Yet again, this week's drabbles are for my lovely literati, because she asked so nicely. *smooch*
This one is set in S7:Ep5: 'Good Intentions'.
Not So Good Intentions, PG-13, Oz, Beecher/Keller
The window is six inches square, reinforced with strong wire mesh, set in a door that Beecher cannot open. And right now he doesn't know for sure that he would, even if he could.
Behind this tiny panel lies the one he loves, the one he's given up so much for, sacrificed another's youthful innocence just to see...
And he knows, he knows, that sex is why Keller is in the hospital wing, battered and bruised and bleeding. He knows, and he forgives. He'd forgive anything for one more chance to be with him again, but can he forgive himself?
I-Spy, G, X-Files, Mulder/Krycek
Mulder has developed a really annoying habit, one he wished he could break but he knows he can't. Every time he's out, whether he's on a grocery run or a case, his eyes are constantly roving, searching out faces in the shadows, in the crowds, in passing cars. Always looking for the one he knows is out there, the one who dogs his every move and seems to know where he's going before he figures it out himself. Yet the seeking isn't what irritates him most; it's what happens when he catches sight. Surely he shouldn't feel such damn relief...
Originally posted as: Not So Good Intentions, PG-13, Oz, Beecher/Keller, and I-Spy, G, X-Files, Mulder/Krycek
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
The One Who Sees
Losing an eye brought everything into focus. Freaky, but that's the way life goes when you're living on a Hellmouth.
Before, he'd been denial guy. Straight as an arrow, no matter what Larry said. Or Carl, in Oxnard. Or Anya. Or those guys in that club in L.A. last year...
He'd been blind until Caleb's thumb had given him sight.
Before everything had gone hazy, he'd seen Spike, all rage and fury, for him. And the first thing he'd seen when he came round in hospital was Spike, blue eyes glistening with tears he'd never shed. And hope. And love.
Seeing Is Believing
Buffy had been oblivious to everything but the pressure of leadership. She'd interrupted a hot and heavy make-out session in the basement and assumed that Spike and Xander were simply training together or fixing stuff.
In the end, it was Andrew who opened her eyes, him and his video diary. She'd come in through the back of the kitchen and found him staring, hypnotised by the playback screen. Silently, she'd crept up behind him, ready to ream him out for spying on whomever he'd been shadowing today. And then she'd seen...
Spike. Xander. Shirtless.
Lips. Hands. Grinding.
She felt stupid.
A Sight For Sore Eyes
Back from Africa, grateful for Andrew's inability to lie.
Braced for unconcern, cold dispassion, casual disregard.
Willing to plead with Angel for just one glimpse of what he thought he'd lost forever.
Unprepared for the wave of emotion that nearly breaks him there, outside the door, knowing that Spike is completely unaware of his return.
Trembling fingers comb roughly through thick locks, toying with the reality of the patch. On? Off? Sanitised cover-up or naked brutal honesty?
The door opens in the middle of indecision, loose strap dangling from his hand.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, luv."
Originally posted here.
Pimping "The Colour, Sound, and Random Object Spander Ficathon.".
Signups are open until Saturday January 15th, and fic is due seven weeks after that, on Saturday March 5th, which, quite coincidentally is my birthday. Clever, eh? ;o)
The ficathon is open to all, including those without LJs, so pimp it wherever you can!