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said_scarlett) wrote2005-03-13 05:03 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2005-03-13 05:03 pm
Home Again, Home Again
So I wrote drabbles on the plane. A few of these were inspired by other things, and those involved will know what I'm talking about. Especially number two. Anyway, I am home now and sleepy and hungry. Enjoy the drabbles!
“….that greasy, slimy, egotistical prick!”
Remus Lupin snapped awake as the yelling got louder and louder, the heel of his hand pressed firmly into his cheek. He was rather ashamed to admit that he’d dozed off during an Order meeting, but it wasn’t as though they’d been discussing anything important. And with it being after the moon and all….
Apparently Severus had upset Tonks again. Remus wasn’t surprised. Severus himself was absent, and Remus blinked blearily at Tonks, mind still half asleep.
“Isn’t he just a….a bastard?”
“Mmmhmm,” Remus responded, muzzy with sleep. “But he’s quite good in bed.”
The fire was warm on Methos’ skin, a stark contrast to the cold of the desert night. Kronos was pressed tightly against his back, hard muscle against hard muscle, sweat slicked limbs tangled in a post-coital heap. Kronos insisted on coupling beneath the open skies. Methos couldn’t care less where they did it, only that they did.
“Do you ever want something more?” Methos asked, with interest.
“More? What more is there?” Kronos’ voice was thick with honest confusion. “The desert is ours, brother. There is no more to want.”
It was then Methos knew that he had to leave.
It was Tuesday when I first saw her, all legs and heels and a mouth that was too pretty to frown like that. I was on desk duty, taking reports and marking files. It was the shits, but that’s how it was. She sat down and crossed her legs, took out a cigarette. I asked her what the problem was and she told me she’d been burgled. I told her it wasn’t right, a pretty bird like that getting burgled. She slapped me and told me I had some nerve. I told her she had spunk. She asked me out to dinner, and she slapped me again when I tried to kiss her afterwards.
Two months later we’re living together. No ‘may I’ or ‘how about it’, she just comes over with a suitcase and tells me ‘Alastor, it’s time we moved in together.’. She kept me up all night and yelled at me for sleeping in. She spat like a cat when we fought and she purred like a kitten in bed. Two more months and I was in love. I had a promotion coming, too.
I asked her to marry me.
She slapped me, and walked out.
It wasn’t Azkban-cold, but it was cold. Sirius Black shivered under the borrowed blanket - in borrowed pajamas, on a borrowed bed, because he owned nothing - and thought longingly of roaring fires and down comforters. There was a draft in the room and he could hear the wind. It moaned. He must have made a noise, as a few minutes later the bedroom light was turned on.
“Alright, Sirius?”
“I’m cold, Moony,” he answered, honestly.
“So am I.”
Oddly enough, Remus slipping into the bed next to him didn’t warm him as much as he thought it would.
In his dreams, he was running. He felt the wind in his hair and the ground thudding beneath his feet, sometimes so hard that he felt the shocks all the way up to his hips. Sometimes he ran across the ten yard line, sometimes down the street he’d grown up on, and sometimes he was sailing on the soles of his feet through more exotic climes. Deserts and beaches and foreign markets. And he just as he reached the end of the road, or beach or bazaar, he would wake.
Those were the mornings Joe Dawson hated the most.
“….that greasy, slimy, egotistical prick!”
Remus Lupin snapped awake as the yelling got louder and louder, the heel of his hand pressed firmly into his cheek. He was rather ashamed to admit that he’d dozed off during an Order meeting, but it wasn’t as though they’d been discussing anything important. And with it being after the moon and all….
Apparently Severus had upset Tonks again. Remus wasn’t surprised. Severus himself was absent, and Remus blinked blearily at Tonks, mind still half asleep.
“Isn’t he just a….a bastard?”
“Mmmhmm,” Remus responded, muzzy with sleep. “But he’s quite good in bed.”
The fire was warm on Methos’ skin, a stark contrast to the cold of the desert night. Kronos was pressed tightly against his back, hard muscle against hard muscle, sweat slicked limbs tangled in a post-coital heap. Kronos insisted on coupling beneath the open skies. Methos couldn’t care less where they did it, only that they did.
“Do you ever want something more?” Methos asked, with interest.
“More? What more is there?” Kronos’ voice was thick with honest confusion. “The desert is ours, brother. There is no more to want.”
It was then Methos knew that he had to leave.
It was Tuesday when I first saw her, all legs and heels and a mouth that was too pretty to frown like that. I was on desk duty, taking reports and marking files. It was the shits, but that’s how it was. She sat down and crossed her legs, took out a cigarette. I asked her what the problem was and she told me she’d been burgled. I told her it wasn’t right, a pretty bird like that getting burgled. She slapped me and told me I had some nerve. I told her she had spunk. She asked me out to dinner, and she slapped me again when I tried to kiss her afterwards.
Two months later we’re living together. No ‘may I’ or ‘how about it’, she just comes over with a suitcase and tells me ‘Alastor, it’s time we moved in together.’. She kept me up all night and yelled at me for sleeping in. She spat like a cat when we fought and she purred like a kitten in bed. Two more months and I was in love. I had a promotion coming, too.
I asked her to marry me.
She slapped me, and walked out.
It wasn’t Azkban-cold, but it was cold. Sirius Black shivered under the borrowed blanket - in borrowed pajamas, on a borrowed bed, because he owned nothing - and thought longingly of roaring fires and down comforters. There was a draft in the room and he could hear the wind. It moaned. He must have made a noise, as a few minutes later the bedroom light was turned on.
“Alright, Sirius?”
“I’m cold, Moony,” he answered, honestly.
“So am I.”
Oddly enough, Remus slipping into the bed next to him didn’t warm him as much as he thought it would.
In his dreams, he was running. He felt the wind in his hair and the ground thudding beneath his feet, sometimes so hard that he felt the shocks all the way up to his hips. Sometimes he ran across the ten yard line, sometimes down the street he’d grown up on, and sometimes he was sailing on the soles of his feet through more exotic climes. Deserts and beaches and foreign markets. And he just as he reached the end of the road, or beach or bazaar, he would wake.
Those were the mornings Joe Dawson hated the most.
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The Moody/McGonagall was just plain perfect - you catch Moody's voice fabulously, and I can exactly picture young Minerva looking and acting how you describe her. The Sirius/Remus bit is suitably sad and sort of creepy, but it's the Joe drabble that gets me in the gut - it reminds me vividly of how uncomfortable and pathetic I felt on his behalf during the Ahriman thing, and totally cements my love and sorrow for that man. Damn good stuff.
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I condensed that epic McMoody I was writing a while go for the drabble. I love the idea of them together, so much.
Joe....gah. I love Joe, so much. Now, moreso than ever.
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Yeah, I... Joe. *Sighs* I just don't even know what to say in regards to him, except that he's so damned cute and wonderful. And for god's sake, I could strangle the writers for never ever giving him any happy.
Joe needs happy. I think that's my next fan-fic campaign, right there - coming up with some happy for Joe. *Plots*
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I especially love the Remus/Severus one. I'd love to see the aftermath of that! And the McGonagall/Moody one was especially wonderful.
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I can just imagine Tonks' stunned face. Poor Remus just up and mumbled it out without even thinking. The McMoody one was actually a very cut down version of an epic fic I had started a while ago, but lost in a harddrive crash. I'd like at some point to rewrite it.
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