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Jan. 27th, 2008 05:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notStealing my brother's computer, but I don't have long.
This is a Sam/Jess double drabble that some of you may have seen before. It was posted previously in a filtered post, but since I was thinking of it as I wrote my fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fluffandfold, I wanted to share it.
The first time, Sam thinks that if she was any other girl, he'd already have her moaning his name. But she's special and she deserves more than a fast fuck in a small bathroom at a party, both of them half-wasted and some asshole banging on the other side of the door.
So instead he takes her back to his apartment, with the bare walls and the salt lining the sills, trying to ignore the feeling he gets knowing that she's the only one he's ever brought here. It's still a fast fuck, and they're still half wasted. And in the morning Sam has an empty bed and a pounding headache to remind him why he doesn't like to drink.
The second time, she shows up on his doorstep with Chinese take-out. They end up naked on the floor in the midst of half-empty food cartons and unopened text books.
The third time, they get caught in a rainstorm. They leave muddy footprints by the door and a trail of wet clothing down the hall. When Sam wakes up, the sheets are damp and cold underneath him, but Jess is soft and warm and here.
Sam quits counting after that.
************
And some Harry Potter. Before this current round ofslashfest, I was toying around with various ideas that would fit some of the carryovered prompts, and this is part of what I came up with. I doesn’t really fit anything though and I only claimed one prompt anyways. But I still kinda like it, so I’m sharing.
Passport
HP fandom, pre-Harry/Draco
rated E for Everyone, ~750 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone or anything from the HP world. No harm intended.
Summary: Harry’s Gryffindorish impulses get him into trouble.
Later, Harry wouldn’t know how to answer the “whys”, but when he saw Draco Malfoy arguing with the Ministry Official about needing a Muggle passport, he stepped in.
“Excuse me, is there a problem?”
The two stopped mid-sentence, both turning to stare at Harry. Malfoy’s glare was decidedly less friendly than the look the witch was giving him.
“Oh, Mr. Potter, nothing to concern yourself about,” the woman said. “Mr. Malfoy doesn’t seem to understand that we cannot give out passports to… well, to those who served You-Know-Who.”
Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his temper, before stepping up to the counter. “First off, ma‘am, Voldemort is gone, and Malfoy was never a Death Eater.” Okay, so he had actually served Voldemort and had obviously made a number of bad decisions, but that was none of this witch’s concern. “Secondly, it does concern me, since Mr. Malfoy and I have travel arrangements already in place. He really shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, since our flight is only two days away, but if you could do whatever it takes to expedite the process here, that would be great.”
The woman stared at him for several long seconds before nodding reluctantly and gathering the necessary paperwork.
Harry excused himself and went on about his business -- there were some things he needed to arrange with Kingsley before he left -- and came back just as Malfoy was ready to leave. They walked in silence towards the Floo connections, Malfoy looking more resentful than grateful about Harry’s help. Typical.
“Where are you going?” Harry asked.
Malfoy looked started for an instant. “I’m staying with Blaise Zabini and his family.”
“Yeah, no, I know that. I mean, where are you going that you need a passport?”
“Oh.” Malfoy looked at the floor, at the wall, everywhere except at Harry. “Um. Nowhere. Malfoy Manor was seized, all the Malfoy money is gone. I can’t really afford to go far. You know that.”
Harry didn’t like the defeated tone of Malfoy’s voice, didn’t like that he was willing to talk so openly. He never would’ve thought he’d miss Malfoy’s cocky attitude. “So why a passport then?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Because I couldn’t have one.”
Harry thought about the two tickets in his pocket, the one meant for Ginny before they decided they were better off as friends. He thought about how Malfoy had seemed surprised Harry was starting a conversation with him, wondered if that was because Malfoy had grown accustomed to people talking about him or at him rather than to him.
Harry was going to visit Dudley. When he had contacted his cousin after everything had started to settle down, intending to make sure they were alive and safe, he was surprised by the invitation and even more surprised by accepting. Dudley was going to college in the United States. He said something about wanting to be far away from “that kind of people.” Harry hadn’t bothered to tell him that there were witches and wizards in America too.
Harry did want to see Dudley, especially away from his parents. After a childhood relationship built on hatred and unhappiness, they both deserved a chance at friendship.
He did have a more selfish reason for the trip though. He wanted to be far away from the recognition and the attention, somewhere everyone didn’t know his name and his story and think they knew him because of it. He needed to get away.
Maybe Malfoy did too.
Before Harry could curb his Gryffindorish impulses, he asked. “Would you like to come with me?”
