Ari (creature of dust, child of God) (wisdomeagle) wrote,
Ari (creature of dust, child of God)
wisdomeagle

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thirty-two flavors (and then one)

So I said So there was that meme, awhile ago, where you comment with any pairing in a fandom you know I'm familiar with and I go either squee! or eww! for ~100 words?

Go.


But since I think some people wanted like, drabbles, and not the actual, you know, me babbling about the pairing... I wrote 33 drabbles. Just so I wouldn't disappoint anyone. I'm also going to type up some thoughts (not really meta per se, just my general impressions) about each pairing. But, without further ado... the drabbles:

Buffy: the Vampire Slayer

[Giles/Oz for glossing.]

Giles's hands close over Oz's while he's tuning.

"Hey."

"I thought I'd do the marketing." When around Oz, Giles talks less. That's cool, if it means he's realized the unreal nirvana of silence, but Oz wonders if Giles is afraid of disturbing him. It's sad; he misses hearing Giles's thoughts.

"Buy me something."

"What would you like?" Giles lets go of his hands and pats them awkwardly, the artless moment of touch lost.

"A surprise." He thinks. "And you."

"I'll be home soon," Giles says, and if he listens, Oz can almost hear his face softening into a bemused smile.


[Spike/Dawn for tinpanalley. Dark.]

Bit tastes of Slayer and soup, of darkness that purges the world and mothering caresses both. Whatever she really is, key, lock, goddess, he doesn't care. To him she's the Slayer's little sister and she's the way to Buffy's heart. Nothing else and tastes mostly, like they all do, of blood.

They call it turning 'cos the dead are not the same. They don't sweat but smell like rot. They long for blood; they stop caring. Turning changes you too. And after he's sired Dawn, she's something more, part of his heart because now he's the one what made her.


[Faith/Buffy for cadence_k. NC-17.]

Faith's finger goes into Buffy and comes out slick, and when she licks the inside of Buffy's cunt, her come is bitter. Faith had forgotten in four years what Buffy tasted like. And Buffy's changed. She's started shaving her pussy, and Faith's not complaining, but she has to relearn everything now that it's naked.

Another thing that's changed. Buffy needs her now. Buffy needs her fingers and tongue to burn their way home, the way she used to need Buffy back when she was falling over the edge. Only difference is, she's not going to let Buffy fall, not ever.


[Buffy/Tara for malnpudl.]

The warmth reaches the bottom of her toes before Tara lets her out of the hug, and Buffy doesn't know how to thank her except by clinging tighter. So they embrace, let go, embrace again, until Buffy's getting dizzy. When any of the others try to touch her, she feels like their touches burn her.

But Tara has warmth that's true, kindly fire that doesn't devour. Tara's arms and heart blanket her and will not release her. She doesn't even realize she's reaching for a kiss till her lips brush Tara's and then she's comforted and destroyed all at once.


[Oz/Xander for malnpudl.]

Oz wonders if it's possible to be something you don't believe in. To be a vampire and think vampires don't exist. To have pingingly accurate gaydar and think a) that everyone is bisexual b) that sexuality doesn't really exist. Because he looks at Xander and pretty much knows that Xander won't be happy with a girl and at the same time knows Xander really loves girls.

It's strange.

He sticks to simple things, like helping Xander pack his car up after graduation, and letting his hand linger on Xander's shoulder, and being not jealous when Willow and Xander hug goodbye.


[Snyder/Mayor for gvambat]

Being eaten has its perks. Like...when you're being eaten, there are no pesky students around asking pesky questions. There's no detention to supervise, and no teachers to mollycoddle, no school board on his ass - nothing on his ass, anymore, not since the mayor bit into his best commencement pants.

The Mayor's a lot less jolly now that he's a giant snake demon, which as far as Snyder is concerned is a very pleasant development. No more inspirational meetings, no more mission statements. Just good, old-fashioned values, spare the rod and spoil the child.

He could almost kiss Richard Wilkins III.


