icon ficlets #3
26/5/04 19:23![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaIf I didn't get anything else done today, at least writing was accomplished, right?
I wrote Firefly femslash and gen due South (wee!Fraser) in the comments on this entry, and some Josie and the Pussycats fic for this entry of Fox's.
And now icon ficlets! The Joan of Arcadia and Royal Tenenbaums ones are still going to get done, but probably not till I get home -- I need to catch up on Joan and rewatch the movie before I write those ones.
*****
Requested by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sinquepeda.
Natalie's tired. Exhausted, actually. And she's not drunk -- she's *not* -- but maybe she's had a little too much to drink.
"I'm not drunk, Jeremy," she mumbles against his chest.
Jeremy's trying to hold her up and unlock the door to his apartment at the same time. He says, "Actually, I'm pretty sure--"
"Jeremy!" Natalie says sharply. Fiercely. Not cutely. People say she's cute because she's small and ... cute. But there's more than that to her. "Dan's afraid of me," she mumbles. "And Casey."
"That's because you are deeply, deeply petty," Jeremy says gently, and then the door's open and he's guiding her in. She half-sits and half-trips onto the couch.
"And fierce," Natalie adds. She pushes herself down onto her back, curling up tighter.
"Yes. Yes, you are. Petty, and fierce."
Natalie's not sure where his voice is coming from. "Jeremy?"
He appears again, above her and she blinks up at him. His glasses look strange from this angle.
"I think I might be drunk."
"You noticed?" Jeremy says dryly, but Natalie doesn't answer him, because the couch is comfortable and she's tired and it's easier to close her eyes.
*****
Requested bycelli.
Ray quit smoking years ago -- it was another of those things he gave up, back when he and Stella got married.
That's the official story, at least. The truth is that he's never really *all the way* quit, not permananet and for good forever quit. He's always had a pack around for once in a while, just in case.
The lighter feels good in his hands. The cigarette feels good on his lips. He sticks his hands deep in his pockets and slouches back far, till his head rests on the back of the bench.
It's a nice evening, warm but with a cool breeze. Ray stares up at the sky and tries not to think.
He wonders if Stella will be more pissed if he doesn't come back tonight or if he does.
I wrote Firefly femslash and gen due South (wee!Fraser) in the comments on this entry, and some Josie and the Pussycats fic for this entry of Fox's.
And now icon ficlets! The Joan of Arcadia and Royal Tenenbaums ones are still going to get done, but probably not till I get home -- I need to catch up on Joan and rewatch the movie before I write those ones.
*****
Requested by
sinquepeda.Natalie's tired. Exhausted, actually. And she's not drunk -- she's *not* -- but maybe she's had a little too much to drink.
"I'm not drunk, Jeremy," she mumbles against his chest.
Jeremy's trying to hold her up and unlock the door to his apartment at the same time. He says, "Actually, I'm pretty sure--"
"Jeremy!" Natalie says sharply. Fiercely. Not cutely. People say she's cute because she's small and ... cute. But there's more than that to her. "Dan's afraid of me," she mumbles. "And Casey."
"That's because you are deeply, deeply petty," Jeremy says gently, and then the door's open and he's guiding her in. She half-sits and half-trips onto the couch.
"And fierce," Natalie adds. She pushes herself down onto her back, curling up tighter.
"Yes. Yes, you are. Petty, and fierce."
Natalie's not sure where his voice is coming from. "Jeremy?"
He appears again, above her and she blinks up at him. His glasses look strange from this angle.
"I think I might be drunk."
"You noticed?" Jeremy says dryly, but Natalie doesn't answer him, because the couch is comfortable and she's tired and it's easier to close her eyes.
*****
Requested by
celli.Ray quit smoking years ago -- it was another of those things he gave up, back when he and Stella got married.
That's the official story, at least. The truth is that he's never really *all the way* quit, not permananet and for good forever quit. He's always had a pack around for once in a while, just in case.
The lighter feels good in his hands. The cigarette feels good on his lips. He sticks his hands deep in his pockets and slouches back far, till his head rests on the back of the bench.
It's a nice evening, warm but with a cool breeze. Ray stares up at the sky and tries not to think.
He wonders if Stella will be more pissed if he doesn't come back tonight or if he does.
