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]

Dad and son are both such bitches :D i love it!

Re: P.S.

[winter]

I love it too :D They're so beautifully snarky together, and they understand perfectly what the other is on about, so they can be even more subtle with it. It's a thing of beauty :>

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Best exchange ever:


Von Krolock politely bowed his head towards a comely female, brought by younger vampires, one who would clearly be losing his companion to the Graf if the she-vampire had any say in the matter. “Your intention?”

“Need you even ask?”

A steel-grey brow arched. “And already, I have lost count of possible reasons...”

Herbert lifted his eyes innocently towards the ceiling. “My chief concern was that such a pretty little creature would be molested by some unscrupulous character,” he said with a woeful sigh. “Our guests are so wretchedly rude, sometimes.”

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Some salmon for this kitty, stat :D

Purrfect. Just purrfect. You may be pleased to note that I'm chuckling so much, Lestat's looking at me with his "weird, weird human" face...

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Dad and son are just so much fun to write together. They can needle each other so much in ways that would drive anyone else up the wall :D

Re: P.S.

[winter]

They're just so comfortable with each other. Plus, they tend to think alike in many ways, don't they? VK might be a larger control freak, while Herbert's more vicious at times, but they're very similar underneath.

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

I need to write father-son stuff to freak Spike out :D

Re: P.S.

[winter]

You won't find me saying no :D Each time you write them together, even the little moments are enough to put a smile on my face...

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

It took a great deal of restraint to stop himself from laughing aloud, but the Graf masked it by lifting his kerchief to his lips. “And where would this act of virtuous protection take place?” he asked.

Grey eyes examined the contours of the ceiling. “I thought he might be interested in the finer things...”

Von Krolock sighed, but slowly nodded. “If you must...”

“I may need your aid,” Herbert added, drawing his gaze back down to his father. “I seem to have a problem in the form of a rather hulking Irish fool. I suspect he would keep William with him simply to offend.”

Von Krolock glanced at him and smiled faintly. “My dear boy, I will gladly help.”

Re: P.S.

[winter]

And again with the awwww :) Also, is it me or is VK mildly worried about the future state of his library, post Herbert catching William there?

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

*g* Herbie's getting a strict warning ;)

Von Krolock glanced at him and smiled faintly. “My dear boy, I will gladly help.”
Pushing himself upright, Herbert caught his father’s hand and kissed his knuckles with a happy sound. “You are a kind and generous man, father,” he said with such earnestness that his father could not hide the warm smile.

“And you are a wicked, lecherous wretch,” the Graf said, lifting his son’s chin with his free hand. He leaned forward and kissed Herbert’s brow fondly. “But I find I love you all the same.”

Herbert drew back and squeezed his father’s fingers. “And I promise there will be no stains or upturned furniture this time.” He hesitated, then slanted a look down at the ball room, lips twitching. “You know, I think we have their attention...”

For every face in the ballroom was watching.

Von Krolock stroked his son’s cheek fondly. “I see what you mean about a host of unscrupulous characters,” he murmured. “I shall see he reaches you intact.”

Herbert laughed as his hand was released. “Thank you, father,” he said, beaming.

And scene...

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Arching a brow, von Krolock shook his head. “If I did not, I would never hear the end of it,” he said, then started down the staircase to mingle with his guests.

Behind him, he heard Herbert’s laughter.

Re: And scene...

[winter]

:D

Done for today, or will I get more treats? ;)

(Actually I should be heading bedwards soon-ish. Wretched illness thing.)

Re: And scene...

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Done and done! You go sleep and i shall attempt the same :)

Re: P.S.

[winter]

*oooh, SO much squee*

Also, way to incidentally screw with the minds of everyone in the room :>

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

VK is facepalming over it and Herbie is cackling :D

Now, though, I adjourn to bed. So tired.

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Sleep well :) With vampires like these, I know I will!

(Unless Lestat wakes me at 2AM again. In which case the kitty IS getting punted across the room, cuteness be damned.)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

So... yeah. Herbert kept me awake for ages. Told me precisely what happens in the library. In graphic detail. And informed me it will be written from little William's POV.

Trying to read Byron aloud while a purring vampire is nibbling on your ear and fondling your knob can be something of a distraction...

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Oh dear :) The mental image I now have is of Spike sitting in Herbert's lap for that scene (and gods know how Herbie would ever entice him to do that).

I'd say it's a pity you didn't get much sleep, but I don't think that'd ring quite true ;)

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Oh, no... not at all. William admires Herbert's pronounciation and diction when reading dirty french poetry and says he always had trouble tripping over words. The ever generous Herbert offers to help him and despite misgivings, William agrees, but Herbert says its only on the codition that he keeps reading, no matter what happens... ;)

Needless to say, he stutters and stops mid-poem and gets punished accordingly :D

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Oy. No fair teasing the faithful fan :P Snipplet?

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Not writing it yet :P Doing last tweaking of the homework I'm skipping class for then helping mum tidy up :-S we have guests coming this evening and she thinks the house is a bombsite. I say that if you can see the floor's natural colour, you're doing fine...

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Evil of you, very evil :P

*goes back to her LAST new Garth Nix book, woe*

Re: P.S.

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Sorry! Alas that I actually have to forgo vampires for a time :-S

Re: P.S.

[winter]

Hey, was kidding :) I've a backlog of books anyway, and then Coldfire to re-read so that I can stop niggling the girls whenever I need a "minor" detail like the name of the bloody ship...

Again, no pressure at all. I'm just happy you're not giving up on the vampies overall.