[Willow/Buffy!Bot for rogueslayer452]

Teleology: to know a thing is to know its purpose. The Bot's purpose was sex for Spike, but now they use it to other ends, for killing vampires and pretending that things are okay.

Etiology: to know a thing's beginnings is to know it. But Warren was a computer geek with a perpetual twitch who didn't understand girls, but the Buffy-bot is, physically, a perfect representation of a girl.

The Buffybot puts its (her) hand on Willow's cheek and says, "I hope you feel better," as innocent as cotton candy.

And it knows her. But she will never understand it.


Angel: the Series

[Wes/Cordy/Gunn for gvambat]

Cordelia started it; Wesley recalled ever afterwards. She started it, with her fingers on their shoulders suddenly digging a little deeper. She turned and accidentally brushed Wesley's cheek with Springtime Rose lips and then did it again on purpose, and Wesley tired to retaliate but missed her cheek entirely, and then Gunn's hands had found their way under Wesley's shirt, and Cordelia, between them, had been scrunched like a bug when they kissed around her head and, complaining loudly, had begged to be kissed by both of them at once. That had been the beginning.

Like everything beautiful, it ended.


[Wes/Fred for callmesandy R]

His hands are broad, a fleshy spectrum; they touch her body with the glowing heat of infrared and then faster, more intense, they penetrate her, ultraviolet, invisible and bright, bluewhite heat and worse. (better.) His hands are not trained like a surgeon's or musician's, are softer than a day laborer's. They are the hands of the bourgeoisie, and she wants the decadent opiate of his finger-span to sink into her forever. She imagines a schoolmaster, educated and weary, but her body is new knowledge to him, learned as she learns him: his fingers parting her thighs. They observe, together, fusion.


[Wes/Gunn for callmesandy]

"See ya."

"You're going home?" Wesley hadn't meant for that to sound quite so needy.

"Nowhere else to go -- less Cordy's had a vision she didn't tell me about?"

"No." Always Cordelia, because it's safer with someone between them; no chance of slipping if you only watch others skate past.

"Whatcha thinkin', English?"

"About figure skating, mostly."

Gunn looks at him oddly. "Watch much figure skating?"

"Occasionally, when I'm not busy. Saving the world is a full-time job, you know."

Gunn hesitates, puts his axe down. "World won't end tonight, will it?"

"Nationals are on," Wes tells him. "Pairs."


[Fred/Harmony for callmesandy]

Fred thought "go out for drinks" meant "go out for alcohol and commiseration," pretty much universally, but this wasn't the first time she'd misread Harmony's strange mix of Valley speak and... Harmony-speak.

"Look, I know it's kind of... forward to ask you to do this when we only just met, but you seem like a really, really - open - person, so I was hoping you wouldn't mind?" Harmony's pained, desperate expression was hard to say no to, especially when she looked so innocent and sad.

"Well... okay. But be gentle! And one taste only - I don't want to end up dead!"


[Lorne/Fred for jennixen]

Fred Burkle tipsy, always a sight for sore eyes, was balm for a sore heart, especially one that had just been sat upon through a long meal with some long-winded head honchos. "Boy, is it ever good to see you."

"Why?" Fred hiccuped. "Was I missing?"

"No, but I was missing you."

"Oh." Fred sashayed closer, accidentally tipping into Lorne's lap, whence she asked, with a hiccup, "Say, Lorne. You're green all over, right?"

Lorne sighed. "You don't really want to know, do you?"

Fred grinned broadly. "Nah." Her nose wrinkled prettily. "I'd rather keep you a man of mystery."


[Angel/Wesley for sage_theory. Voyeurism. Dark.]

If he doesn't move, he can hear Angel berating himself, his fist every now and then slamming into the wall and knocking another ten years off the life of the hotel. Then there will be silence, sometimes for hours. Wesley will wait, his hand resting on his lap and twitching whenever he thinks he hears Angel moving in the room below him.

