Main fanfic page
To pay back some of the karma from a generous lj fairy, I offered up ten drabbles and asked requesters to give me a fandom, a pairing or character, and a one-word theme.
HP, H/D, picnic, request from stungunbilly
Anything But
He took the rain shower and the ants in stride, but after the unicorns stampeded past and then the strangling creeper latched onto Luna's throat hard enough to end the picnic for good, it finally dawned on Harry that the number of disasters was more than unlikely.
He caught Malfoy laughing himself sick in the Herbology equipment shed. "Haven't learned your lesson yet?" he snarled.
Malfoy was still breathless with vicious laughter. "Oh, Potter?"
"What?"
Malfoy had apparently done some fairly extensive work with the creeper. Harry struggled against the vines now pinning his limbs against the back of the door without success. "So now what?" he said coldly.
Malfoy smiled widely at him, a creamy look of satisfaction in his eyes. "I'll think of something."
(126 words)
Good Omens, A/C, death, request from puddingcat
Ineffable
"Take sparrows."
Aziraphale paused right in the middle of throwing a crust. The ducks, deprived, gave him a glare. "Er?"
"Sparrows." Crowley waved at the examples clustering around the litter bin, which had mysteriously tipped over shortly after he'd arrived in the park. "Hasn't He got anything better to do?"
"Weren't we going to go have lunch?" Aziraphale said, rather desperately. Ever since what they had taken to calling The Incident, Crowley insisted on bringing up all the unanswerable questions and dwelling on them until Aziraphale felt something uncomfortably close to doubt scratching at the back of his mind, trying to get in.
"I mean, you'd think that a small dirty bird that eats bits of stale scones could bloody well fall down on its own without anyone at all paying attention, much less Him."
"I've been meaning to tell you," Aziraphale began, preparatory to telling Crowley that he'd noticed a small scratch on the Bentley, only to realize just in time that he'd been about to lie. And Crowley wasn't even
trying to tempt him. Clearly, this called for extreme measures.
"And if he's managing every last thing, then what's all this free will business, anyway?"
There really weren't many things that could shut Crowley up when he was on a tear. Aziraphale felt very pleased with himself for finding one.
(222 words)
LOTR, Boromir/Aragorn, first time, request from eyrea
Afterwards
His hand remembered the weight of the thing, unnaturally heavy, so that he had felt the chain might give way at any moment. He shuddered all over and told himself it was the wind cutting through his clothing.
When he rolled over to put his back to the outside of the ledge where they had taken shelter, he caught a reflected gleam of the dying fire. Aragorn was watching him, eyes made liquid black by the darkness. His sword lay unsheathed across his lap, the whetstone idle in his hand.
He couldn't see Frodo with Aragorn in the way. There was something in the steady gaze that made it possible not to care.
For a little while.
(117 words)
HP, Sirius/Remus, rage, request from ali_wildgoose
Out of Time
After, once the breathing had evened out, he slid out of the bed carefully and crept around to the armchair he'd put on the other side. Sleeping, Sirius looked years younger, even with the hollows under his eyes and the lines around his mouth. It was like having him back, as long as he stayed asleep.
He'd tried coming in early, on thin excuses. Heard a noise, saw a light, want some coffee? But Sirius always woke right away as soon as the door opened, and Remus could ache for that savage, angry man, but he didn't know him.
This was the only way to have any real time with the man he'd lost, the friend he'd abandoned and tried to forget. It was worth the bruises.
(127 words)
SG, Jack/Daniel, security, request from destina
Deep Water
Jack hauled the empty creel out of the water and watched his two trout escape back into the lake. Bastards, probably laughing at him right now. He let Daniel climb out on his own. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen anyone catch negative fish before."
"Thanks, Jack. Glad I could, uh, provide you with a new experience." Daniel peeled off his sopping wet shirt and squeezed it out over the side of the dock. "Are you sure I used to do this all the time? Because I'm not really getting any memories coming back from this."
"Oh, yeah," Jack lied.
(102 words)
XMM, Magneto/Xavier, pre-rift, request from andrastewhite
Sunset
It was still hot when they got out of the old city, though it was already late. On the far side of the Lion's Gate, the trees were all in shadow, the vendors gone. Erik brought the chair to a stop and they lay down in the grass together and watched the sun going down.
"All right?" Erik asked, and Charles nodded, drowsily. The day had been an effort for them both, Erik practicing his control on the chair and Charles practicing his on the minds around them. It was a relief now, to close his eyes and tip his head back against the smooth bark, to let his shields down—only Erik here, and surely he wouldn't mind, if he even had the energy to think about anything.
