Ficlets: CSI and Lost
I really like the idea of the wish list meme that's going around, but I have a hard time with asking for things, so it's just not going to happen. I'm having a fab time fulfilling other people's wishes, though, even though I'm so broke that I've had to cancel Christmas. So my wish fulfillment has been limited to fic and icons and music, but that's okay.
These are for cinderlily, who requested ten specific drabbles but I can't write 100 words and leave it at that so she's getting ficlets instead. Since she said it was okay if I did that annoying thing where I go overboard, I wrote six out of ten. And technically there are only five actual ficlets, because I unintentionally combined two of the requests and didn't realize it until it was written.
This first one she's already read, but just for posterity I will repost it here with the others. Because no holiday season is complete without a little peppermint-flavored fic from yours truly.
It's soft and warm and sweet and nothing like he expected, over way too soon and before he gets more than a taste of peppermint and fruit punch Nick's pulling back.
And Greg doesn't know what to expect, because he wasn't expecting anything that's happened so far. When he grinned and pointed above them at the mistletoe someone - probably that too-cheerful girl from the photo lab - hung over the door he expected Nick to blush and take a few careful steps backwards, look around at the office party to make sure no one had seen him standing there with Greg. He expected an excuse, maybe a stammered apology or even one of Nick's lame jokes.
He definitely wasn't expecting that smile, and he wasn't expecting the puff of hot air against his mouth in the seconds before Nick's lips pressed against his, hot and dry and fitted perfectly against Greg's mouth. For a second he thought maybe somebody had spiked the punch, but then he was too busy thinking about the fact that Nick had just kissed him. In front of…well, there were still a few people hanging around, putting off the inevitable start of the night shift with one last glass of punch and some lame Christmas music.
So he's not sure what to expect when Nick pulls back - that stammered apology, maybe, just a little delayed - but before he has a chance to find out Nick's kissing him again. And he wasn't expecting that either, but he's always been a big fan of surprises.
~
Okay, I was trying to avoid this pairing, but I'm totally sold.
He's doing it again. It's not the first time - not even close - but every time it happens Jack feels a little…conspicuous. Like he should be doing something, because he knows they all expect him to be the leader and even when he's seen to all the sick and injured and made sure everyone's had food and water, he still feels as though there's more he could do.
So whenever he catches Boone looking at him he feels like he should be doing something, like Boone's waiting for him to build a raft and get them off the island or maybe part the ocean so they can walk home. "What?"
"Nothing," Boone answers, cheeks red in the firelight but Boone's cheeks are always kind of red, so Jack can't tell if he's blushing.
Jack smiles at that, shakes his head and bites back a sarcastic remark. Because he likes Boone, respects the way he looks out for his sister and his - albeit misguided - attempts to help around camp. He gets where Boone's coming from, at least, and that's more than he can say for most people. But he still doesn't know what Boone wants, and it's starting to make him nervous.
"Come on, man, it's not nothing," Jack says, keeping his voice down so no one else will hear. Not that there's anyone around at the moment, but real privacy is pretty hard to come by on the island and he doesn't want to embarrass Boone. "You keep looking at me like you're expecting something."
"No," Boone says, voice almost…wistful, or at least that's how it would sound if Jack didn't know better. "It's not…I mean I'm not expecting anything. Just…forget it. It's stupid."
There's a part of Jack that does want to forget it, but he's a medical professional and if there's something on Boone's mind, Jack's the best person to talk to. At least he can keep a professional distance, and if that's all he can offer his fellow castaways, at least he's doing something to help. "You'll feel better if you just say it."
For a second Boone just looks at him, eyes shining in the glow from the fire and Jack wishes he hadn't said anything. Wishes he'd just let it go, because he's not sure where this conversation is going, but suddenly he thinks maybe it was a bad idea ever to start it. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Boone to go talk to Claire or Kate or maybe even Hurley, but before he gets a chance Boone's sliding a little closer, arms clasped tight around his knees and looking nervous enough to make Jack's stomach flutter.
"The thing is, I wouldn't normally do it this way, but it's not like we've got a lot of options, right? I mean there's no restaurant or even a hotel bar on the other side of the island where we could grab a drink, and even if we built something it would just be crawling with people all the time…"
"Boone," Jack interrupts, and this time he's pretty sure Boone's blushing. "Whatever it is, just spit it out."
