[This ficlet is not part of a larger work. I don't have any other stories involving these characters. It's just a fun little story written using the three prompt words in the subject line. I very much hope you enjoy it. :)]

Pretty, Fabricate, Comply

"There are rules, you know. Procedures. Safety regulations. Reasons we are not supposed to be up here." Gordon's handsome face looked a little too determined. Almost as though it were costing him conscious effort to keep his habitual stern glower in place.

Sam smirked, crossing his arms atop the sturdy metal railing that ran the perimeter of the roof. "And you comply with every rule that crosses your path?"

Gordon didn't answer. He couldn't very well answer without either lying—transparent and unconvincing—or conceding the point. The glower on his face took a faintly sullen turn, but his posture remained taut. He clasped his hands stiffly behind his back, and his gaze left Sam in favor of casting out across the city.

Sam did not mind his employer's rigid posture or sour expression. He knew how significant it was that Gordon was here at all—that he had accepted Sam's invitation despite the rules, and joined him on this inconceivably high rooftop.

It was a hell of a view. This far up, the grid-work of panels along the massive dome was visible above their heads. In all directions stood a vast array of city. Tall, sturdy buildings, fabricated in orbital construction facilities. No less beautiful for being comprised of repurposed metal and bio-filament, and the detritus of the solar system.

Sam let his own attention linger on the blocky skyline. He'd been to plenty of planets since he first started working for Gordon; none of them were compelling in quite the same way as Mars.

"It's a pretty view, though." Sam spoke loud enough to be heard over the endless wind. "You can't see nearly this far from the observation lounge."

"It's something," Gordon agreed in a tone of grudging appreciation.

The concession was honestly more than Sam had hoped for, and his smirk spread into a wide smile of genuine satisfaction. He bit his tongue, because as always he needed to be careful. Gordon knew him too well, and it became every day more difficult to guard the secret but distracting infatuation Sam had been harboring for far too long. Affection glowed brightly in his chest; if he spoke now, he would give himself away for sure.

In his peripheral vision he saw Gordon's weight shift, saw the unyielding posture ease just the barest fraction. Saw Gordon uncross powerful arms and brace them almost casually on the guardrail.

"And how long," Gordon murmured in that all too familiar rumble, "is it customary to 'take in the view' when one is trespassing on restricted sectors of corporate property?"

Sam's smile did not fade. "Technically it's not trespassing if you own the building."

[This ficlet is not part of a larger work. I don't have any other stories involving these characters. It's just a fun little story written using the three prompt words in the subject line. I very much hope you enjoy it. :)]

"Do you really have to go?" A plaintive note snuck into the question, but Alec didn't waste any effort worrying whether it made him sound desperate. So what if it did? Maybe it would convince Grant not to leave. Surely some underling could go in his place.

Wasn't that the point of being a CEO? The ability to delegate? )
By Yolande Kleinn

"I forgot what it's like here. The noise, the people, the ridiculously low ceilings... Was it always this crowded?" Gareth asked without looking at Lee, too busy gaping around him at the rush-hour chaos of crowds both human and not. The station's companion hub on the planet's surface wasn't nearly this claustrophobic, but space was valuable in orbit. Magre Station used every possible trick and then some in its design, and the result was a genius arrangement of uncomfortably tight corridors and quarters.

Click to read on... )
Sometimes I deal with winter by burying myself in half a dozen blankets and comforters and quilts. Other times I cope with the cold by inflicting it on fictional characters. You get two guesses which this is.

by Yolande Kleinn

Midnight always does strange things to Alan's head, and to his heart, and to the voice of reason that usually stops him from making an idiot of himself. )

First person POV and I don't always get along, so this was a little ways outside my comfort zone. As with my other dabblings, this story is just a short and self-contained little thing, not part of a greater whole. Just a quick little piece of fluff, which I hope you enjoy.

Testing the Waters
by Yolande Kleinn

"Did you mean it?" Julian asked. "What you said before. About me. Was it true?"

For a moment I was too shocked that he was even talking to me to form a coherent response. After my wretchedly awkward confession, what could he possibly hope I'd say?

"Mason." He snapped his fingers in front of my face as though not sure I was even seeing him. "Mason, come on, man. You can't go catatonic on me, we need to talk."

Read more... )

Here it is, that thing you didn't even know you were waiting for. This one's an actual drabble, one hundred words exactly (please be impressed by this; word limits and I aren't always friends). This is a snapshot, not part of a larger project. Just a brief exchange that was kicking around my brain.

The night is slurred with meaning, and Drew aches in all the best ways. )



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