Disclaimer: See, there's this god that walks around on earth, and this god, he owns 'em all. Bow down to the great Joss! Ya'know, 'cause I'm just a lowly fan who likes to sneak in and borrow the characters; Hey, I promised to return 'em, eventually.
Author's Notes: What can I say; I have no idea where these story ideas come from. Uh, let's see, this is short, and decidedly finished. About the actual story, well, if it helps, I thought of this before midnight, but not early in the morning in an "I didn't sleep" way, sadly. Which doesn't mean it's happy, just maybe that it's weird. I'm experimenting with different ways of writing, why I have no idea, but here's one. Feel free to tell me if it's horrible or if it works.
Summary: This is actually a comedy, what can I say, it's random, obscure, and humorous. Or, so, I hope. Anything else will give it away.
Rated: PG-13 for suggestiveness and as the title may suggest, mentions of masochism.
Date Started/Finished: May 12th 2003
Masochism Is Fun
By ~Delenn~
"Did you know that's actually the title of a book?"
A pause, "Sorry, honey. What is?"
"There's this book, it's called 'Masochism Is Fun' have you ever heard rubbish like that?" Is the patient reply.
"Really?" Again, a pause, the sound of running water and clashing dishes. "Well, you would know, wouldn't you," it's not a question.
Fingernails drumming on a table, pop music playing loudly in some other room, and the shuffling of papers become apparent as the silence drags out. "I'm not a masochist," the water turns off disbelievingly, "I'm a sadist, there's a difference."
Noises are mocking him and so is the dishwasher, "Okay, honey, you're the Big Bad… you love to hurt other people, so, I can never see you again. I'm not emotionally stable enough to date a sadist, I just don't heal that fast."
The water turns on again and life resumes to normal, even the faint sounds of birds chirping outside the shuttered window are apparent. Cautious at first, the drumming on the table becomes louder, more confident. "Was that a joke I hear? Sarcasm from you? That's it, the world is officially ending."
"Masochism and sarcasm, wow, you just know everything about the ism's, don't you? Look, I'm serious, I'm not a masochist so I can't put up with a sadist."
Pounding pop music stops for a second as the CD changes and then a whole new group screams out the same cheery beats, unaware of the discussion going on in this room. "So your saying," the pauses have been getting shorter, the speaking sharper, "that I'm a masochist… doesn't that make you a sadist?"
A splash of water and the flap of rubber gloves hitting the sink as she spins around, "I did not say that!"
There is no pause this time, the conversation not disturbed by the scraping of a chair on the floor. "Seems to me that you always did enjoy a good rough 'n' tumble…"
Short footsteps getting closer, fists balling in time with the annoying repetitive beat from the other room, "Let's make something very clear, I don't like hurting you and I don't like getting hurt."
Breath right next to her ear, the tap turned off and a lull in the music from the other room. "Wasn't talking 'bout that kind of rough 'n' tumble."
"Oh," it's not a pause but a conversation without words, dueling without fists or weapons.
Skidding to a halt, Dawn sighs, "Young impressionable teenager, I do not need to see you two making out by the dishes. I may never eat on those plates again."
"Ahem," Spike pulls away and resumes his seat at the table, picking up his newspaper and Buffy tries to discreetly let go of the twister for the shades as though she weren't considering opening them.
Dawn looks between the two of them and leans over Spike to grab the cereal while sneaking a peek at his newspaper. "Oh, were you guys fighting too? What about?"
"Your sister," a seething glare is exchanged between slayer and vampire, "apparently thinks I'm a masochist because I pointed out the title of some idiotic book about it."
Noting the book with satisfaction, Dawn curiously asks, "Buffy?"
Making a great show of dumping the clean dishes back into the sink for Dawn, Buffy replies, "I was minding my own business, doing the dishes and he goes off about how we're both sadists, which you are way to young to look like you know what means, Dawnie."
Laughter echoes as Dawn tunes out the conversation, putting on her headphones so the same faint beat of pop music is heard, "Okay, I have school," she gives Spike a peck on his cheek, "you guys be good. No sexcapades any place where I could sit, walk, eat, lay or visit, deal?"
The brunette is out the door quickly leaving the two bottle blondes staring at the door. Spike flips the page on his newspaper, taking another sip of his cup of blood, and Buffy turns her back on the new set of dishes, coming to sit next to Spike instead. "Oh, god, is this what she considers normal?"
Grinning mischievously, Spike replies "This is normal for us, luv." Lazily, he announces, "Says here that there's a book about sexcapades too, want to get it, pet?"
Buffy moves from next to Spike to on his lap, "Sure," at his incredulous look she smiles girlishly, "seeing as I did the dishes, it's officially your turn again."
