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Drabble-dump (Multi-fandom)
I'm just posting a bunch of drabbles from the past few months, because I'd rather like to have them all in one place on my journal. If all these cuts work it'll be a bloody miracle...
Title: Defence
Fandom: Pet Shop Of Horrors
Characters/Pairing: Leon/D
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
D wears his beauty like a piece of clothing. He’s always perfect, always untouchable, everything hidden behind that emotionless little smile.
To his customers, it’s a lure: How can you resist this much mystery?
To Leon the cop, it’s a taunt: So, Mr. Detective, you think you’re clever? You haven’t so much as ruffled a hair on my head.
To Leon the lover, it’s something else. A warning? Stay away, you don’t know how dangerous I am. Or perhaps a shield.
Leon learns the answer, finally, the morning that D turns up on his doorstep pale and trembling, his mouth set in determination. It’s been months since he just up and vanished, and Leon almost starts yelling, but seeing D look so… rattled… stops him in his tracks.
“Your granddad?” Leon asks, instead, and D shakes his head minutely, like he’s scared to open the floodgates by speaking. But he lets Leon take his arm and lead him inside, and doesn’t even complain when Leon hands him a cup of coffee.
D looks a mess – his clothes are rumpled, and his eyes are dark like he hasn’t slept in days. He’s even got a hair or two out of place. But there’s something different in him, something new and alive. Leon makes a mental note to tell him, sometime, that he’s never been more beautiful.
Title: A Million Miles
Fandom: Pet Shop Of Horrors
Characters/Pairing: Leon/D
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 439
Leon doesn’t believe it.
He doesn’t believe it when he glances down a side-street and there, against the lights of Tokyo (alien language, neon colours like old friends) is a silhouette so familiar he feels like he’s just woken up from a five-year dream.
He doesn’t believe it when his vital organs start rebelling against him, his heart flip-flopping into his throat and his chest constricting until he can’t breathe.
He doesn’t believe it even as he starts running, feet slapping on the tarmac, shoving through crowds like you’d brush aside cobwebs. He sprints blindly, heart hammering in his chest, because he knows if he doesn’t catch up, if he loses sight of that figure for just one second, he’ll round the corner of the street and find no-one there.
He doesn’t believe it even when he does catch up, even when he manages to reach out and grab a silk-covered shoulder, even when he sees a painted mouth open in shock and hears D gasp “D – detective?” like someone’s punched him in the gut.
And Leon hasn’t thought that far ahead, so he just nods dumbly. D stares at him a little longer before whispering “You – found me?” in a voice that’s soft with puzzlement.
Leon’s about to agree, but then he realises he can’t think of the words, so he ends up standing there stupidly instead, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He’s not sure what he expected – a smirk, probably, and some snarky little comment about what a pity it is the LAPD has no jurisdiction in Japan, Detective – but it wasn’t this. He’d have known what to do with the sarcasm: yell, rage, demand to know what the fuck D thought he was doing taking off like that. Right now, he has no clue.
And then he looks in D’s eyes – the sidewalk’s crowded, and they’re standing close enough to tough – and what he sees in them isn’t just from memory. There’s shock, sure, and maybe even fear, but there’s something else too. Something that Leon realises, with a tiny thrill of horror, he’s never seen in D before. Hope.
Leon finds his voice again, then. It’s kind of shaky, but he keeps it low and gentle. “Yeah. Yeah, I found you.” And then he’s grinning like a crazy person, and D doesn’t quite smile back at him but almost does, and the lights blur overhead and Leon almost thinks he can feel the Earth spinning under them.
There are five years between them. Hell of a lot of questions, too. Could be a million miles. A million miles, or nothing at all.
Title: Doubles
Fandom: Pet Shop Of Horrors/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Leon/D, Ten/Rose
Rating: G
Wordcount: 131
“More tea, Doctor?”
“Er, no. Thanks.”
He’s never much cared for the D. They’re arrogant, acting as though they’ve got the monopoly on the moral high ground, when half the time the justice they dish out is just petty revenge dressed up in mystical clothing. Plus they’re… well, pretentious. A bit up themselves, really.
This youngest one, though, seems different. More compassionate – more human, even. Grandfather hasn’t been the only influence on him, obviously.
The Doctor follows his gaze across the shop floor and finds a tall, scruffy blond fellow chatting to Rose – chatting her up, maybe, but in a pretty half-hearted kind of a way. He gestures wildly with his teacup, spilling half its contents over the ornate sofa, and D’s mouth quirks in irritation. But he doesn’t scold.
Ah.
Title: When December Blights Thy Brow
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna (gen)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 135
His first thought – after Ouch – is that that was a pretty powerful right hook.
His second thought is that there are plenty of people on Earth who might think he deserves a smack in the mouth, but only one he can imagine having the gumption to give it. And she’s… well, she’s certainly not meant to be here. Not meant to be standing in front of him, hands on hips, trying to look stern but grinning too much to really manage it and saying, “My brain, I decide what gets done to it. Got that, Spaceman?”
“But what – how did you – ?”
