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Nov. 15th, 2009 09:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notApparently this wants to be fic, but I don't know where it goes. It may be part of the werewolf!Empires 'verse, but it may be something else entirely: Nick waited until he heard the shower start up before he picked up his phone. Tom answered on the third ring, sounding a bit distracted. “Come get your boy off my couch.” Nick was serious. He loved Ryan, really, but it was far past time for Ryan and Tom to kiss and make up.
Oh look, drabbles! Or, more appropriately, snapshots! I don't think any of them are an even number of words, much less exactly 100.
125 words; Dean, Sam, military; for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reallythateasy.
“It’s a military base, Dean! You can’t be serious!”
Dean glanced over the open lid of the Impala’s trunk at where Sam was leaning against the passenger door. “Sam. Three children have died in the last month. Four if you count that little girl in the hospital; Dr. Spencer said she’s not gonna make it through the night.” Dean grabbed his shotgun and shoved it in the duffle bag with the rest of the supplies he had gathered. “I am completely serious. Military base or not, there is something going on and we’re gonna stop it before anyone else gets hurt.” He slammed the trunk shut. “It’s our job, Sammy. If you don’t wanna do this anymore, feel free to go ahead and fuck off.”
100 words; Draco/Harry/Luna, zipper; forreallythateasy.
There were times Harry was baffled by Luna’s love of Muggle attire. It was so much quicker and far less complicated to get Luna out of a robe, especially when he was drunk on firewhisky and the night’s celebration. Especially when he had Draco Malfoy whispering dirty drunken thoughts in his ear, Draco’s hands working Harry’s own clothes as Harry undressed Luna. But watching Luna’s skin, pale and smooth and shimmering in the dim light, revealed a little bit at a time as he slid down the zipper of her dress – well, the building anticipation wasn’t something he’d regret.
448 words; Brian/Greta in the Basement Romantic AU 'Verse
Brian heard Greta before he saw her, and he still hoped he was wrong. But no, there she was, standing out front and talking to Adam about designs.
The last time he’d seen her, she had been stretched out in her bed, wearing his shirt, asleep, and he had been sneaking out of her apartment. If it had been the middle of the night, or even the morning after, he wouldn’t feel so bad about it. But it was the second afternoon. When he’d picked her up at Midtown, he’d been intrigued by the way she was only a few drinks gone, capable of making rational decisions but still letting him sweet talk her into taking him home. He hadn’t expected to want to stay, had surprised both of them when he agreed to breakfast the next morning. After-breakfast sex turned into spending the day watching a marathon of really cheesy monster movies on the sci-fi channel, then ordering in dinner. After dinner, they ended up having to get dressed anyway to make an ice-cream-and-condoms run, and completely-sober sex was a lot better than Brian had remembered. Sunday morning brought breakfast in bed – Brian fumbling his way around a strange kitchen and trying to be smooth – and sex-in-the-shower. It was during the catnaps that followed that Brian freaked out a little, thinking it was somehow wrong that he was perfectly content spending a lot more than a weekend right here, in this bed with this woman. So he left.
He knew they had talked about everything under the sun that weekend, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t mentioned Rock City. Either way, if she was getting a tattoo, he wasn’t letting Adam do it. Jamia would be totally acceptable, or Brian would do it himself, but he wasn’t allowing any of his guys to touch her, even for a job.
“Greta?” he asked, stepping up behind Adam.
When she looked at him, there was a flash of hurt in her eyes that was almost too quick for him to catch. “Brian, hi!”
Adam took a step back and looked between them. “You know Brian?”
It was Brian that answered, “Yeah, we met at Midtown a few weeks ago.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed. Does this mean the pretty lady gets a discount?”
Brian stepped between them and placed a hand on Greta’s back, steering her in the direction of Jamia’s station. “Actually, this means the pretty lady gets her tattoo free if Jamia does it.” He totally owed her for being such a shit, and maybe it’d help with the guilt he felt every time he picked up another girl at Midtown.
636 words; CM/bandom crossover; Spencer Reid meets Spencer Smith.
Reid has to visit four stores before he finds the particular book of Celtic folk tales he’s been looking for, and just as he reaches for it, someone else grabs it. A brief tug-of-war ensues -- it's the last copy on the shelf, and Reid isn't giving it up without a fight -- and Reid's almost surprised by the fierceness of the boy beside him. It's silly to be fighting over a book, but Reid still doesn't release his grasp.
"Spencer!"
