Icon ficlets: CSI, Suicide Kings, Doogie Howser, M.D.
I was feeling kind of woe-is-me last night, but then I went to my sister's house and both her kids climbed up onto my lap for unsolicited snuggles and that made me feel a lot better. Then we drank wine and watched Hot Fuzz on my sister's big screen, which is actually the first time I'd ever seen it outside of my iPod, so that was awesome too. Family. Sometimes they are pretty handy. Also, it's been snowing all day, which is pretty, but it's not accumulating, which is probably for the best.
Anyway, icon ficlets. I was going to post them all at once, but then the Doogie Howser ficlet got away from me a little, so I'll just post the three I have done and do the last three in a separate post whenever I finish them.
I. Doogie Howser, M.D., Vinnie. Requested by undersea. I have never written in this fandom, and until this morning I hadn't even seen an episode since the early 90s, so. Take that for whatever it's worth.
Based on this icon:
Performance anxiety is no joke, especially when you’re a film maker. So Vinnie worked hard to master his, and by the time he got to college he thought he was doing okay. Or maybe it was just the shock that did it, because the first time he managed to kiss somebody without throwing up on them, it was a guy.
One of the guys in his Intro to Theater class, specifically, who evidently got the wrong idea about Vinnie and planted one on him without even giving a guy a little warning. Which…okay, so maybe he had the right idea, a little, because the truth is Vinnie kissed him back. Then he shoved him away and explained - in a slightly higher voice than usual - that he was into girls. But he didn’t puke on the kid, so it was progress.
After that first time, he figured a little experimenting was in order, just to see if his performance anxiety really was female-specific, or if he just needed to be surprised every time he was going to make out with somebody. So he set out on a series of experiments, first with a mousy girl named Hilary in his screenwriting class who was always making eyes at him. He puked right into her purse. It was pretty humiliating, but at least he didn’t hit her shoes.
There was another girl after that, some coed he met at a frat party and if he caught her name at the time, he didn’t remember it afterwards. All he remembers about her is a high, grating laugh and the disgust on her face when he puked on her skirt and her blouse and yeah, even her shoes.
Puking on some chick at a frat party wasn’t really any big deal; it happened at least once every weekend, and it wasn’t always a guy doing the puking. Kids in college drank a lot of beer. But it was memorable enough for Vinnie to avoid girls altogether for awhile, and anyway he really needed a different kind of experience if he was going to prove his hypothesis or whatever.
He thought about kissing that guy who’d kissed him the first time, just because he knew it wouldn’t get him punched in the face. But he was pretty sure he needed somebody totally new, so he went to one of those bars he’d heard about and made lame jokes about, but never expected to be inside.
He wished somebody had thought to tell him not to try to use the bathroom in a place like that.
Still, he saw some interesting stuff there, and none of it made him want to puke. Even when some guy cornered him by the bar and offered to buy him a drink before he shoved his tongue down Vinnie’s throat, there was no puking. His gag reflex didn’t even kick in. It was unsettling, frankly.
Normally he would have laid out the entire, embarrassing story to Doogie, but of course where was he when Vinnie needed him most? Totally incommunicado, that’s where, so Vinnie was left to figure it out on his own. Which required more experimenting, and more kissing random guys and also maybe a little letting them take him back to their place for other kinds of experimenting.
Once he got over the weirdness factor, he was just glad to have a hard-on without wanting to throw up all over the place for once.
For the record, Vinnie never puked on Wanda’s shoes. He puked on her legs, which is the same neighborhood, granted, but it’s not the same thing at all. And he’s pretty sure it wasn’t the kissing that made him puke. In that case he’s ninety-nine percent sure it was the beer, because getting too drunk to think straight was the only way he’d ever let himself kiss Doogie’s girl in the first place, even if Doogie was off in the middle of nowhere forgetting all about them both.
Also for the record, she kissed him, and it only took him a little while to stop it because again, drunk. Not that he blamed her; she was mad at Doogie for ditching her to go off and save the world. Vinnie was still a little sore himself, so maybe that’s why he got drunk with her in the first place.
Either way, Doogie was off working for Doctors Without Borders, and they were both still stuck right where they’d always been, and Vinnie missed Doogie maybe even more than Wanda did. So they kissed a little. And then he puked on her. These things happened.
She forgave him, of course. Things were weird between them for a little while, mostly because of the whole making out thing, but also a little because of the puke, Vinnie was pretty sure. But Wanda was cool, and when he finally got around to telling her he was pretty sure he was gay, she was pretty supportive. It wasn’t like having Doogie there to talk to, but it was close enough.
