One shots

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Sphallolalia.
(n.) flirtatious talk that leads nowhere.

"Mhfmmm" he groaned.

The incessant banging on his door just wouldn't end. His head hurt, a constant rhythmic beat against his temple. He cracked his eyes open just a little to almost be blinded from the morning sun that flared through the open blind curtains. They stung and teared up. Groaning he covered them with his hand, licking his lips that were dry, and his mouth that was left feeling like sandpaper. One thought ran through his mind. Murder whoever the fuck was at the door.

"Did you sleep here again Linc?"

The measured voice of Nikolai, made its way through his hazy hearing, bursting his little bubble. He barely remembered last night and how he ended up here. He knew he definitely looked a state, and if the soreness in his shoulders, neck and back were any indication, then he had slept here slung over his desk all night.

"Fuck off Crowley." Was all he managed to rasp out.

In signature Nikolai style he brushed off the comment unfazed taking a seat across from him. He sat up, slumped over his desk, running a hand through his matted blonde locks.

"You look like shit."

He just glared at him, with eyes that were probably rimmed red as they descended into a familiar silence. He just sat, trying to gather his thoughts and clear his mind. He couldn't care less that Kolya was analysing him, his eyes scanning every little detail of him. It made him aware and self conscious. Not that he'd let it show.

"It's been three times this week already Linc."

"I know," he sighed out.

"Now what do you want Kolya, I need to sort my shit out for the day."

And like that they fell into business.

She felt deeper and deeper in love with her apartment everyday. Perhaps the only home that has felt like home in the past ten years and that she genuinely liked. The house in LA was too big for her alone. The apartment in Seattle that she thought was perfect felt cold. And every place she had in New York now just made her feel hollow, like it was no longer her home. Despite the penthouse costing her an arm and a leg, it still managed to take her breath away.

Sitting right at the end of the French Quarter it let her look into the most colourful and eccentric side of New Orleans. It was noisy and bustling but she loved it. The few smells that would waft up to her, the crazy lights and parties she could hear made her feel like she belonged. And on days like this in the early mornings, she loved to just stand in the balcony, watching as people started to set up for their businesses. The vendors, shop owners, laughing and talking before tourists and locals alike turned up.

She took a sip of the coffee in her perfectly manicured hand, as the sun shone down on her. She leaned against the the iron fence of her balcony as the summer heat warmed her up.

"It's gonna be a good day Lia." The words she spoke made her feel the happiest she had been in a while.

He was grateful that when designing the building he had included the small bathroom and closer for himself. The jets of hot water hit his tense muscles had helping losses them a little. He was wound up so tight these days, he'd forgotten how to relax. When was the last time he'd gotten laid? Taken a woman out, or even back to his place? He cleared his mind of the thoughts as he wiped the fogged up mirror so he could sort out his hair. The ash blonde locks had lightened up from the summer sun, falling over his eyes. Seeing how long they had gotten he slicked them back thinking how it was time he got a trim. The sleep in his eyes would rid itself once he got coffee into his system. And the redness and puffiness would reduce in the next hour.