Malfoy, who had turned away and stepped closer to the Floos while Harry was lost in thought, looked at him as if he were mad.
Harry knew he should just turn his question into an offer for tea or drinks or dinner, but the idea of Malfoy going with him was hard to shake, and he was already thinking of who he’d need to talk to in the Muggle Travel Relations Office to change his arrangements.
“I have an extra ticket. I mean…” Harry sighed. “Look, Malfoy, I just… I know we’re not friends, but maybe we don’t have to be enemies. Two weeks in the States, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened. Just for a little while. When we get back, we can go back to hating each other, but… Please?”
Malfoy looked as if he were going to disagree, and Harry was already working out his next argument in his head, but finally he just nodded. “When do we leave?”
************
And a little silly something bandomy, b/c we all know bandom has taken over most of my brain. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anasuede, b/c I <3 her muchly.
“You’re so easy, Spencer Smith.”
Spencer glared at Jon. He was most definitely not easy, thankyouverymuch. He was difficult on unfathomable levels. Really. It had taken months of careful wooing before he had even let Jon kiss him (although, truth be told, if he was going to be easy, it’d definitely be for Jon).
Spencer kicked not-so-lightly at Jon’s thigh. “What the fuck, Walker?”
“Easy,” Jon repeated, grinning and patting Spencer’s foot as if he wasn’t at all bothered by the impending beat down Spencer was going to bestow upon him. “E-A-S-Y.”
Spencer growled and jumped up off the couch, resisting at first when Jon grabbed his wrist. Finally, he let himself be tugged down into Jon’s lap. Barely. He held his body just far enough away to keep from falling, crossed his arms, and refused to look at Jon. Jon apparently didn’t understand that Spencer was pissed off because he laughed and slid his hands under the back of Spencer’s shirt to pull him closer.
“I’m not easy,” Spencer said petulantly.
“Okay,” Jon agreed, still grinning.
“Really,” Spencer insisted, “I’m hard!”
“Ew, gross, not on the couch!” Brendon yelled from the doorway.
Spencer flipped him off without turning his attention away from Jon. “We’re not fucking, we’re fighting.”
Ryan must have been right behind Brendon because he said, “Spencer, why do you always let Jon pick fights with you? You are so easy.”
This is a Sam/Jess double drabble that some of you may have seen before. It was posted previously in a filtered post, but since I was thinking of it as I wrote my fic for
fluffandfold, I wanted to share it.The first time, Sam thinks that if she was any other girl, he'd already have her moaning his name. But she's special and she deserves more than a fast fuck in a small bathroom at a party, both of them half-wasted and some asshole banging on the other side of the door.
So instead he takes her back to his apartment, with the bare walls and the salt lining the sills, trying to ignore the feeling he gets knowing that she's the only one he's ever brought here. It's still a fast fuck, and they're still half wasted. And in the morning Sam has an empty bed and a pounding headache to remind him why he doesn't like to drink.
The second time, she shows up on his doorstep with Chinese take-out. They end up naked on the floor in the midst of half-empty food cartons and unopened text books.
The third time, they get caught in a rainstorm. They leave muddy footprints by the door and a trail of wet clothing down the hall. When Sam wakes up, the sheets are damp and cold underneath him, but Jess is soft and warm and here.
Sam quits counting after that.
And some Harry Potter. Before this current round of
slashfest, I was toying around with various ideas that would fit some of the carryovered prompts, and this is part of what I came up with. I doesn’t really fit anything though and I only claimed one prompt anyways. But I still kinda like it, so I’m sharing.Passport
HP fandom, pre-Harry/Draco
rated E for Everyone, ~750 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone or anything from the HP world. No harm intended.
Summary: Harry’s Gryffindorish impulses get him into trouble.
Later, Harry wouldn’t know how to answer the “whys”, but when he saw Draco Malfoy arguing with the Ministry Official about needing a Muggle passport, he stepped in.
“Excuse me, is there a problem?”
The two stopped mid-sentence, both turning to stare at Harry. Malfoy’s glare was decidedly less friendly than the look the witch was giving him.
“Oh, Mr. Potter, nothing to concern yourself about,” the woman said. “Mr. Malfoy doesn’t seem to understand that we cannot give out passports to… well, to those who served You-Know-Who.”
Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his temper, before stepping up to the counter. “First off, ma‘am, Voldemort is gone, and Malfoy was never a Death Eater.” Okay, so he had actually served Voldemort and had obviously made a number of bad decisions, but that was none of this witch’s concern. “Secondly, it does concern me, since Mr. Malfoy and I have travel arrangements already in place. He really shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, since our flight is only two days away, but if you could do whatever it takes to expedite the process here, that would be great.”
The woman stared at him for several long seconds before nodding reluctantly and gathering the necessary paperwork.
Harry excused himself and went on about his business -- there were some things he needed to arrange with Kingsley before he left -- and came back just as Malfoy was ready to leave. They walked in silence towards the Floo connections, Malfoy looking more resentful than grateful about Harry’s help. Typical.
“Where are you going?” Harry asked.
Malfoy looked started for an instant. “I’m staying with Blaise Zabini and his family.”
“Yeah, no, I know that. I mean, where are you going that you need a passport?”
“Oh.” Malfoy looked at the floor, at the wall, everywhere except at Harry. “Um. Nowhere. Malfoy Manor was seized, all the Malfoy money is gone. I can’t really afford to go far. You know that.”
Harry didn’t like the defeated tone of Malfoy’s voice, didn’t like that he was willing to talk so openly. He never would’ve thought he’d miss Malfoy’s cocky attitude. “So why a passport then?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Because I couldn’t have one.”
Harry thought about the two tickets in his pocket, the one meant for Ginny before they decided they were better off as friends. He thought about how Malfoy had seemed surprised Harry was starting a conversation with him, wondered if that was because Malfoy had grown accustomed to people talking about him or at him rather than to him.
Harry was going to visit Dudley. When he had contacted his cousin after everything had started to settle down, intending to make sure they were alive and safe, he was surprised by the invitation and even more surprised by accepting. Dudley was going to college in the United States. He said something about wanting to be far away from “that kind of people.” Harry hadn’t bothered to tell him that there were witches and wizards in America too.
Harry did want to see Dudley, especially away from his parents. After a childhood relationship built on hatred and unhappiness, they both deserved a chance at friendship.
He did have a more selfish reason for the trip though. He wanted to be far away from the recognition and the attention, somewhere everyone didn’t know his name and his story and think they knew him because of it. He needed to get away.
Maybe Malfoy did too.
Before Harry could curb his Gryffindorish impulses, he asked. “Would you like to come with me?”
Malfoy, who had turned away and stepped closer to the Floos while Harry was lost in thought, looked at him as if he were mad.
Harry knew he should just turn his question into an offer for tea or drinks or dinner, but the idea of Malfoy going with him was hard to shake, and he was already thinking of who he’d need to talk to in the Muggle Travel Relations Office to change his arrangements.
“I have an extra ticket. I mean…” Harry sighed. “Look, Malfoy, I just… I know we’re not friends, but maybe we don’t have to be enemies. Two weeks in the States, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened. Just for a little while. When we get back, we can go back to hating each other, but… Please?”
Malfoy looked as if he were going to disagree, and Harry was already working out his next argument in his head, but finally he just nodded. “When do we leave?”
And a little silly something bandomy, b/c we all know bandom has taken over most of my brain. Written for
anasuede, b/c I <3 her muchly.“You’re so easy, Spencer Smith.”
Spencer glared at Jon. He was most definitely not easy, thankyouverymuch. He was difficult on unfathomable levels. Really. It had taken months of careful wooing before he had even let Jon kiss him (although, truth be told, if he was going to be easy, it’d definitely be for Jon).
Spencer kicked not-so-lightly at Jon’s thigh. “What the fuck, Walker?”
“Easy,” Jon repeated, grinning and patting Spencer’s foot as if he wasn’t at all bothered by the impending beat down Spencer was going to bestow upon him. “E-A-S-Y.”
Spencer growled and jumped up off the couch, resisting at first when Jon grabbed his wrist. Finally, he let himself be tugged down into Jon’s lap. Barely. He held his body just far enough away to keep from falling, crossed his arms, and refused to look at Jon. Jon apparently didn’t understand that Spencer was pissed off because he laughed and slid his hands under the back of Spencer’s shirt to pull him closer.
“I’m not easy,” Spencer said petulantly.
“Okay,” Jon agreed, still grinning.
“Really,” Spencer insisted, “I’m hard!”
“Ew, gross, not on the couch!” Brendon yelled from the doorway.
Spencer flipped him off without turning his attention away from Jon. “We’re not fucking, we’re fighting.”
Ryan must have been right behind Brendon because he said, “Spencer, why do you always let Jon pick fights with you? You are so easy.”
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-28 08:34 pm (UTC)