Eventually Doogie did come back, of course. He looked older and thinner and even more exhausted than usual, but he looked good too, so it wasn’t really Vinnie’s fault that the first thing he did when he saw Doogie again was kiss him. Hard. On the mouth.
Doogie let him, for a second, then he kind of eased Vinnie off him and gave him a look like he wasn’t surprised, but he was sorry all the same. Which…Vinnie wasn’t ever going to be sure how Doogie always knew these things before he did, but he was trying not to be annoyed about it.
“It’s okay,” Vinnie said, shrugging and it really was okay, because Doogie was his best friend and it wasn’t like Vinnie was in love with him or anything. Okay, maybe a little. But he’d always been a little in love with Doogie, and it never got in the way of their friendship. “I wasn’t planning that or anything. I’m just glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you too, Vinnie,” Doogie said, then he hugged Vinnie, probably just to show that he didn’t mind that Vinnie was gay, but maybe also because he missed Vinnie just as much as Vinnie missed him. “Thanks for not puking on me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Vinnie mumbled into his shoulder, then he squeezed Doogie a little tighter.
~
II. Suicide Kings, Deadliest AUniverse, Avery. Set at the end of Avery's first Opi season, so it moves forward in the series a few months. Requested by duckduck. This officially crosses over into RPS territory. I don't even know if there's a genre for fictional characters injected into RPS universes. It's very confusing.
Based on this icon:
The cameras are a problem. They’re not on board Avery’s boat, thank God, or he’d have to make up some excuse and go back to Brett. The last thing he needs is to show up on TV, because there’s no way that won’t get back to Charlie or one of his goons. Avery’s just not that lucky.
But there are cameras all over Dutch, and now that most of the boats are in to offload their final catch, the camera population is even worse. He’s gotten pretty good at avoiding them, mostly by staying out of the bar and ducking down alleys or behind buildings whenever he sees a Discovery Channel logo. And maybe he’s being paranoid, because he knows he looks a lot different than he did back in New York, but he’s not willing to risk it.
He swears under his breath as another camera appears out of nowhere, taking what are probably establishing shots of the town. That’s the only explanation he can think of for why anyone would be filming a mostly deserted street filled with nothing but dirty snow and a few sad-looking storefronts, but whatever the reason, it means a longer walk to the phone.
Avery shivers inside his coat and ducks behind the white clapboard building that serves as the town hall, the rec center, and a bingo hall, he’s pretty sure. He knows from experience that he can cut behind the buildings on this street and circle around to the nearest pay phone, and if it adds ten minutes to his walk, it’s worth it to make sure he and Brett stay lost for good.
The wind’s cutting through his gloves and stinging his eyes, and he’s pretty sure his tear ducts have frozen. He ducks his head against the cold and walks a little faster, letting out a soft sigh when he rounds the corner of the town hall and blocks out the worst of the wind. He slows his footsteps a little and looks up, coming to a stop when he realizes he’s not alone.
There’s a little hollow at the back of the building, and pressed into it is one of the younger guys who’s usually being followed around by a camera. Avery recognizes him from his attempts to avoid anyone involved in the show; he memorized the crews in question at the beginning of King Crab season, just so he wouldn’t accidentally make friends with someone who had their own entourage.
He recognizes the blond kid with the dopey grin even though he can’t see his face, and when a hand slides into his hair and pulls him even closer Avery can tell that whoever else is wedged in there, it’s another guy. Probably another fisherman, and okay, so statistically it’s probably not realistic for him to be the only gay guy out here, but it still takes him by surprise.
The biggest surprise is that they’re taking this kind of risk; Avery’s not sure what would happen if their crews found out, but he has a feeling it wouldn’t be good. When he realizes he’s still standing there staring he backs up, retracing his steps until he’s back out on the road in front of town hall. The cameraman’s gone, thankfully, and Avery realizes now that he might have just been looking for his charge. The blond kid probably ditched him to steal a couple minutes alone with his boyfriend, which is pretty dumb, but it’s sort of sweet too.
It makes Avery feel a little less alone, somehow, but it makes him miss Brett a lot more all of a sudden. He pulls his collar up against the wind and picks up his footsteps again, hurrying toward the phone outside the bar and hoping there isn’t already a line.
