More drabbles written for the fictionland challenge. From random fandoms and my own original work.
1. (original) Tucker leaned against the wall, watching Sarah toss clothes into her duffel bag. “I’m leaving,” she said softly.
“Yeah, right,” he said with a snort. She glared at him from over her shoulder and continued to pack. Tucker watched her for awhile. “You’re not serious are you?” Sarah didn’t answer but her favorite faded denim jacket when into the bag followed by her journal. “You are, aren’t you?” he asked, half in shock.
Sarah spun to face him. “What did you expect, Tucker? That I would spend the rest of my life taking crap from you?”
She didn’t give him a chance to counter, pushing past him to leave.
2. (original)“I don’t like this, I DON’T LIKE THIS.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Sarah’s attention turned to Tucker. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No, you meant something. You always mean something.”
Tucker grinned. “I’m just saying you’re not a risk taker. You like to play it safe.”
Sarah glared at him. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Not a thing. Unless it interferes with living.”
“I like my life.” He smirked at her; Sarah frowned. “I do.”
Sarah looked at the water filled quarry fifty feet below. Her stomach lurched but a glance back at Tucker told her she had no choice. She closed her eyes and stepped off.
3. (Angel)”So help me, Angel, if you don’t tell me what’s going on I’ll… I’ll…” Cordy poked him hard in the chest causing Angel to stumble back into the wall. Her nostrils really flared when she was angry he noticed. “Angel-”
“Nothing. Nothing’s going on.” Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him. “I swear.”
She poked him again for good measure. “Better not be.” With a final glare she spun on her heel only to freeze as she finally noticed the rest of the team standing in the lobby.
“Surprise,” Fred said halfheartedly, holding up a lavishly decorated cake.
Cordy squealed in delight, her anger at Angel apparently forgotten.
4. (original)“So what did you say?”
Sarah looked up Tucker. He was leaning against the counter in the kitchen trying to look relaxed and failing miserably. She wasn’t sure why that surprised her.
“I, uh… I said, ‘yes.'”
“Really?” He started playing with the mail piled next to the phone. “He didn’t seem like your type.”
“How would you know my type?” Tucker shrugged in response, his eyes glued to the Formica. Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “Jealous?”
He turned away but she was sure she heard him say, “maybe.”