a few fanfic practice drabbles

[maderr]

Because I'm not focused enough for anything else. None of these chars belong to me. Not necessarily accurate portrayals, as I'm attempting to get the hang of the chars. Mostly for me, but hey, read'em if you want.



Clair Leonelli was a brat. Infuriating, aggravating and in desperate need of a spanking. Daisuke told himself over and over that he wanted nothing to do with such a spoiled brat. But none of his logic could keep him from wondering.

What would it feel like? Those dark lips under his? Would they taste sour? sweet? Strange with the silver ring on his bottom lip? Perhaps he'd taste like metal, cold and sharp. Would he kiss aggressively? Or lazily, like he seemed to do everything else. Would he insist on controlling it, or permit Daisuke to play? Would he laugh in that strange way of his, or go quiet? The fever in his eyes, a mixture of anger and madness - would it dampen or flare? Would their be retaliation? What would it be?

Daisuke wondered.





*note* I've made them older and am pretty much ignorant of most of the cannon. So bear with me.

Frank was tall, dark and handsome. Classic and by the book. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall enough that Joe could count on one hand the people to whom Frank had been required to look up. All trim, tight muscle and their father's sparkling eyes and warm smile.

Of course, Joe was his own type of classic - blonde and blue. But it wasn't him the girls locked onto when they walked into the room. He supposed he could be jealous, the way they looked and sighed over him. Generally he was just amused, except for the one or two who had committed crims because they thought it would get them more attention from Frank Hardy.

Those just annoyed him. But otherwise? No reason to be jealous. Because for all that Frank chatted with them and was nice to them and even too one out to dinner every once in a great while -

There were only two things that made his eyes sparkle just so. The first was a new case, the burst of excitement that came with every new mystery. Normally so reserved, Frank could not hide the thrill he felt when presented with a new challenge.

Joe supposed he should shame or remorse for the second thing, but that had ceased to bother them a long time ago - if it had really ever bothered them at all. Had they not always been together? They were the Hardys, and always would be. One did not exist without the other. Joe made Frank's eyes sparkle, and he knew his own eyes were just as bright.





All the numbers and formulae and equations in the world could not tell Charlie what he was supposed to do.

And he didn't need numbers to know that what he thought and felt was considered wrong. Nor did he need them to know that it was also just as hopeless.

Because Don had the ladies and the job and a life that he liked even if he didn't love it. He didn't need Charlie, except for the occasional case. And somehow Charlie thought that if he wasn't around, they'd manage.

So he stuck to the numbers. Used his elaborate equations and confusing explanations to hide the confusion in voice, the slight remor that he hoped only he could hear. Used his restlessness to hide the way he wanted to keep everyone away from his brother. Used his tendency to fidgit to hide the urge to touch what he couldn't.

Kept to the numbers, because they kept him distracted.