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Jul. 9th, 2008 12:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fan_eluneThe first 15 people to comment on this post, with a fandom, character or pairing and prompt of some sort get to request a drabble from you. If they feel like it, and only if they feel like it, requesters can post this in their journal and write a drabble for you.
Fandoms I'll write in: Buffy, Angel, Firefly, The Tudors, Skins, Being Human, Highlander, Alias, Lost, Dexter, Hustle, Queer As Folk UK, Doctor Who, Torchwood, Rome, the Nightrunners, Boys Meet Boys, Battlestar Galactica, Carnivàle, Heroes, Harry Potter, Lucifer Box, The Authority, The Pirates of the Caribbean, Pretty Handsome, The Lord of the Rings.
Crossover prompts totally welcome.
Fandoms I'll write in: Buffy, Angel, Firefly, The Tudors, Skins, Being Human, Highlander, Alias, Lost, Dexter, Hustle, Queer As Folk UK, Doctor Who, Torchwood, Rome, the Nightrunners, Boys Meet Boys, Battlestar Galactica, Carnivàle, Heroes, Harry Potter, Lucifer Box, The Authority, The Pirates of the Caribbean, Pretty Handsome, The Lord of the Rings.
Crossover prompts totally welcome.
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Date: 2008-07-09 12:25 pm (UTC)Er, Lucifer/Charlie. Prompt: Fog.
♥
Thank you!
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Date: 2008-07-09 01:47 pm (UTC)Charlie and I are running for our lives, or rather we have just been running for our lives, and now we're running because our feet are carrying us onward, because our hearts are thudding madly in our chests, because of the exhilaration. We lost our pursuers a good five blocks ago, and we turn into another London street to suddenly find ourselves enveloped in fog.
I stop dead in my tracks and Charlie runs into me. Thanks to my sharp reflexes, I manage to keep my balance, although I do stumble quite undignifiedly. However, falling face first on the ground would have been much more undignified.
"Sir?" he asks, and I turn to look at him.
'Look at him' might be a bit of an overstatement, I must admit. The most I can do is make him out, even at this short distance.
"This is wonderfully thick fog, Charlie," I point out, and it is a very sad thing that he must not be able to see my smile. It is, after all, incredibly fetching.
He must however have heard it in my voice, because his voice takes on a truly questioning tone, more so than before. "Sir?"
"So thick I doubt anybody could make us out as anything more than dark silhouettes, not unless they were quite literally upon us."
My hand has reached for his lapel, and I'm pulling him towards what I imagine is the side of the street, where I ought to be able to find a wall to lean back on. My meaning could not be clearer, truly, and it is my turn to hear a smile in Charlie's voice. "Sir."
My heart is still beating wildly in my chest as my back hits a wall, and I dip my head to kiss Charlie, my wonderful Charlie, lips parting, tongues meeting, and as our bodies line up I can feel that more than just our thudding hearts are synchronous.
"Your lips, Charles, I rather adore your lips," I murmur against them, and I know he's smiling, even before it's audible in his murmured 'Yes, sir.' He kisses me again, then sinks to his knees. "And I rather adore your capacity to take a hint."
So many people are obtuse. But Charlie is sharp, and extremely talented with his mouth, which are two qualities I cannot but appreciate in a valet.
I must admit, I'm becoming rather partial to fog.
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Date: 2008-07-09 12:32 pm (UTC)Wash.
It's my birthday.
Because: it's my birthday. :D
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Date: 2008-07-09 01:03 pm (UTC)"Captain's orders."
"But it's my birthday!"
"You mentioned already," Zoe points out patiently.
Patience doesn't have a very calming effect on Wash. "We were supposed to get a day off. You, me, and no clothes invited to the party. Now we're going to pick up cargo on Persephone that we've got to hoard all the way to Silverleaf?"
"Black market beagles."
Wash pauses. "You're not serious."
Zoe smiles, and it's a sight Wash loves even when he's this disappointed, angry and hurt. She walks around his pilot's chair, wraps her arms around him from behind, and he can feel the anger subside a little. "I figured maybe we could keep one."
