Yolande Kleinn

[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. :)]


Passage, Winter, Collection

"It's beautiful." Beni doesn't know shit about art. He doesn't have the first clue what he's looking at beyond the fact that he enjoys the colors. It's abstract. Blue and purple and faint hints of magenta.

He genuinely likes it. There's no need to pretend for the sake of politeness.

Julian shifts beside him, the barest movement as weight eases from one heel to the other. Nothing restless in the change, so far as Beni can tell. It's hard to picture Julian as anything but calm, cool, easy in any setting. He's seen glimpses to make him suspect there's more—glimmers of more passionate reaction beneath the surface—and those teasing hints would be enough to make him stick around even if he weren't already enamored to an alarming degree.

( At least the fascination seems to be mutual. Surely Julian wouldn't have weaseled Beni's phone number from a mutual acquaintance otherwise. Surely he wouldn't have called less than a week after their first awkward meeting if the spark beneath Beni's skin had been entirely one-sided. )

[This ficlet is not part of a larger work, though the characters (Trace and Franklin) appear in another microfic you can find via the tags below. Just a fun little story written using the three prompt words in the subject line. I very much hope you enjoy it. :)]


Criticism, Affinity, Essential

"Look, just let me try." Trace's elbow nudged his arm, gentle but with an edge of stubbornness.

"Because you have such an affinity for reprogramming recalcitrant locks?" Franklin bit out in reply. He regretted both the words and the tone as soon as they emerged—it wasn't Trace he was frustrated with—but he still barely managed to bite his tongue and stop talking.

"Nope." Miraculously, Trace still sounded calm and easy. "But you've been trying to open that door for over an hour."

"If you think criticizing will help—"

"It wasn't criticism," Trace cut him off in the same level tone. A moment later Franklin felt the delicate curl of fingers at the nape of his neck, cool and grounding. "But Captain, you're frustrated. Let me try. Hell, you can take a crack at the comm panel if you want. I couldn't get any power to main or subspace frequencies. Maybe you'll have better luck."

( Franklin huffed an irate sigh, but he dropped the diagnostic device and sat back on his heels. A moment for the ache in his shoulders to register, and he rearranged his limbs to sit properly, legs crossed and eyes drifting shut. )

 

[This ficlet takes place a few years before the events of An Intimate Charade (and sometime after the events of Navigation). I have almost as many head-canons for Edda as I do for Laia and Gamina... So many stories to write, so little time!]

( An Intimate Charade Ficlet: Coffee )

[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.  )