Flist Easter Eggs.
All Easter Eggs are below the cut. Really nice (pssh: lengthy) feedback is wanted as I worked my bloody fingers into a twitch. <3
Find your username (they're in the order that you commented in) and the number in the brackets is how many ficlets you've been written. Note: Most ficlets have an Author's Note. Please read. ;)
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+ fading_spark -
01. Dean/Brooke, red.
He's dripping with blood when he pushes the door open. You rise from the motel bed and immediately start touching his face, watching his eyes squint as he hisses in pain as the red liquid drips further down his face. You withdraw your hands, looking at them, now stained with his blood (or someone's blood, you don't ask because you know that if you ask he won't tell you. He's stopped telling you the little things, now).
You push him onto the bed, using all the power you can muster to fight his superhuman strength as you push down on his shoulders, making him land with a bounce on the less than springy bed (it's not what you're used to, you're used to a soft mattress, warm bed covers, and a room filled with pink and ponies and pictures of your life in a town that abandoned you).
"Brooke -" he doesn't get up, but his voice sounds pained as he shifts on the bed. You're already moving to the messy little bathroom you've cleaned up (he never takes you out on hunts, he's stopped involving you in on the little adventure).
"Just shut up, Dean." You pull open the sticky cabinet door forcefully, and scan the medical bits and pieces you've bought over the time you've spent, travelling with Dean (and no longer Sam). "I'm going to fix you up so you don't get an infection or something equally disgusting."
"Why, aren't you ever the doctor," you smirk (you can hear the insinuation in his voice) as you close the glass door with your elbow (you end up cutting it, but you won't tend to it now) and you walk back into the room. He's still on the bed, and you dump bottles, bandages, little white wipe pads and an alcohol bottle onto the squishy, earth coloured doona.
You huff as you scrunch up your face and try to open up one of the stupid bottles you know you can never open (you've never been able to open that awful pickle jar). "Now isn't the time to mock me, Dean." You grunt as you open it, dipping the alcohol onto the white pad. "It won't distract me from the open wounds on your face."
He blinks as he looks at you, and you close up the alcohol bottle before placing it back beside his denim pants (you've always had a thing for hot guys in tight denim) and you place the moist material to a gash on his forehead. He hisses as the alcohol takes affect, and his eyes sparkle as he looks into yours, sending your nerves to form a hurricane swirling inside your body. "When did you get so serious? Whatever happened to the bouncy cheerleader I picked up from the side of the road?"
"She grew up," you wipe the pad over the blood, absorbing it up as you smear it against his skin.
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02. Sam/Brooke, cold.
He doesn't move from his position in the chair, and you can't help but stare and wonder what happened out there, why he's not Sam Winchester, the one who'd pull you with him into the shower after a rather messy day of hunting, but all you can do is stand by the bed, swearing to never blink just in case he disappears just like his brother.
You can't stand the silence, and you move closer to him, each step tentative on the mucky carpet as you watch his downcast face. Your fingertips caress his cheek and you hear the slightest sniffle. It makes you want to hold him to you, but you fight the urge to pounce on him just yet.
His hands are cold to touch. You grip them in your own, hoping that will just help warm him up. He's always been so warm to touch, but now he feels like ice; jagged, slippery and cold.
"Brooke." It sounds so broken as a whimper, and a tear escapes from his eyes, sliding quickly down his handsome face and it splashes onto his lap somewhere. Your hands slide around his neck and you sit in his lap, hugging him to you as tight as you can, and you move your hands up and down his coated back as the crook of your neck feels moist and all you can hear is Sam sniffling over something you don't think you'll ever understand.
But you hold him close and kiss the top of his head, mumbling into his shaggy hair, "I'll never let you go." And you never do.
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03. Peter/Brooke, snow.
A/N: I wasn't too sure about this one, but I left it as it is, and I hope it suffices your Peter/Brooke "hunger". ;)
She buys you a snow globe, and you're not impressed. It makes you regret not buying her the sexy lingerie Nathan almost caught you buying. You think it's cute, but a snow globe? Her eyes sparkle as you look up at them, and you tilt your lip and say thanks.
