36.7. "Cynicism is an unpleasant way of saying the truth."
- Lillian Hellman

Co-written with lotterylucky (Contains Coarse Language)
[Follows THIS]

Riley stood beside the hospital bed with his lips pressed together and arms firmly crossed over his chest as he contemplated the bruised and angry Scot sitting on the side of the gurney. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten his promise to Juliette that she could come to see Rory when he woke, though considering the first words out of the Scottish Hunter’s mouth when he was conscious enough to be rational were ‘If any fucking Kindred cunt come within fucking reaching distance of me, I’ll tear their fucking throats out through their arseholes’ right before he tore all the medical equipment off him and smashed a defibrillator against the wall of the room, it was a promise Riley had to quickly renege on. But now that the doctors had given him a hit of valium in the highest dosage they were allowed, he seemed to have calmed down a little.

( With Graham standing beside him, Riley was still trying to figure out the best way to tackle this situation... )


Word Count | 1,865

9.1. "Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action."
Benjamin Disraeli

Co-written with obscuritenoire & lotterylucky
[Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]

Rory looked at the chocolate croissant in his hand, first wondering why croissants were actually that shape, and then wondering how the hell he was going to eat it without spreading pasty from arsehole to breakfast all over the Bachelor Pad of Plenty. He probably should be wondering if Buffy would mind if he stole one of them from her stash, but he really wasn’t. She had buggered off to go buy pigeon porridge, or just run away to hide from the awkward... either way, she wasn’t here. Rory was here, and he was here with one of her chocolate croissants. The only thing was, he knew he wasn’t actually here alone. Apparently GI Joe had come home sick that morning, but other than hearing him go for a few rounds with the Porcelain Goddess in the bathroom up the hall around lunchtime, Rory hadn’t actually seen him since the morning before when he pulled a white ninja routine and left to escape the dodgy conversation.

( But he was just about to bite into the pastry when the door of the main bedroom finally opened and emitted Saving Private Ryan, who looked about as scary and intimidating as a well-worn gumboot... )


Word Count | 3,287

36.3. "Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose."
- Lyndon B. Johnson

Co-written with gr8muppetyodin & lotterylucky

Rory sat on the surprisingly comfortable sofa, considering how trendy and bacherlorish it was, a half-spent cup of coffee sitting on his chest as he eyed the tall dude standing in the adjoining kitchen. It was one of those open-planned type places, with everything but the bathroom and bedrooms in one room. Rory didn't even know why the fuck he was here, beyond the fact that Buffy almost begged him to come and told him it would save him money. He was a Scotsman, saving money was what he did. But this was just fucking awkward. They had arrived the night before, but after a quick meet and greet, the guy had gone to bed and left Buffy and Rory alone in the apartment. They watched a movie, and then Buffy took the spare room while Rory crashed on the sofa. Now it was morning, and the guy had exited the main bedroom around five minutes ago.

( Glancing over at Buffy, Rory found her sitting on the armchair closest to the kitchen, trying to pretend she wasn't perving on the shirtless dude in the kitchen, who was standing there in just camo cargo pants and nothing else as he waited for the kettle to boil... )


Word Count | 5,292