More drabbles

[brigdh]

Argh. For some reason, I am unable to concentrate on anything. Not even emails and LJ comments, much less actual writing. I need to force myself to do something. And I know that you would like to help me out.

So! I will write ficbits for y'all. Request anything I know and I will write a short little story between 100 and 500 words (or, well, I will attempt to write one). It went pretty well last time I tried this, but the first time I ended up not writing any, so I don't want to make any promises. It could be fun, though.

Go ahead, ask!

Comments

[wolfpilot06.livejournal.com]

*POUNCES*

TsuSoka. Just ordinary, fluff-less, gen Tsusoka, if you can manage that. ^_~

**wolf**

[ranalore.livejournal.com]

Shinigami shopping for home linens. Go.

[b-hallward.livejournal.com]

Anything with an older, thirty-ish Hisoka (well, not necessarily physically older, but you know...)

**eager, eager**

[thedemonprist.livejournal.com]

Mu/Tsu love-ness? Pwease? :D

[coffeeandink.livejournal.com]

Saiyuki?

Or ClubSoka.

[kohakutenshi.livejournal.com]

Hmm...

...I'm craving a little Hijiri-ness. Hisoka with him would be nice, too! <3

But only if ya want to! :)

[squirrelarmy.livejournal.com]

Hmm. Tsuzuki cooking for Hisoka. Maybe even with Hisoka's reaction. ^_^

[p-zeitgeist.livejournal.com]

I want to read all of these. Just for the record.

But to mix things up a bit, how about the aftermath of the rescue, in the Bedouin AU? After Hisoka's reported in, and he and Tsuzuki are out of the meeting from hell.

Or not. Because really, I'd be happy with any of the things anybody else has asked for.

[weirdquark]

Ooh, I want a crack AU too! How about a scene from the Depression-era circus where Hisoka finds out Tsuzuki is a demon? Or whatever comes into your head.

[questionable537.livejournal.com]

I love Hisoka to bits, but how about something pre-Hisoka? Maybe Konoe trying to keep up with everything after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima?

[b-hallward.livejournal.com]

Oh, I very, very heartily second p_zeitgeist's suggestion. Bedouin AU is teh crack.

[mistressrenet.livejournal.com]

Watari cuts his hair.

[elihice.livejournal.com]

Tatsumi has buy something expensive.

427 words. And this is kind of fluffy; sorry about that.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Friendship, Hisoka decided, was a lot like being annoyed all the time, and not minding. Because it wasn't as if he liked the way Tsuzuki acted; the man was a slob and an idiot and had as much restraint as a five-year-old, and Hisoka meant every single one of the various things he'd called him.

Well. He meant them when he said them. And he usually meant them afterwards, especially if Tsuzuki laughed off the insult. Really, it was only rarely that he felt cruel and tactless and mean, and that was just because Tsuzuki could take him so seriously. It seemed that the only times Tsuzuki was ever serious was when he'd found something new to feel guilty over, and that was bad enough for Hisoka to almost wish he'd stick to slacking off and eating pie.

But most days were somewhere between those two extremes. Even Tsuzuki- who to first appearances was capable only of an insanely giddy cheerfulness and darkest depression- relaxed, and managed to pester Hisoka about a new store or going drinking or a person he'd met, whatever his latest distraction from work was, without the air of forced casualness that could make him so fragile. Ordinary days then, meant Tsuzuki's hand in Hisoka's hair as he teased him, and his arm looped carelessly around Hisoka's neck when he leaned close to pass along some new piece of office gossip; they were lunches at familiar places as Tsuzuki caught up with every waitress and busboy, or dinners at some excitingly new restaurant and squabbles over the price.

There had to be some special property of friendship that could make that all seem ordinary, because there wasn't any other explanation for how Hisoka could find Tsuzuki on his doorstep at 2am, drunk and saying stupid things in a soft voice and waiting for Hisoka to make it better, and take it in stride. A year ago, when he was still alive, there was no one Hisoka wouldn't have shut the door on- not that anyone he knew would have come to him for help. Tsuzuki was the only one foolish enough to trust him.

It must be friendship, because Hisoka hadn't changed. He wasn't ever going to be a nice person, and he wasn't any less annoyed than he would have been before, but he let Tsuzuki in anyway. Something had to be different. And with Tsuzuki sprawled over the couch, his dirty shoes still on and a hand covering reddened eyes, it was a bit more comforting to blame friendship than insanity.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

"Look at this one!"