She starts laughing. "What?" Your eyebrow is raised, and you really don't understand what's going on inside her pretty head, "What's so funny? Are you having some sort of attack, Brooke?"
"No," she says between fits of laughter, "You seriously don't remember, do you?"
Your eyebrow remains raised as you watch her, waiting for any hint of this somehow significant event that Brooke Davis cares to remember (you really wish Matt was in the room right now). She doesn't say anything - or do anything - for a couple of seconds before you have to speak. "Remember . . .?"
"The first time we met." You're silent, and she huffs, her hands are planted firmly on her hips but her voice is still playful, "I was dancing in the snow, and -"
You smile at the memory as you finish in an almost daydream whisper, "- You almost danced right into me."
Her smile brightens and she inches her face closer to yours, her brown eyes twinkling like a little girl getting the doll she's alway wanted for Chrismas, and your eyes stay firmly on her lips, watching the words form and slither out from between them. "And the first time you kissed me, it was snowing."
You can't help the smile faintly pulling at your lips as you watch her eyes twinkle with delight that you remembered (she told you before that Lucas never remembered much), "And the first time I ever said -"
"- I love you -"
"- it was snowing."
Brooke grins triumphantly as she places her hands on her hips, and keeps her eyes trained on you. Your smile doesn't fade, as you're the one who is the reason behind her pretty toothy grin. "See, you do have a brain. I guess I lost that bet with Nathan."
"Oh, I'm gonna get you for that one," you say as you get up off of the floor and chase her around your apartment.
You don't look out the window to see the first set of snowflakes drift in front of your window, and coat New York below.
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04. Nathan/Izzie, chocolate chip muffins.
A/N: I tried to capture canon!Nathan, but I'm not too sure I succeeded. I have a feeling these two aren't exactly I.C. The last line, just in case you don't quite get it, is that (as I see it) all politicians lie.
He likes watching her bake, especially when flour ends up pressing against her cheeks (and his chest, later on) and her hair is tied messily in a bun. He thinks she looks pretty cute (absolutely fucking adorable) with her many various cooking aprons, and he knows she can't cook to save her life, but when she bakes, he's captivated as she teases him with her tongue that darts out to moisten her pink lips, and the way she manages to be witty while cracking an egg and, at the same time, succeeding in not getting any bits of the shell in the bowl.
He sits on the stool, watching her make various cakes and muffins and all the types of things Monty and Simon enjoy from her. But today, she's not making a cake or cookies or anything that she can simply press against her cheek and ask him to lick off.
"They're almost done," she says, almost to herself, and he smirks as she starts to place everything aside to gather the equipment she needs for the next step. "You're gonna like these. I thought you'd enjoy them after your big politician party thing."
"Conference, Iz." He laughs as she shrugs and pushes a stray hair behind her ear (she leaves a trail of unknown flour on the side of her face).
"Whatever," she shrugs, and the oven behind her bings, "Oo! Nathan, they're ready!" He chuckles as she excitedly pulls a tray of muffins out, using the gloves he bought her for Easter (they're cookies) and she slaps his hand away when she places them on the table. "You may be able to fly, but you're surely not indestructible. Be patient, my eagle."
He groans as she leans over and he presses his lips to hers, his hands snaking up into her hair to keep her soft mouth against his as his tongue outlines her pink lips. "Nuh, uh mister. Muffins before any other activities." She breathes against his parted lips, and before he can do anything that may awaken the beast, she slips back and searches for a plate to put the new muffins on.
"They're your favourite, too." She says as she places the plate on the table, and firmly plants her hands on the wooden counter, looking at him squarely in the eye.
"What kind are they? Naked and beautiful?"
She rolls her eyes, "Seriously, Nathan! That's not the way to get into my pants. They're chocolate chip muffins, the ones you absolutely can never not eat. I remember once you forfeited sex for these."
He groans and rubs his hand over his face, "Iz, you said you'd never bring that up again."
The pretty blonde shrugs and hits him lightly on the head with the wooden spoon, "What can I say, Nathan? I'm in politics."
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05. Isaac/Izzie, sleepless nights.
