For musesfool: some Clex:
"Chloe hated New Year's Eve."
"Oh?" Lex looked up from the financial magazine he was perusing. In the overstuffed chair next to him, Clark sat up a little from his post-New-Years-stay-up-all-night slouch, legs thrown over one of the arms. "I'm sorry to hear that. Usually my host skills are a bit more optimal."
"I think your optimal hosting skills might have been exactly the problem." Lana crossed her arms and tapped her lacquered nails against her green uniform sleeve as she eyed the two boys. Clark was starting to squirm.
"Care to be a bit more specific with your criticism?" Lex inquired, not ruffled at all. "I do aim to please."
"It might have had something to do with her going to find her coat and actually finding you two."
"We were the hosts," Lex pointed out reasonably, smiling a little. "If she didn't want to see us, I'd have to conclude she went to the wrong party."
"Finding you two on top of her coat," Lana finished, a little too loud. "Naked."
The Talon was suddenly very quiet. Clark used his powers of super embarrassment to turn beet red and scrunch down as low as possible in the chair.
For florahart: some Percy/Draco, set after Third Party Loyalties
Percy’s sheets were crisp, blue, and neat as a pin.
Or at least, they had been, when he left for work.
"Draco!" he yelled (it wasn't yelling so much, that was unbecoming, he was merely speaking forcefully). "Why are my sheets green! And slippery!"
"Stop yelling," Draco moaned, trudging into Percy's doorway, holding his head. He still hadn't quite managed to get dressed yet, which Percy was opening his mouth to comment helpfully on, when Draco's robe sleeve slipped a little more down his arm, revealing the still-healing tattoo. Percy swallowed the words.
"What's this stuff on my bed where my sheets used to be?" he inquired, tartly but not as loud.
"It's silk, you uncultured swine," he groused, massaging his temples. "And you should be glad it's the Emerald, because the other in color this season seems to be Phoenix Flame Orange, inexplicably. It's to say, you know, thanks, or whatever," Draco added grudgingly when Percy continued to stare at him.
"Er, well..." Percy felt unbalanced, which he hated, as he glanced between the sheets and Draco, "...thank you?"
"Let's never speak of it again," Draco grunted, and shuffled back out of the room, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes.
Percy eyed the bed, then reached out and ran fingertips over the silk. It was smooth, and soft, and cool...Percy sat gingerly on the edge of the bed to investigate further. It was nice, percy thought as he bunched some of the sheets up under his hands, and Percy couldn't resist giving a little bounce to test it all out...
...then slipped right off the slick fabric and hit the floor with a loud CRACK that had definately been his tailbone.
"Weasley!" Draco shouted from the kitchen. "Get out here and subdue your fucking fern, it's trying to take my coffee!"
For casirafics: Sirius trying to be serious (Sirius/Remus):
Sirius never kept secrets from James. Well, except for that whole being an utter shirt-lifter business.
"I'm going to tell him," he whispers to Remus in the middle of the library, apropos to nothing.
"You are not." Remus' quill doesn't even hitch in its smooth flow across his parchment. He doesn't have to ask what they're talking about.
"You can't tell me what to do!" Sirius snaps, and Remus sighs.
"I could indeed," he reports without any trace of bravado, "but i don't have to, because the truth is that you aren't going to. Not ever."
"Not ever," Sirius scoffs, beginning to shred the corners of his parchment with nervous fingers.
"Even if you were," Remus continues as though he has said nothing, "you certainly aren't going to do it because you want to get back at him for missing your daily drinking engagement for Lily."
"Fucking Evans," Sirius snarls, but says nothing else, because James is coming in at that moment, eyes bright enough and smile wide enough so that every one in the room knows he must have got his hand another milimeter up Lily's skirt.
" 'Lo, lads!" James saunters up to the table and beams down at them. Remus still does not look up. "What's new?"
"Nothing," Sirius reports tersely.
and finally, for marksykins: Harry makes an announcement:
"I want to let Slytherins into the D.A."
Ron's jaw dropped. Hermione looked up from her toast and met Harry's gaze evenly, waiting.
"Well," Harry amended, "I want to let a Slytherin into the D.A."
Ron shut his mouth. Hermione leaned her chin on her hand.
"I actually just want to tell a Slytherin about the room of requirement."
Ron narrowed his eyes. Hermione pursed her lips.
"I want to tell Draco about the room of requirement."
Ron scrunched his nose in puzzlement. Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"All right!" Harry snapped, flushing. "I want five minutes to shag Draco in a place where you bastards aren't running in and out all the time, satisfied?!"
"Aha," Hermione folded her hands as Ron slid several inches along the bench away from Harry, "Now we're getting somewhere."