I confess I hit "skip" when a few Christmas songs came up, though. And that I edited these for glaring typographical errors (of which there were many, as I'm sporting a band-aid on a critical typing finger). Can you you blame me? Also, I doubt any of these are true 100-word drabbles, though some might come close.


Prayer for My Friends -- Terri Hendrix
It's dark outside and Blink can see a few stars tonight. He cups his hands to his mouth and blows to warm them, wondering where Mush is -- if he's somewhere warm. He bounces on the balls of his feet and looks up at the cold, clear sky once again, choosing a star and wishing it's the same one Mush is wishing on, wherever he is.


Come Fly with Me -- Michael Bublé
Race grinned. God he loved Vegas. Ten minutes in this town and he had already felt like the luckiest sonofabitch on earth. Two days later, he was still riding the wave. Slots clanged, dice rolled, cards swished, and dames strutted their stuff in feathers -- the fact that he was a foot shorter than most of them didn't phase him. He sized up the porky fella in the cheap suite across the felt from him, deciding to risk it. "Call. And raise you fifty," he said evenly, tossing a chip into the pot. Three threes wasn't nothing. He'd won on less, lost on more.


You May Be Right -- Billy Joel*
Jack shoved David up against the counter with a kiss. David fought it, but didn't stop this time. Jack leaned forward, using his body weight to pin him in place and dropped a hand to David's groin. He pulled back from David's mouth just enough to hiss, "You want this, Dave. You want me." Jack squeezed, felt him get harder, but David just bit his lip. Jack seized him into a kiss again, fast unbuttoning David's pants and wrenching down the zipper. Yeah, David wanted this. He was getting harder by the second and his tongue was fierce in Jack's mouth.


Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby -- Emmylou Harris, Allison Krauss, Gillian Welch
David watched Les sleep. So small, but not as frail as he seemed. A summer breeze wafted over them, rustling a few strands of hair on Les' forehead. David reached out to stroke a thumb over his brother's light eyebrow. Sometimes he wanted to be that young again -- know less, feel less. He sighed, rolling onto his back, hands resting loose on his chest, and closed his eyes.


Back to You -- John Mayer
"Not even in your wildest dreams. Not even," Spot spat. But he knew it was a lie. He could lie to anybody, bold faced, but he admitted it to himself at least. Had enough self respect for that.

"Yeah right. My dreams."

Spot took another hit from the bottle in his hand, erasing the image of David's tough, smart mouth hovering near near his as he watched him walk away.


Lollipop -- Mika
Blink swirled his tongue over the Blow Pop, savoring the tangy sweet watermelon flavor and feeling the first scrape of the gum center, rough like a kitten's tongue. He grinned across his math homework at Mush, who smiled sheepishly back. Blink stuffed the sucker back in his mouth and tried again to focus on algebra. It didn't work, though. Especially because the toe of Mush's stockinged foot was sneaking up his calf beneath the kitchen table.


Between the Bars -- Madeleine Peyroux
Jack studied his half empty scotch glass, concentrating on it to avoid looking in the mirror that bar the hotel bar. The bartender passed him again, giving him come-hither eyes, but when she looked away he just frowned and dashed the rest of his drink down. The alcohol seared his throat, but he managed not to cough. She wasn't his type, but her blue eyes reminded him of someone. He made eye contact with his reflection. Someone. He knew very well who.

He dropped a hefty tip and pushed away from the bar. She got off at ten. He'd be back then.


Shipping up to Boston -- Dropkick Murphys
Spot ran. Fast. His heart fighting to get out of his chest. He leaped over a broken barrel in the alley, rounded the corner at top speed, and plowed forward. Butcher wouldn't catch him this time. He laughed as he blew through the commotion, leaving more chaos in his wake. He dodged crates of flustered chickens, deck hands and dock workers, sacks of dry goods -- feet flying. The warehouse at the end of the row was in sight. He'd make it. He'd make it.


If I Had It All -- Dave Matthews Band
David licked his lips. He hated it when Jack did that -- stopped mid-sentence, held something back. It wasn't fair. But stomping his heel like a child wouldn't get him anywhere. Besides, that was Jack's style, not his.

Jack studied David's confusion, knowing he should just come out with it. Wanting to, even. But if he told him, if he finished that thought, he knew what would happen -- he'd get exactly what he wanted. It was there on David's face, plain as day. He was ready, willing. But as soon as Jack said it, as soon as he got everything he wanted, he'd find a way to fuck it up. And David deserved better.

"'S'nothing," he shrugged.


Ride -- Robert Earl Keen, Jr.
Out here, there wasn't much to do after sunset. Jack propped his boots up on the porch railing in front of him. Ranch life suited him, though. Staring out into the West, he felt a deep satisfaction knowing that even at age 17 he'd known exactly what he wanted, that the city wasn't what his soul really needed. The sun hit the horizon and light splayed out across the sky like a shower. In the chair next to him, David gasped. Jack leaned his head back against the side of the house. "Never get used to it, do you?" David pursed his lips and shook his head. "No. No you don't."



*full disclosure: this scene has been in my head forever, since it's part of a fic I'm working on ... that it showed up in the shuffle was excellent coincidence.