Drabbles: Coldfire (G to soft R, slash)

[winter]

I should have known better than to offer drabbles to a fic-starved fandom with so many plotbunniers on my f-list, really :) In order of appearance, for alighiera, alice_montrose, fuumasfrog and trobadora.

WORKAROUNDS

Ever since Mount Shaitan, Gerald had been learning to appreciate the simple pleasures in life. For example, at the moment he was lying sprawled across Damien’s broad chest, idly toying with the ex-priest’s shirt and watching the dazed look in Damien’s eyes. Even the cramped quarters only meant that he had an excuse to climb just that close, and Damien had to put an arm around his waist.

Presently, Damien blinked, his eyes turning clearer. “Are we on a ship-“

Gerald leaned in and kissed Damien again until the other man’s eyes were glazed over once more, the guarded question turning into a drawn-out moan before it could be fully phrased.

If he had known getting Damien to enjoy ship travel would be that easy, he would have tried this method ages ago.

-FIN-



SO THE WORLD WILL NEVER FIND YOU

Damien sighed as he pushed through the crowd, taking another drink from a flask of liquor someone had pressed into his hand. At least in the black mask and cloak, even if he did make a fool of himself at the Jaggonath carnival, no-one would be able to tell him apart from every other guy dressed up as a vampire. And a few real vampires, he had no doubt.

He wondered what Gerald would wear. The adept had been reticent about his plans, only setting the meeting place on the outskirts of the city-

Near Karril’s temple, he realised as a woman flung herself into his arms. She was wearing a version of a First Landing uniform, though he was sure the real colonists never had ones that tight.

She kissed him on the mouth. “Praise Karril,” she whispered. “A man is waiting for you, two alleys down. An... urgent matter.”

She laughed shrilly, and as she flung her neck back he saw the imprint of teeth. Not quite Gerald’s type, he thought, too strong, but then he wasn’t Gerald’s usual type either.

He stumbled through the throng of people, found the alley, leaned against a door that opened to rapidly for him to do anything but fall through it to the floor.

A chapel of the Church, he realised as he looked around blearily. Closed down temporarily, with a pagan festival roaring through the streets. Yet there were candles burning, and a fresh cloth on the altar.

Something – someone – moving, and he raised his head as he struggled to his feet.

Layers of silk obscuring limbs and body, so that he could no longer recall their past or present look. A broad collar of beaten gold with a pattern of flames. Dark hair instead of light brown, but oh, never mistaken, and now he remembered too clearly.

“I remember you felt particularly strongly about that dream.” Even the old mocking cadences were back in Tarrant’s voice. “You will enjoy this better than you would have the masquerade.”

Strong hands pushed Damien against the altar before he could think of fear, revulsion, desire, sacrilege.

“Don’t worry,” the man who had been the Hunter whispered in his ear as clothes were quickly, deftly pushed aside. “I won’t let you think.”

-FIN-




PETTY ANNOYANCES

Damien moved his wrists experimentally. The cuffs were far snugger than it should be possible for something lined with fur.

“Gerald, this is vulking ridiculous,” he muttered.

The former Hunter shook his head as he surveyed his handiwork. “You have a habit of tearing buttons off my shirts. I’m running out of outfits, and the shops here are not up to my standards. Therefore, you’ll be chained until I undress myself.”

“Only until then?” Damien asked hopefully.

Gerald’s smile was sweetness itself as he ran a hand down Damien’s bare chest. “Perhaps a few minutes longer than that.”

-FIN-




PROOF OF FAITH

The bracelet was tarnished silver, a streak of near-black on the red velvet lining the box set on the street stall. Gerald’s fingers closed in on it without hesitation. Damien raised his eyebrows, but remained silent as Gerald ruthlessly argued down the price.

He got his answer when they left the street fair and Gerald tenderly wiped the grime and tarnish off a fragile piece of glass. Underneath it was the face of a clock, too small to ever house the appropriate mechanism.

