Drabble meme for notassuch, Neverwhere/Highlander, Richard and Methos.

He poured the tea and tried to guess the easiest way to the living room. Through the hallway or- no, not the hall way, not on a Tuesday. Up the stairs, into the garden and through the bedroom then.

Door was a good friend, but Richard sometimes thought he should have looked for a place to stay on his own. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Milk, no sugar," Adam called back. His voice echoed strangely through the house. "Where did you say the book was?"

"In the bookshelf, near the..." Richard stopped trying to explain when he realised his voice wasn't carrying through the house anymore. He picked up the tray, stuck a packet of ginger biscuits on it and headed out.

"It's on the book shelf behind the... Adam?"

Adam was standing in front of the mantelpiece where Richard kept what he thought of as souvenirs. A recipe from the Shepherds he would never try. Serpantine's hangover cure, or possibly poison. One of Islington's wine glasses.

Adam picked up the glass.

"Wine from Atlantis," he said. He held the glass with both hands, reverentially. Brought it up to his face and breathed in what was left of the smell. "I didn't think I'd--"

"You knew Islington?" Richard said. He put the tray down and wished these things didn't always happen and that he hadn't left his knife in his coat.

"The angel? Yes, I met him once, a long time ago." Adam's expression changed into a mixture of grief and rage. His fingers tightened around the glass and Richard wasn't surprised when he threw it against a wall. The last dregs of wine lit up the broken pieces like sunlight on ice. The sound of it smashing hung in the air for a long moment.

"Sorry," Adam said. He didn't sound it, but Richard liked pointless niceties a lot more than he had before.

"It's fine," he said. He opened his mouth to ask-- what, or why, and changed his mind. "Ginger biscuit?"

end.

I did not write this as I was expecting to write this, before I started.

For duckswim, Good Omens, Crowley teaches Adam about the birds and the bees in hell.

"Well, sometimes two demons, ones that have spent a bit too much together, sometimes they get certain- urges. It's not something we really talk about.  As long as they do it in private, where no-one can see and clean up all the pieces after, it's their own business."  Crowley took a large gulp of quite ridiculously strong gin that he had summoned without thinking, in a desperate attempt by his subconscious to preserve his mind. "Of course, they never do," he added. "Blessed exhibitionists, lurking in corners where any unsuspecting demon and trip over them." He shuddered at the memory.  "Some things are just wrong."

"Yeah, but you're a demon, you're meant to be wrong," Adam said.  "S'right for a demon, being wrong. I 'spect you can't help it."

Which sounded like he'd been talking to Aziraphale.  Crowley shot him a suspicious look.  "Yes," he said eventually, "but the way they do it, it's really, really wrong."

"Wronger than that?" Adam pointed at the TV screen where rather busty virgin was being tied to a suspiciously tentacle-ish tree.

"Yes," Crowley said very firmly. A memory flashed through his mind.  "Definitely."

"Huh," Adam said, looking thoughtful.

There was a moment of silence while they both looked at the screen.  "Do I need to talk about safe sex?" Crowley said while the actors on screen did obscene things with bad special effects.  "Because you know, the safest sex is possessio--"

"So what about you and him" Adam interrupted. His head was tilted on one side and his expression made him look a little like his father (the other one) and a lot like his ultimate creator. And there were a lot of ways Crowley could have answered, starting with "Him, who?", but something about that expression made him rethink it.

"That's... That's different," he said. 

Which was no answer at all, but was the truth.



end.