Sketchbook (171 words)
It never failed. Every time David crashed in Griffin's new lair, an increasingly frequent occurrence, Griffin took the opportunity to draw him. Usually passed out on Griffin's too-small couch, the Jumper was perfectly still, flawless face and long limbs invoking the artist in Griffin in way's he'd never felt before. It was a constant struggle for Griffin to accurately capture the lines of his body, the grace of his arms and legs, the play of shadows and light on his face. David was always beautiful, but Griffin only drew him when he slept. Mostly because David didn't know about the sketchbook Griffin kept full of nothing but character studies of David himself. The other was because when he slept, his eyes were closed. Griffin was loathe to admit, and secretly heartbroken by the fact that hours of practice had never once yielded a passable imitation of David's gorgeous eyes. Despite this, Griffin had never stopped trying, even if he had to burn all the pitiful, failed attempts in frustration and sorrow.
Team (175 words)
The Paladin snarled, charging at Griffin. The Brit rolled his eyes and simply jumped behind him and giving him a solid kick to the backside. Unable to stop his momentum, the man stumbled forward, straight into David's waiting right hook. As the Paladin went down hard, David heard the tell-tale whine of the electric prod a bare second before it caught him beneath the shoulderblade. Hissing in pain, he spun only to see his partner grab the man, reappearing on the roof of a nearby gas station and sending the Paladin to meet the unforgiving concrete below. A moment later, David was next to Griffin, surveying their handiwork below.
"Think that one's still alive?" Griffin asked casually, jerking his chin in the direction of the one he'd kicked into David. The man being questioned shrugged.
"We'd have to check. Had a rock in my fist, though." He then grinned at Griffin through a lip split by a lucky shot. "Limited run or not, we make a pretty good team." Griffin snorted, but secretly he agreed.
Unrequited (209 words)
David loved the way Griffin's hair curled a little at the place behind his ear, and sometimes at his temples. He liked the musical British accent, even when the other Jumper was using it to inflict maximum sarcasm. Actually, Griffin's sarcasm was another thing he loved about the other man; it was practically his first language, and pretty funny when you weren't the one on the receiving end.
Griffin was a strange contradiction who seemed to barely tolerate David's presence, and David's feelings for him were completely unrequited.
Griffin loved David's hands, they were elegant and graceful and always gentle, unless he was fighting, then they were surprisingly powerful weapons at his disposal. At least now that Griffin had shown him something beyond the basic "hit the other guy with your fist" technique that David had been using. Griffin actually admired how good of a student David had been, calm ad patient and willing to do the same motions a hundred times until they were right, and as smooth as reflex. The shining smile David gave him every time he nailed something new was wonderful, too.
David was a strange combination of arrogance and kindness that never failed to intrigue Griffin, and Griffin's feelings for him were completely unrequited.