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[why_me_why_not]

slashfest slashfest slashfest slashfest

Today officially sucked and I cried at work. Jon & Jessie both owe me drinks tomorrow night. How about some drabbles?

175 words for wook77, who asked for Narnia, Edmund/Caspian, last kiss

Edmund knew he was technically older than Prince Caspian. He’d already been a Prince, lived almost an entire life, thousands of years before Caspian had been born. A few years as an adolescent in London didn’t change that.

Nevertheless, here he was, feeling like a child (or a girl), his stomach fluttering nervously as he tried to screw up the courage to knock on the door to Caspian’s chamber. It was silly; he had seen battle, had faced foes far more formidable than Caspian. He’d even been here before, but never when he knew it was for the last time.

The door opened before Edmund finished wavering. “Are you coming in or did you plan on staying in the hallway all night?”

Edmund pushed up on his toes and kissed Caspian, hard and fast and desperate. There was nothing sweet or gentle about it, but that was fitting because there was nothing sweet or gentle about Edmund or Caspian.

“We’re leaving in the morning,” Edmund said. “I just wanted to be sure to say goodbye.”

200 words of Shelter for wook77

“Are Jeanne and Alan coming back?” Cody didn’t look up from his coloring book, didn’t act like it was an important question.

“Of course, Codes, she’s your mommy.” Even as he said it, Zach hoped he wasn’t lying.

“Are we going to live here at the beach with Shaun?”

“Actually, I’m going to go to art school—“

“Is that like preschool?” Cody interrupted.

Zach laughed. “Yeah, it’s like preschool for adults, only a lot more expensive. But we’re going to get a place near my new school, just in time to get you settled to start your new school.”

“With Shaun?”

“Is that okay?” Shaun asked from the doorway. Zach hadn’t even known he was there.

“Yes.” Cody put down his crayon and looked seriously at Shaun. “Uncle Zach was sad when you were gone away. You’re back forever now, right? You won’t go away again?”

“I’m here to stay,” Shaun assured, coming to sit beside Zach on the couch. “We wouldn’t want Uncle Zach to be sad.”

“Good.” Cody went back to his picture, dismissing them. A while later, he looked up, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Uncle Zach, can we have a dog?”

225 words of random bandom (lol), set after I Am the Drug You Can’t Deny

Vicky notices when Cash slinks out of the bus, but she waits until they’re alone to confront Gabe. She -- they, Cobra -- aren't all that much older than the boys from The Cab except for the fact that they are. Gabe should fucking know better, and she really doesn't want to be anyone's momma or big sister or whatever, but she's not about to let Gabe fuck this up for everybody, which seems to be where this is heading. But Gabe laughs it off, waves a hand vaguely in the direction of The Cab's van and tells her everything's cool, asks if she's going to start changing diapers and bottle feeding the boys next.

She’s just trying to watch out for her band, really, but Alex and Ryland and Nate don’t seem too worried about Gabe corrupting the baby from Vegas, like she’s the only one that remembers the whole Brendon Urie thing. Spencer had stepped in before that had gone too far, looking as fierce as a wet kitten but still intimidating enough that Gabe decided it wasn’t worth the effort. She decides she’s just going to have to sit back and watch for now, and hopes she doesn’t wake up one morning to find Gabe missing. She’s pretty sure that between Johnson and Ian, they’d be pretty good at hiding the body.

100 words of Brendon/Spencer

Brendon knows that pens are for writing on paper, but sometimes he has to bend the rules. He likes to write BU + SS in random places -- bathroom walls, a scarred picnic table, the bottom of his shoe -- when he thinks no one is watching. No dates or hearts or 2gether 4ever kind of bullshit, just their initials. It's deceptively simple, where most everything about them is decidedly complicated, but when he sees them, Spencer always grins at him like they share a secret, traces his fingers over the letters, and that's enough to keep him doing it.

100 words for irisgirl12000. Sisky/Nate, New Orleans, powdered sugar, beignets.

“What are you eating?”

Sisky looked up to find Nate, half awake and holding out a cup of coffee. It had been a late night in New Orleans, but it had been worth it.

“Beignets,” he answered, brushing his fingers against Nate’s as he took the cup.

“What the hell are beignets?” Nate asked, dropping onto the couch beside Sisky.

“Like a doughnut, only square and without a hole.”

“Mmm, deep fried dough.”

Sisky laughed. “Want a bite?”

“Yeah.” Nate bypassed the confection Sisky was holding out in offering and skipped straight to licking the powdered sugar off Sisky’s lips.

