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War of the Roses -- Part 2: Two to Tango just for leela, cos she asked! hehe this little ficlets are fun to write as warmups for the big essay that 10% of my final mark in this class rides on... hehe. i dont think my teacher would accept a sequel to bleeding hearts in place of an analytical essay on sylvia plath so youre all gonna have to wait for that, m'kay? Two to Tango "Hey Steve," Brian called out as he moved into the post-gig party, "I've got something for you!" As per usual, the fans backstage had bombarded Brian with flowers. He had the whole lot of them bundled in his arms, and mischief gleamed in his eyes. "What is it, Molk-- Holy shit!" Steve's jaw literally dropped as he saw Brian stagger under the massive armload. "Where the hell did those all come from?" Brian shrugged, causing a few flowers to fall. "The usual. But anyway, they're for you." "For /me/?!" "Yup, each and every single one." "Where am I going to put them?" "I'm sure you'll find a place... and if its the dumpster out back, which I /will/ be checking before we leave, i will be oh-so-/very/ disappointed in you, Steve," Brian almost purred. "Uhh, okaaaay, thank you...I think..." He rolled his eyes skywards as Brian unceremoniously dumped the entire armload at his feet, finally freeing his hands for a beer and fag. Steve looked down at the flowers on the floor. "Thanks soooo much, Molks," he thought darkly. He stood and grabbed a rose off the top of the stack as he moved towards Stef. "Oh Ste-ef," he called out innocently. "Whats up, Steve?" Steve held the rose out to his friend, gesturing he take it. "Wanna dance?" "Okaaaaay..." Stef took the rose between his teeth and held his hands out for Steve. They began to tango, but just as they dipped for the first time, Stef's hands flew to his mouth and Steve crashed to the floor. "BITCH!!" they yelled at each other at the same time. Brian, who had been watching the entire scene, suddenly found himself on the floor, having collapsed in a gale of laughter. "Bitch, what was that for?" Steve pouted. "Bitch, your rose stabbed my lip," Stef pouted back, pointing to the tiny droplet of blood on his lower lip. "Oh, sorry..." "Its okay, I gue-ess... but I'm sick of being the chick when we dance; it's your turn next time Hewitt!" "But--- but---" Stef tossed the rose at him. "No buts. We've got plenty of flowers for you to go through, shall we get started?" ~fin~ Prev | Next Home |