He’s flabbergasted. But then her eyes twinkle, and the cold universe suddenly gets that little bit brighter.
“Never mind that, you owe me a lift to Feldspoon. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Title: Untitled Lesbian Schoolgirl Crack
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Characters/Pairing: James/Richard
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 150ish
The noises coming from behind the production office door finally became too much to bear, and Jeremy threw his newspaper down in exasperation.
“May! Hammond!” he barked, “Unless the Stig can arrange to transmogrify the pair of you into nubile lesbian schoolgirls, I have no desire to be exposed to your homosexual antics. Keep it down!”
A second later there was a flash of light, and Jeremy briefly wondered if they were going to have a thunderstorm. But only briefly, because then the deathly silence on the other side of the door was broken by a very-familiar, but at the same time very different-sounding voice. It didn’t sound pleased.
“Clarkson,” said James, “You really should stop shouting.”
There was a high-pitched giggle, followed by a short pause. Then the first voice again, slightly horrified.
“Richard,” it said, “Did you just… ping my bra strap?”
Title: Sideways
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Characters/Pairing: Richard/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: <100
Richard is curled up on ‘Oliver’’s back seat, dead to the world, all messy hair and rumpled clothes and sleepy smiles. It looks uncomfortable, but if he’s noticed you wouldn’t know it.
"You know, that's almost -- "
"May, if you say 'cute' I'm going to shove this petrol can so far up your arse people will be able to hear you screaming back in London."
"But -- "
"Sideways."
"You insufferable oaf."
Title: Stay Anyway
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Characters/Pairing: Richard/James
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 201
“You need another brick on that bit.”
“Mmm? Oh yeah.”
They both go for the same piece of Lego, and James snatches his hand back into his lap, double quick. When he looks up, Richard is staring straight at him.
“You can touch me, you know,” he says, and James isn’t sure whether it’s exasperation or amusement that he hears. Probably a bit of both. “I had an accident. I’m not made of glass.”
Before James has time to think of a reply, a bustling nurse turns up with medicines and bandages and chivvies him out into the corridor. By the time he’s allowed back in, Richard’s dozed off, the Lego model put to one side. James picks up his jacket, hesitates, then leans down and gently takes Richard’s hand. He strokes his thumb along the back of it, lightly, once. Then freezes as his hand is squeezed right back.
“Gotcha!” Richard looks far more pleased with himself than anyone who nearly smashed his brains out three weeks ago has a right to, James thinks.
“I was just going,” he says, hurriedly trying to extricate himself. Richard doesn’t let him.
“Why?”
“Visiting hour’s over.”
Richard shrugs. “Stay anyway.”
So he does.
Title: Defence
Fandom: Pet Shop Of Horrors
Characters/Pairing: Leon/D
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
D wears his beauty like a piece of clothing. He’s always perfect, always untouchable, everything hidden behind that emotionless little smile.
To his customers, it’s a lure: How can you resist this much mystery?
To Leon the cop, it’s a taunt: So, Mr. Detective, you think you’re clever? You haven’t so much as ruffled a hair on my head.
To Leon the lover, it’s something else. A warning? Stay away, you don’t know how dangerous I am. Or perhaps a shield.
Leon learns the answer, finally, the morning that D turns up on his doorstep pale and trembling, his mouth set in determination. It’s been months since he just up and vanished, and Leon almost starts yelling, but seeing D look so… rattled… stops him in his tracks.
“Your granddad?” Leon asks, instead, and D shakes his head minutely, like he’s scared to open the floodgates by speaking. But he lets Leon take his arm and lead him inside, and doesn’t even complain when Leon hands him a cup of coffee.
D looks a mess – his clothes are rumpled, and his eyes are dark like he hasn’t slept in days. He’s even got a hair or two out of place. But there’s something different in him, something new and alive. Leon makes a mental note to tell him, sometime, that he’s never been more beautiful.
Title: A Million Miles
Fandom: Pet Shop Of Horrors
Characters/Pairing: Leon/D
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 439
Leon doesn’t believe it.
He doesn’t believe it when he glances down a side-street and there, against the lights of Tokyo (alien language, neon colours like old friends) is a silhouette so familiar he feels like he’s just woken up from a five-year dream.
He doesn’t believe it when his vital organs start rebelling against him, his heart flip-flopping into his throat and his chest constricting until he can’t breathe.
He doesn’t believe it even as he starts running, feet slapping on the tarmac, shoving through crowds like you’d brush aside cobwebs. He sprints blindly, heart hammering in his chest, because he knows if he doesn’t catch up, if he loses sight of that figure for just one second, he’ll round the corner of the street and find no-one there.
He doesn’t believe it even when he does catch up, even when he manages to reach out and grab a silk-covered shoulder, even when he sees a painted mouth open in shock and hears D gasp “D – detective?” like someone’s punched him in the gut.
And Leon hasn’t thought that far ahead, so he just nods dumbly. D stares at him a little longer before whispering “You – found me?” in a voice that’s soft with puzzlement.
