Wherein a word or phrase can be the start of something fun and wonderful.
Some are simply stand-alone ficlets or drabbles. Some link up with published stories. Some end up previews for things yet to come.
Working off prompts: Amuse Me/ Drink Me Related story: Unsettled
[Amuse Me: write a funny drabble about one character trying to cheer another up. Drink Me: write a drabble about characters drinking, alone or with each other.]
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"'lo?"
♫ "Honey, bunny, pumpkin pie." ♫
He's heard her sing that song before. It's mostly tuneless, but unmistakable: her happy little nonsense song. He loves hearing her sing it, even if it's usually half a room away. She never sings it quite the same way when others are around. "Babe?"
There she goes, repeating the notes sans words. Can she not hear him? Does she think she's on hold?
"Everything ok? Babe?"
He hears a thump, and a bump, though muffled. What's going on? He turns away from the room, trying to focus on the noises coming through the speaker of his phone.
She's pocket dialed him, again. And from the echoes she's either in the kitchen, or – or bathroom. His eyebrows raise as that thought occurs to him. Just how she might have 'accidentally' dialed him if that were the case leads him down a dangerous mental path.
He clears his throat as he jams one hand into his pants pocket to try to hide the way his body reacts to even the glancing thought of her. It's not like it used to be! He isn't starved for her attention anymore! But maybe that was better. Better than this wild desire that stirs within him at even a glancing thought.
This time when he tries to get her attention, breaking through her song, his words come out lower than he intends. "Babe," he clears his throat, "Babe? You there? Hellooooo."
Maybe if he'd stop thinking about her in the bathroom. Maybe then he could get himself under control. Somehow find the willpower to end this clearly unintended call rather than listen to her siren song. If this little nonsense song of hers qualifies...
Kitchen. She's in the kitchen. Yep. He can hear the distinct bump of the cabinet doors that need replacing.
Followed by her giggle: "Whoops. Guess I need another bottle!"
She's drinking. Without him. And - damn. He's got to dislodge his hand from his pocket in order to glance at his watch.
Not to check the time to see how quickly he can make it over there. Not to see how much longer he's required here. No. Just to see how early she's started. Cause Max is with Izzy and he could hop, skip and jump to join...
No. Stop that. It's not date night. They've not agreed to any plans.
He gives himself a shake, emitting a rueful laugh as the sound of what he supposes to be a new bottle clinks against the rim of a glass. Is she using the wine glasses they picked out together all those years ago? Or maybe one of those new pint glasses with the etched figures that she liked so much when they went out shopping last week...
Distraction. That's helpful.
Otherwise it's a little too tempting to think about how he'd only be able to stand at the edge of the kitchen, silhouetted by the door frame for a second, if that, before he'd have to go to her. And she'd taste of - she's still on her rosé kick so her lips would taste heavenly. Not that his mouth would remain on hers for long. And the noises she'd make as he littered kisses over her skin. Kisses sprinkled with gentle nips. Ok maybe not so gentle. Particularly once she rakes her fingers through his hair and gives his head a little tug. He'd have her pinned against those outdated countertops. No, leaned over those outdated countertops. And making all those fantastic noises that...
"Fuuuuuuck." Under his breath he lets out a low groan, leaning into the wall in the corner of the room until his head bumps against the solid surface.
