Flash Fiction Fills Take 42 (First Half)
Jun. 19th, 2013 11:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: First two of four flash fics. Enjoy!
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: SMxBMXWW feat Alfred, “No Offense, but why are men such idiots?”
Fandom: Justice League Animated. Warnings: None.
For azardarkstar
Prompt: Never stick your spike in crazy
Fandom: Transformers Bayverse, pre-films. Warnings: None. Crack-ish?
a/n: Two more flash fics to come. :) These were ridiculously fun to write.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: SMxBMXWW feat Alfred, “No Offense, but why are men such idiots?”
Fandom: Justice League Animated. Warnings: None.
Her head was pounding and her blood was boiling. The latter, of course, figuratively. But the ache pulsing across her temples was quite literal.
Diana sighed, elbows braced on the counter, two fingers pressed to her temples. She rubbed gently in clockwise circles as her mother had taught her, but it did not help. Perhaps because she was grinding her teeth.
Through the pain, she heard the barest clink of dishware. Her nostrils flared as an aromatic scent wafted warm and humid to her nose – chamomile tea.
Diana opened her eyes, looking down at a teacup and saucer, both expensive china and probably passed down in the family through generations of Waynes.
“I have often found that tea is a comfort when dealing with Master Bruce,” said a familiar voice.
Some of the tension drained out of Diana's body. She stopped clenching her teeth, lowering her hands and offering a thin smile.
“Thank you, Alfred,” she said. “It smells wonderful.”
He returned her smile with one much brighter than her own. “I assure you the taste matches the scent.”
Diana lifted the cup, taking in the soothing aroma and the warmth of it, before sipping the tea. It was the perfect temperature, no doubt brewed from fresh leaf and steeped at the correct amount of time. It did, indeed, taste wonderful.
“Mmm. You are right.”
That was, of course, when Alfred nudged a plate of lacy, Florentine cookies toward her, barely making a noise against the tabletop.
“I often serve these to Master Bruce when he is frustrated by a certain mutual acquaintance,” Alfred offered, amusement threaded through his voice.
Despite her frustrations, Diana found herself laughing. “You have a cure for everything, Alfred.”
“The benefit of age, Ms. Prince.”
“If you're going to offer me comfort, I insist you call me Diana,” she replied, and reached for a cookie, the scent of dark chocolate irresistible. “At least in these circumstances.”
“Of course.” Alfred sat down next to her with his own cup of tea. “If I might inquire?”
Diana shook her head. “It's a general annoyance, no situation in particular.”
“Ah, I see.” Alfred selected a cookie for himself, radiating vibes of understanding and commiseration. “All the more reason to indulge then.” He nudged the tray toward her, encouraging her to take another.
Diana hardly needed the encouragement. She could already feel some of the lingering anger melt away. It was difficult to hold onto her irritation in Alfred's calming presence. No wonder the Wayne Household hadn't completely imploded.
She sighed. “No offense, Alfred, but why are men such complete idiots?”
His lips twitched. “None taken.” He sipped at his tea. “And I am afraid it is coded into our genetics. The Y-chromosome actually.”
Diana chuckled, and a soft, relieved exhale escaped her. “Thank you,” she said.
“Anytime, Diana. You are welcome here.” Alfred gestured to the kitchen around them. “This room is sanctuary. Even Master Bruce respects that.”
Of course he would. “Bruce is lucky to have family like you.”
Alfred patted her hand, sliding from his chair to rise from the table. “And he is very lucky to have you and Mr. Kent.” He picked up his empty teacup, taking it to the sink. “Now I must begin preparations for dinner. Any requests?”
Diana took another cookie just because she could. “Anything you make will be delicious,” she said.
Alfred chuckled. “Very well. Parmesan it is.”
Diana sighed, elbows braced on the counter, two fingers pressed to her temples. She rubbed gently in clockwise circles as her mother had taught her, but it did not help. Perhaps because she was grinding her teeth.
Through the pain, she heard the barest clink of dishware. Her nostrils flared as an aromatic scent wafted warm and humid to her nose – chamomile tea.
Diana opened her eyes, looking down at a teacup and saucer, both expensive china and probably passed down in the family through generations of Waynes.
