DRABBLE COLLECTION
The idea of this was to write a short collection of drabbles with exact word count, going from 50 words up to 1000. There ended up to be seven of them, finally, each representing a different genre.
They are:
* Departure (2x1, Angst, 50 words)
* Just Communication (2+5, Humour, 100 words)
* 'Twas Brahms (no pairing, Songfic, 150 words including the lyrics)
* Flowers (1+2, Deathfic, 200 words)
* Dominance (2x1x2, PWP, 300 words)
* Don't Ask (1+2, Romance, 500 words)
* What's In A Name (3x4x3, Fluff, 1000 words)
�Attention, dock seven b. Shuttle leaving in a minute. Complete boarding�
Good�finally I can leave all this shit behind.
�Boarding completed.�
�Impossible�.Leaving you behind�can�t even imagine that�
�Doors shut. Shuttle leaving in 30 seconds.�
�We should have talked again�
�10�9�8��
�Fuck, Heero�.�
�2�1�0. Departure.�
�Want to be with you.
50 words
"�Course I can sing in the shower! I betcha I can even sing while sticking my tongue down someone�s throat!"
�I don�t believe that for a second� � �Prove it� � �Show me, Duo�
No, don�t say it. You will make a fool out of yourself� lose your dignity�fuck, the image alone�I wonder what his kiss would feel like�
�That�s your business. I�m sure you don�t even have the voice.�
And there he goes, evading me yet again�I�ll getcha next time, Wufei�let�s continue our little dance.
�So, do you? Wanna make a bet? C�mon show me, Wufei.�
Bastard. Fuck communication.
100 words
Do you know him? He was some kind of AD 19th century composer�
It was that first night at the orphanage. I was about to do what I knew best � run and hide. Long before had I learned that safety could never be permanent, that trust was always betrayed.
I walked past the room with the piano � I think it was their only valuable possession. There she sat in her nun�s attire, singing, accompanying herself on the piano. F natural in the pedal point and syncopation to indicate a cradle�s sway.
�Guten Abend, gut� Nacht.
Mit Rosen bedacht,
mit N�glein besteckt,
schlupf� unter die Deck.
Morgen Fr�h, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder geweckt.
Morgen Fr�h, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder geweckt.�
I stayed at the orphanage. Countless nights after the melody resounded in my head and lulled me to sleep.
It was Brahms who saved me.
150 words
His grave is loaden with flowers, all of them different. A tumble of colours. A mess, just as he would have liked it.
A special kind of flower from each of us, that is how he wanted it. He requested sunflowers from me, saying they reminded him of my smile. From Wufei he wanted lilies of all kinds, Trowa he asked for poppy. Roses from Relena, asters from Hilde, lilac from Noin, tulips from Sally, daffodils from Dorothy.
And Heero? Pansies. Because they remind him of �the Perfect Soldier�s Scowl, y� know?�
And because he wanted to tease him. I don�t think he ever imagined it would come to this � that we were going to buy these flowers for his grave only a year after he had joked about it with us.
But Heero brings a second kind of flower. Every once in a while there is a bunch of forget-me-nots. Every once in a while Heero spends the entire night at the grave. Every once in a while tears he refuses to cry by day leak out of his eyes in his sleep. Every once in a while...
Duo�s grave is loaden with flowers, all colourful and happy.
200 words
His lips are the pale colour of a winter morning�s sunrise. It feels odd for me to think this, he is not the romantic type. But oh, he is intense.
How much I love a winter morning�s sunrise, pale rose ripening to full red. I bend to take the winter morning from those lips, for it is rightfully mine. Romance feels odd on him, so I have to take it off, have to suck it off his lips and reveal the colour they should really be.
Was there not a fairy tale?
�skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony�
There is no innocence. Too much is reflected in his eyes. But even were his eyes closed, there is still this body of a strength none of us can grasp. I don�t know why he allows this, but as long as he does, I will try to control that strength. I find pleasure in dominance.
He lets me do as I please, eyes never closing, even as his hands tug on my hair, the lack of force letting me know the extent of his restraint. He allows my touches and I know he even enjoys them, but there is nothing that can shatter this calm, and his breathing, though stepped up to match his pulse, is still controlled perfectly.
Even as I feel him with lips, tongue and hands, there is never the slightest hitch in his breaths, even as I feel him from the inside, there is no widening of his eyes, only a darkening of pupils.
Even as I move inside him, he controls me, without doing anything at all. It�s his will, the strength his eyes imply, that I respond to, helpless, no more than a victim. This is true dominance.
300 words
Don�t Ask
Heero Yuy does not like asking questions. Most of them he deems unnecessary, anyway. He does not ask questions the answers to which he already knows. His sharp mind and clear observation of the situation and people around him give him all the information he needs. And what else there remains of the question variety in his life is too dangerous to answer, far too revealing considering the burden of his occupation. Only a few necessary questions he allows himself, carefully judging.
There was one incident, for example, concerning his fellow pilot, Duo Maxwell.
It was extremely unnecessary, so Heero thought, to ask Duo if he loved him. Heero already knew he did from the way he acted towards him, the glances he stole, the attention he gave him. But as Heero considered this knowledge of his, he gradually realised it was not enough.
In the morning, before he started to work on planning out the next mission, he pondered this problem.
So he wanted more information from Duo. That would mean he had to ask him if he loved him. The question would make him vulnerable towards Duo who was good enough at reading other people, and especially Heero, given the fact that he had a lot of experience.
By noon, as he took a break in mission planning, he came up with plan B.
He would just have to state it. �You love me� � it was simple enough, merely an observation, revealing nothing. The funny thing was that Heero already knew Duo�s answer was going to be �Yes�. And it was not what he wanted. It was not enough information. There had to be more.
