Daniel/Teal'c, weightbench

drabble for hearsawho

It was not supposed to be sexy, and it was definitely not supposed to happen on base. But Daniel had been on PX-7529 for three weeks and he'd only just got back. Debriefing was over and he had a desk full of reports and scans and video tape to go over.

All good reasons to be anywhere but standing in the doorway to Teal'c room, watching his lift weights. Lying back on the bench, legs spread with a foot on either side. Arms raising, lowering in gentle steady rhythm.

The weights clinked as Teal'c settled the bar in place. As he sat up, slowly, Daniel smiled.

"What have we told you about using a spotter?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "That I should use one when the weights are great enough to cause exertion."

Daniel looked at the round weights, and calculated the total. He looked back at Teal'c. "Right. My mistake." He smiled, unable to keep a straight face.

Teal'c stood up, not sweating, not breathing heavily at all. As though he'd been sitting here reading a book. "I will now take a shower, DanielJackson. I would be pleased if you would join me."

"Have I told you about the game called Drop The Soap?" he asked, as he followed Teal'c towards the bathroom, already dropping his jacket onto the floor.

"Indeed you have." Teal'c looked at him, a hint of a smile appearing. "But I believe I shall require additional instruction."

Angel/Wes, spork

drabble for moonlettuce


Angel held it in front of his face, staring intently. The expression on his face was one of deep concentration, as though in another moment the hidden meaning would come clear and mystical things would be brought forth.

"It's...a spork."

Wesley nodded, patiently.

"And the call it that because...."

He'd forgot this part already. "Because it's part fork, part spoon. Angel, it's just a piece of plasticware."

Angel frowned. "But it isn't. It isn't a fork or a spoon. It's...neither. You can't eat soup with it, and the tines are too short to stab anything."

Wesley rolled his eyes. "Complain to the inventor, then. Or to the millions of Americans who seem to find no difficulty at all in using them."

"But--" He was still frowning, and Wesley could tell that he would worry about it until he'd either solved the problem or become distracted.

"Angel, do you think you could put the spork away and come over here to stick your cock in my arse?"

Angel dropped the plastic spork onto the floor, hands going to his waistband to undo his trousers, even as he was still registering Wesley's words.

"You...I what? Yes? OK."

Wesley laid back on the bed, nodding. "Much better."

Jimmy/Bosco, weight bench

for hearsawho


"What's that?" Bosco caught sight of - something - covered in clothing, sitting in the corner of Jimmy's living room. It was only the second time he'd ever been up here, and the first time they'd gone directly from the front door to the bedroom.

Jimmy glanced over. "Weight bench."

Bosco grinned. "Get much use out of it?" He had exercise equipment in his apartment, too, but his was actually used. He'd never had anything more than a towel draped over it.

Jimmy glared. "So it's been awhile. I still work out." He flexed his muscles a little, and Bosco could see his pecs through the tshirt Jimmy was wearing.

"You wanna use it now?"

"What? I thought we were--"

"It's the perfect height." Bosco walked over to it. There was a pause, then he heard Jimmy say,

"I'll get the lube and condoms. You strip."

Aziraphale/Crowley, chewing gum

drabble for elfbystarlight

Ineffability

It was...interesting. Flavourful, and somewhat amusing. It was originally a natural by-product of trees, but that had all changed and Aziraphale found himself intrigued.

And worried. Bright colours, artificial flavours and as much sugar as could be crammed into the item. It encouraged crass and rude behavior such as talking with one's mouth full. But -- it was small, and really had very few calories, and -- if one chewed it long enough, it cleaned one's teeth. That was beneficial, which made it perfectly all right.

But it was sold with candy and confections, and tasted like the sort of sugar-laden sweet that was classified as dessert, junk food, and forbidden things.

Aziraphale put the stick of chewing gum in his mouth, and began chewing.

He'd committed worse sins before this. He was fairly sure, once Crowley showed up, that he'd commit more. It didn't alleviate his guilt.