“I have often found that tea is a comfort when dealing with Master Bruce,” said a familiar voice.
Some of the tension drained out of Diana's body. She stopped clenching her teeth, lowering her hands and offering a thin smile.
“Thank you, Alfred,” she said. “It smells wonderful.”
He returned her smile with one much brighter than her own. “I assure you the taste matches the scent.”
Diana lifted the cup, taking in the soothing aroma and the warmth of it, before sipping the tea. It was the perfect temperature, no doubt brewed from fresh leaf and steeped at the correct amount of time. It did, indeed, taste wonderful.
“Mmm. You are right.”
That was, of course, when Alfred nudged a plate of lacy, Florentine cookies toward her, barely making a noise against the tabletop.
“I often serve these to Master Bruce when he is frustrated by a certain mutual acquaintance,” Alfred offered, amusement threaded through his voice.
Despite her frustrations, Diana found herself laughing. “You have a cure for everything, Alfred.”
“The benefit of age, Ms. Prince.”
“If you're going to offer me comfort, I insist you call me Diana,” she replied, and reached for a cookie, the scent of dark chocolate irresistible. “At least in these circumstances.”
“Of course.” Alfred sat down next to her with his own cup of tea. “If I might inquire?”
Diana shook her head. “It's a general annoyance, no situation in particular.”
“Ah, I see.” Alfred selected a cookie for himself, radiating vibes of understanding and commiseration. “All the more reason to indulge then.” He nudged the tray toward her, encouraging her to take another.
Diana hardly needed the encouragement. She could already feel some of the lingering anger melt away. It was difficult to hold onto her irritation in Alfred's calming presence. No wonder the Wayne Household hadn't completely imploded.
She sighed. “No offense, Alfred, but why are men such complete idiots?”
His lips twitched. “None taken.” He sipped at his tea. “And I am afraid it is coded into our genetics. The Y-chromosome actually.”
Diana chuckled, and a soft, relieved exhale escaped her. “Thank you,” she said.
“Anytime, Diana. You are welcome here.” Alfred gestured to the kitchen around them. “This room is sanctuary. Even Master Bruce respects that.”
Of course he would. “Bruce is lucky to have family like you.”
Alfred patted her hand, sliding from his chair to rise from the table. “And he is very lucky to have you and Mr. Kent.” He picked up his empty teacup, taking it to the sink. “Now I must begin preparations for dinner. Any requests?”
Diana took another cookie just because she could. “Anything you make will be delicious,” she said.
Alfred chuckled. “Very well. Parmesan it is.”
For azardarkstar
Prompt: Never stick your spike in crazy
Fandom: Transformers Bayverse, pre-films. Warnings: None. Crack-ish?
“What did I tell you?” Sunstreaker's demand came out sharp and irritated, kind of like his emotions right now.
Sideswipe was a woebegone clump of red armor in the chair across from him, one that didn't bother to lift his helm from the tabletop. “Never stick your spike in crazy.”
“Never,” Sunstreaker emphasized, and leaned forward, pinning his brother with a fierce glare. “That's right. And why don't we stick our spikes in crazy?”
“It multiples,” came the recited answer, albeit muffled by his faceplant into the table.
“And?”
“Never lets go.”
“And?” Sunstreaker prompted, frustration only growing.
Sideswipe clunked his helm against the table. “It's not my fault!” he wailed, energy field releasing a sharp burst of indignation and a fair dose of shame. “He didn't look crazy.”
Sunstreaker snorted. “They never do.”
“And he had the sexiest aft I have ever seen. No lie.”
Sighing, Sunstreaker sat back in his chair, rolling his optics.
“Big, purple optics,” Sideswipe continued without any prompting this time, his vocals taking on a dreamy sigh. “Rich black and red paint. And all the best high grade.”
“...You glitch!” Sunstreaker snapped out his leg, pede colliding with Sideswipe's shin in a kick hard enough to dent metal. “You just wanted the high grade!” He kicked Sideswipe again for good measure.
“Ow! Frag it, Sunny!” Sideswipe scooted his chair over, an attempt to get out of reach. “Haven't I been dented enough?”