~
III. CSI, Nick/Greg, Pancake series futurefic, if you like. Requested by rabidfan.
Based on this icon:
If there’s one thing Greg’s never really been, it’s proud. At least not when it comes to someone knowing just how much he wants them. So he doesn’t care that Nick knows he’s been staring, doesn’t care that he ducks his head and grins that little grin that makes Greg crazy every time he catches Greg looking.
In fact, it’s even better that Nick knows what’s on Greg’s mind, because it means they’ll get to skip all the preamble later and get right down to business. Not that he minds a little teasing now and then, but Nick’s been wearing that shirt all night, and that’s just about all the anticipation Greg can handle.
He knows exactly what that shirt does to Greg. Well, anything with short sleeves has this affect, really, because it’s one thing to know from experience just how strong Nick is, but when he can see it on display right in the middle of the work day with all kinds of other people around…well, that does something to Greg. Something he wouldn’t have thought was technically possible until he met Nick, but one look should be enough to explain to anyone just how Greg developed such a fetish for Nick’s arms.
“You okay?” Nick asks, and he can hear the smirk without looking.
“Me? I’m great,” Greg answers, letting his gaze linger on the muscles flexing under the hem of Nick’s sleeve. “Never better.”
“Never?” Nick asks, and when Greg finally does look up at Nick’s face he’s still grinning, but his head’s tilted a little to the side like he’s considering Greg’s answer. “Guess I’m doing something wrong.”
This time Greg smirks, gaze wandering back down Nick’s arms, and if he focuses hard enough he can feel them wrapped around him. He can think of a dozen different ways Nick’s done everything right just off the top of his head, starting with his arms and ending…well, pretty much everywhere else.
It’s been a long couple years; they’ve lost most of their team, added a couple new people who are still trying to find their groove. There were some rough spots between him and Nick too, starting with Nick almost getting himself killed more than once, and ending with Greg being dumb enough not to realize Nick needed to hear that a movie deal wasn’t going to break them up.
But all that’s behind them, and now that he stops to think about it, this really is the happiest he’s ever been. His heart skips a beat and he smiles again, glancing around to make sure none of the cops milling around the scene are looking before he leans in close. “Trust me, you do just fine. But I’ll let you practice some more after shift, if you want.”
That gets him another grin, the slow, sort of shy one that makes the edges of Nick’s eyes crinkle. “You’re on,” Nick answers, his right bicep flexing just a little and Greg has to swallow hard against a groan.
They’ve still got a few hours to go and it might kill him to wait, but he knows from experience that it’s worth it.
~
Anyway, icon ficlets. I was going to post them all at once, but then the Doogie Howser ficlet got away from me a little, so I'll just post the three I have done and do the last three in a separate post whenever I finish them.
I. Doogie Howser, M.D., Vinnie. Requested by undersea. I have never written in this fandom, and until this morning I hadn't even seen an episode since the early 90s, so. Take that for whatever it's worth.
Based on this icon:
Performance anxiety is no joke, especially when you’re a film maker. So Vinnie worked hard to master his, and by the time he got to college he thought he was doing okay. Or maybe it was just the shock that did it, because the first time he managed to kiss somebody without throwing up on them, it was a guy.
One of the guys in his Intro to Theater class, specifically, who evidently got the wrong idea about Vinnie and planted one on him without even giving a guy a little warning. Which…okay, so maybe he had the right idea, a little, because the truth is Vinnie kissed him back. Then he shoved him away and explained - in a slightly higher voice than usual - that he was into girls. But he didn’t puke on the kid, so it was progress.
After that first time, he figured a little experimenting was in order, just to see if his performance anxiety really was female-specific, or if he just needed to be surprised every time he was going to make out with somebody. So he set out on a series of experiments, first with a mousy girl named Hilary in his screenwriting class who was always making eyes at him. He puked right into her purse. It was pretty humiliating, but at least he didn’t hit her shoes.
There was another girl after that, some coed he met at a frat party and if he caught her name at the time, he didn’t remember it afterwards. All he remembers about her is a high, grating laugh and the disgust on her face when he puked on her skirt and her blouse and yeah, even her shoes.
Puking on some chick at a frat party wasn’t really any big deal; it happened at least once every weekend, and it wasn’t always a guy doing the puking. Kids in college drank a lot of beer. But it was memorable enough for Vinnie to avoid girls altogether for awhile, and anyway he really needed a different kind of experience if he was going to prove his hypothesis or whatever.
