Variations on a Theme
by D. Sidhe
Subject: [lgmslash] New Fic: Variations on a Theme. (PG) Date: Friday, June 21, 2002 5:32 AM
A warning, so as not to waste anyone's time: There is no actual sex herein. Just conversation. My apologies. I'll try to do better next time. Some of you may have already seen the first of these two little stories, but they begged to be presented together. I suspect they don't even have enough plot to be PWPs, they're just silly middle-of-the-night ideas I had. I hope they're worth a giggle or two. D. Sidhe: Erika
Just a Taste: Sweet Temptation
By D. Sidhe: Erika email@example.com
Rating: PG, probably. Implied m/m
Archive: If you want it, take it.
Summary: Langly makes Byers an offer. Byers is horrified... at first.
Disclaimer: These boys are owned by someone else. I'm guessing they like me better right now, though. The bit at the end is based on something someone made me try once upon a time. I've added my own refinements, and said person no longer wants to claim it. But, not mine either.
Just a Taste: Sweet Temptation
"You can't possibly be serious." The horror in Byers' voice was just short of panic.
"Why not?" Langly was doing his best to be persuasive.
"It's..." He groped for words. "Appalling... Disgusting... Unnatural."
"I don't see why it's any worse than anything else."
Byers gaped at him. "I can't believe you would even think I'd be willing to..."
"C'mon, John. Don't be so prissy. Just give it a try."
Byers stood up abruptly. "I am not putting that in my mouth, Ringo." Langly grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could escape.
"Just try it. Please?"
Byers swallowed hard, resolved not to give in. Langly was seconds away from the puppy-dog-pout. Usually it made Byers do anything he could to make the look go away, but this... He stiffened his spine and said firmly, very firmly, "No. Absolutely not."
"I think you should just try it before you decide you hate it."
"Ringo, that's such a spurious argument. There are a lot of things I don't have to try to know I won't like them. Malaria. Yellow fever. Bungee-jumping."
"You're comparing this to a disease?" Langly was incredulous.
Byers eyed it again, feeling slightly queasy. "I can see some similarities, yes."
"It's not going to kill you, John."
"It might make me wish it had."
They glared at each other for a moment. Byers didn't waver.
"No. I said no, and I mean it," he tried to get up again, but Langly still held his arm. "Let go of me. I'm not going to, and you can sulk all you like. I'll be back when you've managed to regain your sanity." But he wasn't going anywhere, and they both knew it.
"John," Langly said patiently. "I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it. It's not like I'm asking you to do something I haven't done myself."
Byers looked like he was thinking about throwing up. "You've... actually..."
"Lots," Langly said defiantly.
Byers shuddered. "I really, really wish you hadn't told me that."
"And it's great."
Byers closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at it. "It's just wrong. Sick and wrong. And I'm not going to say yes, however many times you ask me."
Langly hauled out the big guns. "Frohike liked it. He loved it."
The blue eyes snapped wide open. "You made Frohike..."
"You're starting to piss me off, Byers. I didn't make anybody do anything, okay? He asked. He saw it and thought it looked good."
"Please tell me that's not true..." Byers said faintly.
"What's the big deal? He loved it. He wants to have it again."
"You're both revolting."
"I don't know why you can't just trust me. I thought we were friends."
Oh, dear. An appeal in the name of loyalty. Byers realized he had about ten minutes to either escape or resign himself to the fact that he was going to give in.
"Just try it, John. Please? If you don't like it, okay, we'll never mention it again. But I really think you should just try it, once." Langly was flat out wheedling.
Correction, five minutes. If that. The hangdog expression was always too much for him.
Langly saw him weakening and moved in for the kill. "I just want you to give it a try. If you'll just do that for me, then I'll do anything you want."
Byers' mouth slammed shut. "Anything?" he asked, after a moment.
"Anything, John." The voice was like honey. "Just name it. Anything you like."
He thought about that for a few minutes. "Anything," he said again.
"Will you... come with me to the opera next month?"
