None of these drabbles are actually the required 100 words. I am both lazy and far too talkative for that. But I did try.


001. and he sang...

Dylan sang in the shower most mornings. Marco knows this because his boyfriend had a bad habit of leaving the door slightly ajar, allowing the steam to leach into their bedroom along with the rise and fall of his voice, both of which he found quite agreeable.

The blonde man's voice was pleasant and the warmth of the air was comforting. It made waking up more of a privilege than a chore. Even when sick, waking up with aching eyes and throat, pressure so momentous on his forehead that it was a wonder he could lift his head at all....Dylan singing mere feet away in the next room could alleviate some of his misfortune.

Today was yet another blissful morning. Marco awoke...and Dylan sang.



002. joker and the thief...

"Marco, this isn't funny!" Dylan called, though his voice belied just how funny the situation in fact was. "Come on! I have practice soon. I need my bag."

The younger man's reply was muffled but Dylan somehow managed to piece together his irritated response. "You purposefully messed up my hair! And now I'm having to salvage it before class. This is your fault, not mine."

Dylan scowled, jiggling the door handle of the bathroom yet again. "You stole my bag and hid it in there you brat!"

The door swung open, a scowling, short, and very agitated Italian man on the other side. "Serves you right."



003. climbing on the roof...

"Dylan...we're going to get caught. We shouldn't be doing this."

The blonde man ignored his boyfriend's protests as he dropped a hand to help the younger boy up. Thanks to his sister working in the theatre he was taught all sorts of little tricks. One of which being where the roof entrance was inside the mall.

"Don't complain until you see it first," he urged, pulling Marco gently up onto the gravel landing by his small wrists. Dragging him until they were only a couple of feet from the edge he felt Marco gasp as his eyes fell on the lights below. Dylan knew the sight was gorgeous.

"It reminds me of you up here."



004. don't dream it's over...

All of his friends urged him to forget about him. They said he wasn't worth being upset over. They called him names, trash talked him, made a long list of all of his negative traits. They of course thought it would make him feel better.

But Marco knew better. Yes, he was upset....but he didn't think of Dylan any less than he had a year ago in that van. One sweetly blinding smile and he'd been dragged kicking and screaming into this relationship. And now...now it was over.

And yet....he was having a hard time coming to terms with that. He didn't want to hate Dylan. He just wanted him to smile at him again.



005. in case we die...

When Dylan proposes, he doesn't think of the words he'd had planned for months upon months, because in all honesty, he's been preparing his proposal speech for going on two years now unknown to his boyfriend. But the thing is, he really hadn't meant to say the words he did, because quite frankly they weren't that tactful.

As he slipped the small silver band onto Marco's small finger, he watched the younger man's eyes. They were bright with surprise and affection and the thought that flashed through Dylan's mind was not great tales of love and devotion...it was his want to always see those eyes.

"In case we die..." that had been his brilliant and famous last words. However...Marco seemed to understand, and he supposed that's exactly why he was proposing in the first place. Because Marco was the only one he could say something so stupid to and still get his point across.

The eyes didn't hurt though.



006. I know you...

Marco brushed his long brown locks behind his ears, vehemently trying to stop the wind from stealing it back in to the air. He shivered in one sudden tense moment. He always hated the cold, didn’t matter if it was a sudden burst of breeze or a long Canadian winter.

Perhaps that’s why he moved away from the cold, down south, away.

Away was becoming his favorite word, he mused, not watching as he ran into someone.

He looked up into those familiar eyes.

“I know you.”

Marco blushed realizing Dylan stood before him after two years. He damned the warm California air as it blew his hair once again, clouding the vision.

“Long time no see.”



007. since I left you...

Marco lowered himself further into the bath water, feeling his almost permanently tense muscles relax at the warmth. Near stifling steam filled his lungs and as he lifted his arms the sound of water breaking upon water seemed overly loud and jarring in the thick aired silence.