"You're not serious," he repeats, and blinks.
"It's your birthday," she points out, and kisses his cheek.
She straightens up and spins his chair around, and now he's got an armful of Zoe, and they're kissing, and she's the only woman who's ever kissed him quite like this. Ai ya, but he loves her.
Her lips move to his neck and he exhales sharply. One of his hands is on her thigh, pressing her close, while he twists in her embrace to reach the controls with his other hand. Auto-pilot safely locked, and he flicks the comm switch. "Attention all. Helm's off limits for the next forty min - ow!" Zoe's never been a woman of many words, and her teeth on his neck have just carried her message across just as efficiently. "For the next hour. I repeat - ha - helm's off limits for the next hour or so."
Definitely or so.
"Wash," Zoe says, looking up at him.
He has trouble forming a coherent response when all his blood is rushing south. "Huh?"
"Comm's still on."
"Oh." He flicks the switch, and it's his birthday.
---
Happy birthday hon!
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Date: 2008-07-09 02:43 pm (UTC)Authority
Mid/Apollo. I'm cliche...
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Date: 2008-07-09 02:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-07-10 09:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-07-09 03:19 pm (UTC)Nine/Midnighter, two are better than one
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Date: 2008-07-09 03:26 pm (UTC)I shall write this in a little while, as I must finish checking this episode of Murder Rooms. Ooooh, such a wonderful prompt. Thankee!
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Date: 2008-07-10 09:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:Part 1
Date: 2008-07-10 02:18 pm (UTC)"Yes," the man replies, and he sounds as annoyed as Midnighter might have, in his place. "We've gone over that already."
"No," Midnighter cuts in, letting his senses extend. The man is not human. The man has two heartbeats. The man is entirely inhuman; an alien. Doctors are always human. "I know the Doctor, and you're not him. Who are you?"
"I'm the Doctor," the alien retorts, frowning. He sounds as if he's offended that anybody might think differently. "You might've met another me!" he suggests with a smile, a solution to the problem Midnighter is presenting him. "Anyway, the real question is, what are you."
He's gotten close to Midnighter, and it's instinct, really, or the opposite of instinct, it's a computer-triggered response. Midnighter's arm shoots out and grabs the so-called Doctor by the throat, lifting him off the ground. "I've known three Doctors, none of them were aliens. Who. Are you?"
"Violence is not an answer," the alien garbles out in a choked voice.
"Violence is my favorite answer," Midnighter retorts, and throws him against a wall. Hard, the way he does everything. "You have two hearts."
"Two are better than one," the alien says, rubbing at his throat as he gets to his feet. "And you're one to talk."
He might have a back-up heart, but Midnighter is still very much human. And losing his patience. "My patience is thinning."
"Which you don't have in spades to start with," the alien points out, fingers tiptapping across his own throat. "Human impatience and short-sightedness. They didn't improve on that when they altered you, pity." He raises his hands preventively when Midnighter makes to move forward. "I am the Doctor, just not the one you think. Think of me as an alien time traveler. Should never have introduced myself to that Shaman of yours, next thing I knew he was ripping off my name. Been going on for millenia now. Biggest imposture of all times, that's what humans will give you."
Midnighter is beginning to think that talking to this alien is a major waste of his time. He hates wasting his time, especially when an alien invasion is on the brink of happening and he could be tearing through their troops already.
So he just stares blankly at the alien for 1.8673 second, as long as he needs to make up his mind, then states, "I'm gonna go rip through some aliens now."
"Oh, sorry, no," the alien says, playing with a pen-like device in his hands that Midnighter's senses take a half second too long to identify as a sonic device. A half second too long, because by then it's activated and his computer's shut down. He feels weak, hungry, tired and too warm at once.
"The fewer genocides the better," he can hear the alien - the Doctor - say, and there is something in his voice that hints at some hidden darkness. Midnighter knows the truth of that, except he wears his darkness on his sleeve. But then again, he's too busy falling asleep to call the Doctor up on it.