In the dark of the night, finishing his work on his laptop, he found the ultimate solution.
It was even simpler than he had thought: Turn the tables on Duo. Place the ball in his court. Make him ponder the situation. He was dealing a lot better with emotions as it was. Heero could watch and react. All he had to do was tell Duo, �I love you.� It was the perfect strategy.
Having slept over his decision and thinking it still reasonable enough in the morning, he went to find Duo and, without preamble, told him exactly what he had come up with the night before.
Duo Maxwell is dealing well with emotions indeed. He knows that questions can be revealing, but he also knows that questions can be a very stealthy way of fooling others. There are a lot of questions he asks lightly, but also a lot of them he considers carefully. Duo has to be much more careful with answering questions because he likes talking far too much. He always pays attention to the subtle undertones and finds those subtle undertones in a large part of everyday conversation.
But when Heero Yuy cornered him that morning to tell him he loved him, Duo Maxwell smiled. He did not have to think about his answer.
�Finally you ask.�
500 words
When he woke up, steaming coffee was ready for him on the nightstand. Its smell pulled him gently into the realm of daylight and he turned his head slowly, blinking sleepily. His throat felt dry and perhaps a little hoarse so the coffee came all too welcome.
As he tried to sit up he had to bite down a surprised sound of pain at the sudden sting running like lightning through his lower back. For a moment, he looked stunned then realisation evened out his features. As if to make sure, he pulled the blanket away and ran one delicate hand over his stomach. To his further bewilderment he found nothing, had obviously been cleaned of the visible reminders of passion. A few red indications of nails digging into the skin of his hips, already fading, finally brought the proof he had been looking for.
Raising his eyebrows at himself, he reached for the cup of coffee. As he began to sip he noticed the fine blonde hairs on his arms rising to meet the cold of the room. But this, too, had been foreseen and even as he tried to pull the blanket closer around his middle his eyes found the yellow bathrobe lying at the end of his side of the large bed, as if waiting for him.
With the help of strong coffee and wrapped in the warm bathrobe, his morning-hazy senses seemed to clear until he could almost recall the pleasures of moon- and starlight capturing him in this very room. He found his waking had been wonderful, an extension of the night�s deliciousness.
Eventually � his coffee was almost finished � the door to his room opened, revealing a tall, slender figure in a dark green bathrobe, brown hair falling in morning-tousled strands into his face. Into the room stepped the epitome of last night�s glory, his beautiful lover, his�.
The cup almost slipped from his hands. Oh, how could he have been so stupid! What had he done? Why hadn�t he realised? Granted, it wasn�t really the typical scenario to wake up to after a one-night stand.
One night only�.Briefly, his eyes closed, as he mentally berated himself even as he regained his composure. After all, the other boy had not left. After all, he was standing there now. After all, a one-night stand could become something more�
He felt the other side of the mattress dip lower and opened his eyes to stare into his partner�s green orbs, one of which was glinting faintly behind the curtain of long auburn hair.
Gathering his courage, he lifted one of his hands from his lap where it had been holding the cup and took the taller boy�s hand in his. �Hello�, he said softly. �It is good to see you.�
The other tilted his head slightly, regarding him with the most curious expression on his face. He swallowed but conjured up a sunny smile. �Well�I know it sounds terrible�but I didn�t get to ask you yesterday. What is your name?�
Slowly, his partner leaned closer, eyes focussed still on his, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he pressed them to his own, tasting with abandon. For a moment, he lost himself in kisses, before he remembered that he had not received an answer. Pulling back slightly, he waited. The other cast down his eyes for a moment. �Trowa�, he mumbled then.
�Trowa��, he repeated it softly, then a little more confident. �Trowa.�
All of a sudden, the taller man was above him, had pushed him into the mattress and claimed his mouth in forceful kisses. The bathrobe slipped away a little and his bare leg was rubbing against Trowa�s, sliding into the warmth of the other�s bathrobe to wrap around its counterpart.
A few seconds of pure bliss passed until he realised that something was not right. There was a nagging pain, faintly digging somewhere into his heart. He should have been content, but he was not. What had he wanted? Yes, that was it�he had been trying to turn this one-night stand into something that would last. So, what was missing? Something�?
Oh. He froze, encircled by those strong arms, warmed by that smooth chest, kissed by those sweet lips. His partner realised that something had changed and stopped the gentle movements, lifting himself up on his arms a little. He looked at the vision above him with fear, with realisation, with sorrow.
�Trowa��, he whispered, forcing the word past his tight throat. �Trowa. Don�t you�want to know my name?�
Oh, it was a lost case. Already he could see the other pulling back, his hair hiding his eyes from view. Already he could feel the pain blossoming in his heart, like a burning wound. Already he could sense the sunlight fading from the sweet picture of this morning.
But when he lowered his head, large, slender hands cupped his face, lifted it slightly and stroked the cheeks even as his eyes met Trowa�s once more.
�Do not look away�, demanded the gentle soothing voice he remembered from sweet moans breathed into his ear the night before. A chaste kiss was placed on his lips and Trowa smiled.
�What do I care what others call you when in my heart I knew your names the moment I saw you. You have many names, amatsu, heavenly. You smiled at me, hizashi, sunlight. You danced with me, myabita, graceful. You kissed me, aiyoku, passion. And, with your leave, I want you to carry this other name, for me, koibito, lover.
All of a sudden, his heart felt as light as a feather. Wonderingly, his hands caressed the beautiful face above him. �Then you shall be tsukikage, moonlight, and koishii, dear, and my kokoro, my heart.
For a moment, Trowa looked stunned. �You know Japanese? I thought you are Arabian?�
With a laugh, he tugged him into a kiss. �My name is. I am Quatre Rabera Winner. But not to you.�
1000 words