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thebratqueenIt's always strange when I'm in the headspace of wanting to write but not yet having that click that tells me it's the right time to actually put full stories onto the page. I did just finish a huge project, though, so I suspect I'm currently still in my writing refactory period. I need to sit and cuddle with my words, then resume the foreplay.
Still, the mind keeps going. So I present to you random fic things that are floating in my head right now, which may or may not ever make it to future fic. (In the case of pieces for current WIPs, it's not that the WIPs won't get new additions, it's that I can never swear what random thoughts will make it to the final editing phase.)
A selection:
Protocol:
"So pretty, are they not, my leige?"
Angel knew of so many things that made being at a formal party something which made him want to stake himself. Having to deal with Randy upped the list by at least five items.
Randy put his hand on Angel's arm, increasing the list by a factor of ten. "Look at how they move amongst us. Such grace. Such beauty. One would dare to put word to tongue that might call they themselves angels."
"Hand," Angel said, feeling one syllable was about all he wanted to commit to dealing with this.
To his credit, Randy snatched his hand away. An elaborate pantomime ensued that involved, as far as Angel could tell, an apology, an attempt to pretend he hadn't meant to touch Angel in the first place, and then a grand sweeping gesture in the direction of Wesley and Zhanna who were together on the far side of the banquet hall.
"My humblest and most heart-yearning request for forgiveness, your grace," Randy said. "You must pardon my memory for failing to rise to the occasion of proper behavior on this auspicious night. But the rapturous sight of those to whom we have earned the deepest vows has moved even I to dare tread on lands my feet are not often blessed to walk on."
Angel thought long and hard about getting a drink. "Okay."
"You must agree that they are without comparison," Randy framed Wesley and Zhanna by making a square with his thumbs and index fingers. "Look at how they glitter, like two jewels amongst the offal of the lesser beings around them."
"Like my family?" Angel asked.
"Diamonds from charcoal, your excellence," Randy said, transitioning smoothly. "Who too gleam at us from afar and inspire the rest of us into greatness."
"If you say so," Angel motioned at one of the waiters. Better to get blood from a cup than a neck. Not that he'd stoop low enough to drink from someone that Angel was sure would leave a bitter, if not greasy aftertaste.
"With such inspiration do we find ourselves dreaming," Randy continued. "Thinking of what we might have and of possibilities of what might be. Daring to hope to take pleasure, however momentary, from that which we do not have."
Angel made a non-committal grunt. Across the room he could see Wes bending his head to say something to Zhanna. Unfortunately his back was to Angel, so Angel couldn't even try to lip-read.
"Your majestic sire could do such a thing, if it was of interest to him," Randy said.
"Hum?" Angel squinted, wondering if he saw Zhanna talking to Wes in return.
"I could arrange for it tonight," Randy touched his arm again. "For every night of my stay, if you wished it."
"Hand," Angel reminded him. Then he realized there was an unspoken question. "Wait - what?"
Randy nodded in the direction of his wife. "Arrangements could be made, if that is what you desired."
"For your sake," Angel said, "I hope I am *really* misunderstanding you."
***
Angelusverse:
"Looks like we're staying the night," Angelus announced.
"There's only one bed," Wesley said, looking into the bedroom in question.
Angelus appeared over his shoulder. "I call bathroom side."
"I'll sleep on the floor," Wesley told him.
"Oh no," Angelus put a hand to his heart. "The forces of good are making themselves uncomfortable just to spite me. However shall I care?"
"You don't need blankets and there are enough pillows for two," Wesley dumped his satchel down onto the nightstand. "You can share."
"What part of me not giving a crap about your happiness was not getting through to you?" Angelus asked.
"Maintain your current attitude and I'll douse the sheets with Holy Water," Wesley replied. "Then you can be the one to sleep on the floor with the dust and splinters."
"More stake jokes?" Angelus leaned against the doorway. "Does your boyfriend mind that you can't be alone with me two seconds before making with the phallic imagery?"
"*Charles*," Wesley said, enunciating the name precisely, "understands that there is work to be done."
"I'll bet he does," Angelus smirked.
Wesley folded his arms. "What was that supposed to mean?"
"I was agreeing with you, Wes, chill," Angelus said. "Man you're wound up for a guy who's theoretically getting laid on a regular basis."
"We're done talking for tonight," Wesley began to strip the bed of its covering, making an impromptu sleeping bag for himself on the floor.
"Can't blame you for being tense," Angelus said. He gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "All that work, no acknowledgement for what you do. All of the stress, none of the glory."
Welsey knelt down to twitch the bedspread into a proper rectangle. "As usual, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Must be rough," Angelus sat down on the corner of the bed. His left leg was close enough to Wesley's back that they almost touched. "You know everything, you know what's coming, you know what you have to do, and still nobody stands up and admits you're the brains of that operation. Take all that and add in *what* you have to do -"
"I don't have to do anything," Wesley said.