Leon’s about to agree, but then he realises he can’t think of the words, so he ends up standing there stupidly instead, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He’s not sure what he expected – a smirk, probably, and some snarky little comment about what a pity it is the LAPD has no jurisdiction in Japan, Detective – but it wasn’t this. He’d have known what to do with the sarcasm: yell, rage, demand to know what the fuck D thought he was doing taking off like that. Right now, he has no clue.
And then he looks in D’s eyes – the sidewalk’s crowded, and they’re standing close enough to tough – and what he sees in them isn’t just from memory. There’s shock, sure, and maybe even fear, but there’s something else too. Something that Leon realises, with a tiny thrill of horror, he’s never seen in D before. Hope.
Leon finds his voice again, then. It’s kind of shaky, but he keeps it low and gentle. “Yeah. Yeah, I found you.” And then he’s grinning like a crazy person, and D doesn’t quite smile back at him but almost does, and the lights blur overhead and Leon almost thinks he can feel the Earth spinning under them.
There are five years between them. Hell of a lot of questions, too. Could be a million miles. A million miles, or nothing at all.
Title: Doubles
Fandom: Pet Shop Of Horrors/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Leon/D, Ten/Rose
Rating: G
Wordcount: 131
“More tea, Doctor?”
“Er, no. Thanks.”
He’s never much cared for the D. They’re arrogant, acting as though they’ve got the monopoly on the moral high ground, when half the time the justice they dish out is just petty revenge dressed up in mystical clothing. Plus they’re… well, pretentious. A bit up themselves, really.
This youngest one, though, seems different. More compassionate – more human, even. Grandfather hasn’t been the only influence on him, obviously.
The Doctor follows his gaze across the shop floor and finds a tall, scruffy blond fellow chatting to Rose – chatting her up, maybe, but in a pretty half-hearted kind of a way. He gestures wildly with his teacup, spilling half its contents over the ornate sofa, and D’s mouth quirks in irritation. But he doesn’t scold.
Ah.
Title: When December Blights Thy Brow
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna (gen)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 135
His first thought – after Ouch – is that that was a pretty powerful right hook.
His second thought is that there are plenty of people on Earth who might think he deserves a smack in the mouth, but only one he can imagine having the gumption to give it. And she’s… well, she’s certainly not meant to be here. Not meant to be standing in front of him, hands on hips, trying to look stern but grinning too much to really manage it and saying, “My brain, I decide what gets done to it. Got that, Spaceman?”
“But what – how did you – ?”
He’s flabbergasted. But then her eyes twinkle, and the cold universe suddenly gets that little bit brighter.
“Never mind that, you owe me a lift to Feldspoon. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Title: Untitled Lesbian Schoolgirl Crack
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Characters/Pairing: James/Richard
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 150ish
The noises coming from behind the production office door finally became too much to bear, and Jeremy threw his newspaper down in exasperation.
“May! Hammond!” he barked, “Unless the Stig can arrange to transmogrify the pair of you into nubile lesbian schoolgirls, I have no desire to be exposed to your homosexual antics. Keep it down!”
A second later there was a flash of light, and Jeremy briefly wondered if they were going to have a thunderstorm. But only briefly, because then the deathly silence on the other side of the door was broken by a very-familiar, but at the same time very different-sounding voice. It didn’t sound pleased.
“Clarkson,” said James, “You really should stop shouting.”
There was a high-pitched giggle, followed by a short pause. Then the first voice again, slightly horrified.
“Richard,” it said, “Did you just… ping my bra strap?”
Title: Sideways
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Characters/Pairing: Richard/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: <100
Richard is curled up on ‘Oliver’’s back seat, dead to the world, all messy hair and rumpled clothes and sleepy smiles. It looks uncomfortable, but if he’s noticed you wouldn’t know it.
"You know, that's almost -- "
"May, if you say 'cute' I'm going to shove this petrol can so far up your arse people will be able to hear you screaming back in London."
"But -- "
"Sideways."
"You insufferable oaf."
Title: Stay Anyway
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Characters/Pairing: Richard/James
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 201
“You need another brick on that bit.”
“Mmm? Oh yeah.”
They both go for the same piece of Lego, and James snatches his hand back into his lap, double quick. When he looks up, Richard is staring straight at him.
“You can touch me, you know,” he says, and James isn’t sure whether it’s exasperation or amusement that he hears. Probably a bit of both. “I had an accident. I’m not made of glass.”
Before James has time to think of a reply, a bustling nurse turns up with medicines and bandages and chivvies him out into the corridor. By the time he’s allowed back in, Richard’s dozed off, the Lego model put to one side. James picks up his jacket, hesitates, then leans down and gently takes Richard’s hand. He strokes his thumb along the back of it, lightly, once. Then freezes as his hand is squeezed right back.
“Gotcha!” Richard looks far more pleased with himself than anyone who nearly smashed his brains out three weeks ago has a right to, James thinks.
“I was just going,” he says, hurriedly trying to extricate himself. Richard doesn’t let him.
“Why?”
“Visiting hour’s over.”
Richard shrugs. “Stay anyway.”
So he does.