Multipurpose Written: August 2, 2004 An unbeta'd drive-by for my favorite Clam. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What am I going to do with them?, he'd thought. He should have known it would be a mistake to mention the scarf thing. As soon as the panel was over he watched them file by, one by one, pulling scarves from their necks and draping them over his arms like flower wreaths for the Dalai Lama. He'd tried to decline politely, but really, a fangirl's moment cannot be stopped. So he smiled and thanked each girl and ignored Sala and Andy's laughter and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do with 15 wool scarves. Ah well, at least it wasn't lollipops anymore. His dentist was still giving him hell about that one. He'd considered carefully: donate to charity, pass them off to all his relatives come Christmas, create a festive throw rug. He weighed each option carefully, but he thought the solution that presented itself seemed much more efficient. He stood back a little, twirling the last scarf between his fingers, and admired his handiwork. He was particularly proud of the symmetry underscored by contrast, the clever use of knots and the particular movement of the green striped piece. Yes. Lovely. His artistic talent had at last found an outlet. Thank you, fangirls. "Comfy?" he asked. The bedposts creaked a bit as Billy tugged at the stripes wrapped around his wrists. His arms were knotted and tight above his head, drained pale beside his red-flushed face. Beside him Elijah stretched, flexing his fingers between loops of blue knit, the curve of his armpit fitting neatly into the swell of Billy's ribcage. Blue and green, green and blue, like the matching fires snapping back at him from two sets of lust-clouded eyes. Dom felt sure they would have answered his question, had he not found the perfect use for the two silk offerings. "Lovely," he said, and let the scarf in his hand fall to the floor as he began to crawl up the bed. What am I going to do with them? he thought again, palms sliding up bare chests, one rough, one smooth. He was sure inspiration would strike again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back