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15 Minute Ficlets

creativity in a hurry

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Word #194
cherries
arguingvitality wrote in 15_minute_fic
Sorry about the delayed word this week, it's my fault, for various reasons I'm a bit scatterbrained at the moment!


Don't look at the word until you are ready to write. When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal. If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.


Today's word is: Service


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Title: A coming together

Fandom/original: Top Gear

Characters: Richard Hammond, James May, Jeremy Clarkson

Rating: G

Word Count: 556

link: http://tommyboybbi.livejournal.com/217817.html

Title:
Playing Waiter
Fandom/original: Starsky and Hutch fandom
Characters:Starsky, Hutch
Rating:everyone
Word count: 661




Playing Waiter


by Allie

“Room service!” Starsky called, opening the door and walking in. He carried a tray as if he thought he was a fancy waiter, holding it high, with a kitchen towel draped over his other arm. He grinned at Hutch, and pulled the door shut behind him with one of his feet. It slammed shut. He seemed to bounce a little on his feet, naturally buoyant. He grinned at Hutch’s grouchy expression.

Hutch, with the covers pulled up to his chin, tugged them higher and glared at Starsky through squinted eyes. He looked like his eyes had been glued shut by sleep, and his straw-colored hair was askew, matted in some places, standing up in others.

“Go away.”

Starsky gave him a big, soapy smile. “That’s my grumpy Hutch! You must be feeling better if you have the energy to be grumpy with me.”

“I SAID go away!” croaked Hutch. “You can play waiter when I’m feeling better. Come back tomorrow,” he growled, grimacing at the pain in his throat from talking.

Starsky shook his head. “Nope, can’t. It’s time for your antibiotic. Wash it down with some orange juice and toast if you’re up for it. Either way, this pill is going in that mouth.” He held up the tray, which Hutch now noticed held a bottle of pills, a glass of each of water and orange juice, and some dry toast.

He grimaced, but snaked an arm out, freeing it from the entangling bedclothes.

He had a vague recollection of Starsky helping him when he felt so deathly ill last night, but right now he didn’t have the energy for gratitude. He didn’t even think he could live through any of Starsky’s good cheer. He just wanted to sleep.

His whole body felt tired and achy, as if he’d run a marathon already this morning, or been beaten up. Starsky’s good cheer was an offense to nature.

Though he hadn’t seemed overly cheerful last night. He’d been as solicitous and quiet as could be, taking Hutch to the doctor, sitting up with him, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking quietly, till Hutch could keep down some liquids and eventually fall asleep.

Come to think of it, he’d probably stayed overnight, too. Probably hadn’t got much sleep on the couch. Right now Hutch felt too awful to care about his buddy’s rest, but he knew most of the time he would care.

He reached for the medicine that Starsky lowered for him to get, scowling darkly. If he took it, maybe Starsky would leave him alone in peace.

He drank as much of the orange juice as he could under Starsky’s watchful, eager gaze. Starsky gave a nod of satisfaction and put the tray and the now-mostly-empty glass down on side table.

Instead of leaving, Starsky made the edge of the bed dip as he sat down on it. “How you feeling today? Need help to get to the bathroom?” He looked solicitously at Hutch, smiling at him cheerfully.

“I’m fine go away,” said Hutch, trying to pull the covers up to cover his face. Instead, Starsky’s hand got between them and his forehead somehow. Starsky felt his forehead like a mother checking for temperature.

Hutch growled. It hurt his throat. He grimaced, and considered taking a bite of Starsky’s wrist. That would take too much energy, though.

So instead, he squirmed down as low as he could get and shut his eyes, trying to shut out the annoying partner who wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Don’t worry, Hutch. I won’t go anywhere!” said Starsky. “I’ll be here all day.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” muttered Hutch.

“I know. But you’ll want me round later when you’re bored or need help. And in a few days you’ll be glad I was here. This is just the Grumpy Phase. Or Hutch in a mean mood, I like to call it.” He patted Hutch’s knee through the sheet. “Cheer up. It gets better from here!”




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