"Right, like research prophecies," Angelus said. "Like find out facts that everybody else wants to pretend don't exist. Like know in your ex-Watcher heart of hearts that if you want to protect this stupid world that means doing things that nobody else agrees with, and that deep down you secretly wish you could hate yourself for."
Wesley put his hands flat on the blanket. "I *don't* - "
"And let's not forget," Angelus leaned in, "getting down on your hands and knees and blowing your boyfriend until his eyes rolled back and enough blood stopped flowing to his brain that he, probably shooting his wad into your expert British mouth at the same time, finally agreed with *your* idea to let me be a member of the team."
"You perverted son of a - " Wesley swung without thinking. Angelus caught his fist effortlessly.
"Little tip," Angelus said, not letting his hand go, "one of the so-called good guys trying to hit one of the bad guys? Doesn't mean we said something untrue."
"Go to Hell," Wesley told him.
"Too late," Angelus replied. "But don't be pissed about it, Wes. I just wanna know: how many deep throats did it take before you were able to convince Chuckie it was his idea the whole time?"
"I'll kill you," Wesley said, his voice a great deal steadier than his entire body felt at that moment. "When this is all over, I shall kill you personally and with my bare hands."
"No, you won't," Angelus said. "And the extra-special fun part of this for you is that not only do you know that but you also know that you *can't*."
"I've killed vampires stronger and more arrogant than you," Wesley said.
Angelus's mouth curled in a slow grin. "That's not the kind of 'can't' I meant and you know it."
***
That Would Be Wrong:
They can't stop touching each other. Alone, in front of others, it doesn't matter. They try to keep a semblance of decorum but Alexis is the one who finds himself forgetting. They'll be at a table read and his foot will meet David's under the table. They'll be on set and their fingers will brush together, then entwine. It's gravity, it's magnetism. David smiles and Alexis is there.
They spend every possible moment together. Alexis would fear coming off like a pathetic stalker except that David shows up at his trailer as often if not more often than Alexis shows up at his. Off-hours they're barely apart. Alexis would call *that* nothing more than a surge in hormones, except that oddly enough sex isn't always a part of it. They're just as likely to spend the night bowling or grabbing dinner together as they are to be locked in each other's arms.
David takes it in stride. He smiles big smiles at Alexis and calls it NRE: New Relationship Energy. Alexis feels a black pit in his stomach at that. Energy is undeniable. Relationship is a word with implications that he feels he can firmly disclaim. And yet being called new feels off-putting and insulting.
It's too much to think about. So instead he goes where David leads, doesn't shoo David away when he follows him in turn, and loses himself in the feel of big hands and lips that somehow know just exactly how to kiss him behind each ear.
***
There. That's better. Now I can go shower and exercise, albeit not in that order.
Still, the mind keeps going. So I present to you random fic things that are floating in my head right now, which may or may not ever make it to future fic. (In the case of pieces for current WIPs, it's not that the WIPs won't get new additions, it's that I can never swear what random thoughts will make it to the final editing phase.)
A selection:
Protocol:
"So pretty, are they not, my leige?"
Angel knew of so many things that made being at a formal party something which made him want to stake himself. Having to deal with Randy upped the list by at least five items.
Randy put his hand on Angel's arm, increasing the list by a factor of ten. "Look at how they move amongst us. Such grace. Such beauty. One would dare to put word to tongue that might call they themselves angels."
"Hand," Angel said, feeling one syllable was about all he wanted to commit to dealing with this.
To his credit, Randy snatched his hand away. An elaborate pantomime ensued that involved, as far as Angel could tell, an apology, an attempt to pretend he hadn't meant to touch Angel in the first place, and then a grand sweeping gesture in the direction of Wesley and Zhanna who were together on the far side of the banquet hall.
"My humblest and most heart-yearning request for forgiveness, your grace," Randy said. "You must pardon my memory for failing to rise to the occasion of proper behavior on this auspicious night. But the rapturous sight of those to whom we have earned the deepest vows has moved even I to dare tread on lands my feet are not often blessed to walk on."
Angel thought long and hard about getting a drink. "Okay."
"You must agree that they are without comparison," Randy framed Wesley and Zhanna by making a square with his thumbs and index fingers. "Look at how they glitter, like two jewels amongst the offal of the lesser beings around them."
"Like my family?" Angel asked.
"Diamonds from charcoal, your excellence," Randy said, transitioning smoothly. "Who too gleam at us from afar and inspire the rest of us into greatness."
"If you say so," Angel motioned at one of the waiters. Better to get blood from a cup than a neck. Not that he'd stoop low enough to drink from someone that Angel was sure would leave a bitter, if not greasy aftertaste.
"With such inspiration do we find ourselves dreaming," Randy continued. "Thinking of what we might have and of possibilities of what might be. Daring to hope to take pleasure, however momentary, from that which we do not have."
Angel made a non-committal grunt. Across the room he could see Wes bending his head to say something to Zhanna. Unfortunately his back was to Angel, so Angel couldn't even try to lip-read.
"Your majestic sire could do such a thing, if it was of interest to him," Randy said.