The skin of his palms against his closed eyes was near boiling, reminding him of tears both still fresh in his memory and waiting to appear as he knew they would. He'd already spent several nights in this way, lowering himself with shaking arms into scalding bath after bath in the hopes to wash the memory away, perhaps even burn it out of existence.

All it ever accomplished however is reminding him of the feel of being in Dylan's arms.



008. When you're falling...

Marco hated ice skating. In fact, he was pretty sure he loathed it. For some reason, since Dylan's hockey season recently ended he had been dragged out to the pond about a mile from Degrassi St. It was covered in tree limbs and mud and altogether made learning how to skate near impossible, but Marco adamantly refused to learn anywhere with more than just Dylan around. Thus why he found himself sitting on the dirty ice, sullenly staring up at his boyfriend as he laughed quietly, skating over with great ease and offering a hand up.

Shakily somehow getting back onto his feet Marco tried again, almost instantly finding himself about to fall, grabbing onto Dylan's belt loops in a panic. Dylan's laughter rang loudly in his ears and with some awkward maneuvering he did in fact stay standing, wobbling precariously on his skates but standing.



009. what can I do?

The fight had been stupid, as all of them between himself and Marco typically were. What was it even? His socks? His hair? Something utterly ridiculous and he of course never knew. All that Marco ever let him know was that he was unhappy with him.

The pot of sauce on the stove bubbled ominously and Dylan smelled something suspiciously like burning food. He was well aware he couldn't cook. In fact, if he said he could even microwave things correctly he'd be lying. But...well it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anytime Marco ever said something he regretted later you could count on some mouth watering dish on the table when he arrived home. And it always worked as well.

Hearing the door close down the hall Dylan looked up with panicked eyes to see Marco step in with very obvious confusion and swiftly dawning horror. "I um..." he paused looking at the mess and the steam rising from the stove. "I'm sorry?"

Despite his worry Marco allowed a small amused smile to appear as he shook his head. "What can I do?"



010. free at last...

"Hey Dylan, we're heading out to The Other Team. If you bring a friend you get a free drink."

Dylan scowled at his wall, not even bothering to turn over and look at Eric whom had his head sticking through the door to speak to him. "Pay for your own drink," he snapped, refreshing his email again on his laptop as if it would magically make an email from Marco appear.

He heard a rather high pitched whatever and the click of his door closing, and Dylan sighed quietly to his now empty dorm room, hitting refresh again.

Free at last, he thought miserably, jumping just a bit when he saw a new email, only to feel twice as depressed to see it was only a hockey newsletter. Free at last and hating every moment of it.



011. end of the world...

Marco stared mournfully at his beloved high school's gym with a hint of amused sadness. He well remembered his disastrous little Bollywood dance from nearly four years ago, fresh in his memory as the day it occurred.

"I can't believe it," a voice said behind him, large hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "You can still see the scorch marks on the door frame."

The Italian cringed, placing his own smaller hand atop Dylan's and was loathe to notice the black area Dylan was referring to. He could only laugh. "God that had to be the worst night of my life. I was so embarrassed."

A small kiss landed on his cheek and Marco forgot. "It wasn't the end of the world. The night was awesome, flames and all."



012. How I long to hear you say...

When Dylan first said I love you, Marco tried to say it back. He remembered at the time the younger boy's eyes had been full of doubt and so he had quieted his boyfriend, telling him to say it when he knew for sure. This was all a month ago and Dylan was quickly beginning to think he'd never hear those words in return.

Today they found themselves seated beneath a large tree in the park, Marco tucked against his chest and his arms around his tiny waist. It was quiet and cool, and Marco was strangely quiet today. IT wasn't long before he found himself slowly nodding off. But he was stopped when Marco's voice sounded. "I love you."

He almost thought he was imagining things but the boy's voice was so calm there was no doubt of his sincerity. Overjoyed, Dylan tightened his hold and dropped a kiss on Marco's neck, delighting as he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Sleeping people aren't supposed to do that.