Drabbles: Other Pairings

Many Partings

Billy/Charlie, 200 words, hard R.

He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, fists clenched in silky straight hair; there are no sounds but hard breath and barely audible swallows, a long soft sigh as he sags back against the concrete wall. A moment later he shivers as cold air ghosts across his privates and hurriedly zips up. Charlie is still kneeling, his forehead pressed to Billy’s jeans. Billy pushes his fingers gently through his hair. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and feels the nod against his thigh. “C’mon, stand up,” he coaxes, but Charlie shakes his head.

Billy slides down to crouch beside him. “Alright?”

Charlie’s eyes are lowered, hidden. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” His voice is rough and soft.

Billy sighs and scratches his arm. “Yeah. I’m going to the States for a while. Florida.”

“You shouldn’t give up on the band.” On me. Now he lifts his eyes, black in the dim fluorescent light.

“It’s not–” Billy hesitates. “It’s not going anywhere, Charlie.”

“You’re wrong.” Charlie’s eyes are hard, but his mouth is soft and red.

“I’m no fortune teller.” The older man shrugs. “It’s not going anywhere for me, maybe.”

“Maybe not.” Charlie turns his head away. “Good luck anyroad.”



Loan Shark/Charlie, three linked drabbles. NC-17.

You have no idea, do you? What this will cost. But you want it, and I want you.

I’ll never tell you that.

You’re afraid to shoot it, so you snort it instead. When I fuck you, after, you watch me. It’s different. I have to work harder for what I want.

I get it, though. There, that little gleam of fear, your face twisting as you come, as I hurt you and pierce you and make you need me the way you’re going to need it. Need the drug.

I usually get what I want. I’m a hard worker.


I won’t let you have it till after, now. I find that I like the desperation, how your eyes go grey, how you keep looking at my coat while I push down your trousers and pin you against the wall. Fucking you until you come, finally, and when your eyes open again they are back on my coat.

Soon I will bind you, and I will pound you, and I will put that baggie just out of your reach and leave you tied there for a while.

You need it more than you need me, now. I don’t like that.


I’ll barely touch you anymore. When we see each other you always have the money, that’s gotten easy for you, hasn’t it? So I reach into my coat pocket and I hand you your little hoard; it’s far too easy to feel nothing but contempt.

But I remember how your mouth looked, red and wet as you swallowed me, and it makes me a little sad.

That’s why I slam you against the wall now, hard, and push a little slip of paper into your pocket. He’ll be your supplier from now on. I want nowt to do with you.

Many Meetings
Billy/Charlie, 100 words, G.

“You’re in that band.”

“You’re in that movie.”

They inspect one another and grin. “Nice guitar,” Charlie says, and Billy offers it. Party sounds wash them, and Charlie bends his shaggy head close to the instrument, coaxing soft chords out of it.

Billy watches his elegant fingers run over the strings, the way his butter-soft black jacket creases at the crook of his elbows.

Charlie glances up, watches Billy watching him and looks back down, smiling. Billy’s eyes are green, even in the flickering lights, and his head is tilted to one side, listening.

Anything can happen in this world.

Bonden/Dom, 200 words, G.

“Your new waister’s over the rail.”

Bonden nodded and set his broidery down; the white linen looked fine with its scarlet piping.

Sure enough the Mancunian was just straightening, wiping a smear of moisture from his mouth and looking decidedly miserable. Bonden pushed him down to sit against the rail and fetched a ladle of water.

“I’ll only puke it up again,” the young man murmured, eyes closing, skin greenish white.

“Aye,” Bonden said, “but better than heaving up naught.” He squatted to put the tin to the man’s lips and watched as he drained it.

“Thankee,” the man said, and Bonden nodded.

“It gets easier,” he said. “In a week you’ll be a sight better.”

“And a stone lighter.” A smile ghosted about his mouth and Bonden grinned, examining the proud, crooked jaw, the snub nose.

“Did you ever go in for the boxing?”

Blue eyes opened and Bonden watched the man’s searching gaze flick from his face to his roughened, scarred knuckles. “I did,” he said. “I’m Dom.”

“Bonden,” the sailor replied. “When you’re steady on your feet, we’ll spar. I’m sadly out of practice.”

“I’d like that,” Dom said. He closed his eyes again, still smiling slightly.

See You Soon.

Sniper/Charlie, 250 words, PG.

“Hiya.” Charlie’s voice was nervous, odd, and the young man watching the message smiled, though Charlie would never see the smile. “So, another week gone, love. Things here are good. We’ve been on tour for DELETED. S’good, makes the time go by faster till you’re done DELETED–or whatever you’re doing.” A sad little smile, and the soldier winced. Charlie. He could never keep a damned thing hidden, not love, not fear, not pain most especially. “I saw your mum when we were in DELETED, she said to tell you she loves you–but then I guess she sends these things to you herself, yeah? Shouldn’t blow my time on her messages, but you know how mums are. If I don’t say something she’ll find out, come and get me.” He grinned, ran long inky fingers through soft and messy hair. “Anyway. God, I miss you. Love you so much. Think about you every day, watch the news.” Grey eyes flicked momentarily off camera. “Hope you’re safe, love. Hope you’re playing that guitar I gave you–got some new songs for you when you come home. I love you so much, so much. Stay safe. I love you. See you soon.”

The screen flickered and went dark, and the soldier stared at the blank black rectangle, green eyes half-lidded, trapped between laughter and tears for what he had, what he could lose.

“See you soon,” he echoed softly, and curled up, floating gently in the strange, chilly womb of his duty.