Not sleeping in days is catching up with him with a vengeance, now that his enhancements are switched off.
Part 2
Date: 2008-07-10 02:18 pm (UTC)"No no no, no need to resort to violence, my friend." He's in Midnighter's back now and moving around him, doing nothing but peering at him through rectangular glasses.
"I will hit you," Midnighter points out, scowling, "if you don't step back."
"Come on! Old friend. Please don't. I never took a proper look at you, not me anyway. It's amazing! That reinforced skeleton, back-up heart, your immune system is off the charts! And that computer in your head, nothing should be able to calculate so fast! Humans are capable of such wonders - and then they make you," he finishes, enthusiasm gone from his voice to make way for gloom.
"You're him," Midnighter acknowledges out loud, now that he's had time to observe right back. Two hearts. Absolutely insufferable. It's not the same body, but the temporal energy's signature is way too close. "The 'Doctor'."
"Not the 'Doctor'," the alien replies with a bright grin, mimicking Midnighter's tone. "But yes, the Doctor, that's me, hello. Never properly introduced ourselves, did we. I'm the Doctor. And you shouldn't exist."
"You're not preventing me from having my fun this time," Midnighter answers, and he means it with every fibre of his being. This is one alien invasion he's going to stop his way.
"I could switch them off for you forever," the Doctor offers, smile gone, nothing but earnestness in his eyes, his voice. "You could lead a normal life. Be human."
Midnighter wouldn't know how to. He's tried, once, with Apollo. "Don't you dare," he growls. "I'll snap your back in half before you can make a move for your sonic device."
The Doctor nods, somber, and steps back. "I was afraid you'd say that. Martha!" he calls out, and the door of his blue box of a spaceship opens.
A young Black woman steps out, sonic device in hand. Damn him. Midnighter breaks into a run, but his computer has already told him that he would be too late. He can feel the weakness settle into his body, and his mind feels sluggish without the enhanced mental pathways. His computer shuts down after a last effort to resist, and he crumples to the ground.
"Can't let you go exterminate alien races when I haven't gone and tried to talk them out of it first," the Doctor points out, and he sounds perhaps even more weary than the last time. But then his tone perks up on the last sentence Midnighter hears before falling asleep. "It's a sonic screwdriver, by the way."
Who the fuck would ever look at a screwdriver and think oh, this could be more sonic.
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Date: 2008-07-09 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-10 09:03 am (UTC)"It's as safe as we can make it," he assures Jack, and feels like he's green all over again.
"Hardly a ringing endorsement," Jack points out. Well, he's right.
"I'd never let her get hurt if I can help it," Vaughn says, and okay, so perhaps he shouldn't have just sounded like he cared quite that much. He knows he's treading a thin line, being her handler and feeling what he feels for her. Trying not to.
Jack pauses, and his eyes drill holes into Vaughn's head and stare straight into his mind, or so it feels. "You're going to hurt her."
"I'd never -"
"You're going to hurt her, Agent Vaughn," Jack reiterates on the tone of one best not interrupted. "When you do, rest assured that I will be there to make sure that her pain signals the beginning of your everlasting suffering."
"Sir," Vaughn manages to say after a few seconds.
"The op goes through," Jack adds, and turns to go.
Vaughn really wishes he would fall for someone whose father is not a complete psycho.
oh oh oh
Date: 2008-07-09 03:40 pm (UTC)Dominance?
I'm in a mood this morning. =)
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Date: 2008-07-10 09:13 am (UTC)The Doctor kisses like the Oncoming Storm. The Master kisses like the End of Times. It's a battle neither of them is going to win, and yet they keep fighting it, hands busy with buttons and zippers, pushing cloth away, greedy for the touch of skin, (un)conquered territory.
"Say my name," the Master demands, his hands tight in the Doctor's hair, growling against his throat before he bites into it.
"Master," the Doctor answers in a loud exhale, working his leg between the Master's own, hanging on for dear life.