"Right. Okay. God, this sounds cheesy," Boone mutters to himself, wiping his hands on his pants and Jack catches himself following the movement with his eyes. "I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk or something. Like, on the beach or whatever."
"What, like a date?" Jack asks, mouth curving into a smile but as soon as he realizes Boone's not joking it fades again. And he's not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that. He's not even sure what to say, because the thought never crossed his mind, but Boone does spend a lot of time looking at him and as soon as Jack realizes Boone's getting up and mumbling something about forgetting the whole conversation he reaches out and catches Boone's hand.
He was aiming for the wrist, but somehow he ends up with Boone's palm pressed against his and when he feels fingers curl around his own he looks up to find Boone smiling. It's not the first time Jack's noticed that he's got a nice smile, but it's the first time he's noticed, and before he can stop himself he's nodding.
"Yeah. Okay," he hears himself say, like his voice is working independently from his brain, and maybe it is. Because this is the worst idea he's had since they crashed, worse even than letting Sayid torture Sawyer for information he didn't have. It's worse than flirting with Kate, because he has a feeling with Boone it's going to be a lot more than an innocent flirtation.
~
Laundry Day. This is sort of cheating, but it counts as domesticity and the Postal Service-inspired request. Mostly because I've been listening to it on repeat the entire time I've been writing these, and that's where the laundry thing came from in the first place. Also, this song is so Nick/Greg it makes me want to weep just listening to it.
ETA: Suddenly Everything Has Changed by The Postal Service, in case anyone wants to hear the song that inspired the fic.
He's got his face pressed against white cotton, eyes closed to focus on the smell filling his senses when he feels a hand on his waist. He knows who it is without looking, but he pulls the sheet away anyway and leans back into the solid warmth of Nick's chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Changing the sheets," Greg answers, as though sniffing the dirty laundry is a perfectly normal part of the process. And it would be if everybody in the world smelled as good as Nick - that much he's sure of.
"So do you always smell them?" Nick asks, voice low and amused and right in Greg's ear, sending a warm shiver down his spine.
Greg grins and lets the sheet drop back onto the mattress, turning in Nick's arms until they're face to face. He can see the amusement in Nick's eyes, but there's something else there too and the sight makes his cock twitch. "I can't help it if you smell good."
Nick raises an eyebrow and reaches around him, picking up the sheet and lifting it to his face. He keeps his eyes locked on Greg as he breathes in, bodies pressed tight together and Greg can feel Nick's cock pressing into his hip. "Smells like you."
"Okay, so we smell good," Greg says as Nick drops the sheet back on the mattress and pushes Greg backwards. He hits the mattress with a small bounce, kicking the rumpled sheet out of the way a second before Nick crawls over him and pins him to the mattress. "You know, I was in the middle of something here."
"It'll wait," Nick murmurs against Greg's mouth, hand already pushing up under Greg's shirt and Greg decides that the real thing smells even better than their laundry.
~
I have no idea if this is what you wanted, but there's golf. It's not even really preslash, just kind of gen. Mostly because I just like Hurley a lot and I'm not sure Charlie's good enough for him.
"Fore!"
"There's no one else here, man," Charlie says, looking around at the completely abandoned golf course.
"I know, but I always wanted to yell 'fore'," Hurley answers, grinning when Charlie laughs at him.
"You don't even know what that means, do you?"
"Doesn't matter, dude. My course, my rules."
And Charlie can't argue with that, but he doesn't look much like he wants to. If anything he just looks amused, maybe grateful for the distraction from Claire and whatever it was that had him shaking every night for almost two weeks and everything else that's going on back at camp.
Because out here they can forget for awhile, pretend they're just two friends hanging out on a course back home. Hurley's not sure they'd ever be friends out in the real world, because Charlie's - well, he's almost famous, anyway - and Hurley's nobody. He's just a guy with a job and a regular life, and he's never been all that interesting.
But he's here now, and he built a whole golf course that everybody seems to like, and that's something. It makes him feel useful, anyway, and if it helps Charlie relax for awhile and stop taking everything so seriously, then that's all that matters.
