughter, fighting with the reporter for position of the quilt. Amused determination win out over embarrassment and Brooke manages to get the covers behind her and straddles Sam's gloriously bare thighs.
"Yeah, i'm pretty sure this is my shirt." Sam attempts a glare but fails.
"I miss you when i'm alone." Even though Brooke is sure Sam's big brown eyes are working their magic, she doesn't care. She'll let them because Sam is so cute it almost sends butterflies exploding out through her ears.
"You're so damn cute, McPherson." And to stop the protest she's sure is coming, Brooke presses her lips against Sam's.
Title: Torture
Author: Redlance
Prompt: tank top
Rating: G
Word Count: 206
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Slow and painful, but oh dear god it’s enjoyable.
Sam does it on purpose to drive her crazy. Brooke is sure she shrinks them before she wears them just to drive her insane in public. She’s asked her not to, explained that she won’t be held responsible when she finally can’t take it anymore and takes Sam hard and fast in the middle of a packed Kennedy hallway. And still Sam wears the tank tops.
It’s the fifth day in a row. Brooke wonders if Sam has an endless supply of tight, midriff-revealing, breast accentuating, ‘makes you want to lick every inch of exposed skin’ tank tops or if she actually goes to the trouble of washing her own clothes, purely for the sake of driving Brooke into a horny frenzy.
"Excuuuuse me." Sam says with a grin after making her way through the crowded hallway towards Brooke. And then squeezing herself between co-captains, plastering her front against Brooke’s in the process. There was no need for it. She could have easily gone around. But that would have meant she’d gone a whole five minutes without torturing Brooke.
"I think Spam just came onto me." Nicole is staring after the reporter with a curiously murderous expression. Brooke stares too, trying desperately not to spontaneously combust.
Title: Skirts Are Fun
Author: Redlance
Prompt: skirt
Word Count: 198
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
A/N: I totally stand by, and agree with, my title choice. ^^
Summary: It’s Brooke’s birthday.
The club was packed, but that was okay. That was how Brooke liked it. So filled with people they’d be pressed together on the dance floor later. They were out with friends from college, celebrating Brooke’s 22nd birthday. Sam returned to the table, next round on a tray in her hands, and sat beside Brooke, placing drinks in front of everyone. They talked and laughed, and neither of their friends seemed to notice when Brooke suddenly went quiet. Didn’t notice the smirk with which Sam accented her words.
Unseen beneath the table, Sam’s fingers were trailing slow, languorous patterns along Brooke thigh. Teasing the edge of the short skirt Sam had pushed her to wear.
Now she knew why.
Finger tips inched closer, brushing inner thighs and moving higher. Nails bit lightly into sensitive flesh and then caressed any possible pain away. She managed to contain a moan as fingers brushed her now aching center, then suddenly she was aware of her name being called.
"What?"
"I asked what Sam got you." Brooke sighed as she felt Sam’s hand slip from her lap and grudgingly met the eyes of her friend.
"She hasn’t given it to me yet."
Title: Hate
Author: Redlance
Prompt: shorts
Rating: G
Word Count: 172
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Sam hates gym.
Sam hates gym. It’s not that she dislikes exercise or their teacher. It’s not that she feels self-conscious, parading around and doing stretches and the like in front of her classmates. It’s not even that she feels sweaty and gross afterwards.
No. Sam hates gym because she has it with Brooke McQueen. She hates having to pretend like she’s not staring at Brooke while she does the same stretches she’s doing. Hates seeing her walk around in the gym-regulation blue shorts that look like crap on everyone else, but make Brooke look like an athletic Goddess.
She hates watching her run, hates the way her eyes stray when Brooke leaves her line of sight. She hates the way Brooke insists on being her ‘gym buddy’ and helping with stretches, hates the way Brooke hands feel on her when she does.
Mostly what Sam hates about gym is that it makes her giddy and light-headed and want to act on her feelings. And she hates that she’s too afraid to make a move.
Title: Scent
Author: Redlance
Prompt: sweatshirt
Rating: G
Word Count: 279
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
A/N: Carpesomediem’s second. ;)
Summary: Brooke is cold.
She makes her way into the dark, silent room. There's a new, unfamiliar chill in the air that doesn't belong. It used to be filled with warmth, it used to give her a strange sense of comfort, but now it's as cold and unwelcoming as she's become.
Her feet drag slightly as she walks across the carpet, her steps uncoordinated, her eyes bleery and unseeing. But she doesn't need to be able to see. She could make this walk with her eyes closed, she's made it that many times before. Her numb fingers tentatively reach out and then grasp the brass knob, pulling the closet door open. Her breath catches and she resists the urge to simply crawl inside, instead stroking a few of the garments until her hand touches the one she's looking for. It's big and it's baggy, and she doesn't care because it swallows her as she pulls it over her head and for a second she can pretend she doesn't exist. That the last few months have just been some nightmare she can't escape from.
As she stumbles onto the bed and curls into a ball, she inhales deeply, taking in the scent still linger on the sweater. Then her swollen eyes close and tears begin to fall from them again. Because she doesn't understand. She's alone in a room that's now nothing more than a museum of memories. Memories that are all she has left, expect for a few sweaters.
And she doesn't understand. Why it happened. Why Sam pushed her out of her way. Why Sam threw everything away to save her life.
Brooke will never understand that to Sam, Brooke was everything.
Title: Comfort
Author: Redlance
Prompt: sweat pants
Rating: G
Word Count: 165
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
Summary: Don’t get too comfortable.
To look at Brooke McQueen as she roamed the halls of Kennedy, you wouldn’t think the girl knew the first thing about comfortable clothing. But behind closed doors, when the house is empty and there’s no chance of visitors, she becomes the comfort queen. She relishes the sparse moments where she can sit splayed on her bed, de-make-up’ed and sweat panted, and not have to worry about looking good for the masses of people who expect her to.
She’s so comfortable in fact, enveloped in the old blue pyjama shirt that has seen better, less holey days, that she doesn’t hear the door open. Doesn’t register anyone else’s presence until a flash lights the room. She blinks away the black spots until she can see Sam’s beaming face.
"Now that is one for the yearbook." And she’s gone. Brooke blinks once, then gets halfway into the second before she tears out of bed, screaming Sam’s name and various threats at the top of her voice.