"Hum?" Angel squinted, wondering if he saw Zhanna talking to Wes in return.
"I could arrange for it tonight," Randy touched his arm again. "For every night of my stay, if you wished it."
"Hand," Angel reminded him. Then he realized there was an unspoken question. "Wait - what?"
Randy nodded in the direction of his wife. "Arrangements could be made, if that is what you desired."
"For your sake," Angel said, "I hope I am *really* misunderstanding you."
***
Angelusverse:
"Looks like we're staying the night," Angelus announced.
"There's only one bed," Wesley said, looking into the bedroom in question.
Angelus appeared over his shoulder. "I call bathroom side."
"I'll sleep on the floor," Wesley told him.
"Oh no," Angelus put a hand to his heart. "The forces of good are making themselves uncomfortable just to spite me. However shall I care?"
"You don't need blankets and there are enough pillows for two," Wesley dumped his satchel down onto the nightstand. "You can share."
"What part of me not giving a crap about your happiness was not getting through to you?" Angelus asked.
"Maintain your current attitude and I'll douse the sheets with Holy Water," Wesley replied. "Then you can be the one to sleep on the floor with the dust and splinters."
"More stake jokes?" Angelus leaned against the doorway. "Does your boyfriend mind that you can't be alone with me two seconds before making with the phallic imagery?"
"*Charles*," Wesley said, enunciating the name precisely, "understands that there is work to be done."
"I'll bet he does," Angelus smirked.
Wesley folded his arms. "What was that supposed to mean?"
"I was agreeing with you, Wes, chill," Angelus said. "Man you're wound up for a guy who's theoretically getting laid on a regular basis."
"We're done talking for tonight," Wesley began to strip the bed of its covering, making an impromptu sleeping bag for himself on the floor.
"Can't blame you for being tense," Angelus said. He gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "All that work, no acknowledgement for what you do. All of the stress, none of the glory."
Welsey knelt down to twitch the bedspread into a proper rectangle. "As usual, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Must be rough," Angelus sat down on the corner of the bed. His left leg was close enough to Wesley's back that they almost touched. "You know everything, you know what's coming, you know what you have to do, and still nobody stands up and admits you're the brains of that operation. Take all that and add in *what* you have to do -"
"I don't have to do anything," Wesley said.
"Right, like research prophecies," Angelus said. "Like find out facts that everybody else wants to pretend don't exist. Like know in your ex-Watcher heart of hearts that if you want to protect this stupid world that means doing things that nobody else agrees with, and that deep down you secretly wish you could hate yourself for."
Wesley put his hands flat on the blanket. "I *don't* - "
"And let's not forget," Angelus leaned in, "getting down on your hands and knees and blowing your boyfriend until his eyes rolled back and enough blood stopped flowing to his brain that he, probably shooting his wad into your expert British mouth at the same time, finally agreed with *your* idea to let me be a member of the team."
"You perverted son of a - " Wesley swung without thinking. Angelus caught his fist effortlessly.
"Little tip," Angelus said, not letting his hand go, "one of the so-called good guys trying to hit one of the bad guys? Doesn't mean we said something untrue."
"Go to Hell," Wesley told him.
"Too late," Angelus replied. "But don't be pissed about it, Wes. I just wanna know: how many deep throats did it take before you were able to convince Chuckie it was his idea the whole time?"
"I'll kill you," Wesley said, his voice a great deal steadier than his entire body felt at that moment. "When this is all over, I shall kill you personally and with my bare hands."
"No, you won't," Angelus said. "And the extra-special fun part of this for you is that not only do you know that but you also know that you *can't*."
"I've killed vampires stronger and more arrogant than you," Wesley said.
Angelus's mouth curled in a slow grin. "That's not the kind of 'can't' I meant and you know it."
***
That Would Be Wrong:
They can't stop touching each other. Alone, in front of others, it doesn't matter. They try to keep a semblance of decorum but Alexis is the one who finds himself forgetting. They'll be at a table read and his foot will meet David's under the table. They'll be on set and their fingers will brush together, then entwine. It's gravity, it's magnetism. David smiles and Alexis is there.
They spend every possible moment together. Alexis would fear coming off like a pathetic stalker except that David shows up at his trailer as often if not more often than Alexis shows up at his. Off-hours they're barely apart. Alexis would call *that* nothing more than a surge in hormones, except that oddly enough sex isn't always a part of it. They're just as likely to spend the night bowling or grabbing dinner together as they are to be locked in each other's arms.
David takes it in stride. He smiles big smiles at Alexis and calls it NRE: New Relationship Energy. Alexis feels a black pit in his stomach at that. Energy is undeniable. Relationship is a word with implications that he feels he can firmly disclaim. And yet being called new feels off-putting and insulting.
It's too much to think about. So instead he goes where David leads, doesn't shoo David away when he follows him in turn, and loses himself in the feel of big hands and lips that somehow know just exactly how to kiss him behind each ear.
***
There. That's better. Now I can go shower and exercise, albeit not in that order.