He would knock on the door, once, gently. Say, "Let me help." Say, "Take it out on me, not the wall." He'd not look Angel in the eye, not even in fantasy, but Angel would say, "Thank you."


[Angel/Doyle for malnpudl.]

Drinking buddies don't look at each other when they talk about their problems.

Superheroes and their sidekicks don't ever wish they could lead normal, ordinary, non-superheroic lives.

Vampires don't wear flaming pink sombreros and try to pick up pretty girls.

Demons have audaciously bad taste in clothes, but they don't have the courage to wear it out in public.

Vampires with gypsy curses don't get to have sex that doesn't come with a Gordian knot of strings.

Angel and Doyle have known each other for five months, and already broken all the rules - or rather, all the rules but one.


[Doyle/Cordy for malnpudl]

"Just one kiss?"

"No." She gives him a glare that should scare away unwanted suitors fifty feet away, unless her entire high school career was a fluke.

"Cordy, you're lovely. Just one kiss?"

"No."

"Cordy, please. To take to my grave?"

"You already had a grave, and the answer is still no."

"That's my girl." Doyle loops an arm through Cordelia's, careful not to tangle his fingers in her lacy wedding dress fluff. "I can have a kiss, can't I?"

Cordelia pecks his lips, then whispers something in his ear.

"Yes," Doyle agrees. "That would be better than a kiss."


Angel x Firefly crossovers

[Fred/Kaylee for sangerin]

"What do you taste?" Fred asks.

Kaylee grins through the mouthful of batter. "Mmm... sugar. Fruit, maybe? Something in this was definitely grown on a real tree."

"Sure was," Fred agrees. "If you guess right, I'll give you a kiss."

"Ooh, then I'd better guess quick! Strawberries?"

"Now, come on. My girl would recognize that taste anywhere. Think something less expensive."

"Bananas?"

"Like we have any use for phallic-shaped fruit!" Kaylee can't see her through the blindfold, but Fred sticks up her nose, and Kaylee, knowing somehow, laughs.

"Apples?"

"Sure as Eve. Well, you guessed, so I suppose fair's fair..."


[River/Dana for rogueslayer452]

The girl's mind: too much slow down can't process too many too fast blood (so much blood so much death so many, all dead [all decaying all flesh and worms crawl in crawl out make her flesh crawl make her fingers prick; by the pricking of her thumbs] things are distorted, things never meant to be, mistakes, ill-begotten, ill-gotten gains) so many layers.

She pounces and her teeth hit flesh and the girl has fingernails like claws that rip skin from her cheek and will leave a scar she'll have forever.

She smiles. She knows the meaning of the scar.


Stargate SG-1

[Sam/Daniel for jennixen. Moebius. R.]

He kisses like he's done it before, badly; she kisses like she expects this to be taken away.

She wants to hurry, afraid that the moon will rise, the clock will chime, and she'll be back in Washington, crunching numbers.

He shuffles through the motions of undressing her; he's seen too many women naked to care that her breasts are fair and her enthusiasm genuine. Only archeology ever excited him as much as sex does most men, and that excitement faded long ago. But her thrusts, not adept but joyful all the same, make him wish he could teach her.


[Sam/Daniel for malnpudl. NC-17.]

"Pick a goddess," Daniel tells Sam, very seriously, over dinner.

She laughs at him and picks a fleck of red pepper from her pasta. "Fine. Athena. Goddess of wisdom, right?"

"That's right," he says, in the voice reserved for scolding schoolchildren and humoring lovers. "Don't ask why."

After much pasta and another half glass of wine, Sam pushes her plate away. She smirks at Daniel. "We'll do the dishes later."

She's got her mouth wrapped around him when his moans clarify to form words, "Oh, Athena, oh God, Athena!"

And later again, doing dishes. "So I'm that good, huh?"

"Heavenly."


[Sam/Teal'c for malnpudl]

"You've got to stop seeing other women." Sam is trying to keep her voice calm, like she learned in countless therapy sessions. Even, calm voice, like she's not exploding with rage on the inside. Like that stupid eyebrow quirk isn't driving her nuts.

