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Okay - I've probably stretched the week thing a little because I procrastinate terribly!
But for Valentine's Day (bleah!! :) ) how about some ficlets by request while I noodle around before I start my next Big Bangs.
Let me take advantage of the small window of time I have LJ access at work (they take it away, then give it back, then take it away again, playing with my emotions!).
But for Valentine's Day (bleah!! :) ) how about some ficlets by request while I noodle around before I start my next Big Bangs.
Give me a pairing, any I've ever written (or any you think I'd be willing to write/know who they are/maybe have heard of them) and a word prompt.
Let me take advantage of the small window of time I have LJ access at work (they take it away, then give it back, then take it away again, playing with my emotions!).
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Eames is having fun ogling to lovely slip of a thing in front of him in the queue at his favourite cafe when the aforementioned lovely thing turns his face sideways. He's saying something to a girl he's with who has far too many facial piercings but that isn't what nearly gives Eames a coronary.
"Arthur?" Eames wheezes, taking in the mohawk, red and black striped shirt and skinny black jeans.
"Ye- oh, hey," Arthur says, looking a little surprised but not otherwise ruffled which is barmy when Eames' whole world has tipped sideways.
"Arthur?" Eames tries again, his usually expansive vocabulary reduced to a single word.
"Yes?" Arthur says slowly, probably watching the way Eames is going a disturbing shade of puce. "Eames, are you alright?"
"Did you hit your head?" Eames finally blurts and Arthur's companion raises a drawn-on eyebrow at him.
"Is he having a stroke?" the girl asks, starting to look concerned and Arthur frowns and shuffles her sideways so he can put hands on Eames' shoulders and shake him gently, back and forth.
"Hey, you with us?" Arthur asks and his tone is gentle and he looks like Arthur, but not at the same time like he's some parallel version of the uptight, stuffy Arthur Eames is used to. Worry creeps into Arthur's features and he asks, "Are you having a stroke?"
"No... just..." Eames can't manage anything more coherent and he can't reach for his poker chip with Arthur holding his arms by his sides like he wants to. He does the second-best thing, recounting his journey to the cafe, walking it backwards in his head to make sure there's no blank spots. "What on earth are you wearing?"
Success is forming a complete sentence.
Arthur looks down at himself, back up at Eames and then rolls his eyes like it's just occurred to him what Eames' problem is. He shrugs, the movement making the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans part company and Eames nearly chokes on his tongue at the flash of flat, fascinating belly it reveals all too briefly.
"I'm off the clock," Arthur says.
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*flails about*
Yesssssssss.
:)