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Random drabbles and ficlets....
Red Cap, Stargate, Farscape, Blake's 7. Some of these have been posted to b7Friday, or FarscapeFriday....
Farscape Songfic drabble challenge. Scorpius meets Debbie Gibson's "Another Brick Falls". The world does not end.
Life will always be a little tough.
He understands this. Understands, too, that it doesn't matter if life is tough. He has to be tougher.
There are days I fall behind the pack.
Only he *is* the pack, because he is Scorpius, and he refuses to let it be said that he's inferior.
Thorn gets stuck right in my side.
John Crichton, he can't even pull him out and make it bleed. That would be... A betrayal of his own personal mantra.
A thought that is in total isolation.
Wormholes. Secret key to the universe. Total annihilation.
=-=-
Red Cap
Angie and Bruce have left on their honeymoon (and Brucie has sworn he'll pay her back for the photo-op), and now it's just a few of them left in the reception hall. The main bulk have gone home, gone back to their on-base quarters.
There's Burns against one wall, his champagne half-drunk, Howard next to him. Neve came in from London, said she wouldn't miss this for the world (even if she did miss the ceremony--and Jo hasn't missed the way the other woman keeps eyeing Roper). That second lieutenant from the Coldstreams is propping up Frost, and Vicary almost looks jealous. Except that he's got that office sprite out of Commander Jenison's office teasing him gently.
Vicary must have always had a thing for the pixie-ish ones.
"McDonagh?"
His voice makes her half-smile, and she twists the bouquet Angie threw at her seconds before leaving. "Roper."
"Wanna dance?"
"There's no music."
He shrugs, points to where Frost has dragged her lieutenant towards the door, Vicary and Burns following. "They won't notice."
"Is that... Never mind." She steps into his personal space, watches his eyes dillate. And smirks. "Let's dance, then."
A smirk lights his lips, and he catches her by the waist, twirls her around a moment, then settles for gentle swaying to a non-existant beat. A cough sounds from behind him, and she peers around his neck. Howard looks neutral, but she could have sworn his lips had been smiling a moment before. "Sir?"
"They're locking the place up. I hear there's a disco being borrowed for the after-reception party."
"Right, sir." She disentangles herself from Roper, but keeps hold of his hand.
"I'm tired, McDonagh." His chin is on her shoulder, and she can feel him pressed up behind her. Howard's eyes appraise them for a moment, and he gives a swift nod. And simply leaves them standing there.
"Roper..."
"I'm not going to apologize."
And there's probably nothing to be sorry for. Except, he better *not* be tired. "Let's go."
=-=-
Blake's 7 Happy endings challenge. Post-Blake.
"So, tell me." She smiled indulgently at him, negligently taking the grapes he was holding out just for her. "Did it go as you planned?"
Lazily, he smiled, taking a grape for himself. "Well, my dear. That depends on how you look at it." His sardonic smirk came to the fore. "And whether I plan to let you live longer than a week."
"Oh, Avon," Servalan said, her fingers brushing his as she took another grape. "I think I can guarantee that you live longer. Still," She sat straighter, "It's a pity about Tarrant. He was so... pliable."
=-=-
Farscape Songfic drabble. Mazzy Star's "Fade Into You"
Fade into you, strange you never knew. The words chase themselves around and around and around, and he can't stop, can't get them to resolve into something more meaningful. He thinks they came from Crichton's brain, but he can't be certain because then Scorpy put him in the chair (love the chair, so love the chair, never want it to fade into you--). A stranger's heart without a home, he has no home, she has no home, Scorpy? Scorpius has his chair. Put your hands into your head. And it's strange you ever knew.
=-=-
Stargate: SG-1 Strange little piece I wrote after watching 'Shades of Grey'.
"Did they teach you to lie like this?"
He shifted, cuddled her closer.
"To lie with everything including tone of voice, and eyes, and mouth?"
His hand snaked down to brush her skin.
"Don't avoid this."
The hand stilled, then slowly moved away, the arm it was attached to also falling back, flopping on the bed.
He sighed.
"Sam..."
It was her turn to try to distract, her own hand reaching out to touch his chest.
"This isn't real, is it."
She sounds sure.
"It is."
He rolled back, sliding his hands over her body again. Gently, reverently.
"But they taught you to lie."
He hates the sound of the tears that are thick in her voice.
"But not to you."
The hands still.
"Jack."
Lips touch her cheek, gentle. Then he dropped his head to her shoulder. A sigh rippled out again.
"I can't do this."
He knows. Has always known.
"It's not a lie, Sam."
But it is. It has to be. Because if this is real, then nothing out there is real.
"Kiss me."
He felt surprised, but did it.
"Jack... I can't keep doing this. I can't keep not knowing if this is real."
The hands are suddenly more insistant, sliding here and there, as if impressing upon the owner exactly how she feels.
"I'm sorry."
Regret on both sides, and he knows this is the last time. Because he can't keep lying.
"Goodbye, Sam."
The words wake him from the dream, make him sit up in his darkened bedroom. She isn't there, of course. She never has been. And she probably won't be.
