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sb_fag_ends2013-03-24 08:05 pm
slaymesoftly.livejournal.com) wrote in sb_fag_ends2013-03-24 08:05 pm
Entry tags:
looking for that Easter Bunny
Title: You've Got Thirty Seconds...
Creator: Slaymesoftly
Rating: G
Words: 360
Prompt: Lemon Tropics
You’ve Got Thirty Seconds
It was the scent of lemon that did it. He’d been fine. No missing Buffy. Not here. No sir. Spike is his own man again. No more Love’s Bitch. Ready to cut a swath through the ladies... Just biding his time... waiting for the perfect one to come along...
And then he opened the door of his apartment and smelled fruit. He didn’t eat fruit. Didn’t put fruity little candles or potpourri around. His apartment smelled of manly things... like beer, and whiskey and cigarettes and... where the hell did the fruit come from? Smelled a bit like the citrus stuff Buffy used to but on her hair. But that was impossible...
Not Buffy. Never Buffy. Maybe some other, possibly evil, bint had broken into his apartment and she just happened to wear things that smelled like citrus fruit – lemon specifically. And maybe she smelled a little tiny bit like the Slayer – but that was impossible. Buffy was in Europe, living it up with the bloody immortal...
He spotted the big yellow cardboard cup at the same time that he picked up the yellow sweater (also smelling of lemons and Buffy, he noted). “Tropical Smoothies” it said on the side of it. Smelled like lemonade. Between the sweater in his hands, and the drink on his kitchen counter, he couldn’t stop the sense memories. He dropped onto his couch, holding the sweater to his face and inhaling.
Biggest wanker in the world. Yeah, he was over her. Gonna take up sunbathing and become a vegetarian too. Any minute. If anything, the scent was getting stronger. He shifted his grip on the sweater, burying his nose in it and breathing in deeply . The lemon scent was fading and it was smelling more and more like Buffy. He growled. Had to be something evil – breaking into his apartment and trying to weaken him by leaving things around that smelled like—
“Are you going to keep inhaling that sweater, or would you like a chance to explain to me why I had to find out from Andrew that you aren’t ashes at the bottom of a hole – before I beat you to a bloody pulp for it?”
Creator: Slaymesoftly
Rating: G
Words: 360
Prompt: Lemon Tropics
You’ve Got Thirty Seconds
It was the scent of lemon that did it. He’d been fine. No missing Buffy. Not here. No sir. Spike is his own man again. No more Love’s Bitch. Ready to cut a swath through the ladies... Just biding his time... waiting for the perfect one to come along...
And then he opened the door of his apartment and smelled fruit. He didn’t eat fruit. Didn’t put fruity little candles or potpourri around. His apartment smelled of manly things... like beer, and whiskey and cigarettes and... where the hell did the fruit come from? Smelled a bit like the citrus stuff Buffy used to but on her hair. But that was impossible...
Not Buffy. Never Buffy. Maybe some other, possibly evil, bint had broken into his apartment and she just happened to wear things that smelled like citrus fruit – lemon specifically. And maybe she smelled a little tiny bit like the Slayer – but that was impossible. Buffy was in Europe, living it up with the bloody immortal...
He spotted the big yellow cardboard cup at the same time that he picked up the yellow sweater (also smelling of lemons and Buffy, he noted). “Tropical Smoothies” it said on the side of it. Smelled like lemonade. Between the sweater in his hands, and the drink on his kitchen counter, he couldn’t stop the sense memories. He dropped onto his couch, holding the sweater to his face and inhaling.
Biggest wanker in the world. Yeah, he was over her. Gonna take up sunbathing and become a vegetarian too. Any minute. If anything, the scent was getting stronger. He shifted his grip on the sweater, burying his nose in it and breathing in deeply . The lemon scent was fading and it was smelling more and more like Buffy. He growled. Had to be something evil – breaking into his apartment and trying to weaken him by leaving things around that smelled like—
“Are you going to keep inhaling that sweater, or would you like a chance to explain to me why I had to find out from Andrew that you aren’t ashes at the bottom of a hole – before I beat you to a bloody pulp for it?”
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And then he opened the door of his apartment and smelled fruit. He didn’t eat fruit. Didn’t put fruity little candles or potpourri around. His apartment smelled of manly things... like beer, and whiskey and cigarettes
I don't know why I find this section so damnably funny. Probably because of the 'manly things' bit.
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