He won't come to bed, and you don't know what to do. He sits by the window (it's raining outside) and everything is so dark in his apartment you can barely see. He doesn't move as you watch him, but you know he can sense you there.
You walk toward him, and sit on the very edge of the window seat, your hands immediately touching his bare arms as you let your fingers move up and down in a silent plea for him to try to get some sleep.
It's the fifth night he hasn't slept (nor have you) and you have no idea what to do. What use is it to be a doctor and not know what to do?
"I can't paint," he doesn't look at you, and your heart breaks at his pained voice. "It only works with the drugs, and I swore to you I wouldn't do them anymore." Your hands are on his firm back, and you don't say anything. You never say anything when he's like this. He just talks, and you just listen, because that's the routine, and that's how it works.
"Maybe I'm not a hero." Your hands dart out to his face, touching the skin that feels so cold it's almost ice, and you turn his head gently in your direction as you shake your head. "I'm not," he tries to convince you with a much more firmer voice, but everyone knows you're Izzie Stevens; you're as stubborn as they come.
"Isaac," you plead as you feel your eyes burn with tears that you don't want to let run down your face (you only let them fall when you're in front of a mirror where the shower is and where solitude finds you), "you were given a gift for a reason, you were given this gift for a reason. People aren't just born with this gift and are destined to never use it. You've just got to be patient." You lean in and press your lips to his cold ones, giving him reassurance and companionship, and a silent promise that you'll wait with him.
You'll wait with him until the end of the world.
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06. Hiro/Nathan, pink fairy floss.
A/N: I tried to capture both of their voices, but I'm quite uneasy about Hiro's.
He takes you to a circus. You still can't say the word properly as he snaps at you, repeating the word for you only once and you try to commit it to memory.
But you can't, because you don't have that power, and the person who once did is no longer with you. It's a longing feeling, and Nathan gives you a look that suggests that may be the reason why he's taken you to a big tent.
"Flying Man! Elephant at the see-cuss!" You point at an elephant that's so huge and grey. You really want to go touch it, but Nathan turns back to look at you, scolding you with his eyes to make sure you keep up and not touch anything.
His reputation is on the line, as you know. A well-known and photographed politician with some Japanese guy at the circus really isn't what he wants in the press. He's not sure what that'd do for his image.
You jog up to him, and you hear him say firmly, "Circus."
"See-cuss," you try, and he shakes his head.
"Sir-cuss."
You nod, and you taste the words on your lips, "Sir-cuss." You see a sign that's pink and the words are bubbly, and you stop. He keeps walking until he realises you're not there, and when you hear him beside you, you squeal, "Fairy floss!"
The look he gives you is one of surprise. You knew how to say that. "They're not waffles, Hiro."
"Fairy floss! Mr Petrelli -"
"- Nathan -" he corrects you.
"- fairy floss!" He rolls his eyes and digs in his pocket for his wallet, grumbling under his breath how annoying you are, but you can only smile and look at awe at the big sign, and when he places the stick with pink web-like candy (it looks like clouds, you should ask Mr Petrelli what clouds taste like when you con him into going on the ferris wheel) on the top of it in your hand, your eyes almost burst out of your sockets.
You keep in mind that going to the circus with Flying Man will get you treats.
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07. Alex/Izzie, helping hand.
A/N: AU for 3x05. Again, I'm not quite sure I've pinned Alex's voice down. There's also a reference to 3x08.
She sits on the bench in the locker room, and you lean against the doorframe, watching as she stares into space. Your heart clenches in your chest as you watch her look longingly at her locker. She's going to leave. She's going to leave and perhaps travel the world with her eight million dollars. Eight point seven million dollars. She's going to leave and your going to lose her forever.
You had watched her with the stethoscope before, placing it over her heart, and you felt your own beating wildly as you watched her fallen face as she listened to the little thumper race inside her chest. You've always invaded her space, and you've sworn you wouldn't do it again, but she's not moving and she needs a push, a push to stay and be a surgeon, to cut and stitch and to save lives.
Feet shuffling along the tiles, you walk towards her, but she doesn't lift her head, and all you hear is her exhale. You stand beside her, and her eyes don't move towards your form, they stay locked on the locker ahead of her, and you watch as her body takes in air and lets it out.