"Oi, Slayer, The Big Bad does not do dishes when it's your… oh… right then."
The End
Author's Notes: What can I say; I have no idea where these story ideas come from. Uh, let's see, this is short, and decidedly finished. About the actual story, well, if it helps, I thought of this before midnight, but not early in the morning in an "I didn't sleep" way, sadly. Which doesn't mean it's happy, just maybe that it's weird. I'm experimenting with different ways of writing, why I have no idea, but here's one. Feel free to tell me if it's horrible or if it works.
Summary: This is actually a comedy, what can I say, it's random, obscure, and humorous. Or, so, I hope. Anything else will give it away.
Rated: PG-13 for suggestiveness and as the title may suggest, mentions of masochism.
Date Started/Finished: May 12th 2003
By ~Delenn~
"Did you know that's actually the title of a book?"
A pause, "Sorry, honey. What is?"
"There's this book, it's called 'Masochism Is Fun' have you ever heard rubbish like that?" Is the patient reply.
"Really?" Again, a pause, the sound of running water and clashing dishes. "Well, you would know, wouldn't you," it's not a question.
Fingernails drumming on a table, pop music playing loudly in some other room, and the shuffling of papers become apparent as the silence drags out. "I'm not a masochist," the water turns off disbelievingly, "I'm a sadist, there's a difference."
Noises are mocking him and so is the dishwasher, "Okay, honey, you're the Big Bad… you love to hurt other people, so, I can never see you again. I'm not emotionally stable enough to date a sadist, I just don't heal that fast."
The water turns on again and life resumes to normal, even the faint sounds of birds chirping outside the shuttered window are apparent. Cautious at first, the drumming on the table becomes louder, more confident. "Was that a joke I hear? Sarcasm from you? That's it, the world is officially ending."
"Masochism and sarcasm, wow, you just know everything about the ism's, don't you? Look, I'm serious, I'm not a masochist so I can't put up with a sadist."
Pounding pop music stops for a second as the CD changes and then a whole new group screams out the same cheery beats, unaware of the discussion going on in this room. "So your saying," the pauses have been getting shorter, the speaking sharper, "that I'm a masochist… doesn't that make you a sadist?"
A splash of water and the flap of rubber gloves hitting the sink as she spins around, "I did not say that!"
There is no pause this time, the conversation not disturbed by the scraping of a chair on the floor. "Seems to me that you always did enjoy a good rough 'n' tumble…"
Short footsteps getting closer, fists balling in time with the annoying repetitive beat from the other room, "Let's make something very clear, I don't like hurting you and I don't like getting hurt."
Breath right next to her ear, the tap turned off and a lull in the music from the other room. "Wasn't talking 'bout that kind of rough 'n' tumble."
"Oh," it's not a pause but a conversation without words, dueling without fists or weapons.
Skidding to a halt, Dawn sighs, "Young impressionable teenager, I do not need to see you two making out by the dishes. I may never eat on those plates again."
"Ahem," Spike pulls away and resumes his seat at the table, picking up his newspaper and Buffy tries to discreetly let go of the twister for the shades as though she weren't considering opening them.
Dawn looks between the two of them and leans over Spike to grab the cereal while sneaking a peek at his newspaper. "Oh, were you guys fighting too? What about?"
"Your sister," a seething glare is exchanged between slayer and vampire, "apparently thinks I'm a masochist because I pointed out the title of some idiotic book about it."
Noting the book with satisfaction, Dawn curiously asks, "Buffy?"
Making a great show of dumping the clean dishes back into the sink for Dawn, Buffy replies, "I was minding my own business, doing the dishes and he goes off about how we're both sadists, which you are way to young to look like you know what means, Dawnie."
Laughter echoes as Dawn tunes out the conversation, putting on her headphones so the same faint beat of pop music is heard, "Okay, I have school," she gives Spike a peck on his cheek, "you guys be good. No sexcapades any place where I could sit, walk, eat, lay or visit, deal?"
The brunette is out the door quickly leaving the two bottle blondes staring at the door. Spike flips the page on his newspaper, taking another sip of his cup of blood, and Buffy turns her back on the new set of dishes, coming to sit next to Spike instead. "Oh, god, is this what she considers normal?"
Grinning mischievously, Spike replies "This is normal for us, luv." Lazily, he announces, "Says here that there's a book about sexcapades too, want to get it, pet?"
Buffy moves from next to Spike to on his lap, "Sure," at his incredulous look she smiles girlishly, "seeing as I did the dishes, it's officially your turn again."
"Oi, Slayer, The Big Bad does not do dishes when it's your… oh… right then."