DRABBLES: Home

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Ok I've written some drabbles (well- 250 words each, so not exactly drabbles) and they are based on 'home'. You'll see what I mean.
Posted just for Flo. :)
Title:Home
Form:Drabbles- 250 words each
Rating:Oh they are just fluff, I think. Which is new.
Disclaimer:I don't own anything, and I realise that this never happened.
Notes:My first real try at drabbles. It's hard sticking to a limit!

GREG/CLIVE
1. Greg peered around Clive’s library nervously. Funny that the library was the room Clive was most proud of. It was just as Greg had expected- old, crowded and English. But that was Clive all over. There was a red leather chair tucked in the corner, surrounded by tall bookcases filled with leather bound books. A small table with a reading lamp was next to the chair, with a half full cup of tea still waiting on a wooden coaster. The corner was poky but cosy, tucked away. Greg could picture Clive sitting there. There was a TV that looked like it had never been turned on in the corner.
“I’ll be through in a minute, Greg, make yourself comfortable.” Clive’s voice floated through from the kitchen, pulling Greg out of his thoughts.
“OK!” Greg yelled back.
“Where?” He added to himself quietly, looking around for a seat. He spied a hard backed chair leaning against the faded blue wallpaper and placed himself on it. Looking up on the wall behind him, he saw a picture of the countryside. Keeping in style with the house, Greg had half expected to see a stuffed boar head.
“Here we go,” Clive announced, handing Greg a steaming cup as he strode into the room. Greg smelt it.
“Coffee?” Greg smirked. “I didn’t think you stocked that here, Clive.”
“I bought it specially for you, homeboy.” Clive smirked.
Greg smiled and sipped it. “What are you drinking?”
“Tea.”
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

RYAN/COLIN
2. Colin gasped as he entered the bathroom.
Jesus, Ryan’s house wasn’t a house- it was a mansion.
The bathroom was twice the size of Colin’s bedroom. The tiles were gleaming white and the ceiling had been painted such a pure blue that Colin thought he was looking at the sky at first glance. The floor was whiter than clouds, whiter than snow. Colin, sighing, bent down and removed his shoes. Hell, it was sad, but he didn’t want to make a mark in this bathroom.
He tiptoed over to the toilet, passing the huge bathtub that had been sunk into the floor. It looked like a bloody swimming pool, he mused. Chuckling to himself he undid his fly and stood by the toilet. He stopped laughing.
This was scary.
He didn’t want to make a mark- anywhere.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t go to toilet under pressure.
Jesus, he just preferred his own small bathroom where he could go to toilet without worrying about anything. That’s what tissues were for. Damn Ryan for having such a perfect bathroom.
Colin managed to empty himself. He zipped up, relieved. He flushed the toilet- hating the loud noise in the silence- and ran over to the sink. He washed his hands, unwillingly using the soap and denting it. He looked in the mirror and saw Ryan naked standing in the doorway. He spun around.
“You’re meant to close the door,” Ryan whispered, pulling Colin. “Come back to bed.”

GREG/RYAN
3. “… And this is the bedroom,” announced Greg. He waved an arm warily, allowing Ryan to take in the room.
Not that there was much to take in.
Ryan snorted quietly. Greg, sarcastic, snappy dresser, cool as a cucumber- lived in a poky flat in a dinghy street. It was tiny. Ryan didn’t care, of course- he loved Greg no matter what- but it amused him.
The bed was in the middle of the room. It was a single- obviously Greg hadn’t had many visitors- and it was still unmade from that morning. There was a wooden wardrobe that (Ryan was willing to bet) was full of purple shirts and suits. There was a bedside table with a small black lamp on it and a pile of well-thumbed books.
“It’s charming,” Ryan said lightly.
Greg shrugged. “I don’t care if you don’t like it,” he murmured. “It’s crappy- but it’s just right for me. Why should I need a flat any bigger? What do I ever need to do here?”
Ryan had to take that in. He lived in a house that was too big, in some respects- but he always liked his space. And he had put up a lot of friends when things got too tough at home, Greg included.
But Greg was a regular visitor now.
Ryan did like his space, but he liked being with Greg more- wherever.
“The bed’s a bit small, though,” Ryan commented.
Greg winked. “We’ll have to stay at your place then.”

