There has been no one brighter than you; I have been waiting

When Kim Possible starts doing Queer Eye parodies, I know my life is complete.

There was no impossible project this year, for a variety of reasons (primary of which being that I forgot).

So, I give you an addendum to Dead Inside, in which Blaine is irritable, Aya is violent, and Silverlock is mildly put-upon; it ends with Silverlock getting laid, but then, most things do.

S'too long and too talky, but I don't care; I need to write something self indulgent and fluffy for these two, or I'll start cutting myself.
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"So, want a bite of my sandwich?" Silverlock raised an eyebrow suggestively, and alighted upon one of the many cushions scattered across the floor.

Blaine gave him a withering glare. "I wish I could remove your jaw so you could never voice any of your bad pickup lines ever again."

"I was actually just asking if you wanted to share my lunch. It's declicious." He frowned. "You're not going through one of those not-eating phases again, are you? Foxbird worries about you, and for that matter, so do I."

"Don't think that being concerned for my wellfare means we're on speaking terms."

"You're speaking to me now, aren't you?"

"No, I'm glaring at you. Subtle difference."

"Fine. Continue to be a pissy bitch."

"Works for me. And you can continue screwing that tacky cross dimensional whore."

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" Blaine didn't answer. Silverlock hissed angrily and threw up his arms. "I cannot believe you. You've nothing to be jealous of- he's a decent lay for an amateur, but he's obsessed with the water mage. It's cute, actually. Why is he different from any of the others?"

"For starters? None of the other people you've screwed around with were trying to take over the world."

"Oh, please. You're just mad because I didn't try to take over the world with you."

"And if I am?"

"Then you're more of a fool than I've ever given you credit for." The viciousness in his own voice surprised him.

Blaine glared. Silverlock glared back and chewed sullenly on his sandwich. They sat in stony silence.

A shadow fell over the two of them which, given that they were sitting in a dimly lit ballroom, was mildly alarming. They looked up. Ayanna DeLavrey looked down. Then she grabbed them both by the hair and cracked their skulls together.

"Ow!"

"Fuck!"

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that. None."

"Thank you, General, that side of my head hasn't been subjected to a headache in quite a long time."

"You're welcome. I'd be more than happy to do it again- perhaps you'd like to switch places, so I can get the other side?"

"Really not necessary, milady. Perhaps next time, should you attempt to fix problems that are none of your business, you will think about using something other than brute force?"

"Shut up, priest. There is a closet over there." She pointed, and a door appeared in the wall. "If I must, I will lock the two of you in it until one of you dies or the both of you have sex. If that is not sufficient threat, then I will ask the one with the eyebrows to give you relationship advice- or I will tell the tall one you need couples therapy." Behind her, someone had given Ventislava a drink, and she'd begun to sing the songs of her native country. The Patchwork King looked pained.

"You wouldn't." Silverlock glanced over to Lydia, who was talking animatedly to Aislin.

"Try me. If you think I cannot convince those over eager children to be helpful, you are sadly mistaken. I'm sure even the angsty one would be willing to beat the two of you over the head with her stick." She crossed her arms and nodded once, with an air of finality. "You have ten minutes. Then it's either the closet or the therapist- but if you'd prefer to work your problems out with my sword, I'm sure that could be arranged as well."

Blaine hid his face in his hands as she stalked away. "This day keeps getting better."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad. I'll admit, being threatened by Aya is never exactly a good thing, but Dekar and Sharecht have been stopped, all those shiny holy artifacts have been returned, your little minions have recovered their souls-"

"My little minions have; what about yours?"

"Hm, noticed that, did you? He's around, somewhere; I'm sure he'll turn up eventually. Anyway, as I was saying, you should be rather pleased with today, all things considered. And look!" He tore his sandwich in half and held it out to Blaine, "Free lunch!"

"There's no such thing." Blaine took the sandwich anyway. "And your transparent attempts to put me in a better mood will not succeed."

"Of course they will. They already have. See, you're smiling."

"I'm smiling because this sandwich is fucking delicious," he said, speaking with his mouth full.

"Whatever you say, my dear."

Blaine rolled his eyes. Silverlock nudged him with his shoulder, and the two of them sat and ate in somewhat companionable silence.

"Don't think this means I'm no longer angry," Blaine said, when the sandwich was nothing more than a delicious memory and a few scattered crumbs.

"Oh, don't worry. I've no illusions about that." Silverlock smiled serenly and licked the crumbs from his fingers in a way that probably broke obscenity laws in at least three countries.

Blaine looked at him suspiciously. "Then why are you smiling?"

"Because, as you so eloquently put it, this sandwich is fucking delicious. Definitely worth not taking over the world for, I think. And two other things." He grinned and raised two fingers. "One, our ten minutes are almost up, and I think you're as interested in listening to Lydia's psychobabble as I am, and you probably find Ventislava's eyebrows at least as frightening as I do, if not more. And two," he leaned towards Blaine ever so slightly and lowered his voice. "I like you when you're angry. You're...creative when you're angry."

Blaine's gaze drifted to the closet. The corner of his mouth twitched. "You." He covered his mouth and made a snrrking noise. "You are..."

"Completely incorrigible? Unbearably sexy?"

"Endearingly predictable." Blaine snickered. "Among other things."

Silverlock smirked. "I prefer to think of it as being consistent. Would you care to elaborate on those other things a bit?"

"Not in public." He was laughing outright.

"Then by all means." He stood and tugged Blaine to his feet. "Let's get out of here before we get locked in a closet. We can go somewhere and see about...relieving...your anger."

Blaine, still laughing, allowed himself to be led. "I'm going to regret this, you know."

"Nonsense. If you're going to regret something, don't do it. But if you're going to do something," Silverlock snapped his fingers, opening a gate in the air. "Don't regret it. This world is too brief for such things."

"So it is." Their eyes met, and for the first time in quite a while, neither of them was glaring.

They stepped through the gate, and it snapped shut behind them.

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DRIVEL

Blaine: Shut up and gimme a sammich.
Silverlock: 'K. Does this mean we can have sex again?
Blaine: You're bribing me with food? And it's working? ...damnit.
Silverlock: ^__^

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...MORE DRIVEL (some time later):

"Da!" Foxbird burst through the door of Templar's Rest, dragging a terrified young man with her. "Oh, good, the two of you are done being idiots. Took you long enough."

Blaine glared at her; Silverlock looked pleased with himself. Foxbird rolled her eyes in response to both of them. "Da, this is Tim. Tim, this is my father, and that's his willfull but incredibly talented concubine."

"What?"

"Hey!"

She continued, ignoring them. "Da, I'm adopting Tim. This way, Silverlock can stop whinging about wanting grandchildren, and you can stop looking paranoid every time I talk to someone with a dick."

They both gaped at her. Blaine recovered first. "Little bird, you are, at best, four years older than him. I really don't think you can adopt him."

She shrugged. "It's not like you're that much older than I am. And someone needs to take care of him. Look." She poked him. He squeaked, and tried to hide behind himself. "I can keep him as a pet, if nothing else. Anyway. We're off on patrol, so don't do anything stupid like stop talking to each other again."

And with that, she dragged Tim away.

"Concubine? I was a professional, not some fucking party favor," Silverlock snarled.

"And your professionalism has served you so very well here, hasn't it? You got yourself an office building. Very professional."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Hm." Blaine nonchalantly poured himself some more water. "I suppose that could be arranged."

Silverlock leaned back in his chair and looked inordinately smug.

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FATALITY

I suck at writing endings. O WELLZ.