=-=-
Hrm... That's it, I think....
Farscape Songfic drabble challenge. Scorpius meets Debbie Gibson's "Another Brick Falls". The world does not end.
Life will always be a little tough.
He understands this. Understands, too, that it doesn't matter if life is tough. He has to be tougher.
There are days I fall behind the pack.
Only he *is* the pack, because he is Scorpius, and he refuses to let it be said that he's inferior.
Thorn gets stuck right in my side.
John Crichton, he can't even pull him out and make it bleed. That would be... A betrayal of his own personal mantra.
A thought that is in total isolation.
Wormholes. Secret key to the universe. Total annihilation.
=-=-
Red Cap
Angie and Bruce have left on their honeymoon (and Brucie has sworn he'll pay her back for the photo-op), and now it's just a few of them left in the reception hall. The main bulk have gone home, gone back to their on-base quarters.
There's Burns against one wall, his champagne half-drunk, Howard next to him. Neve came in from London, said she wouldn't miss this for the world (even if she did miss the ceremony--and Jo hasn't missed the way the other woman keeps eyeing Roper). That second lieutenant from the Coldstreams is propping up Frost, and Vicary almost looks jealous. Except that he's got that office sprite out of Commander Jenison's office teasing him gently.
Vicary must have always had a thing for the pixie-ish ones.
"McDonagh?"
His voice makes her half-smile, and she twists the bouquet Angie threw at her seconds before leaving. "Roper."
"Wanna dance?"
"There's no music."
He shrugs, points to where Frost has dragged her lieutenant towards the door, Vicary and Burns following. "They won't notice."
"Is that... Never mind." She steps into his personal space, watches his eyes dillate. And smirks. "Let's dance, then."
A smirk lights his lips, and he catches her by the waist, twirls her around a moment, then settles for gentle swaying to a non-existant beat. A cough sounds from behind him, and she peers around his neck. Howard looks neutral, but she could have sworn his lips had been smiling a moment before. "Sir?"
"They're locking the place up. I hear there's a disco being borrowed for the after-reception party."
"Right, sir." She disentangles herself from Roper, but keeps hold of his hand.
"I'm tired, McDonagh." His chin is on her shoulder, and she can feel him pressed up behind her. Howard's eyes appraise them for a moment, and he gives a swift nod. And simply leaves them standing there.
"Roper..."
"I'm not going to apologize."
And there's probably nothing to be sorry for. Except, he better *not* be tired. "Let's go."
=-=-
Blake's 7 Happy endings challenge. Post-Blake.
"So, tell me." She smiled indulgently at him, negligently taking the grapes he was holding out just for her. "Did it go as you planned?"
Lazily, he smiled, taking a grape for himself. "Well, my dear. That depends on how you look at it." His sardonic smirk came to the fore. "And whether I plan to let you live longer than a week."
"Oh, Avon," Servalan said, her fingers brushing his as she took another grape. "I think I can guarantee that you live longer. Still," She sat straighter, "It's a pity about Tarrant. He was so... pliable."
=-=-
Farscape Songfic drabble. Mazzy Star's "Fade Into You"
Fade into you, strange you never knew. The words chase themselves around and around and around, and he can't stop, can't get them to resolve into something more meaningful. He thinks they came from Crichton's brain, but he can't be certain because then Scorpy put him in the chair (love the chair, so love the chair, never want it to fade into you--). A stranger's heart without a home, he has no home, she has no home, Scorpy? Scorpius has his chair. Put your hands into your head. And it's strange you ever knew.
=-=-
Stargate: SG-1 Strange little piece I wrote after watching 'Shades of Grey'.
"Did they teach you to lie like this?"
He shifted, cuddled her closer.
"To lie with everything including tone of voice, and eyes, and mouth?"
His hand snaked down to brush her skin.
"Don't avoid this."
The hand stilled, then slowly moved away, the arm it was attached to also falling back, flopping on the bed.
He sighed.
"Sam..."
It was her turn to try to distract, her own hand reaching out to touch his chest.
"This isn't real, is it."
She sounds sure.
"It is."
He rolled back, sliding his hands over her body again. Gently, reverently.
"But they taught you to lie."
He hates the sound of the tears that are thick in her voice.
"But not to you."
The hands still.
"Jack."
Lips touch her cheek, gentle. Then he dropped his head to her shoulder. A sigh rippled out again.
"I can't do this."
He knows. Has always known.
"It's not a lie, Sam."
But it is. It has to be. Because if this is real, then nothing out there is real.
"Kiss me."
He felt surprised, but did it.
"Jack... I can't keep doing this. I can't keep not knowing if this is real."
The hands are suddenly more insistant, sliding here and there, as if impressing upon the owner exactly how she feels.
"I'm sorry."
Regret on both sides, and he knows this is the last time. Because he can't keep lying.
"Goodbye, Sam."
The words wake him from the dream, make him sit up in his darkened bedroom. She isn't there, of course. She never has been. And she probably won't be.
=-=-
Hrm... That's it, I think....