Post by Griff on May 26, 2013 1:30:31 GMT 10
Title: Picture Perfect
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 570
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
WARNING: Violence
Summary: (Vampire AU pt.4) George learned the dangers of photography.
-
“Did you know,” Roger hummed with a cheshire glee, “that there is a healthy dose of truth to the old paranoia that photos steal pieces of a human soul.”
George slammed the door, only to have a gust of wind blast it back open before it latched.
“You’re being impolite, George. I promise, I can’t gnaw on that delectable throat of yours while you’re tucked safely in your rather...” He cast a sneering glance around his house and sighed, “charming abode.” He quirk an eyebrow, “I would have expected Jonathan to mention that. He was so very forthcoming with all of the family photos, after all.”
“How,” George panicked quietly, trying to hide his fear behind his white knuckle grip on the door, “could you possibly know that. The sun set fifteen minutes ago. You should have fried.”
“Yes, fried, like an egg on the sidewalk, I believe the saying is.” Roger yawned,”and I should have been none the wiser, except Roald’s lack of participation in young Jon’s magical education has left him with a few glaring holes, such as the knowledge that powerful magic users and monsters - myself being both, which makes his mistake doubly embarrassing, I hope you understand - leave imprints in their self-images. I couldn’t have had a better spy in your midst than if I pulled out my own eyes and nailed them to the wall.”
“You,” George ground out with a hysterical sense of amusement, trying to fight against the manic laughter pushing out of his chest, “are about as appealing as day old road kill. There’s a dead cat two streets over, go play with that.”
“That one,” Roger hummed regretfully. “Yes, I’m afraid my child finds dead animals something of a delicacy. Something about the rot adding depth to the flavor. I’m afraid Josiane is not terribly well-adjusted.”
“Sounds tough.” George took a deep breath. “I’m going to close the door, now. I’m going to close the door, and probably start hyperventilating. I might pass out. There will probably be crying. However, I am not going to talk to you because this is insane and I can’t do this right now.”
“Suggesting you can do it later.”
“I hate you.”
“Shame, because I am rather fond of you.”
George shuddered, pain and heat flashing painfully from the white scars at his neck. “That’s terrifying. Do stakes work? Garlic?”
“Oh,” Roger winced painfully, “you poor dear. Jonathan really was rather useless, wasn’t he?”
“Hadn’t thought so until right now, but yes, I think I’ll probably punch him again. People would trust him less if he weren’t so pretty.”
That smile, long toothed and bright, dropped all facsimile of being human with fangs set like sharp little staircases on either side of his mouth. Staircases were probably the least alarming description George could have managed, but he really wasn’t going to beat himself up for a lack of eloquence when there was a vampire on his doorstep.
“You know,” Roger murmured gently, his face suddenly quiet with an odd vulnerability. “I still like you. I like you very much.”
“Oh,” George laughed lightly, “Oh, you do?” This time, when he slammed the door, it shut. Staring at the cheap ply board that wouldn’t keep out an angry five year old with a plastic hammer, he promptly let himself lose it. “f***. f***, f***, f***, f***. f***, f*** it, where the s*** is my liquor.”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 570
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
WARNING: Violence
Summary: (Vampire AU pt.4) George learned the dangers of photography.
-
“Did you know,” Roger hummed with a cheshire glee, “that there is a healthy dose of truth to the old paranoia that photos steal pieces of a human soul.”
George slammed the door, only to have a gust of wind blast it back open before it latched.
“You’re being impolite, George. I promise, I can’t gnaw on that delectable throat of yours while you’re tucked safely in your rather...” He cast a sneering glance around his house and sighed, “charming abode.” He quirk an eyebrow, “I would have expected Jonathan to mention that. He was so very forthcoming with all of the family photos, after all.”
“How,” George panicked quietly, trying to hide his fear behind his white knuckle grip on the door, “could you possibly know that. The sun set fifteen minutes ago. You should have fried.”
“Yes, fried, like an egg on the sidewalk, I believe the saying is.” Roger yawned,”and I should have been none the wiser, except Roald’s lack of participation in young Jon’s magical education has left him with a few glaring holes, such as the knowledge that powerful magic users and monsters - myself being both, which makes his mistake doubly embarrassing, I hope you understand - leave imprints in their self-images. I couldn’t have had a better spy in your midst than if I pulled out my own eyes and nailed them to the wall.”
“You,” George ground out with a hysterical sense of amusement, trying to fight against the manic laughter pushing out of his chest, “are about as appealing as day old road kill. There’s a dead cat two streets over, go play with that.”
“That one,” Roger hummed regretfully. “Yes, I’m afraid my child finds dead animals something of a delicacy. Something about the rot adding depth to the flavor. I’m afraid Josiane is not terribly well-adjusted.”
“Sounds tough.” George took a deep breath. “I’m going to close the door, now. I’m going to close the door, and probably start hyperventilating. I might pass out. There will probably be crying. However, I am not going to talk to you because this is insane and I can’t do this right now.”
“Suggesting you can do it later.”
“I hate you.”
“Shame, because I am rather fond of you.”
George shuddered, pain and heat flashing painfully from the white scars at his neck. “That’s terrifying. Do stakes work? Garlic?”
“Oh,” Roger winced painfully, “you poor dear. Jonathan really was rather useless, wasn’t he?”
“Hadn’t thought so until right now, but yes, I think I’ll probably punch him again. People would trust him less if he weren’t so pretty.”
That smile, long toothed and bright, dropped all facsimile of being human with fangs set like sharp little staircases on either side of his mouth. Staircases were probably the least alarming description George could have managed, but he really wasn’t going to beat himself up for a lack of eloquence when there was a vampire on his doorstep.
“You know,” Roger murmured gently, his face suddenly quiet with an odd vulnerability. “I still like you. I like you very much.”
“Oh,” George laughed lightly, “Oh, you do?” This time, when he slammed the door, it shut. Staring at the cheap ply board that wouldn’t keep out an angry five year old with a plastic hammer, he promptly let himself lose it. “f***. f***, f***, f***, f***. f***, f*** it, where the s*** is my liquor.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!