[fic] double drabbles for sloane.
Mar. 7th, 2005 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bantha_fodderOMG this is the worst present ever.
The end of a love affair - a fiesta of het double drabbles for Sloane because she is hot stuff <3
Lex/Chloe
So I walk a little too fast and I drive a little too fast
And I'm reckless it's true, but what else can you do at the end of a love affair?
It was an accident, and he knows that, but it does not stop him from pulling out all the stops to investigate every angle, every hint; every snitch on the street and every camera in the city. Too many people with black eyes and plummeting reputations before Lex Luthor is satisfied that it was an accident.
Chloe: a little too curious, a little too clever, lost control on an icy curve in Lex’s car. The mechanic said he was lucky not to have been with her, and the coroner said she was barely recognisable. Lex had her face reconstructed before the funeral, and she looked perfect. Not even Clark could tell.
He has plans for Clark.
And it was not the brakes, nor the suspension; not the mechanic nor the council workers.
Lex puts a finger to Chloe’s cold cheek, and does not attend the funeral. He leaves the mourners to their small tears and their petty condolences. None of them know what she was worth.
It was Lex, and it was quick. He owed her that much.
It was his parting gift to her.
Lex will miss Chloe, but the legacy she has left him will last long enough.
Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson
So I talk a little too much, and I laugh a little too much
And my voice is too loud, when I'm out in a crowd
So that people are apt to stare
"I was nearly God, once," Emma says, coming up behind him.
"Yes, I know," he speaks but does not turn. "And wouldn't that have been a delight."
"Yes, actually, I think that it would have been." She pats his shoulder once and gives it a squeeze. "You could have been my voice! You've got the perfect whine for it."
"I resent that."
"Yes, I know," she says, imitating his earlier annoyance. “But I’m not sure I would have looked as good as Alanis Morissette did in that dress.”
“And that’s because you’re not worth the twenty grand,” he mumbles, his irritation evident.
"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Emma is all innocence and delight, as if she has just noticed his busy hands.
"You might be, if you don't shut up and get out of my light."
Emma laughs out loud. "How's the knitting going, Alan?" she asks loudly. He looks around. She would not call it frantic, but it is certainly not sedate. Quieter, she speaks with a smile. “I’m sorry. Is it still a secret?”
"I can make it so you can never work in this country again, Emma."
She laughs again, and kisses him on the cheek.
Boromir and Eowyn
Do they know, do they care, that it's only that I'm lonely and low as can be?
And the smile on my face isn't really a smile at all
“You must go,” she says, and reaches out. He flinches from her touch, as if it burns him. Eowyn withdraws her hand - she will not leave it where it is not welcome.
The day has been long; the visiting delegation from Gondor arrived just after the Riders departed, and the task to entertain them fell to her. She spent the day with the delegation and with Wormtongue, and did not see her uncle. She sang whilst they drank, but at least she got to ride as well.
She misses her brother.
She had hoped that Boromir's presence would bring a sense of relief after her day, but sweaty palms and wet kisses proved no release, not when her brother had not returned by the time she retired.
He lies on her blankets, and looks at her with hooded eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady of Rohan,” he says formally, and were it not for fear of waking others, she would yell. As it is, she rolls away and gestures to his clothes.
He stands and pulls them on, and walks to the door. He turns to look at her.
In this light, he looks a little like Eomer.
Erik/Mystique
So I smoke a little too much, and I drink a little too much
It is dark in the kitchen, but Pyro follows the laughter to the back porch where Magneto and Mystique recline on banana lounge chairs. Mystique turns to look at him as she drinks from a glass bottle, her expression indecipherable, but Magneto smiles and beckons him forward.
"Pyro," he says, "you're never too young for a good beer." He passes the bottle to Pyro; stands. "One moment, friends," and disappears into the house. Mystique watches Magneto as he wanders out of sight, and turns back to Pyro. She produces a cigar from somewhere, and he tries not to think about where she was keeping it.
"Have a light?" she asks, and from anyone else, at any time, it would be a come on. But Pyro's not stupid, and he produces his lighter with relatively fumbling, and lights her cigar.
"I hope you have one of those for me, Mystique," Magneto reappears with two more bottles, and pushes one in front of Mystique as he sits down. She takes a puff from her cigar and softly inserts it in the corner of Magneto's mouth. She kisses the other corner, and lifts the new bottle to her mouth.
Smoke fills the verandah.
Anamaria/Norrington
And the tunes I request are not always the best
But the ones where the trumpets blare!
"Have you considered piracy?"
Norrington continues to watch the happy couple, a hand on the tankard containing his untouched beer.
"I said, have you considered piracy?" Anamaria asks, louder, and leans over Norrington's shoulder. She follows his gaze. "Are we jealous of Will, or of Elizabeth?" she asks conversationally, as if she doesn't have anything riding on his answer.
