Fic: Form and Function (WAT, Danny/Martin, PG)
Apparently today is Drabble Day. I should be writing the BWOC fic for the last day of Marriage Protection Week, but I'm a member of fandom, and when Drabble Day comes around I have to do my part. So...drabbles that aren't actually drabbles. Are ficlets okay for drabble day? Because I couldn't even cram these bad boys into a dodecal.
Ficlet the First:
Title: Form and Function
Fandom: Without a Trace
Pairing: Martin/Danny
Rating: PG
Summary: Martin has a weird sense of fashion.
Warnings: I can't help it. The backpack just doesn't make any damn sense.
He knew Martin wasn't particularly style-conscious, but this was too much.
"Hey, Martin," Danny said, looking up from his seat on Martin's couch, "what's with the backpack?"
"What?" Martin shot back immediately, the same defensiveness in his tone as when they first met and Danny accused him of using his name to climb the company ladder. He looked down at the offending object where it sat on the floor next to his coffee table. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing," Danny answered, working hard to sound casual. "It just doesn't really fit the image, you know? I just figured you for the briefcase type."
He hadn't expected it to turn into a scene, but when Martin frowned Danny knew he'd somehow managed to hit on a sensitive subject. They hadn't really been sleeping together that long, so he wasn't sure if this counted as prying or if the fact that he'd seen Martin naked meant he had a right to ask questions about his choice of accessories. Then again, a briefcase was Martin's style, so the whole backpack thing just didn't add up.
But Martin didn't answer, and when he turned away and headed toward the hall that led to his bedroom Danny knew he'd screwed up. He stood up and followed the other man, stopping when he reached the door to Martin's bedroom and saw Martin reaching for something on the top shelf of his closet.
"My graduation present," Martin said when he turned and saw Danny watching him. He held up an expensive-looking leather briefcase, a bitter grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Most of my friends got cars or vacations. I got a monogrammed briefcase."
"And you're not using it because..." Danny prompted, taking a few steps into the room and glancing down at the briefcase long enough to see that Martin's initials were, in fact, engraved in a little gold plate at the top of the case.
Martin shrugged and dropped it on the bed. "I don't know. Every time I look at it I think of my father's face when he gave it to me. Like it was some kind of consolation prize. He never expected me to make it in the FBI, and he's been trying to prove that he was right ever since."
Danny managed not to say something stupid like 'I'm sorry' or 'he's a bastard and you know it'. Martin never responded well to the truth about his father, and Danny couldn't really blame him. He knew what his own father was like, after all, but that had never stopped him from punching any kid who said anything bad about his folks after they died. Instead he nodded and picked up the briefcase, carrying it over to the closet and shoving it way back on the shelf where they couldn't see it. When he was done he hooked an arm around Martin's shoulders and led him back out into the living room.
"Come on," he said, "I'll let you buy me dinner."
Martin grinned and Danny knew he was forgiven for bringing up a touchy subject, but that didn't make him feel any better. Still, he couldn't help feeling good about the fact that Martin had told him something so personal, something he'd probably never told anybody else before. It made him wonder if they were doing more than just sleeping together after all.
Neither of them mentioned the backpack incident again after that, but the next time Danny spent the night Martin woke up in the morning to find a brand new black leather briefcase sitting on his kitchen table. It wasn't monogrammed.
Ficlet the Second:
This one...yeah. I joined csichallenges like a million years ago, and I've been pretty much ignoring it until yesterday. Then somebody posted a Hodges challenge and here we are. But it's got implied Nick/Greg, so hopefully it won't scar anyone for life or anything.
Title: Last to Know
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Hodges (sort of), Nick/Greg implied
Rating: PG
Summary: Hodges sees more than people give him credit for. For the Sara/Hodges challenge.
Warnings: This could be considered very slightly spoilery for "Invisible Evidence" (the episode that got preempted last night), but only very slightly. Certainly won't impact your viewing when they air it.
She was still laughing at Nick's parting shot when he ducked into Greg's lab, leaving her to face Hodges alone. Her good mood was tempered a little by the look on Hodges' face, but she pushed down the wave of annoyance and got right to the point. "You paged me?"
"Hmm," Hodges said, his gaze fixed on something just over her shoulder. Sara frowned and started to look, but just then he shook his head and reached for the printer. "Pity," he said, his tone almost conversational as he glanced down at the results in his hand. "You didn't have...designs on Stokes there, did you?"
