thewolfmistress asked for Numbers, Charlie/Colby
He Watches (283 words)
He didn’t notice at first, didn’t notice that it wasn’t the play of numbers and symbols that had his attention and held him captive. Although, really, he figures that should have been his first sign, because if there’s one thing that Colby Granger was never well known for, it’s an affinity with mathematics.
At first he notices it because he’s following things a little easier, finding that he understands and remembers things that his high school tutors could never have made him see, and he wonders how it’s possible that he’s retaining the knowledge, thinks that maybe it’s Charlie’s method of teaching, or maybe it’s that he’s finally seeing where numbers have a place in his every day life. It never occurred to him that it might be the man more than the maths.
It’s David that calls him on it, makes it a joke, because who would think that he’d be stupid enough to fall for his boss’ kid brother. And really, they’re not a match, not even close, so when he finds himself thinking more about David’s words, thinking that maybe it’s not so much a joke after all, he reminds himself that it’s not possible, not going to happen, get your head out of the clouds, Granger.
So he watches. Watches from the sidelines into a world of numbers that he doesn’t understand, doesn’t have a place in, as it continues to elude him. He dreams in terms of maybe and one day, but deep down, he knows that he’ll never really take that step. He’ll go on as he always has and try not to remember that he’s never liked to live a lie.
So instead, he just watches.
purple_shoes asked for Torchwood, Jack/Gwen or Gwen/Rhys, Christmas in the Hub and mistletoe
Mrs. Clause (524 words)
“You’re not serious.”
“I am not wearing that, Jack Harkness, so you can think again.”
“Well, it’s not really my size, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me; that’s not a skirt, it’s a belt!”
Jack merely grinned.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Well, well, well, very nice, Gwen. Fancy rockin’ around my Christmas tree?” Owen asked with a leer.
“I hate you,” she said, turning to glare at Jack.
“Look, we all have to take our turn manning the desk at Christmas,” Jack said and Gwen watched his face very closely, because if there was even one hint of laughter, she was going to shoot him.
“And I suppose this is Owen’s outfit from last year?”
“Ianto’s,” the man in question responded, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well, I’m off, try not to need me for the next, oh, five days.”
“Why does he get to leave?” Gwen asked, convincing herself that she was not pouting. “Why can’t he wear the skirt?”
“Have you seen his legs?” Jack shuddered comically.
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s a little funny,” he said with a smirk. “Look.” He took a step towards her, hands on her hips as he stared walking her backwards towards the door. “It’s only for a few hours. The local charities come carolling every year and there has to be someone there to smile sweetly and give them some money. Okay?”
Gwen nodded, trying not to think about the fact that he was pressed against her, his breath tickling her cheek. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what he was doing, but, really, if Jack wanted to use other means to persuade her? Well, she was only human after all.
“So…an hour then?” she asked, swallowing. She jerked as his thumbs started rubbing over her hip bones, soft against her skin where the barely-there Mrs. Clause outfit was doing a poor job of clothing her.
“A few. Until they’re gone.”
“And what am I supposed to do to occupy myself?”
His eyes crinkled as a lazy smile spread across his face. “I’m sure your active imagination can keep you entertained.”
“Oh, you are, are you?”
“How about a little…stimulation?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and she couldn’t help but return his grin.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well…” Slowly, he looked up.
She followed his gaze. “Mistletoe.”
“Tosh puts it up every year.”
“Well,” she said as he looked back at her. “I guess it’s tradition…”
He smiled softly and nodded at her, but made no move to kiss her just yet. She wasn’t stupid, she knew she was playing with fire. Jack wasn’t the type to want anything long term, wasn’t the type to stick around and dream of a normal life. And she had Rhys. She loved Rhys. But… sometimes, she thought that maybe, just maybe…
He leaned towards her slowly, his thumbs still moving gently across her hip bones and her breath hitched just before his lips touched hers. It wasn’t a long kiss, wasn’t anything more than a gentle brushing of his lips against hers, but it set her blood singing.
“Merry Christmas, Gwen,” he said softly against her lips.
“Merry Christmas, Jack.”
revivingophelia asked for Supernatural/Smallville with a Dean/Chloe or Sam/Chloe pairing.
The Right One (555 words)
“Ouch! What the hell was that for? I just saved your life, you ungrateful bi-” Dean yelped as another shoe smacked him on the head. “Are you insane?”
“No! I’m pissed off! And I’m not a bitch, I’m just annoyed at stupid idiotic…” Chloe waved her arms, “heroes who seem to think I’m a damsel in distress! I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, it sure looked like it. What were you gonna do?” Dean asked, pointing at the object in her hand. “Read it to death?”
She glared and threw the book at him as well.
“Hurt, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, well… I don’t have fangs!” Dean let out an angry breath. “So, any ideas on how to get us out of here?”
“Well, you’re the one who got us locked in.” She glared and moved towards him, amused when he jumped back a little as she approached. When he realised that it wasn’t him she was heading for, though, his eyes widened and he grabbed her shoes from the ground, holding them above his head.
“Are you serious?”
“You hit me on the head! Twice!”
“Well, I ran out of shoes.” She sighed and it almost looked like all the fight left her in that one breath. “Look, Dean, can we just...get out of here? I’m having a really bad day.”
He winced. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“This time,” she said with a wry smile.
He shrugged, but the look on his face kind of admitted that she had a point. “If it makes you feel any better, Bobby will probably kill me when he finds us.”
“Yeah, that does make me feel a little better.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so loved.” Chloe grinned at him and he smirked. “Aren’t you glad you came to visit?”
“Oh, thrilled,” she said dryly. She smiled. “You know that Uncle Bobby still thinks I don’t know what he does.”
“After this, I think he’s gonna work it out.”
She smiled. “Trust me, with my life? This isn’t actually all that strange.” He looked startled, but she continued before he could question her. She really did not want to introduce him to the idea of alien best friends and crazy meteor freaks; he looked like he had enough on his plate. “So, what was Sam saying about a deal you made with someone?” she asked, almost wishing she’d kept her mouth shut when his face closed off.
“Ah, it’s nothin’.” He cleared his throat. “We should really look for a way out before we become lunch.”
“Dean?” she asked curiously, putting her hand on his arm to stop him moving.
“Really, Chloe, it’s nothing.”
She nodded slowly, still frowning at him. “Okay,” she said and, on impulse, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. He let out a short breath and blinked at her. She blushed and shrugged. “You kinda looked like you needed it.”
He smiled. “Well-”
“Don’t ruin the moment, Dean.”
He nodded and cleared his throat again. “Okay, so, a way out?”
“Can I have my shoes back?”
“That depends. You gonna hit me with them again?”
“That depends. Are you going to be a good boy?”
“You got the wrong brother, Chloe,” he said with a smirk.
“Actually,” she answered, shaking her head and smiling. “I think I got the right one.”