Your fingertips brush against her cheek, it's warm and soft and it sends tingles through your arm at the chance you've gotten to touch her again (you've missed the feel of her skin), and she looks up at you, tears shining in her eyes, and you keep stroking her cheek, "Iz . . ."
"I didn't want it to be this hard. I thought it wouldn't be this hard. Just walk in here and clean out my locker. It was simple. It was a simple freaking plan, and now I can't do it. I can't do it, Alex. How am I supposed to be this person when I can't even clean out my locker?" She doesn't make eye contact with you, but you wipe a stray tear away.
You place your hand in front of her, and she looks up at you questioningly. "We'll do it together, Iz. We'll clean out your locker. We're going to make you feel stronger."
"We?" She looks up at you, her eyes a pale pink as they glitter in the light.
"We," you nod, "Alex and Izzie." Her eyes linger on your rough hand, and you feel almost stupid for thrusting it out there. She's always made you feel stupid in that teenage-boy-has-a-crush-on-the-pretty-girl way, but you don't move it, and it doesn't shake with the nervousness you feel; it's steady and strong and ready to help her become Izzie Stevens again.
She takes your hand, and you help her stand on her feet.
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08. Hiro/Charlie, paper hearts.
A/N: Obviously AU to the show when it comes to the timeline.
You walk into the diner that breaks your heart whenever it enters your thoughts. Your heart feels like it's been hit by a train, and you swear that if you had Cheerleader Claire's power that you'd step in front of one every day for the longing and void that throbs away at your being. You sigh as you look around; everything is still the same, the walls are still coated the same warm orange, and the people are smiling, sipping at their coffee and talking like a murder never happened eight months ago.
Your feet pat across the ground, your head down and you sit on a stool. The counter is bare, and you almost long for a Japanese translation book or a piece of pie that she really likes to be sitting in front of you, but no one comes and greets you with the same familiarity you felt when you went back six months on this day eight months ago.
Your head is facing down, your eyes on your lap as you feel tears burn your eyes. You failed so long ago, and yet it still feels like you're drowning. You don't really know how to swim, but with her you felt like you were The Hoff (the lifeguard guy Cheerleader Claire pokes her tongue out at and makes fun of) because you could swim like a shark and you were saving her.
You look up, and there's a paper heart on the counter. You haven't heard footsteps depart, but you pick it up and on the back there's neat cursive. A tear escapes your eye as you read it over and over again, the simple short words make your heart skip and your blood pump energetically through your veins.
You made me love you.
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+ purple_angel725 -
01. Dean/Izzie, licking.
A/N: Reference to a scene from Casino Royale. This happens after (GA) 3x19.
It's way more sexier when he does it than Daniel Craig, licking the blood off your fingers as you sit in the shower, the cold water drenching you both from head to toe. The man's blood won't come off your hands, and it's so much different to working at Seattle; you cut, stitch and hope for the best, but you've never killed someone with a deep thrust of a knife.
"You gonna be okay?" His warm breath tickles your cheek as you shiver, and his hands slip from yours. You feel warmth sprinkle over you as he's turned the hot water on, and you nod. "I knew I shouldn't have taken you with us. I didn't want this to happen to you."
"I should be stronger, I need to be stronger. I was weak when I slept with George, Dean. I ran." You don't look at him as you know repeating your confession only hurts him even more than he already is. You gasp as you realise he's been hurt; cut, stabbed, something and that he's bleeding too (there's red liquid swirling around and escaping through the drain). "You're hurt! You're bleeding and you're hurt, we need to get you cleaned up -"
"I'm fine Iz. I'm used to it." His hands still you as they rest on your arm and your eyes swell up with tears.
"I hate how this is your life, with all the danger and the death and the risk. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you. I've come so close to losing you too many times, Dean." You place your head on his soaked shoulder (his leather jacket isn't on him) and he slips his arm around your shoulders and hugs you to him. You feel his lips kiss your hair, and they seem to wash all the pain and anxiety and fear away.
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02. Dean/Izzie, honey.