He continues to ignore her, and she departs, leaving him his beer and his silence. She dances with Will and Elizabeth, people that he knows are pirates, and Sparrow in a bad wig, and it grates that he cannot arrest them and be done with it. It is a farce, the wedding, the dancing, and the insincere condolences from the other wedding guests hoping to curry his favour. But he continues to sit, with the beer purchased by ill-gotten gains, and the food that will not pass his lips.
Superstition, perhaps, but he will not touch the belongings of pirates.
Departing, he kisses Elizabeth’s cheek, and Anamaria appears at his side. She leans forward and laughs into Will’s ear, and Will Turner blushes.
Later, Anamaria embraces him in the darkness. She belongs to no pirate but herself. Perhaps it doesn’t count.
Olivia/Elliot
So I go at a maddening pace, and I pretend that it's taking your place
But what else can you do, at the end of a love affair?
Olivia taps her finger on the dashboard and waits for Munch to get in the car. She's reading a file while she waits, and she is eager to get moving. The door opens, and Fin steps in.
"Sorry," he says, ducking his head and buckling up. "Munch says he's not feeling so good."
Olivia rolls her eyes. "I bet it was the fourth donut."
"Yeah, well, I'm not qualified to talk about that, but let's just say, he's looking a little more like icing."
Olivia puts the car in gear and pulls out of the parking spot.
Thirty-three minutes drive (eight waiting at red lights); two minutes up the stairs; fifteen minutes with the guy; one minute down the stairs; four throwing a temper tantrum before starting the car again.
Elliot asked for a transfer twenty-five days ago, but didn’t show up for work a day later. Check of his apartment; Kathy’s place; the pub. Nothing.
She thinks of Alex, and thinks about contacting that guy. She’s a cop; she has her suspicions.
Olivia’s not sure if he ever existed, and she’s sick of being haunted by a ghost she made love to once.
Twenty-four days. Not that she's counting.
The end of a love affair - a fiesta of het double drabbles for Sloane because she is hot stuff <3
Lex/Chloe
So I walk a little too fast and I drive a little too fast
And I'm reckless it's true, but what else can you do at the end of a love affair?
It was an accident, and he knows that, but it does not stop him from pulling out all the stops to investigate every angle, every hint; every snitch on the street and every camera in the city. Too many people with black eyes and plummeting reputations before Lex Luthor is satisfied that it was an accident.
Chloe: a little too curious, a little too clever, lost control on an icy curve in Lex’s car. The mechanic said he was lucky not to have been with her, and the coroner said she was barely recognisable. Lex had her face reconstructed before the funeral, and she looked perfect. Not even Clark could tell.
He has plans for Clark.
And it was not the brakes, nor the suspension; not the mechanic nor the council workers.
Lex puts a finger to Chloe’s cold cheek, and does not attend the funeral. He leaves the mourners to their small tears and their petty condolences. None of them know what she was worth.
It was Lex, and it was quick. He owed her that much.
It was his parting gift to her.
Lex will miss Chloe, but the legacy she has left him will last long enough.
Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson
So I talk a little too much, and I laugh a little too much
And my voice is too loud, when I'm out in a crowd
So that people are apt to stare
"I was nearly God, once," Emma says, coming up behind him.
"Yes, I know," he speaks but does not turn. "And wouldn't that have been a delight."
"Yes, actually, I think that it would have been." She pats his shoulder once and gives it a squeeze. "You could have been my voice! You've got the perfect whine for it."
"I resent that."
"Yes, I know," she says, imitating his earlier annoyance. “But I’m not sure I would have looked as good as Alanis Morissette did in that dress.”
“And that’s because you’re not worth the twenty grand,” he mumbles, his irritation evident.
"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Emma is all innocence and delight, as if she has just noticed his busy hands.
"You might be, if you don't shut up and get out of my light."
Emma laughs out loud. "How's the knitting going, Alan?" she asks loudly. He looks around. She would not call it frantic, but it is certainly not sedate. Quieter, she speaks with a smile. “I’m sorry. Is it still a secret?”
"I can make it so you can never work in this country again, Emma."
She laughs again, and kisses him on the cheek.
Boromir and Eowyn
Do they know, do they care, that it's only that I'm lonely and low as can be?
And the smile on my face isn't really a smile at all
“You must go,” she says, and reaches out. He flinches from her touch, as if it burns him. Eowyn withdraws her hand - she will not leave it where it is not welcome.
The day has been long; the visiting delegation from Gondor arrived just after the Riders departed, and the task to entertain them fell to her. She spent the day with the delegation and with Wormtongue, and did not see her uncle. She sang whilst they drank, but at least she got to ride as well.
She misses her brother.
She had hoped that Boromir's presence would bring a sense of relief after her day, but sweaty palms and wet kisses proved no release, not when her brother had not returned by the time she retired.
He lies on her blankets, and looks at her with hooded eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady of Rohan,” he says formally, and were it not for fear of waking others, she would yell. As it is, she rolls away and gestures to his clothes.
He stands and pulls them on, and walks to the door. He turns to look at her.
In this light, he looks a little like Eomer.