He thought about kissing that guy who’d kissed him the first time, just because he knew it wouldn’t get him punched in the face. But he was pretty sure he needed somebody totally new, so he went to one of those bars he’d heard about and made lame jokes about, but never expected to be inside.
He wished somebody had thought to tell him not to try to use the bathroom in a place like that.
Still, he saw some interesting stuff there, and none of it made him want to puke. Even when some guy cornered him by the bar and offered to buy him a drink before he shoved his tongue down Vinnie’s throat, there was no puking. His gag reflex didn’t even kick in. It was unsettling, frankly.
Normally he would have laid out the entire, embarrassing story to Doogie, but of course where was he when Vinnie needed him most? Totally incommunicado, that’s where, so Vinnie was left to figure it out on his own. Which required more experimenting, and more kissing random guys and also maybe a little letting them take him back to their place for other kinds of experimenting.
Once he got over the weirdness factor, he was just glad to have a hard-on without wanting to throw up all over the place for once.
For the record, Vinnie never puked on Wanda’s shoes. He puked on her legs, which is the same neighborhood, granted, but it’s not the same thing at all. And he’s pretty sure it wasn’t the kissing that made him puke. In that case he’s ninety-nine percent sure it was the beer, because getting too drunk to think straight was the only way he’d ever let himself kiss Doogie’s girl in the first place, even if Doogie was off in the middle of nowhere forgetting all about them both.
Also for the record, she kissed him, and it only took him a little while to stop it because again, drunk. Not that he blamed her; she was mad at Doogie for ditching her to go off and save the world. Vinnie was still a little sore himself, so maybe that’s why he got drunk with her in the first place.
Either way, Doogie was off working for Doctors Without Borders, and they were both still stuck right where they’d always been, and Vinnie missed Doogie maybe even more than Wanda did. So they kissed a little. And then he puked on her. These things happened.
She forgave him, of course. Things were weird between them for a little while, mostly because of the whole making out thing, but also a little because of the puke, Vinnie was pretty sure. But Wanda was cool, and when he finally got around to telling her he was pretty sure he was gay, she was pretty supportive. It wasn’t like having Doogie there to talk to, but it was close enough.
Eventually Doogie did come back, of course. He looked older and thinner and even more exhausted than usual, but he looked good too, so it wasn’t really Vinnie’s fault that the first thing he did when he saw Doogie again was kiss him. Hard. On the mouth.
Doogie let him, for a second, then he kind of eased Vinnie off him and gave him a look like he wasn’t surprised, but he was sorry all the same. Which…Vinnie wasn’t ever going to be sure how Doogie always knew these things before he did, but he was trying not to be annoyed about it.
“It’s okay,” Vinnie said, shrugging and it really was okay, because Doogie was his best friend and it wasn’t like Vinnie was in love with him or anything. Okay, maybe a little. But he’d always been a little in love with Doogie, and it never got in the way of their friendship. “I wasn’t planning that or anything. I’m just glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you too, Vinnie,” Doogie said, then he hugged Vinnie, probably just to show that he didn’t mind that Vinnie was gay, but maybe also because he missed Vinnie just as much as Vinnie missed him. “Thanks for not puking on me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Vinnie mumbled into his shoulder, then he squeezed Doogie a little tighter.
~
II. Suicide Kings, Deadliest AUniverse, Avery. Set at the end of Avery's first Opi season, so it moves forward in the series a few months. Requested by duckduck. This officially crosses over into RPS territory. I don't even know if there's a genre for fictional characters injected into RPS universes. It's very confusing.
Based on this icon:
The cameras are a problem. They’re not on board Avery’s boat, thank God, or he’d have to make up some excuse and go back to Brett. The last thing he needs is to show up on TV, because there’s no way that won’t get back to Charlie or one of his goons. Avery’s just not that lucky.
But there are cameras all over Dutch, and now that most of the boats are in to offload their final catch, the camera population is even worse. He’s gotten pretty good at avoiding them, mostly by staying out of the bar and ducking down alleys or behind buildings whenever he sees a Discovery Channel logo. And maybe he’s being paranoid, because he knows he looks a lot different than he did back in New York, but he’s not willing to risk it.
He swears under his breath as another camera appears out of nowhere, taking what are probably establishing shots of the town. That’s the only explanation he can think of for why anyone would be filming a mostly deserted street filled with nothing but dirty snow and a few sad-looking storefronts, but whatever the reason, it means a longer walk to the phone.
