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fanfic100 prompt: Blue. Word count: 100 T/S The Igors hadn't…

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fanfic100 prompt: Blue.
Word count: 100

The Igors hadn't even wandered out the door, Terence remembered to tell him later; they were still there, one of them on the back of the couch, mouth pink and open and wailing piteously (probably because his water dish had got knocked over when...y'know) but the little black one was nudging Simon's hair with his nose and kneading it, claws open and flashing, purr nervous in his chest like he was thinking to himself that the scratches to Simon's scalp should have been enough to wake him and his lips shouldn't've been so blue.

fanfic100 prompt 72: "Fixed."
Word count: 100

The last time, Barty's room belonged to a schizophrenic who was found three corridors over half-undressed and was moved Upstairs. He told the story to Evan, Thursday afternoon in arts and crafts, glad for the half-smile he got in return.

"Is it a nice room?" Evan asked gamely as he fixed a cracked piece of macaroni on Barty's jewellery box (he sent it to his mother, as punishment).

"Oh, yes. Big windows. And pretty curtains, you should come see them!"

The simplicity of Barty's happiness infectious, Evan smiled again, despite himself.

"I'd like to."

fanfic100 prompt: Not enough.
Word count: 275

"Peter, I couldn't poss - " the rest of the sentence dissolved in James' mouth under the other man's glare, and he meekly took a piece of chocolate from the box, scurrying back to his own desk as he bit into it (bleah, coconut).

Peter passed it around to the rest of the office workers and the women in the typing pool next door (they beamed at him and one offered to take him off of whoever'd sent that box's hands) before he brought the mostly-empty heart-shaped box back to his desk and slid it inside a drawer, towards the back. (South Beach for three weeks now; he'd actually lost seven pounds and couldn't risk jeopardising those results. It was still sweet of Olivier to send it.)

There was a card in the ridiculously huge batch of red roses sent to Rookwood that was, apparently, so incendiary that it made the old man retreat to his office for a stiff (ahaha) drink. The card in J's bouquet of daffodils was a pretentious quote (surprise) from some poet, and the card in the irises that came for Karen made her tear up.

He'd just put "Love from Peter" in the card for the flowers he'd ordered for Olivier, half dozen each of red and white roses - a move he'd begun to second-guess pretty quickly. Not special enough, he frowned, as he trotted back into the building, almost having forgot the box of chocolates - he'd take them home, Olivier always liked eating them for breakfast the next morning.

fanfic100 Prompt: Red.
Word count: 190

Terence and Simon's side of town one Saturday afternoon: Daniel is giggling at a street vendor's counterfeit Dooney handbags and wondering to James if they should tell the man that Burk has an e on the end.

James laughs as well, glancing at his watch; therefore he doesn't see an elbow sliding out to jab in the middle of his back. Instead, he nearly topples into a nearby cart, catching himself on Daniel's sleeve and almost dragging him over with him. He immediately checks for his wallet as he straightens, then a second later begins apologising, both to Daniel and to the vendor.

"What happened?" Daniel asks, worried (and wincing at the tug to his arm).

"I don't know, I just f..." the rest of the sentence is forgotten; James' eyes have been caught by two similarly brown pairs twenty feet away in the crowd. Daniel glances up as well, but only catches a glimpse of red hair (like James') before it disappears around a corner. James, he notices, has gone white.


Lips pressed together so tight they're bloodless: "Let's go home."
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