Both he and the boy look up, watching as they're approached by another kid (god, Reid feels old, even though he's really, really not, but spending all his days -- for most of his life -- makes him think everyone he meets is so much younger than he is), who breaks into a smile when he sees the book.
"Hey, Spence, you found it!"
"Yeah," the boy -- who is apparently also named Spencer -- tugs the book free. "I did." He smirks at Reid and turns to walk away. Reid's a little stunned from the encounter, and just stares after the two boys, wondering what just happened.
He settles on another book -- his mom had specifically asked for the Celtic folk tales, so he hates that he has to disappoint her, but he only has a few days in Vegas and he doesn't want to spend all of them in bookstores -- and walks around the mall for a while, picks up a few token gifts to take to his mom and finds this perfectly adorable rainbow unicorn to buy for Garcia. He almost has to fight off another kid for that one, but at the last minute is saved by the boy knocking over a display rack and getting distracted.
He decides it'll be easier to go straight to the institution from here than to make another stop, so he heads to the food court. He's almost at the counter when the woman in front of him glances at him and then turns around smiling.
"Why, Spencer Reid, I haven't seen you in years!" She steps forward and pulls him into a hug. "Are you in town to visit your mother?"
"Yes, ma'am." Reid smiles at her -- Mrs. Ginger Smith was the medical secretary that helped him settle the paperwork to have his mother committed. It shouldn't be a happy memory, because it wasn't an easy time, but Mrs. Smith had treated him with a compassion he wasn't used to and he has only good thoughts for her. "I'm heading over there this afternoon, actually."
"Good, good! She'll be delighted to see you!" Mrs. Smith excuses herself and turns to place her order, which is enough to feed a small army, and then steps aside as Reid places his order as well. "She's so proud of you, you know. I visit her one afternoon a month -- I'd go more often, but things are so hectic -- and she's always so happy when she talks about you."
Reid isn't sure how to respond to that; he had no idea that his mother received any visitors, much less one on a regular basis. Before he can think of a proper response, Mrs. Smith says, "Come on, join me and my boys for lunch. I can introduce you to my Spencer and you can tell me about what you've been up to!" She balances her tray of food with the ease of someone who's had years of practice and weaves her way through the tables, obviously expecting Reid to follow. He does, but stops short when she sets the food down in front of three boys -- the two from the bookstore and the unicorn kid.
This ought to be fun. He thinks his long-weekend in Las Vegas just got entirely more complicated.
Oh look, drabbles! Or, more appropriately, snapshots! I don't think any of them are an even number of words, much less exactly 100.
125 words; Dean, Sam, military; for
reallythateasy.“It’s a military base, Dean! You can’t be serious!”
Dean glanced over the open lid of the Impala’s trunk at where Sam was leaning against the passenger door. “Sam. Three children have died in the last month. Four if you count that little girl in the hospital; Dr. Spencer said she’s not gonna make it through the night.” Dean grabbed his shotgun and shoved it in the duffle bag with the rest of the supplies he had gathered. “I am completely serious. Military base or not, there is something going on and we’re gonna stop it before anyone else gets hurt.” He slammed the trunk shut. “It’s our job, Sammy. If you don’t wanna do this anymore, feel free to go ahead and fuck off.”
100 words; Draco/Harry/Luna, zipper; for
reallythateasy.There were times Harry was baffled by Luna’s love of Muggle attire. It was so much quicker and far less complicated to get Luna out of a robe, especially when he was drunk on firewhisky and the night’s celebration. Especially when he had Draco Malfoy whispering dirty drunken thoughts in his ear, Draco’s hands working Harry’s own clothes as Harry undressed Luna. But watching Luna’s skin, pale and smooth and shimmering in the dim light, revealed a little bit at a time as he slid down the zipper of her dress – well, the building anticipation wasn’t something he’d regret.
448 words; Brian/Greta in the Basement Romantic AU 'Verse
Brian heard Greta before he saw her, and he still hoped he was wrong. But no, there she was, standing out front and talking to Adam about designs.
