Prompt: bubblegum by silveronthetree. Note: first time writing Brittany/Santana. Oh pairing of my heart, I wish to write you more.
Word Count: 257
She believes that if you eat watermelon seeds, you'll get a watermelon growing in your belly and it took Santana most of July to convince her that every woman waddling around heavy with babies was not about to birth Brittany's favorite summer fruit. Brittany believes these things because she believes in a far more interesting world.
Her fingers slide against Santana's lips, the gloss worn off during the movie where they spent more time not looking at anything, mouths pressed against each other. The tip of one of her fingers slides in and Santana has to keep from swallowing her bubble gum.
Brittany sucks her index finger in her mouth, a pleasant noise afterwards, the answer received. "Like cinnamon."
"'Course," Santana says and her voice is a little strangled, a little terrified. "It's Big Red."
"You always taste like it." Brittany takes out a pack of her own favorite, Bubble Yum, far too sweet and neither of them should be chomping on gum that isn't sugar free but they've got a break from the Cheerios practice schedule and no one's around that knows them. "We should swap tastes."
"I'll taste spicy and delicious and you taste like me."
Santana knows a sexy invite when she's offered one. She chucks her gum in the nearest trash can, taking Brittany's hand, and says, "My parents aren't home right now. Wanna go swimming?"
Brittany frowns. "Then we'll taste like pool."
Santana doesn't bother explaining, tugging her close, and saying, "I don't think I'll ever taste as sweet as you."
Devils in Training Wear McQueen
Prompt: Kurt Hummel: Vogue Summer Intern by froggy
Word count: 159
He arrives almost a half hour before he's supposed to be there which means his supervisor isn't there at all. The office are foreboding a comforting way, the snottiness is deserving and he swears he will not make a fool of himself if he sees Anna Wintour, he will not.
"Coffee," someone barks at him and he's prepared for it, archly inquiring for what they'd prefer. He smiles back at the stunned expression because oh yes, he is prepared.
He's got a significant portion of the department's coffee orders prepared and uncovered his supervisor's order in the meantime when she strides into the office, taking the coffee in surprise.
"And I've already taken the liberty of transcribing your voicemail messages. Your secretary is running late. Train issues, perhaps. Funny since we live on the same train line and yet, here I am."
Oh yes. He is not walking out of this internship without a job offer already in hand.
A Calligrapher's Flourish
Prompt: handwriting by hazyjayne
Word Count: 226
Kurt tells him that his handwriting is a sign of the failures of American education and Blaine laughs a little, finishing the doodles on his study notes since he knows he's got this one down. That Kurt is stressed about the test is so endearing that he can't help but rest his head on Kurt's shoulder, wondering a little why he feels so much warmer for doing that.
Then they're finally together and oh, that's why.
He finds the calligraphy pen during one of those rare Saturday dates where they have all the time in the world so obviously they're going to work on Kurt's musical. He wants to make an elaborate cover for the printed out manuscript and he's got his craft box open on his bedroom floor, rooting through the compartments. Blaine finds it first, a stroke of luck, pressing the nub against his fingertip, marveling that no ink comes out.
"Here," Kurt says and he takes Blaine's hand too, pushing his shirtsleeve up (it is always so cool in Kurt's house), and with precise strokes starts writing his name against the pulse point of Blaine's wrist. He ducks his head down. "You should probably wash it off before it dries."
Blaine touches Kurt's chin, waiting until he's lifted his head up enough to kiss him. "Why would I ever dream of doing that?"