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[OTC] Win or Lose
Nov. 26th, 2008 02:31 pm[![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bella_bonasera used with permission. Not binding on any storylines or any other muses mentioned, but the two of them may be getting a verse. So who knows? And God, it’s been a long time since I’ve written Flack/Stella.]
“Stell, I told you—I’m fine,” Flack sighed, collapsing back on Stella’s couch. Things were a little hazy around the edges, but he could tell enough to know that he wasn’t at his place—he and Stella didn’t exactly have the same decorating tastes. That much was obvious. Why they had wound up here after the annual office Christmas party as oppose to her dropping him off at his, he didn’t quite understand. “Why are we at your place?”
“In case you haven’t noticed?” she smirked, giving him a look over her shoulder. “You’ve got a good four inches on me. You really think we were making it all the way up the stairs to your place?”
“We wouldn’t have to make anything,” Flack mumbled, starting to push himself to his feet. He stood on wobbly legs for a few minutes, before he collapsed back into Stella’s couch again, arms spread out clumsily to catch himself on the back, so that he could lower himself back into the safety of the cushions. He then looked up at Stella with innocent eyes. “I really didn’t have that much.”
“Face it, Flack—you’re not going to win this one,” Stella smirked, before sitting down on the couch next to him, legs tucked under herself as she did. “You are another unfortunate victim of Lindsay’s Death-by-Rum egg nog.”
( *** )
668 words
bella_bonasera used with permission. Not binding on any storylines or any other muses mentioned, but the two of them may be getting a verse. So who knows? And God, it’s been a long time since I’ve written Flack/Stella.]“Stell, I told you—I’m fine,” Flack sighed, collapsing back on Stella’s couch. Things were a little hazy around the edges, but he could tell enough to know that he wasn’t at his place—he and Stella didn’t exactly have the same decorating tastes. That much was obvious. Why they had wound up here after the annual office Christmas party as oppose to her dropping him off at his, he didn’t quite understand. “Why are we at your place?”
“In case you haven’t noticed?” she smirked, giving him a look over her shoulder. “You’ve got a good four inches on me. You really think we were making it all the way up the stairs to your place?”
“We wouldn’t have to make anything,” Flack mumbled, starting to push himself to his feet. He stood on wobbly legs for a few minutes, before he collapsed back into Stella’s couch again, arms spread out clumsily to catch himself on the back, so that he could lower himself back into the safety of the cushions. He then looked up at Stella with innocent eyes. “I really didn’t have that much.”
“Face it, Flack—you’re not going to win this one,” Stella smirked, before sitting down on the couch next to him, legs tucked under herself as she did. “You are another unfortunate victim of Lindsay’s Death-by-Rum egg nog.”
( *** )
668 words