100 words of Brendon from the Epic ‘verse

Brendon recognizes Jamia – of course he does – but he’s not sure how to react to her presence at the baby shower. He knows that she’s probably still friends with Alicia and Mikey (she and Frank had been together a long time) which, okay, but that still doesn’t mean he expects to see her walking towards him, hand-in-hand with Frank, what the fuck? They’re both smiling, Frank a little sheepishly, and Brendon wants to smile back, he really does, but it’s a hard thing. This is Jamia; Frank loved her. Frank loves her, and Brendon can’t not be intimidated by that.

100 words of Sam-centric SPN for nasus221’s prompt words: night, hands, car

When Sam thinks about Stanford, he thinks about sunny days and long walks around campus and holding hands with Jess. Ironically, that's the part of his life that feels most like a dream; before and after is filled with nights spent driving from state to state, a car filled with Dean and music and adrenaline. Dean, the Impala, one job after another – that’s Sam’s reality. With Dean gone, he does his driving in the daytime, radio silent. Everything about it is wrong, like he’s trapped in that place between waking and dreaming and he doesn’t know which way to turn.

125 words of Sam-centric SPN for alli_everyday’s prompt words: jacket, warmth, lazy

At Stanford, there were lazy days filled with nothing but Jess and old movies and sunlight streaming through the windows of their small apartment. Even when they're not on a job, there's no downtime like that when he's with Dean. It's not a bad thing, really, because the Impala is home, and the warmth and memories that fill it are comforting, but sometimes Sam wishes they could stop, step away from being hunters, from being hunted. The daydreams he won't admit to are filled with open spaces instead of musty motel rooms, real smiles instead of forced jokes, naked skin instead of that damn jacket Dean wears like armor. He tells himself that someday soon they'll take a break, but there's always another job. Someday.

150 words of J2 for reallythateasy’s prompt words: overslept, call, cuddle

Jensen was in Chicago when he got the call, but it was only hours later when he showed up on Jared's doorstep with a case of beer, a fifth of Jack, and his duffel bag. He didn't comment on the fact that Jared had been crying, or the lack of anything blatantly Sandy, just pushed past Jared and headed for the kitchen. “Hey, Jare, I'm dirty and starving. Call and order us a pizza while I'm in the shower.” He dropped the beer in the fridge, noticing Sandy had apparently left behind her fancy schmancy yogurt, because Jared sure didn't eat that shit. He glanced over the fridge door at Jared, looking rumpled and a little lost, the way he did on mornings when he overslept and stumbled late onto the set. This was going to take a lot more than alcohol & cuddles, but it was Jared, so okay.

400 words of muddy sex. Totally blamed on alli_everyday for a txt convo one day forever ago.

Sam opens his eyes when the purr of the Impala's engine dies, but he thinks maybe he's still dreaming because all he sees on both sides of the car is weeds that seem taller than he is.

"Where are we?" he asks when he sees his brother grinning at him from the driver’s seat.

"A little place this girl showed me once. We stayed in this town for a few months when I was sixteen or so."

"Dean, that was ten years ago!"

"So? I'm betting the river is still here." Dean reaches into the backseat and grabs a blanket before getting out of the car and cutting a path through the brush with his hunting knife, not bothering to look back to make sure Sam's following.

River? Sam sighs. It's late September and they're not far enough South for the weather to be warm enough for swimming. Besides, the way their luck's been running lately, one of them will probably be drowned by a vengeful spirit. Or bitten by a snake.

Sam follows the path Dean has made and reaches the water's edge to find a flat clearing, apparently a party spot for the local teens, and a pile of clothes tossed beside the firepit. Dean's clothes, but there's no Dean. A few moments later, soft splashing draws Sam's attention to the water and his brother smirking at him.

"C'mon, Sammy, the water's great!"

Sam shakes his head. "Skinny dipping, Dean? That's so uncouth!"

Dean rolls his eyes as he climbs out of the water. "Uncouth? Yeah, if uncouth means having fun or leads to sex."

Sam doesn't get what's sexy about hard ground and bugs and cold water, but then Dean's warm body pressing down on his erases every thought except for fuck and hot and now. Dean's hands are sliding through mud and sweat as he tries to get a hold on Sam's hips, to hold him still or draw him closer as they move against each other. Their chests are covered in mud, and there’s a squishy sound every time they press together and pull apart again. The sound blends with Dean's low, growly noises and complements the mix of soft mud and rough hands as Dean wraps a hand around Sam's cock. Sam can't see Dean through the mud-caked bangs hanging in his eyes, but he can feel Dean's shuddering breaths whisper against his cheek.