But all the best things on Earth seemed to involve guilt, and the fear that God would find out what he'd done.

Dick/Bruce, book launch

for ravurian


This was a very bad idea. He knew it, could feel it throughout his entire body. He could even list fourteen things within the immediate vicinity which contributed to his certainty that something was going to go wrong.

In about seventeen minutes. The man in the red jacket and glasses, and the two woman behind the self-help bookcase. They were armed with some sort of chemical darts.

"If you don't relax, I'm going to tell Alfred."

Bruce looked over at Dick, and scowled briefly. Just a hint of a true scowl, before forcing his expression back into the light, clueless look expected of Bruce Wayne, playboy.

Dick grinned. "That's better. Now - do you want to just trip up the security guard and knock him into the guy in the jacket? Or can I go hit the fire alarm?"

"We should--"

"Not do anything which interferes with dinner. I told Alfred." Dick glared.

"There's going to be trouble. We can't simply ignore it," Bruce told him, knowing that Dick didn't need to be reminded of where their true duty lay.

"Gosh. Trouble? Davis "The Mack" Mackelbury publishes a book detailing everyone he ever screwed over, and the day it's available exclusively at Gotham Books complete with the author signing copies and *you* think there's going to be trouble?" Dick looked at him with an expression that would have made anyone else think Dick was serious.

Bruce glared at him again, and shifted his copy of "The Things I Done" from one hand to the other, so he could hurl it more easily at the blonde woman.

"We can do anything you like, Bruce," Dick continued. "As long as we're back for dinner. In half an hour." His eyes narrowed, and Bruce knew exactly what Dick wasn't saying.

If they missed dinner, Dick was going to go back to Bludhaven. Early.

And Bruce would have to just suck it up and take another cold shower.

"Your plan will be fine," he agreed.

Peter/Egon, Egon's hair pins

for kalyw


"Ow!" Peter jerked his thumb back, and sucked on it.

Egon narrowed his eyes. "It cannot possibly have injured you that greatly."

Peter shoved his thumb in Egon's face. "Does that look like 'not greatly injured'? Huh? There's a red mark!"

Egon sighed. "Perhaps you should let me--"

"No way, Egon! You said you wanted a little romance. So that's what you're getting. Romance. Backrub, champagne, soft music. Your gorgeous lover undressing you and making passionate, sweet love to you." Peter glared at his thumb. "Is it my fault you pin your hair with nasty, sharp pieces of metal?"

"If you would just let me--"

"No! No, I'm going to do this." Peter glared at the half-undone curl on the top of Egon's head.

"This is *very* romantic," Egon said, dryly.

Peter stuck out his tongue. "Next time, you're getting yourself undressed and I'll turn on the radio."

"And we'll have sex while listening to the Yankees play?"

"Why not? It works every other night."

Carl Lyons/Gary Manning

for lianneb

Carl watched them through the binoculars, panning back and forth very slowly, making sure he made out every detail. He was certain he couldn't be seen from where he was situated, but he didn't want to risk alerting his target with any sudden movement.

He did have to shift, slightly, where he was lying on the ground. He hadn't been able to fully clear the spot to lay down behind the thick vegetation, and he'd been lying on a twig for nearly twenty minutes. Personal comfort wasn't a concern -- the mission came first, and avoiding detection meant enduring whatever he had to.

He watched closely, taking in every detail, memorising each and every thing he could see. Including the middle finger now aimed in his direction. Carl grinned, and pushed himself to his feet, letting his binoculars dangle from the strap around his neck.

"Peeping Tom now, are we?" Manning asked.

Carl grinned. "Practising my surveillance skills." He looked Gary up and down, appreciably.

Gary was wearing only a pair of running shorts, and tennis shoes. Carl thought about how long it would take to get rid of the shorts.

Probably not very long, from the looks of things. The shorts didn't leave much -- anything -- to the imagination.

Jayne (Jayne/Simon ust, Mal/Simon ust), something handwritten

ficlet for elfbystarlight set after 'Ariel' but before 'Trash'.

( It Is Written )