"I don't mean to rush you, mate, but it's still your shot."
Hurley starts and looks over at Charlie, grinning when he realizes he's been spaced out for at least a minute. "Just mentally preparing himself," he says, rolling his shoulders and lining up the putter.
"You're mental, all right," Charlie mutters, but Hurley just grins and swings the club back.
"Fore!"
~
And more Boone/Jack, because again…yes. I really, really like these two. So much with the pretty and the awkwardly slashy. This was supposed to be about someone memorizing someone else's body, but I'm not sure if I really captured that.
There's a scar on Jack's left side. He says it happened during the crash, that some piece of the plane ripped right through his suit. The scar's jagged and angry-looking, and even though Jack can't really see it himself, he says it's because Kate sewed it up for him with someone's discarded sewing kit.
Boone doesn't picture her fingers on Jack's skin when he traces the scar. He tries not to think of her at all, because whatever she and Jack might have been was over before it started. So instead he watches the progress of his own fingers on Jack's skin, tracing the angry red of the scar with his fingers and then his tongue. He knows it by heart, better than he knows Jack's tattoos or the curve of his neck or the weight of his cock on Boone's tongue.
He's spent a lot of time studying that scar, because of all the tiny imperfections on Jack's body, that's the one that marks the start of them. This thing between them that happened so casually, almost by accident and sometimes Boone wonders if Jack ever meant for it to happen. But it doesn't matter, because they're here now and Jack doesn't complain when Boone presses another soft kiss to the scar.
Jack reaches down, twisting awkwardly to reach behind him and push a hand through Boone's too-long hair, tugging until Boone takes the hint and reluctantly abandons Jack's scar to climb up and over him. He lets Jack pull him close, presses their lips together and opens his mouth to taste Jack on his tongue, fingers sliding down Jack's side to press against the mark he knows so well. Jack laughs against his mouth but doesn't pull away, and Boone knows he doesn't really mind. He doesn't really understand the fixation, but Boone can tell he likes the attention, and Boone likes making sure he gets all the attention he can stand.
~
If anyone else has posted a wish list I haven't seen yet, by all means let me know. I'm in a fic-writing mood and I don't feel much like working on any of my current projects.
These are for cinderlily, who requested ten specific drabbles but I can't write 100 words and leave it at that so she's getting ficlets instead. Since she said it was okay if I did that annoying thing where I go overboard, I wrote six out of ten. And technically there are only five actual ficlets, because I unintentionally combined two of the requests and didn't realize it until it was written.
This first one she's already read, but just for posterity I will repost it here with the others. Because no holiday season is complete without a little peppermint-flavored fic from yours truly.
It's soft and warm and sweet and nothing like he expected, over way too soon and before he gets more than a taste of peppermint and fruit punch Nick's pulling back.
And Greg doesn't know what to expect, because he wasn't expecting anything that's happened so far. When he grinned and pointed above them at the mistletoe someone - probably that too-cheerful girl from the photo lab - hung over the door he expected Nick to blush and take a few careful steps backwards, look around at the office party to make sure no one had seen him standing there with Greg. He expected an excuse, maybe a stammered apology or even one of Nick's lame jokes.
He definitely wasn't expecting that smile, and he wasn't expecting the puff of hot air against his mouth in the seconds before Nick's lips pressed against his, hot and dry and fitted perfectly against Greg's mouth. For a second he thought maybe somebody had spiked the punch, but then he was too busy thinking about the fact that Nick had just kissed him. In front of…well, there were still a few people hanging around, putting off the inevitable start of the night shift with one last glass of punch and some lame Christmas music.
So he's not sure what to expect when Nick pulls back - that stammered apology, maybe, just a little delayed - but before he has a chance to find out Nick's kissing him again. And he wasn't expecting that either, but he's always been a big fan of surprises.
~
Okay, I was trying to avoid this pairing, but I'm totally sold.
He's doing it again. It's not the first time - not even close - but every time it happens Jack feels a little…conspicuous. Like he should be doing something, because he knows they all expect him to be the leader and even when he's seen to all the sick and injured and made sure everyone's had food and water, he still feels as though there's more he could do.
