Prompt: "Repair"
Summary: All Roy wanted was a working TE-ship, but Garth made him say… 'it.'
Words: 393
Dating Status: Before
Prelude: None
Continuation: Undecided
Notes: At nearly 400 words (at least, this one is), these aren't truly 'drabbles.' But they're too short to be called one-shots, so I'm grouping them together under one big pile of SpAqua drama. I couldn't do this on LJ, seeing as I can't regularly access/load LJ, and so I just picked out a few random words and forced myself to set a story to them. The table of all 100 words is on my profile, if you're curious as to what I'm attempting to do. Anyway, please enjoy…


"Say it!"

Roy stared at me, lips pursed, arms folded, indignant in all aspects of the word. "Listen, all I want you to do is fix the damn eng—"

"Say it!"

"—ine on the damn TE-ship! I know you can; you lived with that mechanic fish-thing for who-knows-how-long!"

I shook my head, leaned forward over my desk and grinned. "So say it."

For the last five minutes, I had merely been trying to get him to say 'please.' That's it. Not a 'pretty please with a cherry on top'—Gods, Roy would never involve himself with anything as sugary as cherries—but just a simple 'please.' Then I would fix the engine on the ship and he could take his girlfriend or Raven or Karen or the twins or even some stuffed animals on a ride.

All it would take is some courtesy. If he couldn't utter a single syllable, insincerely if need be, he didn't deserve to even be on the team.

"Say it," I sing-songed, tapping my pen on the desk. "You know you want to…!"

For some reason, this taunting was making him blush. A distinct tinge of pink was creeping across the bones of his cheeks and his ears had already turned a vibrant red.

"Dammit, Garth, why can't you just fix the—"

"Say. It."

He clenched his fists at his sides and turned a bright shade of fuchsia. "Fine!" he bit out through gritted teeth. But instead of saying the tiny word, he spun away, shaking himself violently before turning again, expression a strange mix of anxiety and anger. "Fine!"

I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. "Sorry. 'Fine' isn't the word I'm looking for."

His expression dropped into a submissive pout and he murmured something, finally. "I love you."

"There you go! Now, was that so…" I felt my eyes go blank and sat upright, openmouthed. "Wait, Roy, what did you say?"

But he didn't answer. His gaze was glued to the carpeting, his face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. He had said 'I love you,' I knew that. And by his posture, he meant all three words.


Throwing me a spiteful glare, he frowned, as close to the verge of tears as I've ever seen him. "What?" he asked softly.

I could barely find my voice. "I… I just wanted a 'please'…"