The last time he’d seen her, she had been stretched out in her bed, wearing his shirt, asleep, and he had been sneaking out of her apartment. If it had been the middle of the night, or even the morning after, he wouldn’t feel so bad about it. But it was the second afternoon. When he’d picked her up at Midtown, he’d been intrigued by the way she was only a few drinks gone, capable of making rational decisions but still letting him sweet talk her into taking him home. He hadn’t expected to want to stay, had surprised both of them when he agreed to breakfast the next morning. After-breakfast sex turned into spending the day watching a marathon of really cheesy monster movies on the sci-fi channel, then ordering in dinner. After dinner, they ended up having to get dressed anyway to make an ice-cream-and-condoms run, and completely-sober sex was a lot better than Brian had remembered. Sunday morning brought breakfast in bed – Brian fumbling his way around a strange kitchen and trying to be smooth – and sex-in-the-shower. It was during the catnaps that followed that Brian freaked out a little, thinking it was somehow wrong that he was perfectly content spending a lot more than a weekend right here, in this bed with this woman. So he left.
He knew they had talked about everything under the sun that weekend, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t mentioned Rock City. Either way, if she was getting a tattoo, he wasn’t letting Adam do it. Jamia would be totally acceptable, or Brian would do it himself, but he wasn’t allowing any of his guys to touch her, even for a job.
“Greta?” he asked, stepping up behind Adam.
When she looked at him, there was a flash of hurt in her eyes that was almost too quick for him to catch. “Brian, hi!”
Adam took a step back and looked between them. “You know Brian?”
It was Brian that answered, “Yeah, we met at Midtown a few weeks ago.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed. Does this mean the pretty lady gets a discount?”
Brian stepped between them and placed a hand on Greta’s back, steering her in the direction of Jamia’s station. “Actually, this means the pretty lady gets her tattoo free if Jamia does it.” He totally owed her for being such a shit, and maybe it’d help with the guilt he felt every time he picked up another girl at Midtown.
636 words; CM/bandom crossover; Spencer Reid meets Spencer Smith.
Reid has to visit four stores before he finds the particular book of Celtic folk tales he’s been looking for, and just as he reaches for it, someone else grabs it. A brief tug-of-war ensues -- it's the last copy on the shelf, and Reid isn't giving it up without a fight -- and Reid's almost surprised by the fierceness of the boy beside him. It's silly to be fighting over a book, but Reid still doesn't release his grasp.
"Spencer!"
Both he and the boy look up, watching as they're approached by another kid (god, Reid feels old, even though he's really, really not, but spending all his days -- for most of his life -- makes him think everyone he meets is so much younger than he is), who breaks into a smile when he sees the book.
"Hey, Spence, you found it!"
"Yeah," the boy -- who is apparently also named Spencer -- tugs the book free. "I did." He smirks at Reid and turns to walk away. Reid's a little stunned from the encounter, and just stares after the two boys, wondering what just happened.
He settles on another book -- his mom had specifically asked for the Celtic folk tales, so he hates that he has to disappoint her, but he only has a few days in Vegas and he doesn't want to spend all of them in bookstores -- and walks around the mall for a while, picks up a few token gifts to take to his mom and finds this perfectly adorable rainbow unicorn to buy for Garcia. He almost has to fight off another kid for that one, but at the last minute is saved by the boy knocking over a display rack and getting distracted.
He decides it'll be easier to go straight to the institution from here than to make another stop, so he heads to the food court. He's almost at the counter when the woman in front of him glances at him and then turns around smiling.
"Why, Spencer Reid, I haven't seen you in years!" She steps forward and pulls him into a hug. "Are you in town to visit your mother?"
"Yes, ma'am." Reid smiles at her -- Mrs. Ginger Smith was the medical secretary that helped him settle the paperwork to have his mother committed. It shouldn't be a happy memory, because it wasn't an easy time, but Mrs. Smith had treated him with a compassion he wasn't used to and he has only good thoughts for her. "I'm heading over there this afternoon, actually."
"Good, good! She'll be delighted to see you!" Mrs. Smith excuses herself and turns to place her order, which is enough to feed a small army, and then steps aside as Reid places his order as well. "She's so proud of you, you know. I visit her one afternoon a month -- I'd go more often, but things are so hectic -- and she's always so happy when she talks about you."
Reid isn't sure how to respond to that; he had no idea that his mother received any visitors, much less one on a regular basis. Before he can think of a proper response, Mrs. Smith says, "Come on, join me and my boys for lunch. I can introduce you to my Spencer and you can tell me about what you've been up to!" She balances her tray of food with the ease of someone who's had years of practice and weaves her way through the tables, obviously expecting Reid to follow. He does, but stops short when she sets the food down in front of three boys -- the two from the bookstore and the unicorn kid.
This ought to be fun. He thinks his long-weekend in Las Vegas just got entirely more complicated.
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