invisionary requested Buffy/Captain Jack, flirting at their first meeting.
For Jack, it was automatic.
Bees buzzed, birds flew, Jack flirted. It was on about the same level as breathing for him, something you never really thought about but just did.
But Buffy… ah, Buffy.
So not impressed by any of his lines, his routines, and yet… there was something dark, hot and buried inside her. Something at the back of her eyes told him that maybe, one day, she’d let him in.
Right here, right now, however… not a chance in hell.
Jack smirked, and whistled cheerfully. If there was one thing he couldn’t resist, it was a challenge.
~ + ~
houses71_77 requested Nero Wolfe and buttered toast. Alas, I could not make it into a drabble, but I'm sure you won't mind a double drabble. *grin*
It was not the best of dining occasions.
“Archie?” he said plaintively, staring at his plate, “Is Mr Parker sure that there is no possible way that Fritz may be released?”
I pursed my lips and stared at the great Nero Wolfe. If people only knew how attached he was to his food and how bad it got when things were not right, they’d probably have framed Fritz a long time back.
“Cramer’s got him locked up tight,” I said in a sympathic tone..
Wolfe took a deep breath, and banged his hand down on the table violently. “This is intolerable! Until Fritz is back here, I shall eat nothing but buttered toast!” he exclaimed, “Absolutely intolerable!”
I let out a low whistle. Not quite as bad as actually having to leave the brownstone, but certainly up there on the scale of disasters.
Wolfe subsided, and stared some more at the boiled steak, lumpy potatoes and what was supposed to be gravy. “Nothing but buttered toast,” he repeated mournfully.
Thoughout all this I endeavoured to keep a straight face. If Wolfe even suspected for a moment I’d deliberately hired the worst cook I could find to prod him into action….
~ + ~
And a sequel to the Batverse/Stargate drabble jedibuttercup requested. Stop inspiring me, dammit!
Jack O’Neill was not a happy man.
Daniel was avoiding him like the plague ever since he’d come back from Gotham, and now this?
He nodded to the troops, and they carefully prised open the mysterious box that had arrived at the SGC that day. His jaw dropped when he looked inside. Two unconscious Goa’ulds, wrapped up in metres of chains and with a little note tied around one neck.
It read “No Goa’ulds in Gotham City, as mentioned to Dr Jackson. Hugs and kisses. PS – please pay postage.” There was a picture of a bat in the corner.