"What?" she snapped, the question taking her by surprise.
"It's just the way you were...tilting."
"Tilting," she repeated, her tone flat and her arms crossed over her chest. Normally that would be enough to make even Grissom back down, but Hodges just blinked innocently at her and then smiled that smile of his again.
"You know, tilting. Just now, when you were walking together, he was talking and you were sort of tilting your head. It's what women do when they want to show they're available."
She opened her mouth to tell Hodges exactly what she thought of his knowledge of women in general, then stopped herself when she realized that would just invite him to tell her way more than she ever wanted to know about his life outside the lab. "Why are we having this conversation?"
"I just thought you should know," he answered, and his gaze flickered over her shoulder again for a second before he looked back at her. Automatically she turned to look -- Nick was right across the hall, his back to them. It was easy to see him through the glass, though, and even from a distance she saw how close he and Greg were standing. They were sort of leaning toward each other, and Greg was...tilting. His head was angled just a little, a half-smile on his face as he listened to whatever Nick was saying.
"I hate to have to be the one to point it out," Hodges continued, jolting Sara out of her reverie. She felt her face flush as she tore her gaze away from what was going on across the hall, suddenly feeling as though she'd intruded on a private moment. "I'm not seeing anyone, though."
"What?" she choked out, her blush deepening as she turned to look at Hodges again.
He smiled imperially -- there really wasn't any other way to describe it, not that she'd spent much time thinking about Hodges' smile -- and shrugged. "We're both intelligent people, Sara. We're certainly well-matched."
"Well-...? I've got a case to solve," she said, her mouth twisted into a scowl as she reached out to snatch her test results out of Hodges' hand. She turned on her heel before he said anything else, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open just a little too hard. And this was just perfect -- it wasn't enough that she'd humiliated herself in front of Grissom again, but now Nick...and with Greg, of all people. But even that was easier to believe than the fact that Hodges had just hit on her.
"Think about it," Hodges called after her, and Sara couldn't help herself; she glanced over her shoulder, shooting him a glare that would have stopped most men dead in their tracks. But Hodges just smiled and gave her a little wave before he turned back to his computer.
She glanced longingly at the locker room as she marched down the hall, wishing she had time for a long, hot shower.
Ficlet the First:
Title: Form and Function
Fandom: Without a Trace
Pairing: Martin/Danny
Rating: PG
Summary: Martin has a weird sense of fashion.
Warnings: I can't help it. The backpack just doesn't make any damn sense.
He knew Martin wasn't particularly style-conscious, but this was too much.
"Hey, Martin," Danny said, looking up from his seat on Martin's couch, "what's with the backpack?"
"What?" Martin shot back immediately, the same defensiveness in his tone as when they first met and Danny accused him of using his name to climb the company ladder. He looked down at the offending object where it sat on the floor next to his coffee table. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing," Danny answered, working hard to sound casual. "It just doesn't really fit the image, you know? I just figured you for the briefcase type."
He hadn't expected it to turn into a scene, but when Martin frowned Danny knew he'd somehow managed to hit on a sensitive subject. They hadn't really been sleeping together that long, so he wasn't sure if this counted as prying or if the fact that he'd seen Martin naked meant he had a right to ask questions about his choice of accessories. Then again, a briefcase was Martin's style, so the whole backpack thing just didn't add up.
But Martin didn't answer, and when he turned away and headed toward the hall that led to his bedroom Danny knew he'd screwed up. He stood up and followed the other man, stopping when he reached the door to Martin's bedroom and saw Martin reaching for something on the top shelf of his closet.
"My graduation present," Martin said when he turned and saw Danny watching him. He held up an expensive-looking leather briefcase, a bitter grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Most of my friends got cars or vacations. I got a monogrammed briefcase."
"And you're not using it because..." Danny prompted, taking a few steps into the room and glancing down at the briefcase long enough to see that Martin's initials were, in fact, engraved in a little gold plate at the top of the case.
Martin shrugged and dropped it on the bed. "I don't know. Every time I look at it I think of my father's face when he gave it to me. Like it was some kind of consolation prize. He never expected me to make it in the FBI, and he's been trying to prove that he was right ever since."