He flips him over, grabs his hands and pins him down, just looking at him while the Master vainly tries to buck him off. Bruised lips, mussed hair, and that pulse low in his chest, the pulse of Timelords, two hearts beating in synch, and the Doctor's own thud on the counterbeat.
"Master," he says, again, and when the Master is about to protest, the Doctor tightens his hold on his wrists, enough to hurt.
The Master moans, despite himself.
It's something that will never happen.
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From:can I still play ?
Date: 2008-07-09 04:34 pm (UTC)Characters : Buffy, the Doctor (9 or 10, as you wish)
prompt : that's not a gun!
*off checking the one you already wrote*
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Date: 2008-07-10 02:50 pm (UTC)"Who're you?" Rose asks right back. "I'm the blonde sidekick in skimpy outfits."
"My outfit is not skimpy," Buffy retorts through gritted teeth, eyes flashing.
"Oh," the Doctor says, staring at Buffy. "Oh! You're her! The girl! The Slayer!"
"Who's she now?" Rose asks.
"Yeah, I am," Buffy ignores Rose, frowning at the Doctor. "One of us, anyway. Chosen One, Sacred Duty, yaddi yaddi yadda. You seem to be big with the knowledge, you're dressed kinda Watcher-like, except in a good way, thumbs up, so I'm gonna ask you before they tear the door down - what type of demons are we dealing with, and how do I kill 'em?"
"Demons?" Rose repeats, and guffaws. "She thinks they're demons? What are you, a religious nutter?"
Buffy looks long-sufferingly at Rose before reporting her demanding gaze back to the Doctor. "No, Rose, she's the Slayer. She's been battling demons for - what, eight years now? I'm sorry," he tells Buffy, and he sounds as if he shouldered the blame himself.
"Just tell me what we're dealing with," she insists, and the door threatens to snap in her back. "And perhaps also help me hold the door. I'm just one wittle Slayer against a good ten demons."
"Demons, though?" Rose asks, still baffled, as she leans on the door beside Buffy.
"Catch-up course in a little bit," the Doctor says.
"You don't happen to have any weapons?" Buffy asks. "I left mine at home."
"What, like a gun or something?" Rose asks. "We don't do guns."
"We've got better than a gun," the Doctor says, and gets his sonic screwdriver out.
"That is so not as good as a gun," Buffy notes, "and I'm not a big fan of them to start with."
The Doctor dismisses that with a wave of his hand, and points the screwdriver at the door before turning it on. "There. It should hold."
"It should? I don't like shoulds. I like wills."
"It will hold," the Doctor corrects himself, and Buffy steps away from the door, tentatively. It holds. "For a while. Now where were we? Right! I'm the Doctor, hello, this is Rose. You said something about several Slayers, er...?"
"Buffy. You know all this stuff and you didn't hear?"
"Haven't been on Earth in a little while," the Doctor replies, and licks his finger, holds it up as if to test the wind. "Huh." He sucks on it, and his eyebrows raise. "Whoa. All of that power released and I never knew! Congratulations! Well, maybe not, the demons will gather en masse to fight back, but it's a good step for feminists everywhere."
"You're insane," Buffy states.
"Tell me about it," Rose agrees, and they share their first look of complicity.
The door rattles hard. "For a while," Buffy says, reminded of the Doctor's earlier words. "Now tell me what we're dealing with, how to kill them, and I'll go do that."
"Can't let you," the Doctor answered, shaking his head. "That would go against the Shadow Proclamation and I'll spare you the legal blah-blah, but those aren't demons, they're aliens. I'll be dealing with them. You can be my, er... muscle. In case I need any."
"Aliens," Buffy replies. "Your... muscle?"
"Just follow his lead," Rose assures her with a smile. "It'll all be fine. There'll be some more running before it's over, though, likely."
"Right," Buffy says, still looking very sceptical.
"Right," Rose repeats, trying to sound comforting.
"Right!" the Doctor confirms, and he's beaming. His next words are hardly a surprise. "Allons-y!"
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Date: 2008-07-09 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-10 08:51 am (UTC)"I can't just send you back, Jack," Will counters, sadness in his eyes.