Hisoka glanced over his shoulder at the set of curtains Tsuzuki was lifting off the shelf, but his expression froze before he'd turned halfway. "What color is that?" he said, in the same tone of voice that someone might use to ask 'which bit was her head?'

Tsuzuki caught the tag dangling from one of the beaded chains which decorated the bottom half of the glossy fabric. "Tahitian Sunset."

"No," Hisoka said, his face settling into a look of horror.

"But it's got a pie design on it! With ice cream."

Hisoka took at a corner of the curtain to get a closer look, holding it between his fingers gingerly, as if he was afraid it might rub off on him. Which, Tsuzuki reflected, considering the strangely greasy look of the thing, it might. "What does pie have to do with Tahiti?"

"I think that's just their way of saying red." Tsuzuki turned the curtain to a new angle in the light. "Or maybe orange. What color does it look like to you?"

"One that will never be seen in our house." Hisoka dropped his corner and surreptitiously rubbed his hand on his jeans, wincing as the beads tinkled and chimed as they fell against each other.

"We could put it in the kitchen?"

"No." Tsuzuki tried to shift the curtain to a more appealing arrangement, and ended up covering most of it with his hands. Hisoka raised an eyebrow at his efforts, and moved to another curtain halfway down the aisle. Tsuzuki could see from where he was standing that it was off-white with a border of black; in other words, something Hisoka was sure to start describing as understated and refined any moment now, as though those things didn't also mean boring and completely uninteresting. "Though it would fit. That thing looks like your cooking tastes."

Tsuzuki considered protesting the insult. He didn't think his cooking was so bad, and he ate enough food to be an expert on taste. But that argument was a waste of time, because all of his best efforts hadn't been able to convince Hisoka to eat anything he'd made in months, and anyway, right now he had bigger fish to fry!

Figuratively.

He tried another track, pouting and twisting his fingers in the curtains. "You're not letting me choose anything."

Hisoka shrugged, uncaring. "It's not my fault your sense of style looks like radioactive experiment gone wrong."

Tsuzuki gasped, letting tears well in his eyes. "You're so mean!"

Hisoka didn't answer, but his lips got thin and eyes focused intently on the curtain in his hands. Tsuzuki knew that look. It meant Hisoka was really putting an effort into ignoring him. But Hisoka was also glancing at the other shoppers worriedly, which meant that Tsuzuki had already won. He sniffed. Loudly. "No! No curtain," Hisoka whispered desperately, starting to turn red.

Tsuzuki took a deep breath and opened his mouth, prepared to wail, but Hisoka caved before he even got started. "Okay! Fine! We'll buy it! Just shut up." He smacked Tsuzuki in the shoulder. "I'd like it if all of the Meifu didn't think we're crazy."

Tsuzuki grinned and bounced as he slid of the plastic-wrapped packages off the shelf. "Should we pick out towels now?"

"Idiot."

[ranalore.livejournal.com]

Aaaaaah, that's the stuff. Definitely haven't lost your touch, sugar.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

^^ Thank you!

204 words. Hope you like ^^

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Tsuzuki's back cracks against the wall, Muraki's hands heavy on his shoulders, and his breath catches in his throat with a desperation like drowning. Self-preservation shuts down. Muraki's teeth are on his neck and it hurts but not enough and when they scrape down, down, he feels the echo in the arch of his spine.

Tsuzuki lies to everyone. He should be good at it by now, but he's not; he's never had enough discipline to be believable.

Muraki doesn't have to say a word: Tsuzuki betrays himself in the end. He shifts against Muraki in jerks far too small to escape, but he can't hold still, can't just watch. Something darker than excitement shakes his body and robs his composure and he thinks he should say something, hears himself choking on half-formed words, and none of them are no. His fingers are caught in Muraki's grasp and forced against the wall, but he laces them unthinking, holding to Muraki as tight as the man has him, and it's something to clutch at when his mouth opens for the kiss that tears at him. Muraki smiles when his last pretensions of resistance fall away.

Tsuzuki closes his eyes. He lies to himself as well.

Re: 204 words. Hope you like ^^

[p-zeitgeist.livejournal.com]

It would be rude of me to speak for anybody else, but I sure like it.

Only, why is it so much hotter when you write them? The universe is mocking me, I know it is. On the other hand, if it's going to be like this, why should I care?