“A watch used to be an important theological analogy, Vryce. As the watch with its complexity proves the existence of a watchmaker, so the world proves the existence of its creator.”

Under Gerald’s touch, a tiny screw turned without resistance.

Tick.

-FIN-

Comments

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

VK's taking his time with William because he knows he's not likely to see him much for the rest of the weekend ;D The fact he eventually does have a share in him is an entirely moot point ;D

Also, have been trying to work out when VK/Spike would happen for the first time. Probably post-What Remains, because before that point, he was distracted by Dru and Herbie always nicked William ;)

Re: P.S.

[winter]

I'm imagining Spike getting his brood on about Angel again a week or so after What Remains, Herbert throwing his hands up and heading out to do some shopping in town that really can't be put off, and stopping in the parlour on his way out to tell dad to do anything to get William out of his funk... :>

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

*pokes* Out of the head, m'dear :P

Re: P.S.

[winter]

*cue eyelash flutter*

Feed me first :P

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

*sighs* Honestly, it would be easier getting an exorcism :P

And lo, the first encounter.


Extending one hand, the Graf lifted the boy’s chin and those brilliant blue eyes met his fearlessly, though not without awe and respect. Very young, barely half a dozen months, if his estimate was right.

“You are welcome to my home,” von Krolock murmured, his voice mellifluous and warm. On the edge of his senses, he could feel the bewilderment and annoyance radiating from the member of this family that he had yet to fully acknowledge.

However, another presence overlapped with that of Angelus, this one agitated and giddy beyond reckoning for utterly different reasons. Herbert’s nervous energy was tugging at his mind almost as insistently as four-year-old Herbert would have tugged at his sleeve.

Drawing aside, he motioned his son forward. “Herbert, this is William, Sired by Drusilla,” he said softly, noting the surprise that registered on the youngest vampire’s face, quickly masked. “William, my son, Herbert.”

Sweeping into a low bow, his cloak flung dramatically behind him, Herbert caught the young vampire’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of his palm. William looked too startled to draw back.

“Enchante, William,” Herbert purred, his accented French drawing more than a couple of wistful sighs.

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Squee! Kissing his hand! Cloak thingie! :D

(And on that note, I shall dutifully remove myself for some hours. J-class beckons.)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

*salutes* I'll try and get homework done and more written ;)

Re: P.S.

[winter]

And now I'm wondering how much more of either got done ;)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Homework is almost done :D Have been playing with colours for hours and am at the point where I no longer give a rat's arse ;)

As for fic...


“Enchanté, William,” Herbert purred, his accented French drawing more than a couple of wistful sighs.

“Er... right...” William’s confusion was charming, his head tilted to one side, blue eyes wide. Still, his hand lay lightly in Herbert’s, cradled by his son’s fingers.

Straightening and moving forward in one smooth motion, until he was practically touching William’s slim body, William’s hand clasped between their chests, Herbert smiled a slow, feline smile.

“Welcome,” he murmured, his grey eyes holding those startled blue ones. “It has been some time since we have had such charming company.”

“Don’t I even get a look in here?”

Both Herbert and the young William tensed at the thickly-accented voice that spoke so coarsely from behind Darla. Hastily, William pulled his hand from Herbert’s and backed away a step, folding his arms over his narrow chest.

Turning slightly, Herbert’s brows arched elegantly. “I supposed you would have learned some manners since your last visit, Angelus,” he said dryly. “Alas, that all our hopes have been in vain.”

The low, bestial growl that rumbled through the dark-haired vampire’s chest was echoed by the quietest of warning snarls from von Krolock, who stepped between his son and the Irish vampire.

“The night is young, Angelus, and I am in good spirits,” he said quietly, gazing down at Angelus coolly. “Do not give me cause to lose my temper.”