Langly's eyes narrowed. "Oh, man. You drive a hard bargain, Byers."
"Well, if you'd rather just drop the subject now..." Byers said innocently.
"You're really pissing me off."
"That's fine. I can find someone else to go to the opera. Someone who respects me enough not to try to talk me into..." he gestured vaguely, unable to get the words out.
"Okay. All right. Fine. The opera it is."
"In a suit, mind you." The hand on his arm tightened.
"John..." Langly said warningly.
"I didn't start this." He was half-hoping Langly would back out. He wondered if insisting on a tux would do it.
"I don't have a suit, y'know."
"You can wear one of mine," Byers said generously.
"I really hate you sometimes."
"Do we have a deal?"
Langly sighed. "Okay, fine. Deal. Now just try it."
Byers closed his eyes so he couldn't see it, but the shock of it on his tongue was enough to open them wide again. Langly watched him closely.
"Tell me you don't love it."
"I-" Byers wasn't a good liar, everyone knew it. No point in even trying. "S'okay," he managed, his mouth full. And it was, actually. Surprisingly good. Maybe Langly had some good ideas after all. He savored the taste, and swallowed. He looked up into Langly's smug face. "Okay. It's really not that bad. Not like I thought it would be."
"Just say it, Byers. You love it. I was right and you were wrong."
"Maybe. But we're still going to the opera." Langly muttered something under his breath. Byers politely ignored it. "You were right," he allowed. "I was wrong. It's pretty good."
"Ha!" Langly crowed.
Byers graciously ignored that, too. He looked back down at his plate, and took another forkful. It really was growing on him. "What did you call this again?"
"Cool Whip Mincemeat Pie."
He shrugged, and took another bite, as Langly sat by and smirked. He'd probably have to come up with something, Byers thought now, to make sure Langly enjoyed the opera as much. He was sure he could think of something.
Cool Whip Mincemeat Pie
Two premade graham cracker crumb pie shells Three cups assorted jellybeans or gumdrops, fruit flavors only. One tub Cool Whip
One can ready-to-use frosting, cream cheese flavor
Chop the jellybeans or gumdrops into small pieces, set aside. Dump the frosting into a bowl, and using a mixer on high speed, beat for two minutes, or until it's light and airy (Or as close as you can get it). Fold in the Cool Whip. Stir in jellybeans or gumdrops. Spread mixture evenly into pie shells. Chill for six hours and serve very cold. Makes two.
For a tasty variation, use chocolate flavored Cool Whip/chocolate sour cream frosting.
Don't Put It In Your Mouth: Another Morsel By D. Sidhe: Erika firstname.lastname@example.org
Rating: PG. Implied m/m. A couple of naughty words. Pairing: Langly/Byers
Archive: If you want it, take it.
Summary: Langly's got a new book... and a new idea.
Disclaimer: Since nothing's changed in the last several minutes, I'll have to assume these darling boys still aren't mine. Please don't sue me: I don't even know anyone with money. Trust me, it's not worth the time or effort. I'm just a harmless pervert, having a little off-color fun. The particular, uh, gourmet, book referred to here doesn't actually exist. Which is sort of a shame. I think it'd be excellent in "For Dummies" format. I have no excuse for the terrible things I do with foodstuffs here, either. My apologies to all the fine products I mention.
Don't Put it in Your Mouth: Another Morsel
"Well, I've always known you had no taste."
Langly snorted. "That's funny, Johnboy, considering how much I like you."
"That's not good taste," Byers replied smugly. "That's just common sense."
"You're changing the subject, anyway. Do you wanna try this or not?"
Byers shook his head. "It just looks... unpleasant."
"That's not a no."
"It's pretty close to one."
"Yeah, yeah." The irritated tone of voice implied that they'd had this argument dozens of times (they had), that John was boring (he wasn't, he was sure about that) and predictable (that was probably accurate enough though, John knew).
"Can we skip the ice cream?"
"Listen, without the ice cream it's something completely different."