"Why?"

"Because you're with me now," Sam tells him. "We're in a relationship - a very meaningful, very good relationship - and that means commitment."

"I am committed."

Sam puts her head in her hands. She wants to understand, because Teal'c is so good about understanding her, but the part of her that craves monogamy is stronger.

"Goodbye, Teal'c."


[Sam/Hammond for raedbard. R.]

Mostly they're vanilla; George has old-fashioned values and Sam won't be exploited. They've tried tied down and standing up, but the latter was too difficult, the former too frightening. Some fantasies they never consider: uniforms do nothing for them, and it's unsettling to playact dominance given their realities.

They rarely role-play; the strangeness of them is already precarious, but sometimes they imagine that they are different. They fly up to Canada for a weekend and hold hands in public before making love outdoors: the only game they want to retry, and the only one they can't allow themselves to play.



[Jack/Maybourne for sage_theory]

There's an old man who lives maybe half an hour's walk from the castle, and from a certain angle, his gray hair looks like Jack's. Harry doesn't want to count how many times he's walked that half hour to squint through the sunlight and pretend.

And there's a meadow, three hours in the other direction, that has the same kind of flowers they had on their moon, that time they lived together for a month and almost died in the process. He does it less often, but sometimes he'll go to that field, and lie in the flowers, and remember.


[Jack/Maybourne for malnpudl. NC-17.]

Hands on cocks and jerking fast, quicker pace meaning quicker release meaning the quicker they get out of here and pretend it never happened. The bathroom is ugly and septic; Jack's knees are sore and the stall is cramped. Maybourne's leg is starting to cramp but their hands against each other's dicks are irritants and they're pulling, jerking, like scratching an itch. Jack prods and whines until things go his way; he didn't know that prodding Harry so often for favors and intel would lead to bathhouse handjobs.

And he certainly didn't know that he'd be glad when it did.


Stargate: Atlantis

[Sheppard/Teyla for scrollgirl]

"Among my people, when a man loves a woman, he brings her gifts."

He's slightly worried but asks, "Gifts? Really? Like what?"

"Flowers. Tools. Weapons."

"You have weapons."

"What makes you think I'm speaking of you?"

That gives him a rare moment of pause "Well, among my people, we call that a leading question."

"And I am a leader," she reminds him, lilting. "Well?"

"You're a fine woman, Teyla," he tells her, slapping her on the shoulder.

"Among my people, words like that usually indicate a marriage proposal," she says, and he almost panics before realizing she's joking.

He hopes.


[McKay/Weir for sage_theory. R.]

The whip she hands him is metaphorical. (No one brought a whip as a personal item, which is odd, because you'd think a whip is the most personal item there is, short of maybe a vibrator. Only one woman brought a dildo, though.) Metaphorical, but scary. Metaphors always were; he was failing freshman English while taking advanced calculus because of figurative language. He didn't understand.

Symbols are not literal and not quantifiable and thus categorized under "not real."

But when he says, "Not now, I'm busy," the welts are visible because she's given him her love. The whip is real.


[McKay/Teyla for scrollgirl. R]

McKay is afraid Teyla is too much woman for him. He liked it at first, the marathon sex sessions, the firm hand grabbing his face and pulling him into kisses that seemed to go on infinitely. At first he liked knowing that after working up a sweat training with Sheppard, she'd come to him, sweaty and needing, and throw him on the bed, demanding that he fuck her.

But now, and he hates to say it, he's getting... well, tired. Sex is well and good and fun, but some afternoons, he wants to relax alone with a few good equations.


[Teyla/Bates for scrollgirl. R.]

He doesn't trust her. He never will.

hard skin tanned and smooth and slick with sweat, muscled, fingers dancing over her belly and diving under her hips, lifting her and spreading her, moaning as she arches back

He watches her in the hallways. Dr. Weir won't listen, so he doesn't tell her, but he keeps watching, ever-vigilant.

dark brown skin that lightens when he glimpses the areas that have never seen the sun, the untanned yet still beautiful brown skin, glistening with his own saliva as he licks a way down from her lips to her ankles

He hates her.


