Author's Notes: Okay, have you ever just wrote small, little sniplets and wondered what the hell to do with them? Well, with constant pushing from Star, I've decided to post some small drabbles that I have of Gravitation, up… but I didn't want to do them on them own, because they're only short. So, this is how "The Dabble Files" was born! There's going to be random, short little drabbles, all of them should be sweet and rated G and PG-13 at the most, and I ask you to enjoy them. It shall be updated according to how my Muses are feeling, and if school work is low… and a note, the drabbles aren't linked to each other at all.

Notes: QuickEdit should still diiiiie. This (again!) is for the ever wonderful Mei, and I strongly suggest that you all hop off to read her amazing fanfiction "Addicted to Shuichi" if you haven't done so yet. This idea came to me, while working... my brain is shot, so sue me.

Summary: A little corner in the archive, full of - or will be - sweet, cute and adorable drabbles that will just want to make you coo and adopt Shuichi as your next pet. Sit back, relax and enjoy tempting, short and easy to digest reads.

Disclaimer: Nadda. Not mine. Lucky people.

The Drabble Files
by Elfish Etyma

The Wrath of Shuichi

It was as Shuichi was wandering through the Shopping Centre, a large hat covering his pink hair and large eyes concealed with dark shades, that someone recognised him as Bad Luck's lead singer. He had his nose crinkled, and his tilted to one side, while examining various boxes of pocky when a vicious shout of, "Fag!" interrupted him.

He blinked and looked up from the many boxes and was met with steady brown eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me right, queer boy. I don't know how your kind is still allowed to live."

Shuichi blinked once more and studied the figure before him. "You know who I am?"

"You can see that pink of hair of yours a mile off, faggot; hat or no hat. I know who you are. Some little faggy singer from Bad Fuck or whatever you're called."

Still, Shuichi didn't react, and moved slightly aside as some woman reached for a box of chocolate flavoured pocky. "So you know who my lover is then?"

"Yeah," Shuichi was answered, the man's voice sneering as he spoke. "Some nancy-arsed novelist. Eiri Yuki or whatever."

"Ah," Shuichi replied, before taking a lung-full of air. "HEY EVERYBODY, THIS MAN HATES EIRI YUKI! HE THINKS HE'S A FAGGOT AND SHOULD DIE!"

As the store was filled with mostly females, they turned as one and snarled at the man who gulped. Their mutterings ranged from a range of, "He thinks the great Eiri Yuki should die?" "He hates Eiri Yuki?" before a tremendous wave of possibly thousand of voices screamed as one, "GET HIM!" and in the next instance, the man was twelve layers deep under a mass of women and men.

Shuichi cackled and walked away.

When Shuichi arrived home, Yuki didn't know if he wanted to know why his loved was randomly breaking into maniacal laughter or not. As he was sat watching the news, the report was about a man, of thirty-five, who had been attacked by numerous men and women. "The rumour is," said the reporter at the scene. "This all started because the man apparently bad-mouthed the popular novelist Eiri Yuki."

"What?" was the off-camera shout, before a police woman joined in the fighting, instead of trying to stop it. "I'll kill him!" she screamed, followed by a war-cry from the other's still fighting.

Yuki looked at the television and then back over to his still snickling lover… no doubt this had something to do with him. If the news report hadn't confirmed it to him, then the smug, self-satisfied smirk that Shuichi wore when walking past the television did. "Shuichi…" Yuki started off warningly.

Shuichi smiled sweetly and leaned down to kiss Yuki's cheek and chirped, "I love you, Yuki!"

I haven't got time to reply to your darling comments yet, me loves, but I shall reply to you from now on VIA the handy little author reply button do-dar-hicky-thingy-ma-bobby... thing. Yeah. Keep in mind, however, that I loooove you all. Your reviews make me smile.