"Something better, if you ask my opinion."
"I don't remember asking, come to mention it."
"No, you just assumed I'd be happy about this..." Byers gestured at the book, at a loss to describe it. He looked haunted. "What about the Cool Whip? Could we do without the Cool Whip?"
"Johnny, you just don't get it, do you."
"Apparently not. Why don't you try to explain it again. And while you're at it, tell me where you even found a book like this, anyway."
"Ordered it online. Stop changing the subject. The thing is, I think it looks cool. Can't you just give it a try?"
"It looks... unhealthy."
"Well, you can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs."
"You can't-! For pity's sake, Ringo!" Byers was horrified. He took a couple of deep breaths. "Fine," he said firmly. "Let's just make an omelet."
Langly glared, rethought, tried softer persuasion. Byers could be coaxed into things, but rarely pushed. "C'mon, John. We have this same argument every time I want to do something new, and you always like it once I talk you into it."
"I do not!"
Langly grinned. "Oh yeah you do. I can tell."
Byers made a face. "Sometimes I may. But I don't trust you around food. You get some of the weirdest ideas." He watched Langly smirk. "Stop trying to talk me into this. We both know I'm not going to agree. Not after that mess you made last time."
The smirk got bigger. "Stop arguing. We both know you are going to agree. You always do, eventually. Can't we just skip the fight this once?"
"Only if you stop this..." he gestured at the book again, looking for the words, "nonsense."
"I still hate it when you get like this, John."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Byers sniffed, offended.
"You're acting like a virgin in a locker room. Prissy. Prim." Langly snickered. "Tight-assed."
Byers opened and closed his mouth several times and eventually said haughtily, "Well, I certainly don't think you're going to get me to go along with this now."
"We can leave out the cherries, okay? It won't be the same, but we can leave out the cherries."
"The ice cream."
"The ice cream is essential, Byers."
"The ice cream is evil, Langly. This is probably the worst idea you've ever had." Byers flipped through the glossy pages, trying not to shudder as he regarded the various illustrations.
"You always say that," Langly objected.
"I mean it this time."
"You always mean it." A grin. "Till afterwards, anyway." He thought about it a bit. "What if I promise not to say I told you so."
Byers glared at him. "It's going to take a lot more than that."
"Yeah?" Langly regarded him with raised eyebrows. "Like what?"
"The ice cream, Ringo."
Langly let out a huge, martyred sigh. "Okay, whatever."
Byers didn't seem much comforted by the concession. He'd just realized that he'd more or less agreed to the rest of it. Arguing with Langly was always a futile task, but Byers hated to give up on even a lost cause. Especially with something as weird as this. One last forlorn effort: "The Cool Whip?" he ventured.
"The Cool Whip stays, John." Langly was firm on this point. Byers wondered if it was a deal-breaker.
"I'm not having anything to do with Cool Whip, Ringo." Byers put everything he had into the steely words. And then Langly grinned, and put his hand on Byers' leg, and Byers threw in the towel. He knew when he was beaten. Usually, come to think of it, at about this moment, with those long fingers creeping up his thigh.
"All right," he sighed. But can we at least use it room-temperature? Last time I nearly got frostbite on parts of me that I happen to like very much."
Langly grinned again, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "John," he said gravely, "Trust me when I say I would never let that happen. Those are some of my favorite parts of you, too."
Byers fought the laugh. "Room temperature," he said again. "Please."
Langly did laugh. "Room temperature."
"And afterwards, Ringo, you're burning that book."
Langly smirked. "We'll see. You didn't get to the last chapter, did you?"
Byers just looked at him.
"Chocolate is clich,," Byers said reasonably. "We've done chocolate."
Langly flipped through, found a page. Turned the book around. "Not like this."
Byers gaped at it. "We could," he croaked eventually, "We could... save that page, maybe."
Byers didn't think Langly would ever stop laughing. But eventually he did.
Harpy email@example.com Handmaiden of the Goddess of Irony
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