27 January 2011 @ 09:43 pm
So, remember my sorry try at participating at the [livejournal.com profile] adventdrabbles?
Wasn't all that glorious, right?

Anyways, I was clearing my desk today and stumbled over my fic book where I had jotted down ideas for drabbles that ended up never being written.
I had two hours of free time, so I thought what the hell and finished the prompts I had written for myself.

Here goes:

Buffy – How to feed your fairies

Asking Willow to help with decorating the tree was an excellent idea, Buffy thinks, as she watches her friend potter around the living room, humming happily to herself.
“This is so much cooler than Chanukah!” Willow claps excitedly and suddenly tiny twinkling lights appear all over the tree.
Dawn looks up from her homework, commenting with a barely enthused, shiny.
“They're fairies, actually. Such pretty sparkles,” Willow breathes almost reverently, before adding quickly, “ though you might wanna feed them some time or they'll die and in the end they'll be less sparkly, but more like...moth-y beef jerky.”

SPN – Pucker up, sweet-cheeks

“Dude, you have to kiss me.”
They're posing as a gay couple to get dirt on their suspect. Obviously they were quite convincing, seeing as the guy invited them to his party but still, Dean's getting way too caught up in this.
“M'not kissing you. There's...people here,” Sam hisses, smiling sugary the next moment as their suspect/host floats by.
“Aw, Sammy...gonna hurt your pretty boyfriend's feelings?” Dean teases, takes a step closer and, oh God, Dean's squeezing his ass!
“Pucker up, sweet-cheeks,” Dean mutters, jerking his head at something right above them – a mistletoe. Figures!


SPN – It's only after

It's only after. It's only after the sex – okay, fucking (like bunnies) – when he feels so boneless and sated he could sleep for a week, the worn mattress sucking him right in, the heat under the blanket almost unbearable, his skin tingling like Sam's been leaving track marks all over, the steady white noise humming pleasantly in his head that Dean looks outside. It's snowing.
Big, fat chunks of fluffy flakes tumbling down, gleaming as they turn in the parking lot's spotlights. Awww.
“You actually just sighed. Wistfully!” Sam pokes him, and Dean's too tired to protest.

SPN – Jesus' birthday

“...Christ was born on August 29. 4 AD. Your Christmas is an arbitrary date.”
The lady just huffs indignantly and waddles off, leaving Castiel standing there, looking confused.
“No luck proselytizing, huh?” Dean smirks.
It doesn't matter when Jesus was born. It's about what people mean when they're celebrating and not about the date, but Dean will never say it. Partly because their Christmases were never like that – holly, goodwill and family dinners and he wonders how he can miss something he doesn't even know. But for the most part, messing with Cas is just too funny.

McFly – Little kid/Big Kid

Today there were fifteen. Yesterday it was twelve. Tom's personal record, as far as Harry can remember, was thirty-six in one day. Fan presents. And, come Christmas time, they are extra-special generous. Harry knows Tom's surprise and joy should seem routine by now, so practiced it becomes fake, but it's not. Give him something Disney-themed and his face lights up like a freaking Christmas tree.
Watching Tom unwrap his gifts, Harry can't help feeling that there is not a little kid hidden somewhere inside, it's the other way around. It's a big kid that has the grown-up under tight wraps.

SPN – Like A Ghost

He should be used to spending Christmas just with his mum. For as long as Ben can remember it's been the two of them. Then why does he miss Dean?
Dean would go days without speaking to them, staring morosely into his whiskey glass, float through the house like a ghost, but Dean also made him laugh till he cried, helped him with his homework, let him have ice cream late at night even though mum had said no after dinner.
There's a small box in Ben's drawer, a present for Dean. He'll just keep it till he comes back.

McFly – How Dougie stole Christmas (and drooled all over it)

He hates Christmas. Well, not really, it's just...he had one really great one, the rest just suck by comparison.
Christmas four years ago, he spent in a cabin with Dougie. Manly Christmas. No TV, no kitschy tree just the two of them drinking beer and bitching about Frankie for dumping Dougie three days before Christmas. In the end Dougie was so drunk he got all cuddly and well, it was pretty chilly in that cabin, so Harry ended up with his friend draped over him like some sweaty comforter, drooling on his shirt, mumbling in his sleep. Best Christmas ever.

Buffy – Such a thing as too much

“You know there's such a thing as too much decoration – it looks like Martha Stewart threw up over the house,” Spike's voice, sudden, coming out of nowhere, almost makes Buffy slip off the ladder. Scowling over her shoulder, she staples the last of the lights against the front porch.
“Feel free to give me an early Christmas present and just leave!”
“Why, got some some doilies that need crocheting?”
“What do you want, Spike?” She huffs.
“Oh yeah, got you this!” He holds out his hand – it is a tiny stake ornament...

SPN – And then you wake up

Lisa's there and Ben. Dean's sitting on the couch with Sammy and Dad's in the easy chair opposite, pensively suckling on his beer and scowling whenever Sam switches channels. Dean's flicking cookie crumbs at Sam and his mum whacks him over the head as she passes through the living room on her way to the kitchen where Ellen and Jo bicker over how to stuff that monstrous bird the right way, while Jess and Bobby are off somewhere doing God knows what.
Those are Dean's usual dreams round Christmas time. And everyone's alive and happy.
And then he wakes up.

Buffy – Like the best Christmas ever

The kitchen's covered with a dusty layer of flour from when Dawn dropped the bowl earlier, Willow's frosting skills don't deserve to be called such, judging by the butter cream train wrecks that are Buffy's formally perfectly domed cupcakes and Xander...well, if you're lacking depth perception as you're liable to do if you're working with only one eye – let's just say those are some seriously funky-shaped cookies. Looking at Giles, the way he clings to that bottle of scotch, you just know that they'll be going to bed together tonight and still – it's like the best Christmas ever.

SPN – The Twelve Days of Christmas (Winchester Version)

It's like the sight of Christmas decoration causes Dean physical pain. The bar they're at tonight serves the beer bottles with little Santa Claus hats on top, tiny fur trimming and all. Dean rips it off with a scowl. On their way home, Dean almost runs over a group of carolers. No way that was an accident!
They're in the car and Sam's so tired it takes him a few moments to register that Dean's singing.
“...six rock salt rifles, five busty Asian beauties, four silver bullets, three –”
“Dude!”
“...and a Sasquatch in a pear tree!”

It's totally late, I know but looking over my notes some of these were just too cute to go to waste.
Hope you enjoy them, even if you're not feeling extra seasonal right now ;)
 
 
Current Mood: strangely accomplished
 
 
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