591 words of... well, I'm not sure of what.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Okay. This was *so* *much* *harder* than I expected before trying to write this. Who knew that older-Hisoka would be such a hard concept to get my mind around? This is the fourth version of various ways to work with the idea, and though I like it best, I think it might actually work the least well. Hisoka doesn't really come off as all that different.

So, um. Don't hate it. ^^;

***

Hisoka has an unfair advantage: at least he can read his partner's moods, if his partner is going to be strangely silent and melancholy and stand on the hotel balcony staring into the distance for what seems like hours.

Tsuzuki has to ask.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hisoka shrugs. "I'm not sure." He shifts his weight, thinking carefully before speaking. He still does that sometimes, portioning out his words as though he resents giving them up. Tsuzuki can be patient; trying to rush Hisoka is more likely to end the discussion than result in faster revelations. "Muraki's probably dead by now."

"Probably," Tsuzuki echoes, hedging his answer. Hisoka is a dark patch against the city lights, his silhouette a solid shadow at the edges where he blocks out houses and streets and other hotels. The lamp next to the bed reaches just far enough to illuminate a few of the wrinkles on the back of his shirt, to catch in the blonder strands of his hair. Tsuzuki doesn't want to talk about this.

"I stayed for that." Hisoka adjusts his grip on the railing. He still holds himself too stiff and strict when he's uneasy, an old habit that refuses to die. "Muraki was my reason for not moving on."

"I know." Tsuzuki won't say more than that, but even though he refuses to consider the logical consequence to Hisoka's beginning, he can feel it. He stares hard at Hisoka's back and memorizes the familiar outline, long, thin limbs and narrow shoulders, and it hurts even if he won't think it.

Hisoka turns, and now the lamplight falls on the still-soft curve of his cheek and reflects in his eyes, which will always be childishly large. "Don't be stupid," he says, but his tone is more apologetic than annoyed. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

Tsuzuki smiles too quickly at him. "Alright."

"I couldn't. Tatsumi would have a nervous breakdown if found out you still don't know how to use the computer system." This was Hisoka's idea of teasing him. Hisoka's sense of humor is nothing like Tsuzuki's; it's too quiet and mostly internal. He doesn't bother to laugh at the things he thinks are funny, but he smiles sometimes, the smallest curve to his lips and a crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

He's doing it now, watching Tsuzuki and waiting to see if he gets the joke. Tsuzuki laughs and falls back on the bed, running a hand through his hair and glancing at Hisoka through his fingers. He likes to see him smile. "So mean."

Hisoka humphs softly, moving out of Tsuzuki's field of vision as he steps off the balcony and wanders across the room. "I'm not mean. You're too sensitive."

Tsuzuki continues to look through the open door, studying the now-visible tiny halos of yellow and white light. "You could," he says, trying to keep his tone light.

Hisoka mumbles something. Tsuzuki turns: Hisoka's stuck the case file in his teeth while he rifles through his suitcase with both hands. It makes him look silly, but only for a moment, and then he's found his pajamas and drops the file back on top. "I don't want to," he says again. "I never should have brought it up."

"Why did you?"

"Because it's been too long since we had a hard case. Something's got to go wrong."

"Cynic," Tsuzuki says, because it's so like Hisoka to think that that it must be true.

"Naïve," Hisoka says, which is the expected answer, and it's as comforting as his pessimism.

***

Re: 204 words. Hope you like ^^

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

^^ Thank you.

My guess would be that I was trying to make it less dark, since I know thedemonprist has a happier view of them than I do. Excessive self-loathing tends to cancel out the hottness.

Regardless of which, yours are always very sexy, so don't feel too mocked.

Re: 591 words of... well, I'm not sure of what.

[b-hallward.livejournal.com]

Oh, I love it. The tone hits my always reliable melancholy-but-hopeful button. And I adore how your Hisoka is still Hisoka here, just a little calmer, a little less wound together out of knee-jerk reactions. And, although this is probably silly, I love the way you describe the scene's lighting. The way Hisoka is visually defined as an absence, "the dark patch," is really neat, too. I'm rambling, I think...

To wit: *squee!*

Re: 591 words of... well, I'm not sure of what.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

^^ Oh, I'm so glad that you like it.

Me like!! <33

[thedemonprist.livejournal.com]

:D :D :D :D

Sankyuu!

Re: Me like!! <33

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked!