pure procrastination ;_;
Nov. 6th, 2011 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stencilledTitle: Campfire Games
Pairing: Kame/Anne
Word Count: drabble-length
A/N: does writing my first Kame!het count as procrastination? I mean, it's productive... in a way... *shuffles feet*I am so screwed Sorry for the spam :(
He stands still as the makeup artists buzz around him, dabbing at his face there, tucking a strand of synthetic silver hair here. When he opens his eyes, he's no longer human. It's a painless transformation.
The filming will start soon but there's still some time to spare. It's just past dawn and the grass is stiff under his feet, green blades of icicles crunching under his steps. He coughs and says his thank you when a staff worker hands him a paper cup. The water washes away the dryness in his throat.
He makes his way to his chair, smiling when he sees the other two beside him already occupied, arranged in a triangle around a cylindrical heater. A modern campfire. Maybe he should bring marshmellows next time, just to complete the picture. Fuku-kun would love that. Bero would be ecstatic.
"I can't do it!" he hears Fuku-kun shout and stops to hover, stepping to the side just in time to see Bera's long braid fall over her shoulder.
"You can. Like this," she says and her cherry red lips disappear behind the cup of her hands. For a long moment, the air resounds with a melody of chirps that remind him of spring and the sweet sounds of the windchime that hangs in his balcony. "Now you try."
Immediately, Fuku-kun clamps his hands around his mouth and after a few seconds of sputtering, pulls his head away and says in a voice as sharp as he can manage, "Tweeeeet tweeeet."
Together, Bem and Bera's laughs blend into one - high and low, equal shades of amused.
"You were hiding," she says when he steps into their campfire, tilting her head and quirking her eyebrow at him. Her tone is accusing; the curl of her lips, teasing.
He shrugs and sits himself down, his arm brushing against her elbow.
He doesn't apologise.
She doesn't move away.
It's nothing to be noticed, even if the chairs the filming crew have offered them are fairly comfortable.
"Ne, ne! Bem! Can you sing like a bird?" Fuku-kun asks and hops off his seat, the globes of cheeks puffing in excitement. A part of him wishes he was that heart-clenchingly cute when he was Fuku-kun's age. Life would have been so much easier.
He shakes his head. "But I can quack like a duck," he says and grins when he sees Anne's lips purse in curiousity. Another point for him, then.
He's about to show them, ready to soak in the surprised laughs because Donald has always been a hit, when a staff worker calls Fuku-kun away to adjust his costume and maybe go over his lines one more time.
"Well?" Anne asks, still keeping her shadowed eyes trained on him. It would be a lie to say he doesn't like it.
So he leans back in his chair, crosses one leg over the other. Takes a slow sip from his paper cup.
"Later."
She eyes him slowly and it's an effort on his part to not spread out, to not jut out his chin or arch his neck. He can't help the tilt of his head, though. It's almost a reflex.
"Hiding your aces, huh," she sniffs before whipping back her braid and revealing the span of her neck, long and pale even under the bulb of the rising sun. Maybe it's a reflex for her, too. "Why were you hiding back there? Taking notes, Kazuko?" Her cherry lips quirk at the edges.
He laughs, the nickname successfully digging under his skin but not in a way that's completely unpleasant. Just a slight buzz that keeps him alert, makes his heart beat just a tiny bit faster. He loves their game.
"It was cute," he says.
"The chirping? Fuku-kun is a darling," she says and then laughs, "but he needs to practice."
He watches the fond stretch of her lips for a moment before lifting his cup and leaning forward slightly.
"Hmm... Fuku-kun too, yes," he says and smiles into his cup.
It might have taken a minute or two or three, but by the time he glances up again, there are patches of pink to compliment the red and the buzz travelling along his skin only zips faster. Stronger.
It's another point - only he can't tell for who.
Pairing: Kame/Anne
Word Count: drabble-length
A/N: does writing my first Kame!het count as procrastination? I mean, it's productive... in a way... *shuffles feet*
He stands still as the makeup artists buzz around him, dabbing at his face there, tucking a strand of synthetic silver hair here. When he opens his eyes, he's no longer human. It's a painless transformation.
The filming will start soon but there's still some time to spare. It's just past dawn and the grass is stiff under his feet, green blades of icicles crunching under his steps. He coughs and says his thank you when a staff worker hands him a paper cup. The water washes away the dryness in his throat.
He makes his way to his chair, smiling when he sees the other two beside him already occupied, arranged in a triangle around a cylindrical heater. A modern campfire. Maybe he should bring marshmellows next time, just to complete the picture. Fuku-kun would love that. Bero would be ecstatic.
"I can't do it!" he hears Fuku-kun shout and stops to hover, stepping to the side just in time to see Bera's long braid fall over her shoulder.
"You can. Like this," she says and her cherry red lips disappear behind the cup of her hands. For a long moment, the air resounds with a melody of chirps that remind him of spring and the sweet sounds of the windchime that hangs in his balcony. "Now you try."
Immediately, Fuku-kun clamps his hands around his mouth and after a few seconds of sputtering, pulls his head away and says in a voice as sharp as he can manage, "Tweeeeet tweeeet."
Together, Bem and Bera's laughs blend into one - high and low, equal shades of amused.
"You were hiding," she says when he steps into their campfire, tilting her head and quirking her eyebrow at him. Her tone is accusing; the curl of her lips, teasing.
He shrugs and sits himself down, his arm brushing against her elbow.
He doesn't apologise.
She doesn't move away.
It's nothing to be noticed, even if the chairs the filming crew have offered them are fairly comfortable.
"Ne, ne! Bem! Can you sing like a bird?" Fuku-kun asks and hops off his seat, the globes of cheeks puffing in excitement. A part of him wishes he was that heart-clenchingly cute when he was Fuku-kun's age. Life would have been so much easier.
He shakes his head. "But I can quack like a duck," he says and grins when he sees Anne's lips purse in curiousity. Another point for him, then.
He's about to show them, ready to soak in the surprised laughs because Donald has always been a hit, when a staff worker calls Fuku-kun away to adjust his costume and maybe go over his lines one more time.
"Well?" Anne asks, still keeping her shadowed eyes trained on him. It would be a lie to say he doesn't like it.
So he leans back in his chair, crosses one leg over the other. Takes a slow sip from his paper cup.
"Later."
She eyes him slowly and it's an effort on his part to not spread out, to not jut out his chin or arch his neck. He can't help the tilt of his head, though. It's almost a reflex.
"Hiding your aces, huh," she sniffs before whipping back her braid and revealing the span of her neck, long and pale even under the bulb of the rising sun. Maybe it's a reflex for her, too. "Why were you hiding back there? Taking notes, Kazuko?" Her cherry lips quirk at the edges.
He laughs, the nickname successfully digging under his skin but not in a way that's completely unpleasant. Just a slight buzz that keeps him alert, makes his heart beat just a tiny bit faster. He loves their game.
"It was cute," he says.
"The chirping? Fuku-kun is a darling," she says and then laughs, "but he needs to practice."
He watches the fond stretch of her lips for a moment before lifting his cup and leaning forward slightly.
"Hmm... Fuku-kun too, yes," he says and smiles into his cup.
It might have taken a minute or two or three, but by the time he glances up again, there are patches of pink to compliment the red and the buzz travelling along his skin only zips faster. Stronger.
It's another point - only he can't tell for who.
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no subject
Date: 2011-11-07 06:38 am (UTC)They play word games -> I instantly latch on and ship :B #nerdbait #wheesnark
I think Donald even beats The Niece Look lolol. The power of Disney.
Thank you, bb~ ;o; I think I've been posting too much in the last few days...>.> but at least my lj is dust free! ^_^\m/ pffffft. study.
I am diving into bed hfjkds *tugs you to bed* ♥