So whenever he catches Boone looking at him he feels like he should be doing something, like Boone's waiting for him to build a raft and get them off the island or maybe part the ocean so they can walk home. "What?"
"Nothing," Boone answers, cheeks red in the firelight but Boone's cheeks are always kind of red, so Jack can't tell if he's blushing.
Jack smiles at that, shakes his head and bites back a sarcastic remark. Because he likes Boone, respects the way he looks out for his sister and his - albeit misguided - attempts to help around camp. He gets where Boone's coming from, at least, and that's more than he can say for most people. But he still doesn't know what Boone wants, and it's starting to make him nervous.
"Come on, man, it's not nothing," Jack says, keeping his voice down so no one else will hear. Not that there's anyone around at the moment, but real privacy is pretty hard to come by on the island and he doesn't want to embarrass Boone. "You keep looking at me like you're expecting something."
"No," Boone says, voice almost…wistful, or at least that's how it would sound if Jack didn't know better. "It's not…I mean I'm not expecting anything. Just…forget it. It's stupid."
There's a part of Jack that does want to forget it, but he's a medical professional and if there's something on Boone's mind, Jack's the best person to talk to. At least he can keep a professional distance, and if that's all he can offer his fellow castaways, at least he's doing something to help. "You'll feel better if you just say it."
For a second Boone just looks at him, eyes shining in the glow from the fire and Jack wishes he hadn't said anything. Wishes he'd just let it go, because he's not sure where this conversation is going, but suddenly he thinks maybe it was a bad idea ever to start it. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Boone to go talk to Claire or Kate or maybe even Hurley, but before he gets a chance Boone's sliding a little closer, arms clasped tight around his knees and looking nervous enough to make Jack's stomach flutter.
"The thing is, I wouldn't normally do it this way, but it's not like we've got a lot of options, right? I mean there's no restaurant or even a hotel bar on the other side of the island where we could grab a drink, and even if we built something it would just be crawling with people all the time…"
"Boone," Jack interrupts, and this time he's pretty sure Boone's blushing. "Whatever it is, just spit it out."
"Right. Okay. God, this sounds cheesy," Boone mutters to himself, wiping his hands on his pants and Jack catches himself following the movement with his eyes. "I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk or something. Like, on the beach or whatever."
"What, like a date?" Jack asks, mouth curving into a smile but as soon as he realizes Boone's not joking it fades again. And he's not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that. He's not even sure what to say, because the thought never crossed his mind, but Boone does spend a lot of time looking at him and as soon as Jack realizes Boone's getting up and mumbling something about forgetting the whole conversation he reaches out and catches Boone's hand.
He was aiming for the wrist, but somehow he ends up with Boone's palm pressed against his and when he feels fingers curl around his own he looks up to find Boone smiling. It's not the first time Jack's noticed that he's got a nice smile, but it's the first time he's noticed, and before he can stop himself he's nodding.
"Yeah. Okay," he hears himself say, like his voice is working independently from his brain, and maybe it is. Because this is the worst idea he's had since they crashed, worse even than letting Sayid torture Sawyer for information he didn't have. It's worse than flirting with Kate, because he has a feeling with Boone it's going to be a lot more than an innocent flirtation.
~
Laundry Day. This is sort of cheating, but it counts as domesticity and the Postal Service-inspired request. Mostly because I've been listening to it on repeat the entire time I've been writing these, and that's where the laundry thing came from in the first place. Also, this song is so Nick/Greg it makes me want to weep just listening to it.
ETA: Suddenly Everything Has Changed by The Postal Service, in case anyone wants to hear the song that inspired the fic.
He's got his face pressed against white cotton, eyes closed to focus on the smell filling his senses when he feels a hand on his waist. He knows who it is without looking, but he pulls the sheet away anyway and leans back into the solid warmth of Nick's chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Changing the sheets," Greg answers, as though sniffing the dirty laundry is a perfectly normal part of the process. And it would be if everybody in the world smelled as good as Nick - that much he's sure of.
"So do you always smell them?" Nick asks, voice low and amused and right in Greg's ear, sending a warm shiver down his spine.