Avery shivers inside his coat and ducks behind the white clapboard building that serves as the town hall, the rec center, and a bingo hall, he’s pretty sure. He knows from experience that he can cut behind the buildings on this street and circle around to the nearest pay phone, and if it adds ten minutes to his walk, it’s worth it to make sure he and Brett stay lost for good.
The wind’s cutting through his gloves and stinging his eyes, and he’s pretty sure his tear ducts have frozen. He ducks his head against the cold and walks a little faster, letting out a soft sigh when he rounds the corner of the town hall and blocks out the worst of the wind. He slows his footsteps a little and looks up, coming to a stop when he realizes he’s not alone.
There’s a little hollow at the back of the building, and pressed into it is one of the younger guys who’s usually being followed around by a camera. Avery recognizes him from his attempts to avoid anyone involved in the show; he memorized the crews in question at the beginning of King Crab season, just so he wouldn’t accidentally make friends with someone who had their own entourage.
He recognizes the blond kid with the dopey grin even though he can’t see his face, and when a hand slides into his hair and pulls him even closer Avery can tell that whoever else is wedged in there, it’s another guy. Probably another fisherman, and okay, so statistically it’s probably not realistic for him to be the only gay guy out here, but it still takes him by surprise.
The biggest surprise is that they’re taking this kind of risk; Avery’s not sure what would happen if their crews found out, but he has a feeling it wouldn’t be good. When he realizes he’s still standing there staring he backs up, retracing his steps until he’s back out on the road in front of town hall. The cameraman’s gone, thankfully, and Avery realizes now that he might have just been looking for his charge. The blond kid probably ditched him to steal a couple minutes alone with his boyfriend, which is pretty dumb, but it’s sort of sweet too.
It makes Avery feel a little less alone, somehow, but it makes him miss Brett a lot more all of a sudden. He pulls his collar up against the wind and picks up his footsteps again, hurrying toward the phone outside the bar and hoping there isn’t already a line.
~
III. CSI, Nick/Greg, Pancake series futurefic, if you like. Requested by rabidfan.
Based on this icon:
If there’s one thing Greg’s never really been, it’s proud. At least not when it comes to someone knowing just how much he wants them. So he doesn’t care that Nick knows he’s been staring, doesn’t care that he ducks his head and grins that little grin that makes Greg crazy every time he catches Greg looking.
In fact, it’s even better that Nick knows what’s on Greg’s mind, because it means they’ll get to skip all the preamble later and get right down to business. Not that he minds a little teasing now and then, but Nick’s been wearing that shirt all night, and that’s just about all the anticipation Greg can handle.
He knows exactly what that shirt does to Greg. Well, anything with short sleeves has this affect, really, because it’s one thing to know from experience just how strong Nick is, but when he can see it on display right in the middle of the work day with all kinds of other people around…well, that does something to Greg. Something he wouldn’t have thought was technically possible until he met Nick, but one look should be enough to explain to anyone just how Greg developed such a fetish for Nick’s arms.
“You okay?” Nick asks, and he can hear the smirk without looking.
“Me? I’m great,” Greg answers, letting his gaze linger on the muscles flexing under the hem of Nick’s sleeve. “Never better.”
“Never?” Nick asks, and when Greg finally does look up at Nick’s face he’s still grinning, but his head’s tilted a little to the side like he’s considering Greg’s answer. “Guess I’m doing something wrong.”
This time Greg smirks, gaze wandering back down Nick’s arms, and if he focuses hard enough he can feel them wrapped around him. He can think of a dozen different ways Nick’s done everything right just off the top of his head, starting with his arms and ending…well, pretty much everywhere else.
It’s been a long couple years; they’ve lost most of their team, added a couple new people who are still trying to find their groove. There were some rough spots between him and Nick too, starting with Nick almost getting himself killed more than once, and ending with Greg being dumb enough not to realize Nick needed to hear that a movie deal wasn’t going to break them up.
But all that’s behind them, and now that he stops to think about it, this really is the happiest he’s ever been. His heart skips a beat and he smiles again, glancing around to make sure none of the cops milling around the scene are looking before he leans in close. “Trust me, you do just fine. But I’ll let you practice some more after shift, if you want.”
That gets him another grin, the slow, sort of shy one that makes the edges of Nick’s eyes crinkle. “You’re on,” Nick answers, his right bicep flexing just a little and Greg has to swallow hard against a groan.
They’ve still got a few hours to go and it might kill him to wait, but he knows from experience that it’s worth it.
~