Sunstreaker scowled. “Not in my opinion.”
Sideswipe lifted his helm. “I can feel the love,” he drawled.
“You're going to feel my pede up your aft if you don't shut the frag up!”
“Ooo. Sounds kinky.”
Sunstreaker kicked him again, because he could and Sideswipe should have known it was coming anyway, the selfish glitch. Sideswipe's chair made an obnoxious noise against the floor as he scooted several more feet away. Juuuuust out of reach.
“You are a sparkless shell without any sympathy,” Sideswipe grumbled. “I could use a hug but no, my darling brother would rather abuse me.”
Sunstreaker's glare could have peeled paint. “This is all your fault.”
Sideswipe sighed, helm impacting the table again with a solid thunk. “It always is.”
“Because you never listen to me.”
“In one audial and out the other,” Sideswipe agreed.
Sunstreaker felt a lot like banging his helm against the wall. “How long do we have to hide here?”
“However long it takes Dead End to forget I exist.”
Of course it would.
Sunstreaker sagged in his chair, resisting the urge to leap across the table and throttle the other half of his spark. “I hate you.”
“And yet you're stuck with me.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“What else are brothers for?”
Sunstreaker decided it was better not to answer that. He might say something he would regret.
“Shut up and recharge,” he snapped.
Sideswipe laughed.
Sunstreaker sighed.
The next few vorns were going to suck slag.
Sideswipe was a woebegone clump of red armor in the chair across from him, one that didn't bother to lift his helm from the tabletop. “Never stick your spike in crazy.”
“Never,” Sunstreaker emphasized, and leaned forward, pinning his brother with a fierce glare. “That's right. And why don't we stick our spikes in crazy?”
“It multiples,” came the recited answer, albeit muffled by his faceplant into the table.
“And?”
“Never lets go.”
“And?” Sunstreaker prompted, frustration only growing.
Sideswipe clunked his helm against the table. “It's not my fault!” he wailed, energy field releasing a sharp burst of indignation and a fair dose of shame. “He didn't look crazy.”
Sunstreaker snorted. “They never do.”
“And he had the sexiest aft I have ever seen. No lie.”
Sighing, Sunstreaker sat back in his chair, rolling his optics.
“Big, purple optics,” Sideswipe continued without any prompting this time, his vocals taking on a dreamy sigh. “Rich black and red paint. And all the best high grade.”
“...You glitch!” Sunstreaker snapped out his leg, pede colliding with Sideswipe's shin in a kick hard enough to dent metal. “You just wanted the high grade!” He kicked Sideswipe again for good measure.
“Ow! Frag it, Sunny!” Sideswipe scooted his chair over, an attempt to get out of reach. “Haven't I been dented enough?”
Sunstreaker scowled. “Not in my opinion.”
Sideswipe lifted his helm. “I can feel the love,” he drawled.
“You're going to feel my pede up your aft if you don't shut the frag up!”
“Ooo. Sounds kinky.”
Sunstreaker kicked him again, because he could and Sideswipe should have known it was coming anyway, the selfish glitch. Sideswipe's chair made an obnoxious noise against the floor as he scooted several more feet away. Juuuuust out of reach.
“You are a sparkless shell without any sympathy,” Sideswipe grumbled. “I could use a hug but no, my darling brother would rather abuse me.”
Sunstreaker's glare could have peeled paint. “This is all your fault.”
Sideswipe sighed, helm impacting the table again with a solid thunk. “It always is.”
“Because you never listen to me.”
“In one audial and out the other,” Sideswipe agreed.
Sunstreaker felt a lot like banging his helm against the wall. “How long do we have to hide here?”
“However long it takes Dead End to forget I exist.”
Of course it would.
Sunstreaker sagged in his chair, resisting the urge to leap across the table and throttle the other half of his spark. “I hate you.”
“And yet you're stuck with me.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“What else are brothers for?”
Sunstreaker decided it was better not to answer that. He might say something he would regret.
“Shut up and recharge,” he snapped.
Sideswipe laughed.
Sunstreaker sighed.
The next few vorns were going to suck slag.
a/n: Two more flash fics to come. :) These were ridiculously fun to write.