Greg grins and lets the sheet drop back onto the mattress, turning in Nick's arms until they're face to face. He can see the amusement in Nick's eyes, but there's something else there too and the sight makes his cock twitch. "I can't help it if you smell good."
Nick raises an eyebrow and reaches around him, picking up the sheet and lifting it to his face. He keeps his eyes locked on Greg as he breathes in, bodies pressed tight together and Greg can feel Nick's cock pressing into his hip. "Smells like you."
"Okay, so we smell good," Greg says as Nick drops the sheet back on the mattress and pushes Greg backwards. He hits the mattress with a small bounce, kicking the rumpled sheet out of the way a second before Nick crawls over him and pins him to the mattress. "You know, I was in the middle of something here."
"It'll wait," Nick murmurs against Greg's mouth, hand already pushing up under Greg's shirt and Greg decides that the real thing smells even better than their laundry.
~
I have no idea if this is what you wanted, but there's golf. It's not even really preslash, just kind of gen. Mostly because I just like Hurley a lot and I'm not sure Charlie's good enough for him.
"Fore!"
"There's no one else here, man," Charlie says, looking around at the completely abandoned golf course.
"I know, but I always wanted to yell 'fore'," Hurley answers, grinning when Charlie laughs at him.
"You don't even know what that means, do you?"
"Doesn't matter, dude. My course, my rules."
And Charlie can't argue with that, but he doesn't look much like he wants to. If anything he just looks amused, maybe grateful for the distraction from Claire and whatever it was that had him shaking every night for almost two weeks and everything else that's going on back at camp.
Because out here they can forget for awhile, pretend they're just two friends hanging out on a course back home. Hurley's not sure they'd ever be friends out in the real world, because Charlie's - well, he's almost famous, anyway - and Hurley's nobody. He's just a guy with a job and a regular life, and he's never been all that interesting.
But he's here now, and he built a whole golf course that everybody seems to like, and that's something. It makes him feel useful, anyway, and if it helps Charlie relax for awhile and stop taking everything so seriously, then that's all that matters.
"I don't mean to rush you, mate, but it's still your shot."
Hurley starts and looks over at Charlie, grinning when he realizes he's been spaced out for at least a minute. "Just mentally preparing himself," he says, rolling his shoulders and lining up the putter.
"You're mental, all right," Charlie mutters, but Hurley just grins and swings the club back.
"Fore!"
~
And more Boone/Jack, because again…yes. I really, really like these two. So much with the pretty and the awkwardly slashy. This was supposed to be about someone memorizing someone else's body, but I'm not sure if I really captured that.
There's a scar on Jack's left side. He says it happened during the crash, that some piece of the plane ripped right through his suit. The scar's jagged and angry-looking, and even though Jack can't really see it himself, he says it's because Kate sewed it up for him with someone's discarded sewing kit.
Boone doesn't picture her fingers on Jack's skin when he traces the scar. He tries not to think of her at all, because whatever she and Jack might have been was over before it started. So instead he watches the progress of his own fingers on Jack's skin, tracing the angry red of the scar with his fingers and then his tongue. He knows it by heart, better than he knows Jack's tattoos or the curve of his neck or the weight of his cock on Boone's tongue.
He's spent a lot of time studying that scar, because of all the tiny imperfections on Jack's body, that's the one that marks the start of them. This thing between them that happened so casually, almost by accident and sometimes Boone wonders if Jack ever meant for it to happen. But it doesn't matter, because they're here now and Jack doesn't complain when Boone presses another soft kiss to the scar.
Jack reaches down, twisting awkwardly to reach behind him and push a hand through Boone's too-long hair, tugging until Boone takes the hint and reluctantly abandons Jack's scar to climb up and over him. He lets Jack pull him close, presses their lips together and opens his mouth to taste Jack on his tongue, fingers sliding down Jack's side to press against the mark he knows so well. Jack laughs against his mouth but doesn't pull away, and Boone knows he doesn't really mind. He doesn't really understand the fixation, but Boone can tell he likes the attention, and Boone likes making sure he gets all the attention he can stand.
~
If anyone else has posted a wish list I haven't seen yet, by all means let me know. I'm in a fic-writing mood and I don't feel much like working on any of my current projects.