"Yes you can!" Jack exults, baring gold teeth in a wide smile. "Of course you can, I knew you'd see things my way." He slings a companionable arm over Will's shoulders. "There were some who'd tell me, eternity's got to the boy's head, but I told them no, not William Turner. Head on his shoulders, that one, forever and always. Elizabeth sends her love."
Something other than sadness glints in William's eyes. "You've seen her recently? How is she?"
"Hopelessly in love with me," Jack replies, squeezing Will by the shoulders, "but don't you worry none, lad, I resisted her advances to the very end. Might as well have killed me, that, which is why I think you really oughta let me go. Only fair."
The sadness is back, and the sadness doesn't work in Jack's favour. "I don't have that kind of power, Jack."
Jack sighs, and brings his arm back to himself. "Aye. Listen, Will, I didn't want to have to bring it up, but she's in terrible danger, she is."
Will frowns. "Elizabeth?"
Jack frowns in his turn. "What? No, the Pearl!" Hastens to correct his strategical mistake, because Will never cared for ships the way he did for persons, which is his main character flaw, really, if you ask Jack. "Which means that your bonnie lass is in danger too, with all the love she bears me and that ship. Think about it!" Jack urges him when he sees Will's scepticism. "Who's been known to jump in whenever I was in trouble? Well, apart from you. Sweet Elizabeth loves me ship better'n you ever did, Will. My ship's in danger, ergo, she will be."
He pauses, for the dramatics, then gives Will the final blow. "Besides, she'd never forgive you for letting such a fine cap'n as me stay dead." He shivered as he said the word; not one he liked in relation to himself. "Likely to charge down here herself to give you a good talking to."
William sighed. "Fine. A reprieve. Go back to the Pearl. But I swear to you, Jack, if Elizabeth ever comes to harm because of you, there is no sea I won't scour to find you."
"Sounding a lot like your predecessor there, mate," Jack points out, smiling again and clapping his hand on Will's shoulder. "Knew I could count on you. I'll let her know her love for me doesn't change your feelings for her one bit, aye? You enjoy the rest of your eternity, lad. I'll just go back to living now."
"Wait," Will says. "One condition."
Jack freezes, and groans. He doesn't like conditions. "And here I thought you and I were true mates."
Will ignores him. "You take him back with you."
He nods in the direction of the sailor at the helm of the Dutchman. It takes Jack a few seconds to recognise him, and then his eyes widen and he takes a step back. "What? No! William Turner, how can you ask me that!"
"I trust him to look after her better than you could," Will says, but all Jack hears is 'I trust him more than you'. He's not half wrong not to trust Jack, but he's not half right to trust the sailor.
"Her funeral, mate," Jack says with a shrug, and looks up at the oblivious figure. "Oi! Commodore! You've just gone and earned yourself a trip to the land o' the living!"
James Norrington looks at Jack with incomprehension, and Jack smiles invitingly. Gold glitters in the night.
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Date: 2008-07-09 06:35 pm (UTC)Thanks!
Of Ten Being A Snape/Sirius Shipper
Date: 2008-07-11 12:21 pm (UTC)There was one in particular he wished he didn't know. One in particular he kept telling himself he was glad had ended up in Azkaban, one in particular he frequently lied to himself about.
"Staring morosely into your Firewhiskey? That's the art of the lifeless, mate. And you ought to be full of life."
Snape looked up from his glass, straightened up from his hunched position, arms crossed on the pub table. His lips thinned to their usual sneer. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," the man answered. Was he a wizard? He was wearing Muggle clothes, a brown pinstripe suit, although if Snape didn't know better he might have thought that his hair had been magicked into being quite this unruly. It stuck up at impossible angles. "Can I join you? I'm going to join you. Barkeep! Give us a Butterbeer, will you?"
"You may certainly not join me, sir," Snape hissed as the infuriating man took a seat.
"No, see, I certainly may, and more significantly am joining you, Severus," the other man pointed out brashly, and smiled suddenly. "I love the dark look you've got going on. Very Gothic. Doom and gloom, like Rose would say."
"Again I must ask -"
"Naaah," the man interrupted again. "You'd only ask the wrong questions. Look at the state of you. You're in Paris! Live a little. Don't just sit there and sulk. So much to see!"
"It's raining cats and dogs," Snape pointed out. He could've gone out with a Siccus Spell, but surely he would have drawn odd looks outside of the Wizarding neighbourhood if he remained dry despite the torrential downpour.
The man shook his head, tsking. "You're hopeless. Merci!" He beamed up at the barkeep who'd just put a Butterbeer down in front of him and passed him a few coins. "C'est pour vous. Anyway, my point is, you need to take good care of yourself, Severus."
"How do you know me?" Snape asked, brows knitted. "I don't know you."
"I know things. And I'm here to tell you this one thing." The man took a large gulp of Butterbeer, foam lining his upper lip when he put the glass back down. He licked it off with delight, beaming again. "Aaaah. Nothing quite like a good French Butterbeer."
Snape blinked, his short patience already coming to an end. "I don't imagine you've come to tell me about Butterbeer."
"What? No, don't be daft," the man answered, shaking his head. "I've come to tell you, give yourself a chance. With him. It's all very tragic, and some things are meant to happen - I'd know - but it's the in between that matters. Forgive yourself a little, and him, too. It'll go a long way."
"I have no idea what you're going on about, and I'm fairly certain I do not want to know," Snape pointed out. "Now if you were so kind as to leave me alone, I would be most grateful to be able to return to my - sulking."
"Such venom, Severus," the man said, shaking his head with a sad look in his eyes. "I've seen him across the veil, and he's sorry for everything he's missed. Give the both of you a chance, that's my advice, and don't tell me you don't know who I'm talking about."
"I most certainly don't," Severus hissed.
"Right. Well. I'll be off, then, but don't be a stranger in later years," the man advised, standing up at last. "To him, I mean. Shed a bit of that doom and gloom. And don't be too hard on the boy." He paused, looking down at Snape with sudden gravitas. "It was an honour to meet you, Severus Snape."
And with that, he was gone, and it occurred to Snape that he hadn't even asked after the nutter's name.
Not so much of a nutter, he reflected, a good few years later. And he wasn't a stranger.
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Date: 2008-07-10 01:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-07-10 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-10 09:39 am (UTC)"I don't," Wat protests. "My shoes are perfectly fine. Look! They're fine. Fine."
Geoff simply gives him a look, crouches down, and pulls at one bit of the left shoe to expose the hole in its side. "Shoes with holes in them are not fine, Wat, and certainly not perfectly fine. What they are is 'certainly not fit for a café owner'."
"Nobody ever looks at my feet, I'm behind my counter," Wat grumbles, but he knows Geoff is right. "We're Saturday! The shops will be crowded!"
"People are not a plague upon this earth, you know," Geoff points out patiently, still crouched by Wat's feet, his hand on his ankle, long fingers reaching far enough up the sock that their tips rest on bare skin.
It's an insanely erotic touch, and Wat knows exactly what Geoff thinks he's doing.
"Geoff -"
"We'll stop by that French grocery store on the way back," Geoff interrupts softly, a promise in his eyes, and his fingertips move softly, a gentle caress on tender skin that sends a shiver up Wat's spine. "Buy every cheese you like. Emmental, cantal, roquefort, gruyère, bleu, tome, comté, chèvre... You name them, Wat."
Only Geoff could make a list of cheese sound like dirty talk. Or maybe only Wat.
"Fine," he snaps, and pulls his foot back, out of reach. "Shoe shopping."
He's already making plans to use Geoff's stomach as a plate when they get back.
-------
They weren't on my list because OBVIOUSLY they're on my list. *facepalm* I suck to've forgotten them.
