(Author’s note: Getting this down to 100 words exactly was a damn sight more difficult than I remember it being. But, given I’ve not written proper drabbles for at least five years, I’m happy with this one.
There is absolutely context for it, but since it’s spoilery as all hell, I reserve the right to keep it firmly behind the curtain for now)

Sabbat scowled, poked suspiciously at the silk-wrapped parcel with one finger, and then looked up, eyes narrowed. “-the hells’s this supposed t’be?”

Archer bit back a smile. “It’s yours.” He reached down, picked up the package, and deposited it pointedly in the assassin’s lap. “Open it.”

“Or what?”

Oh for the love of- “Or nothing. It’s a present, Sabbat. Just… open it.”

Still scowling, Sabbat did so. And then the scowl fell away, replaced by a lopsided grin as sudden and fierce as a firestorm. “You bastard. You didn’t have t-”

“Yes,” Archer said, firmly, and kissed him. “I did.”

Copyright © 2019 by Finn McLellan.  All rights reserved.