a physicist, a biologist and an artist walk into a bar (a few original drabbles)

judgement (fabian/jakob)

"You ate my cereal." Fabian suffering an artist's block was routinal, grouchy and indignant, which just went to show that absolutely nothing was impossible in science, just varying degrees of statistically improbable.

"I did no such thing." Jakob shrugged and leaned against the breakfast bar, studying his own rippled reflection in the stainless steel fridge. He took a quiet step forward, closing the gap between them as gently as possible.

"You did. I saw you -"

"I do live here. You think you'd have noticed, sleeping in the same bed and all, but I know sometimes you get distracted." Another step.

"-with a bowl-"

"Shocking! What an utter bastard, that Jakob Vanderschpiegle is, carrying bowls."

"eating something."

"You do know there are other, better tasting things to eat in this kitchen besides that cereal? Like plywood?" A third step. They were almost touching now.

Fabian swirled on his toes and screamed, top-of-his-lungs-lack-of-sleep vibrant. "You ate my fucking cereal."

Jakob slammed their mouths together, knocked Fabian ass-first into the fridge, held him there with lips and tongue and hands until the crankiness melted away.

"I bet the kids ate it." Jakob breathed, biting his ear.

"I'll find something else." Fabian dragged him toward the pantry.

---

elaborate (audra/fabian)

Audra is not one for elaborate gestures. She works in shades of subtle: gradual shifts on the evolutionary scale, minor tweaks of acids and bases. But tiny things cause elaborate changes, like Mendel's peas which changed the thoughts of billions, but their descendents were still eaten last night with lemon and butter.

Fabie is not exactly subtle. Huge canvases, too many piercings, brightest colours and black vinyl pants. He's nearly a caricature of an artist, of a modern bohemian, and that's the way he likes it. But large things trickle down, reduce; a tiny brush painting watercolour birds for her, a post-it-note doodle in her lunch signed with his crooked smile.

---

journey (audra/jakob)

They take planes and trains and automobiles to the same conferences; physics and biology aren't the same, of course, but closer than some. They write papers together, names twinned together in the abstract as well as reality. They argue semantics over linguini. Both share a deep-seated suspicion of chemists.

They twist together in the bed at night, feeling not so alone, but still one-third lonely.

three more drabbles for the road

If I can jack these out ten at a time over a few days for fanfic there's no real reason why I can't do the same for not-fanfic. And so it goes.

vitamin c (audra)

Oranges make her think of Hong Kong holidays: red and gold banners, joss sticks burning, paper boats bobbing up and down in the water, candles. Sticky pastry and elaborate cakes. She dipped the sections in honey and ate them as she stared over the river and dreamed with the tiny lights.

It was a strange place to grow up, at the intersection of the old and new. She was an embassy child, always an outsider, towering over her classmates in fourth grade. Ancient festivals and cellphones cradled in the palm of your hand: science and feng shui, big businesses and ancestral ghosts.

Everywhere is a strange place to grow up to somebody came back one summer evening as she sent her thoughts out to the sea. It made sense. She stopped worrying about it.

---

overnight (fabian)

His father would take him out sometimes to watch the stars. And if Evan had had a few drinks (and Evan had usually had a few drinks on an average night when the weather was pleasant enough, or when it was terrible, or when the name of the day ended in a Y) he'd make up stories.

He grew up thinking there were hundreds of patterns in the sky: not just the Twins and the Great Bear and Cassiopeia, but also the Pint Glass and the Pub, the Ugly Scotsman and the Egg Sandwich and John Lee Hooker.

---

bright (jakob)

He was not the normal sort of physicist. He was a peacock in a field of penguins, with his leather and jeans and too many rings and hair that changed colours like the seasons did, big chunky boots and glasses that had a hope in hell of being trendy instead of merely functional. But it made life interesting. He was all for making life interesting. He was going to stick out in a crowd anyway: he figured he might as well go all the way with it.

twits

( all back here. )