[Zelenka/Weir for malnpudl]

When she was young she didn't dream of outer space or mutants or military men or a scrabbling crew of scientists all vying for a piece of her.

When she was young she dreamt of meeting someone whose last name started with Z.

She was always called last and stood in the back of lines, always waited forever on school picture day so her hair went flat and she frowned through twelve yearbooks. She was also always picked last for teams - but that was unrelated.

When she saw Radic Zelenka on the CV, she knew she had to have him



[Zelenka/Grodin for malnpudl]

"She is very attractive, no?"

"She sure is," Peter whispers. Dr. Weir is having a very important discussion with Major Sheppard; they can't interrupt.

"You like to follow her, huh? Listen when she gives orders?"

Grodin nods, his eyes still on Weir. If she signals to him, he needs to be ready.

"Tonight, you have a break?"

He nods again.

"Maybe you'd like to come to my quarters, we can think about her together."

Grodin holds up a hand to shush him, and Zelenka grabs it, kisses his palm.

"You're a very strange man."

"Yes," Zelenka concedes. "So, that's yes?"


Stargates SG-1 and Atlantis, together

[Sam/McKay for sage_theory]

"Uh, Major Carter."

"Yes?" She gave him a funny look. "It's Colonel now. Just for the record."

"Seeing as I'm going to the other side of the galaxy, probably to meet a heroic and untimely death, would you concede that you owe me a date?"

She considered for only a second. "You're paying."

He didn't want to try his luck after dinner, but there had been wine, and she looked more appetizing as ever away from the fluorescent lab lights.

Luckily, she said, "Rodney - can I call you Rodney?"

He nodded seriously.

"My place for sex?"

"Absolutely. And, uh... thanks."


[Sam/McKay for malnpudl.]

This is Sam's first trip to Canada strictly for pleasure; this is Rodney's first time kissing someone and not fucking them within the hour. Sam's first time watching a hockey game, Rodney's first - and last - time at the ballet.

Rodney was Sam's first one-night stand, so they've make a habit of counting firsts. In the beginning it's a competition, because everything is for them, but after it's no longer a one night stand and more like a Thing ("You can't still count one-night stand; I'm counting it as my first long-term relationship!"), the counting of firsts becomes a love token.


[Daniel/McKay for malnpudl]

It's wrong that McKay has this job. McKay was the kid Daniel picked on in high school.

But it's wrong that Jack was on Abydos when the second bomb went through, and it's very wrong that West and now Hammond won't give Catherine the time of day.

It's probably wrong that McKay's abrasive, shrill whine sends blood straight to Daniel's dick, but everything in the world is wrong, so what the hell.

"Can the computers spare you for a minute? I've got a question."

"My expertise is needed everywhere," sighs McKay.

"Are you any good at blowjobs?"

"Practically an expert."


[Jack/Sheppard for malnpudl]

Their disappointment when the wormhole doesn't form is something Jack hadn't counted on. Carter and Daniel and the rest of the geeks handpicked by Weir are all down in the briefing room trying to figure it out, but before they leave there to go to the labs, he's out of there, hands in his pockets like he doesn't care.

"Hey."

"Major Sheppard. Where are you off to?"

"Not the Pegasus Galaxy, apparently."

"So it would appear. Are you disappointed?"

"Me? Nah. I figure I won't miss an episode of the Simpsons."

"You have fine taste, young man," Jack says. "Enjoy."


+++

That's all! Whew! I'll write up thoughts on all these pairings (i.e., "I think it's nifty!" or "I kinda think it's weird..." as soon as possible. And you're perfectly welcome to go ahead and request another pairing; I'll just toss them up in another batch of drabbles if there are enough takers. So. Whee! Hope you enjoy.
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