Restraining himself clearly took Angelus a great deal of effort, aided only when Darla laid a cautioning hand on her pet’s arm, her pale eyes flashing as fiercely as von Krolock suspected his own were.

“He will be sure to behave himself, your Excellency,” she said sweetly. The Graf was amused to notice that Angelus was wincing, Darla’s grip of his hand leaving her knuckles white and his fingers bruised. “I will see to it.”

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Good on the homework front :D

And oh dear, Herbert does love teasing Angelus. I've the feeling that in itself has caused VK a few headaches ;)

(And ooh, Herbert on the prowl = teh cool. Totally.)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Combination of teasing and downright loathing :D Plus, he's distracting the pretty from Herbie ;)

(Took that move with the hand and the invasion of personal space straight from the film :D)

Re: P.S.

[winter]

I think distracting the pretty is the most serious offence ;) Looking forward to what Herbie does to get Angelus out of the picture...

(In the interest of giving the musical equal rights, may I request a moment where Herbert approaches William from behind and caresses William's shoulders, as per that casting clip I sent you? :>)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

*grins* Oh, Angelus gets the sweetness-and-light treatment. He should know better than to take a pretty offering himself on a silver platter ;D

(If it works in the library scene, will try and fit it there :D)

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Especially if said pretty has Herbert's twisted mind, upbringing and parentage? ;D

(Will be obliged. Herbert does it at least three times to Alfred in our version, and you can almost hear the squeak each and every time...)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

I need to tweak some of the stuff I'd written ages ago, to make it fit with William being dolled up to meet the gentry. he's still young enough to be proper and I'm making this just after he fought Angelus over Dru, so he's just starting to emotionally claw a shell around him. He's still uncertain, wobbly on his feet and desperately in love with someone who can never wholly be his.

Re: P.S.

[winter]

With just a hint of bite to make him interesting, then? I think that might be the key to why he snares Herbert's interest so strongly - totally Herbert's type in the "pretty, proper and vulnerable" way, but with backbone to top it off and differentiate him from the rest of the crowd. Someone guaranteed not to be boring, or at least not for longer stretches of time.

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

He's just started snapping back at Angelus, realising that not everything will be all peaches and cream now that he's undead and being jumped on my a poetry-reading poof'll be enough to shake up his Victorian sensibilities :D

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Especially since said poof also manages to show up Angelus in the process (or does Spike never learn of it?)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Spike knows Angelus was invited to hunt with Herbie, but didn't get told until later that Herbert was the bait and the prize ;) The fact that Herbert double-crossed Angelus and left him running around the woods for hours, while he was snug in the library, had Spike in stitches when he found out :D

Re: P.S.

[winter]

I've no doubt it also contributed to Spike's willingness to being jumped again the next time he was around, if only to piss Angelus off ;)

BTW, are you going to have any sections with Angelus POV, or doesn't he have enough of a coherent trail of thought for that at the moment?

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

More than likely - plus his willingness this time around comes from a father-son moment I will have to include, wherein VK murmurs to Herbert that Angelus used Drusilla to get to little William, so Herbert uses that among his wiles to lure William into playing the field ;)

As for Angelus, I don't think I will, because - to be honest - I can't stand him. Maybe in the previous chapters, when he goes after Herbert, but it all depends on the kids. They do what they like :P

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Oh, sneaky VK :D I really like how they're both being so cattily evil here, and yet so adorable.

I don't blame you. I don't think that at this point he can think in complete sentences. I could maybe see a drunken interlude in the forest as he falls into a pit...

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

I'm actually amused by how much VK and Darla do actually get along. Alas that she had to go and turn a dumb brute and, in that instant, lose all the respect he might have had for her.

Re: P.S.

[winter]

I think VK's status is something Darla always aspired to, but never quite managed to give her Scourge quite that veneer of refinement ;)

Also, snipplet? :)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Just finishing homework. Will be back to fic any moment now. I've given up on this beer thing. BORED with it. So, so bored.