Danny managed not to say something stupid like 'I'm sorry' or 'he's a bastard and you know it'. Martin never responded well to the truth about his father, and Danny couldn't really blame him. He knew what his own father was like, after all, but that had never stopped him from punching any kid who said anything bad about his folks after they died. Instead he nodded and picked up the briefcase, carrying it over to the closet and shoving it way back on the shelf where they couldn't see it. When he was done he hooked an arm around Martin's shoulders and led him back out into the living room.
"Come on," he said, "I'll let you buy me dinner."
Martin grinned and Danny knew he was forgiven for bringing up a touchy subject, but that didn't make him feel any better. Still, he couldn't help feeling good about the fact that Martin had told him something so personal, something he'd probably never told anybody else before. It made him wonder if they were doing more than just sleeping together after all.
Neither of them mentioned the backpack incident again after that, but the next time Danny spent the night Martin woke up in the morning to find a brand new black leather briefcase sitting on his kitchen table. It wasn't monogrammed.
Ficlet the Second:
This one...yeah. I joined csichallenges like a million years ago, and I've been pretty much ignoring it until yesterday. Then somebody posted a Hodges challenge and here we are. But it's got implied Nick/Greg, so hopefully it won't scar anyone for life or anything.
Title: Last to Know
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Hodges (sort of), Nick/Greg implied
Rating: PG
Summary: Hodges sees more than people give him credit for. For the Sara/Hodges challenge.
Warnings: This could be considered very slightly spoilery for "Invisible Evidence" (the episode that got preempted last night), but only very slightly. Certainly won't impact your viewing when they air it.
She was still laughing at Nick's parting shot when he ducked into Greg's lab, leaving her to face Hodges alone. Her good mood was tempered a little by the look on Hodges' face, but she pushed down the wave of annoyance and got right to the point. "You paged me?"
"Hmm," Hodges said, his gaze fixed on something just over her shoulder. Sara frowned and started to look, but just then he shook his head and reached for the printer. "Pity," he said, his tone almost conversational as he glanced down at the results in his hand. "You didn't have...designs on Stokes there, did you?"
"What?" she snapped, the question taking her by surprise.
"It's just the way you were...tilting."
"Tilting," she repeated, her tone flat and her arms crossed over her chest. Normally that would be enough to make even Grissom back down, but Hodges just blinked innocently at her and then smiled that smile of his again.
"You know, tilting. Just now, when you were walking together, he was talking and you were sort of tilting your head. It's what women do when they want to show they're available."
She opened her mouth to tell Hodges exactly what she thought of his knowledge of women in general, then stopped herself when she realized that would just invite him to tell her way more than she ever wanted to know about his life outside the lab. "Why are we having this conversation?"
"I just thought you should know," he answered, and his gaze flickered over her shoulder again for a second before he looked back at her. Automatically she turned to look -- Nick was right across the hall, his back to them. It was easy to see him through the glass, though, and even from a distance she saw how close he and Greg were standing. They were sort of leaning toward each other, and Greg was...tilting. His head was angled just a little, a half-smile on his face as he listened to whatever Nick was saying.
"I hate to have to be the one to point it out," Hodges continued, jolting Sara out of her reverie. She felt her face flush as she tore her gaze away from what was going on across the hall, suddenly feeling as though she'd intruded on a private moment. "I'm not seeing anyone, though."
"What?" she choked out, her blush deepening as she turned to look at Hodges again.
He smiled imperially -- there really wasn't any other way to describe it, not that she'd spent much time thinking about Hodges' smile -- and shrugged. "We're both intelligent people, Sara. We're certainly well-matched."
"Well-...? I've got a case to solve," she said, her mouth twisted into a scowl as she reached out to snatch her test results out of Hodges' hand. She turned on her heel before he said anything else, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open just a little too hard. And this was just perfect -- it wasn't enough that she'd humiliated herself in front of Grissom again, but now Nick...and with Greg, of all people. But even that was easier to believe than the fact that Hodges had just hit on her.
"Think about it," Hodges called after her, and Sara couldn't help herself; she glanced over her shoulder, shooting him a glare that would have stopped most men dead in their tracks. But Hodges just smiled and gave her a little wave before he turned back to his computer.
She glanced longingly at the locker room as she marched down the hall, wishing she had time for a long, hot shower.