BRAD/RYAN
4. He stood stock still, not daring to move.
His eyes were huge, his back was straight, his mouth was in a frown.
His life passed before his eyes.
“It’s just a wasp!” Came a quiet, reassuring voice.
Brad nodded slowly, trying not to move too much. He hated the things. They buzzed around, tormenting everyone in sight. Ryan waved a large hand at the wasp, which buzzed angrily and flew away.
Brad felt himself relax. He really had been tense.
But he supposed he should get used to wasps- Ryan’s huge flower garden attracted one hell of a lot of them.
Ryan’s garden was endless. It was vast, covered in grass with flowerbeds and even a small pond. There was a paved square in the corner where Ryan held his famous barbeques, complete with a shed that was big enough to house Brad and all his belongings. Bird tables were dotted around, covered in seed- Ryan loved to see birds in his garden. He also loved the smell of the flowers, which explained why he had so damned many. Brad giggled to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Ryan whispered in his ear sleepily. The sun was putting him to sleep, as it always did.
Brad shrugged. He stretched out on his sunlounger that he was sharing with Ryan, curled up in his arms. He knew that however many wasps felt attracted to him (was he giving off some kind of wasp stink?) Ryan would be there to wave them away.

COLIN/GREG
5. Greg sat at the table, eating a bowl of cornflakes that he had found in Colin’s cupboard.
Colin was still in bed- he did sleep for a long time- but Greg needed to get up. He hated lying in bed, unless Colin was cuddling him.
Colin’s kitchen was small- but by no means tiny, it was roomy enough. There was an old fashioned cooker in the corner, surrounded by wooden worktops. The small fridge stood in the other corner, with a black stereo perilously perched on top. Greg grinned. He could just imagine Colin bouncing around, cooking, and singing along to the radio. It just seemed so… Colin. There was the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen that Greg was sat at, which was big and took up most of the floor space. A couple of cupboards lined the walls, full of tins and other foods that were microwave able. Colin had never been a lover of cooking.
The floor was covered in a cheap laminate covering, and the walls were painted white- or was it pale yellow? Greg leaned closer, squinting.
“Eugh,” he spluttered. “It’s bloody yellow!”
“And what’s wrong with yellow?” Came a sleepy voice from the doorway. Greg spun around to see Colin clothed in his big navy dressing gown.
“Nothing!” Greg said innocently. “I like navy better, though,” he murmured, eyeing up Colin’s dressing gown.
“I have yellow boxers on,” Colin said matter-of-factly. “Would you like to see?”
Greg grinned and followed Colin upstairs.

RYAN/CHIP
6. “Come on! Come on!” Chip sang, bouncing around the top of the stairway. Ryan had stopped half way up, clutching at his chest, complaining that his back was hurting. Chip had waited for him, but the excitement was getting too much.
“I’m bloody coming,” Ryan grunted as he finally reached the top of the stairs. Jesus, why did Chip have to live in the penthouse suite at the top of a block of flats? He couldn’t have chosen a worse location.
Chip smiled that angelic smile that always made Ryan grin. He held out his hand and Chip accepted it, pulling him through the door.
The first room was the living room. The first thought Ryan had was…. to blink.
The room was bright white, with dark black furniture. The sofa was leather (Ryan sighed. Leather stuck to naked bodies painfully.) It was open plan, with the stairs seemingly suspended in mid air, leading up to a huge space that looked like another living room. Black and white art lined the walls, abstract and nude paintings- Chip really had splashed out on getting this place done.
Ryan noticed Chip looking nervously at him.
“It’s lovely,” he said airily. Chip jumped up and down smiling broadly.
“Good,” he breathed. “I was so worried you wouldn’t like it!”
Ryan grinned falsely. “Well… I do!”
Chip breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. Do you want a coke or something?”
“Have you got anything stronger?”
It was a good job he loved Chip.