#nyxfic

Peppermint

James Morairty leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his sniper's lips, a reward of sorts for nothing in particular. He drew back quickly with a brief curse. "

What the f--- Bastian," he grimaced, heading for the Irish whiskey on the counter, nevermind the fact that it was barely 9 am in the morning.

"What's wrong, Jim?" Sebastian asked as he watched Jim take a healthy swig of the whiskey.

"You taste disgusting," Jim cringed at the thought, but put the bottle down, obliviously satisfied with his impromptu mouthwash.

"I haven't done nothing different," Sebastian insisted, "Maybe it's the eggs you made for breakfast."

Jim glared at him. "There isn't a bloody thing wrong with my cooking, Moran," his eyes narrowed. "Bastian," Jim continued, "what sort of toothpaste did you buy yourself yesterday?"

"I dunno," Sebastian replied, "Peppermint something, it was cheap."

quilting!

that says quilting doesn't it? bloody hell, I read it as quitting. on that theme...

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"I quit!" Mycroft proclaimed, his fists curled slightly at his sides, and his cheeks just a bit red.

Gregory, to his credit, was containing his laughter fairly well. Mycroft's dark hair was shades of white, a large smear of jam across his upper arm and a tousled yellow apron with strawberries on. Behind him, the kitchen was in a state Mycroft was going to be upset with once he noticed. Instead, Mycroft was standing before a tray of misshapen biscuits and an open jar of jam. One biscuit had been dolloped with jam, or more accurately, coated in a thick layer.

"They aren't that bad, love," Gregory tried once he contained his laughter enough.

"I can tell you are laughing, Gregory," Mycroft sniffed, rubbing his cheek and leaving a line of flour. Gregory grabbed a clean cloth from a drawer and wetted it. He walked up to Mycroft and grinned at him.

                There had been a time she wished to be on stage, a ballerina perhaps. She could remember it, her tiny shoes as she turned gently on the stage. The music wafting through the large room, above the seats along with her movements. One night she was invited to dance in a show, she’d been excited.

                Until the moment she stepped on stage, hundred odd people watching her and she’d frozen. Barely 11 years old, and too self-conscious to do what she loved. She ran from the stage and into her books. She studied, and let the theatre become a distant dream.

                Now she returned to its solace, and walked to the stage quietly. She climbed up the steps are removed her shoes, placing them down on the edge of the stage. She moved to the center of the stage and observed the empty theatre.

                Imaging the music, ignoring the possibility of a crowd, Molly pointed her toes and moved in motions she’d long forgotten.

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prompt

Show: Supernatural

Couple : Dean/Cas

Rating: K

Summary: Dean and Cas watch August 12th's upcoming meteor shower