Erik/Mystique
So I smoke a little too much, and I drink a little too much
It is dark in the kitchen, but Pyro follows the laughter to the back porch where Magneto and Mystique recline on banana lounge chairs. Mystique turns to look at him as she drinks from a glass bottle, her expression indecipherable, but Magneto smiles and beckons him forward.
"Pyro," he says, "you're never too young for a good beer." He passes the bottle to Pyro; stands. "One moment, friends," and disappears into the house. Mystique watches Magneto as he wanders out of sight, and turns back to Pyro. She produces a cigar from somewhere, and he tries not to think about where she was keeping it.
"Have a light?" she asks, and from anyone else, at any time, it would be a come on. But Pyro's not stupid, and he produces his lighter with relatively fumbling, and lights her cigar.
"I hope you have one of those for me, Mystique," Magneto reappears with two more bottles, and pushes one in front of Mystique as he sits down. She takes a puff from her cigar and softly inserts it in the corner of Magneto's mouth. She kisses the other corner, and lifts the new bottle to her mouth.
Smoke fills the verandah.
Anamaria/Norrington
And the tunes I request are not always the best
But the ones where the trumpets blare!
"Have you considered piracy?"
Norrington continues to watch the happy couple, a hand on the tankard containing his untouched beer.
"I said, have you considered piracy?" Anamaria asks, louder, and leans over Norrington's shoulder. She follows his gaze. "Are we jealous of Will, or of Elizabeth?" she asks conversationally, as if she doesn't have anything riding on his answer.
He continues to ignore her, and she departs, leaving him his beer and his silence. She dances with Will and Elizabeth, people that he knows are pirates, and Sparrow in a bad wig, and it grates that he cannot arrest them and be done with it. It is a farce, the wedding, the dancing, and the insincere condolences from the other wedding guests hoping to curry his favour. But he continues to sit, with the beer purchased by ill-gotten gains, and the food that will not pass his lips.
Superstition, perhaps, but he will not touch the belongings of pirates.
Departing, he kisses Elizabeth’s cheek, and Anamaria appears at his side. She leans forward and laughs into Will’s ear, and Will Turner blushes.
Later, Anamaria embraces him in the darkness. She belongs to no pirate but herself. Perhaps it doesn’t count.
Olivia/Elliot
So I go at a maddening pace, and I pretend that it's taking your place
But what else can you do, at the end of a love affair?
Olivia taps her finger on the dashboard and waits for Munch to get in the car. She's reading a file while she waits, and she is eager to get moving. The door opens, and Fin steps in.
"Sorry," he says, ducking his head and buckling up. "Munch says he's not feeling so good."
Olivia rolls her eyes. "I bet it was the fourth donut."
"Yeah, well, I'm not qualified to talk about that, but let's just say, he's looking a little more like icing."
Olivia puts the car in gear and pulls out of the parking spot.
Thirty-three minutes drive (eight waiting at red lights); two minutes up the stairs; fifteen minutes with the guy; one minute down the stairs; four throwing a temper tantrum before starting the car again.
Elliot asked for a transfer twenty-five days ago, but didn’t show up for work a day later. Check of his apartment; Kathy’s place; the pub. Nothing.
She thinks of Alex, and thinks about contacting that guy. She’s a cop; she has her suspicions.
Olivia’s not sure if he ever existed, and she’s sick of being haunted by a ghost she made love to once.
Twenty-four days. Not that she's counting.
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 03:04 am (UTC)Oh - that's *good.* So good I will forgive you for not writing a full story (what is it with these fucking drabbles anyway??? Why can't you use your talents for good not evil?).
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 03:11 am (UTC)Just for you, I'll write something longer than two hundred words. What do you want?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 03:53 am (UTC)Oz is love, my friends. Feel the luuurrrve.
And that's a heck of a story you're writing there. It could be a novel. That would be cool! I'd love to see a good SVU novel. It needs consolidation, though. It's a bit confusing in parts. But I'm sure that's how all good - co-written fics start out.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 04:22 am (UTC)Yeah. Plus, we don't help matters by yelling at eachother AIM about "OMG what the fuck is going to happen next?!" and "OMG he's watching pron!" etc.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-08 03:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-08 05:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-08 05:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 03:48 am (UTC)These are so good. Seriously.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 04:20 am (UTC)So, where's that hot stuff, huh? You know what I'm talking about.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 04:08 am (UTC)You are a delight. So is she. I suppose that explains why all of these are just so grand.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 04:19 am (UTC)So, you know what you should do? You should come to Swancon this year, because we are going to write collaborative fanfic ALL WEEKEND. And it will be bad, but written at two in the morning, and be absolutely hilarious.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-07 01:26 pm (UTC)LUSTLOVELUST.*cough*
And you, miss, yes you are an evil temptress. But I just bought a new computer so I'm so not getting to go anywhere this year. :-(
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-08 02:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-08 05:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-12 03:16 am (UTC)Also, there should be more pyro/magneto/mystique fic that deals with the time between x2 & x3. hmm.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-13 10:10 am (UTC)I agree, re: the pyro/magneto/mystique. And then there should be Rogue/Pyro, after X3.