Categories > Books > Diana Wynne Jones > Unwelcome Distractions

Unwelcome Distractions

by Rayven 2 reviews

'How,' thought Calcifer muzzily, 'is it possible to have that many hands. The man must have octopus blood.' Slash. PWP.

Category: Diana Wynne Jones - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor - Characters: Calcifer, Howl Jenkins - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2006-04-02 - Updated: 2006-04-02 - 837 words - Complete

Disclaimer: Howl's Moving Castle does not belong to me. It is the property of Diana Wynne Jones. This is a slash fanfiction, meaning boys kissing boys. If you don't like, don't read. Pre-Sophie.

Unwelcome Distractions

Howl yawned and stumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes blearily. His hair was currently a blinding platinum blonde, courtesy of one peroxide experiment too far.

He practically fell down the stairs, nearly tripping over the long hem of his bright blue dressing gown as he tried to navigate over the heaps of junk and dirty plates. In his half-awake daze he fondly patted the skull on the mantelpiece, dislodging a thick coating of dust and making him cough loudly.

Calcifer started, snapping to attention with a snort. "Howl," he crackled, grinning malevolently, "would you care to tell me what you were doing out so late? I waited and waited and you didn't come and that stupid apprentice of yours refused to give me more wood, even when I asked so nicely."

Howl looked up from where he was currently pouring a glass of water.

"Whazzat?" He squinted at the demon, still fending off the effects of last night's hangover.

Calcifer rolled his eyes, obviously giving up. "Nevermind. What were you doing last night, anyway?"

"Eh?" He visibly straightened and made an attempt to pull himself together. "Oh, there was a new girl. Elspeth, Elizabeth, Ella? Something like that. Stupid cold fish. Wouldn't let me follow her home. Had a few beers-"

"Few dozen, more likely," Calcifer muttered.

"-And came back here. Sometimes I just feel like giving up on women all together."

Calcifer gave him a strange look. "And your other options? What are you going to do, charm the pretty boys with your continually-boasted-about good looks?"

Howl grunted, then jumped up and gave Calcifer a speculative look. The fire demon shrank back into his coals, wishing that he hadn't opened his mouth.

"You know, I have been feeling lonely lately..."

Calcifer tried to hide under a log. The gleam in Howl's eyes, not awake enough to be quite rational and not too sober either, was alarming him greatly.

"And you're right here..." He rifled through the mass of papers that had accumulated on the table. "If I make allowances for mass here, and anticipate changes in the morphic field..."

Calcifer would have run if he could, but if was too late for that.

Howl rolled up his sleeves, eyes flashing. "Right!"

Calcifer squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the shrill scratching of chalk. An orange glow sparked out of the air, seeping through what could, in a sense, be called his eyelids. He could feel himself stretching, mass expanding and his body melting and reforming over and over.

He felt nauseous, but clamped down on it when he forced himself to remember that he didn't have a stomach.

Howl stared at what stood in front of him with bemusement (an emotion he had been feeling quite often of late). The creature was tall and thin, and most definitely blue. Its long green hair flickered around it and Howl was sure that if he could see its eyes they would be a blinding orange. The heart inside it did not beat, but that was to be expected - it was Howl's heart, not Calcifer's.

Good enough.

Calcifer started as he felt the queer sensation of a tongue being shoved not too gently down his throat. His eyes snapped open and Howl was pleased indeed to note that they were, indeed, orange.

Howl cleared the table with a sweep of his arm and pinned the reluctant demon to it, hands roaming into hitherto unexplored territory.

How, thought Calcifer muzzily, is it possible to have that many hands? The man must have octopus blood.

He gasped as Howl nipped at his throat, moving down his chest with a purpose.

"Hang on a minute!" squawked Calcifer. "That's quite enough!"

Howl looked up from his work and grinned. "I don't know, I think I've got a little more exploring to do..." He swung up on to the table and straddled the reluctant fire demon, holding down his wrists with a grip of steel.

Calcifer thrashed wildly, trying to escape from Howl's perverted clutches. Of course, with all of this moving about, he failed to realise that...

At the behest of Calcifer's struggles, Howl's dressing gown cord came loose and his




"Well," Calcifer said in a curious voice, after several moments of shocked staring, "that changes everything." He wrenched his wrists loose of Howl's now-slack hold and reached out-

Howl's eyes fluttered open. His mouth tasted like a cesspit and his hair stood up in a disarrayed mess of spikes.

From further careful observation, he deduced that the body clutching him to its chest was a very masculine arm, and, he noted with a kind of dreading surprise, blue. Very blue, in fact. Almost...demonically.

Calcifer turned his head and gave Howl a smirk that spoke volumes.

"My God, what did I do last night!"
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