Back, with remaining drabbles!
And the drabbles did indeed get done! Plus a new P/Q story (coming soon), plus another seven pages of Prodigal (the Seasonless World sequel). However, for now, the drabbles:
Smallville, Clark/Lex, myths, for pearl_o:
Measure of a Man
The champagne tasted flat, although of course it was anything but. Dom Perignon, on ice for a week, and in three months' time he would be the 48th and youngest President. It ought to have tasted sweeter. He drank it anyway and kept smiling.
Lionel was down on the floor, circulating and pretending to be relevant, Lucas in tow. Anytime he wanted, he could go down and look his father in the eye and watch him understanding that he'd just become a historical footnote, soak up his replacement's sour envy. He could remember a time when that would have meant everything to him.
Clark was out saving three kittens or something. He'd be here soon, though, in his rumpled suit and toting his notebook, to ask hard, unfriendly questions with a face carved out of granite.
Alexander had died of losing Hephaistion and left the world he'd conquered to tear itself to pieces. That was how Lex knew he was the greater man.
Sentinel, Jim/Blair, jewelry, for reetchick:
"Seriously, man. You're shitting me."
"No, I really dropped the keys, all right? I was a little preoccupied with keeping you from getting shot at the time, in case you hadn't noticed."
Blair thumped his head against the wall, gently, because he still had a headache from the half-assed pistol whipping, and raised his arms to contemplate the handcuffs. "Jim. Have I mentioned lately how much I truly, deeply hate you?"
"Quit making a production out of it. A squad car will come by soon as they can."
"You swore this was going to be a routine drive-by, 'take 15 minutes tops, Chief,' you said. Lorraine is never going to talk to me again."
"I thought it was Jessie."
"No, that was the last woman I stood up thanks to--" Blair stopped. "Wait just a fucking minute."
"Sorry, I can't keep track of them all," Jim said it snarky, but he looked guilty as hell.
"You idiot," Blair said, "you could've just asked."
HP, Sirius, contentedness, for liviapenn -- note, there are major OOTP spoilers here
Wet dirt, rotting leaves, and fresh hot rabbit blood. Wind cool on his nose, carrying a thousand scents no human being could ever pick up. Running, running, running, his friends beside him, yelping his laughter.
Remus stretched out studying on his bed, looking up through his untidy hair, James and Peter out at Honeydukes and no one due back for hours. Rolling around together on the grass behind the Quidditch pitch on a moonlit night, not even noticing when the sun rose. The crazy reflections of the clouds in the gleaming chrome of his motorbike. Hot butterbeer and the afterglow of a well-thrown hex.
Remus and Harry, believing him. Hippogriff wings thrusting beneath his knees, the ground like a postage stamp below. Warm hands on his shoulders in the wretched, dusty house, stroking away his mother's voice. Running free for a minute alongside the train. Fighting again at last, his wand in his hand, laughter in his throat.
He smiled, and the veil closed over him.
DD, Matt/Bullseye, request from lunaris_ for slash between Matt and anyone, and Bullseye for liviapenn
Bullseye stared at the dartboard, and the smiley face stared right back, every one of the darts placed just right. He couldn't have done better himself. "Liam," he yelled, and threw a peanut to ricochet off the Guinness tap and into the bartender's nose when that didn't get his attention over the football match. He jerked his head at the board. "Whose work?"
"The blind Yank, over in the corner," Liam said, daring to give him a nasty smirk. "Looks like you've got some competition."
He looked. Black sunglasses, red and white cane, head tilted a little like he was listening. Bugger that. He pulled the board off the wall and slammed it down on the guy's table.
"No blind man threw those," he snarled. "So what kind of game are you playing at, mate?"
"Do we know each other?" Yank all right, and New York by the sounds of it.
"You can call me--" Bullseye took the glasses off with a swipe and snapped his fingers in front of the blue eyes. Not a blink, though he'd done it too fast for the man to be ready for it. "--Bullseye." He scowled.
"Let me guess, local darts champ?" The fellow sounded like he was laughing in the back of his mouth.
"I never miss what I aim for," Bullseye said, trying to stay angry. He pulled out one of the darts and stroked the feathered end over the man's cheek. Nice cheekbones, actually. Nice mouth.
The Yank lifted an eyebrow. "Never?"
Whew. It's lucky I had a vacation to get these done in. ::g:: Thanks to everyone who requested, and once again to the lj fairy! All the drabbles are up on my website together now, as:
Cast Upon The Waters.