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Date: 2008-07-10 08:14 am (UTC)May I have a Doctor Who/Dexter crossover, starring 9th (still didn't watch beyond season one ^^") and Lila on the prompt err... ugliness (blame it on my current work)
Thank you :)
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Date: 2008-07-10 10:36 am (UTC)"Oh, it's not about you," the man - also English - assures her with a wide grin that somehow fails to be bright. "They feed on your fears and insecurities, encourage them, and how ugly they become is a measure of their skill, not your personality. No need to worry there."
"Who are you?" she asks, staring at the man now.
"Oh, sorry, I'm the Doctor!" he answers, as if that explained anything. "Now if you don't mind getting out of the way, I need to sever the link, this might sting a bit."
And before Lila can do much of anything, the Doctor has pulled an odd little device out of his jacket pocket, fiddled with the controls, pointed it at the creature in the corner, and activated it. The tip of the device glows blue and it emits a sound.
Lilah screams as she falls to the ground, hands cradled protectively over her chest, where the pain has struck hardest. "Sting... a little?"
"Yeah," the Doctor agrees happily. "And now I'll be on my way." She looks up at where the creature was, to see that it is gone. "Don't let it convince you that you're bad, Lila," he tells her, suddenly more serious than she's seen him in the past ten minutes. "You're worth better than that."
He turns and goes. Her hands are still cradled over her chest, and she hears him mutter something about stupid humans getting tricked by every alien parasit in the universe as he heads off.
There is an empty place inside her, and she doesn't know what to fill it with.
She doesn't know how he knew her name, either.
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Date: 2008-07-18 07:13 am (UTC)okay ideal prompt: Tybalt and Gio, covert sex things during intermission. but feel free to do your own thing!
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Date: 2008-08-06 01:49 pm (UTC)"Look, everybody's gone out, stop making a fuss -"
"We're so gonna get - ha - caught."
"Not if you stay quiet, we're not."
"Tybalt!" Gio squeals. He would've liked to be able to say that it wasn't a squeal, because squealing was something Skids did, not Gio. Gio was supposed to use sultry tones the way Tybalt had tried to teach him.
"Gi," Tybalt answers, on a calm and measured tone, as if to point out there's nothing worth squealing about. His head lowers again, his tongue snakes out, and Gio shudders, hands fisting.
"People are gonna come back in," he adds in an anguished whisper.
Tybalt's hum might have been a confirmation, a negation, a 'hopefully' or a 'who cares', Gio could not possibly say. What Tybalt's hum is, first and foremost, is a ripple of sensations that pushes a small whimper past his lips. Encouraged, Tybalt repeats the hum, and Gio thinks that it's probably for the best that this likely is going to be over embarrassingly quickly.
Tybalt's hand is clamped on Gio's mouth when he comes, also for the best as it muffles his cry.
When Gio opens his eyes again, Tybalt is licking his lips, and then seems to think better of it and pushes up to lick Gio's. It's his turn to hum, a buzz thrilling over his skin, and one of his hands pushes into Tybalt's thick red hair as he deepends the kiss.
Tybalt puts a decided stop to the kiss, smirk speaking of sin as he takes his seat back. "Where do you think you are, Gi? This is a theatre, show some respect." People are filing back into the room now that intermission is over, and Tybalt's smirk widens as he pushes his voice louder. "And tuck yourself back in, you pervert."
Gio fumbles with his pants hastily, hunching low in his seat as if slouching was going to mean people would no longer cast him shocked, disgusted glances. By his side, Tybalt is shaking with silent laughter.
"You're an ass, Tybalt," he says very seriously.
"You love me anyway," comes Tybalt's easy retort, and it takes a second for the redhead to realize what he's just said. Then he gapes.
Gio smiles, very pleased, and straightens up in his seat. "Absolutely, honeycakes." He grins impishly, and bats his eyelashes. "I love you. To bits. You're the light of my life."
For all that he's just having fun at Tybalt's expense, Gio thinks that he kinda does love him. It's all there in his eyes, and right before the show starts again, he leans over to steal a kiss from a still flustered Tybalt. It's good to spin the tables on him once in a while.
He settles in his seat to watch the show, and doesn't give Tybalt a choice about it when he weaves their fingers together.
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