Wesley liked the green shirt and black jacket the most.
Oh, he liked all other shirts Rupert wore, a particular soft spot for tweed jackets, but this set was the best one.
It complimented green eyes of his lover. It fit in all the right places.
It looked amazing, wet and clingy, that first day when every touch was a discovery and every kiss brought amazement and fire.
He always wondered how a simple fabric can be both so rough and soft.
Yes, he liked that shirt and that jacket.
And most of all, he liked it on the floor.
for silent_chris prompt: listen
People would be surprised if they learned that Oz could form sentences longer than three words.
Laconic could be his middle name if it wasn't Joseph.
But it was always a matter of finding the perfect listener.
When Willow was changing her dress, or not yet there, on patrol with Buffy, on a shopping trip, or lost in the world of her latest computer project or spell...
He sat down on her bed and talked, about his band, about the latest record he bought, about wormholes and theory of relativity.
And Amy nibbled on his black fingernail and listened.
for spikeyboots prompt: stealing
When the fist met Sawyer's jaw his first thought was 'not again'.
"Give it back!"
"Give what back?" automatic denial, hand wiping off the blood.
"You perfectly know!"
Smirk set firmly in place. "I haven't the slightest. Why won't you tell me?"
Threatening silence followed and he smiled.
"Don't want anyone to know about porn? Or that it was gay porn? Tell ya what, Ali. I'll trade you."
Sayid crossed his arms. "What for."
"The real thing?" Eyebrows raised in a way that wasn't practised at all, but was quite hopeful. "What say you?"
Ever since he learned that the Caritas was oftenly frequented by Angel and his merry band of little helpers Lindsey stopped coming there often.
But sometimes you miss the music, the crowd, sometimes you miss that part of you tend to forget exists...
Sometimes you just need to get drunk and sing your heart out.
And then you find her.
Blonde curtain of hair, blue eyes turned down, slender fingers grasping the microphone as if it was a lifeline, voice the angels should be jelous of.
Sometimes a chance meeting changes your life.
Sometimes you find love in unexpected places.
There are moments when she forgets.
When she doesn't remember she's still furious with him for the Spike debacle.
When she forgets that he betrayed her, that she doesn't need him, that nothing is the same anymore.
She smiles at him then, her eyes brightening with the fire he always loved.
She opens her lips around a kind word then remembers...
Her mouth is again a thin line of resentment, her eyes again empty.
The moment is gone and his heart is broken all over again, just like the first time.
But he lives for those moments.
for cala_jane prompt: whatever
V has a habit of getting under your skin.
I blame the head tilt.
So I stand on the bridge at 2am, hauling the rich asshole whose face would be plastered all over the tabloids tomorrow, reason being his suicide, off the edge and into his car.
"I don't want to," he whines when I politely explain I'm taking him to V's.
"Unless you have other ideas on what to do in the middle of the night on the backseat of your butt ugly yellow ride..." I wait a moment to hear if he does have.
Hope you like them, guys :)
I'm still taking requests.
I'm not bored, just activity challenged.