He opened his eyes in surprise. Erik looked away a little too casually, the desire in his mind startling and sweet as the taste of ripe fresh figs. He'd never thought of such a thing before, and that was the strangest thing about it. He made Erik turn back and lean in, let him go just out of reach.
"Ah," Erik said, and kissed him under the shadow of Jerusalem.
(200 words)
SV, Clark/Lex, myths, request from pearl_o
Measure of a Man
The champagne tasted flat, although of course it was anything but. Dom Perignon, on ice for a week, and in three months' time he would be the 48th and youngest President. It ought to have tasted sweeter. He drank it anyway and kept smiling.
Lionel was down on the floor, circulating and pretending to be relevant, Lucas in tow. Anytime he wanted, he could go down and look his father in the eye and watch him understanding that he'd just become a historical footnote, soak up his replacement's sour envy. He could remember a time when that would have meant everything to him.
Clark was out saving three kittens or something. He'd be here soon, though, in his rumpled suit and toting his notebook, to ask hard, unfriendly questions with a face carved out of granite.
Alexander had died of losing Hephaistion and left the world he'd conquered to tear itself to pieces. That was how Lex knew he was the greater man.
(163 words)
Sentinel, Jim/Blair, jewelry, request from reetchick
Red-
Handed
"Seriously, man. You're shitting me."
"No, I really dropped the keys, all right? I was a little preoccupied with keeping you from getting shot at the time, in case you hadn't noticed."
Blair thumped his head against the wall, gently, because he still had a headache from the half-assed pistol whipping, and raised his arms to contemplate the handcuffs. "Jim. Have I mentioned lately how much I truly, deeply hate you?"
"Quit making a production out of it. A squad car will come by soon as they can."
"You swore this was going to be a routine drive-by, 'take 15 minutes tops, Chief,' you said. Lorraine is never going to talk to me again."
"I thought it was Jessie."
"No, that was the
last woman I stood up thanks to—" Blair stopped. "Wait just a fucking minute."
"Sorry, I can't keep track of them all," Jim said it snarky, but he looked guilty as hell.
"You idiot," Blair said, "you could've just
asked."
(164 words)
HP, Sirius, contentedness, request from liviapenn
Curtain
Wet dirt, rotting leaves, and fresh hot rabbit blood. Wind cool on his nose, carrying a thousand scents no human being could ever pick up. Running, running, running, his friends beside him, yelping his laughter.
Remus stretched out studying on his bed, looking up through his untidy hair, James and Peter out at Honeydukes and no one due back for hours. Rolling around together on the grass behind the Quidditch pitch on a moonlit night, not even noticing when the sun rose. The crazy reflections of the clouds in the gleaming chrome of his motorbike. Hot butterbeer and the afterglow of a well-thrown hex.
Remus and Harry, believing him. Hippogriff wings thrusting beneath his knees, the ground like a postage stamp below. Warm hands on his shoulders in the wretched, dusty house, stroking away his mother's voice. Running free for a minute alongside the train. Fighting again at last, his wand in his hand, laughter in his throat.
He smiled, and the veil closed over him.
(166 words)
DD, Matt/Bullseye, request from blunaris for slash between Matt and anyone, and Bullseye for liviapenn
On Target
Bullseye stared at the dartboard, and the smiley face stared right back, every one of the darts placed just right. He couldn't have done better himself. "Liam," he yelled, and threw a peanut to ricochet off the Guinness tap and into the bartender's nose when that didn't get his attention over the football match. He jerked his head at the board. "Whose work?"
"The blind Yank, over in the corner," Liam said, daring to give him a nasty smirk. "Looks like you've got some competition."
He looked. Black sunglasses, red and white cane, head tilted a little like he was listening. Bugger that. He pulled the board off the wall and slammed it down on the guy's table.
"No blind man threw those," he snarled. "So what kind of game are you playing at, mate?"
"Do we know each other?" Yank all right, and New York by the sounds of it.
"You can call me—" Bullseye took the glasses off with a swipe and snapped his fingers in front of the blue eyes. Not a blink, though he'd done it too fast for the man to be ready for it. "—Bullseye." He scowled.
"Let me guess, local darts champ?" The fellow sounded like he was laughing in the back of his mouth.
"I never miss what I aim for," Bullseye said, trying to stay angry. He pulled out one of the darts and stroked the feathered end over the man's cheek. Nice cheekbones, actually. Nice mouth.
The Yank lifted an eyebrow. "Never?"
(254 words)