"I hate honey," you whine as she swirls a silver spoon in the jar, "I don't need it, either."
"Yes you do," she says as she keeps swirling it around in the jar. She's probably trying to get the whole lot on the damn spoon! "You've got a sore throat, and you're sounding hoarse and croakier than usual. Honey soothes the throat, Dean, so swallow it, okay?"
"Yes doctor, but I don't want the whole damn lot. Or any of it."
She looks at you with those brown eyes you've been dreaming about looking into for over two months, and you hate the tingling feeling that erupts all over your being. "We all know you're Mr Strong, Dean, but I want you to have some. Please? For me?"
You huff and motion with your hands for her to hurry up and shove the spoon in your mouth. You close your eyes, and you wait for the metallic touch on your tongue, but you feel a soft pressure on your lips and warmth poking the insides of your mouth that cause you smirk and wrap your hands in her hair, mumbling against her lips, "Now this is the kind of honey I need."
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03. Dean/Izzie, rain.
A/N: I don't really like this, but it's the only thing that would come to me and not sound so over-used. I don't think I captured their voices right.
"You lied to me!" She feels a rushing sensation burst within her and she twirls around to yell at him. Her hair is plastered to her forehead as the rain thunders down, and she feels the cold, yet all she can feel is the heating rage within her body that makes her want to scream and throw fire from her hands. "You lied to me! Seriously! How could you lie to me, Dean? How could you!?"
"Iz -" She almost stops the words in her throat by the look he's giving her; his voice is pleading with her now, something Dean Winchester never does, but the raging hurricane inside doesn't let him take control of her emotions.
She shakes her head, feeling her eyes burn almost painfully as she yells, "No, Dean, you have to listen to me. I threw my life away just so I could come on this damn hunting trip with you, and you lied to me. You've been lying to me all this time. You only wanted me as bait for your stupid demon -"
"- I highly doubt this demon is stupid; it killed Mom."
She doesn't back down. He's always used the 'Mom-card' when it comes to this demon, and she's had enough. "Dean, you put me at risk. Me! How could you? I thought I meant more to you than some stupid hunting trip. You made me believe that -"
"I didn't make you believe anything."
He's never going to understand, and she's growing more tired with each attempt to make him understand. She understands him; his life, his work, why he is who he is, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the hollowness that throbs, causes her to believe he doesn't understand her, and a single tear slides down her face as her voice is still loud and demanding some sort of understanding. "Then why am I here? I should be at Seattle. I'm a surgeon. I'm not like you; I can't hunt, I can't defend, I can stitch and cut and help cure, but I can't do what you do and you made me give up my life. My life, Dean! It obviously doesn't mean much to you."
"It means a hell of a lot to me, Izzie. I didn't want you -"
"You asked me to come," she's almost drowned out by the rain as her voice is calmer and her body language looks defeated. She shakes her head and looks away from him, her tears mixing with the rain, and she looks back, her eyes torn and broken; "I've got to go home and restore the pieces. I don't belong here with you and Sam, and Jo. She likes you Dean, and you like her. I don't know what I'm doing here."
"Iz -"
"I'll find a way home. I don't want to disrupt you and Sammy anymore." She nods and looks down at his feet. The dirt road is muddy and she feels like she's sinking, "So, I guess this is goodbye." She looks up at his eyes; they're red and shining in a way that makes her not want to go but to run her hands through his short hair and to feel his lips on hers, but she gives him one last look, memorising the way his features look and how the rain runs off of his body, and she turns away.
She walks away from the shelter that's been protecting her from the storm.
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+ m36u_ch4n -
01. Matt/Audrey, tension.
A/N: I wasn't sure how to write this, so I hope it was close to being tension and I.C. for these two.
The air feels so humid that you feel suffocated. You're in your house, on your bed that your wife and you used to sleep on, dream on and make future plans and hopes and wishes, but now they've come crashing down as you've entered your house for the first time after two months. Two months of agonising pain and grief, and all it took was the feisty blonde you call a partner to drag you into your house to shower and wishing you'd start smelling like you and not her.
There's only so much one woman can take of a man using her scented soaps and shampoo.
The bed is still made. It's perfectly made like how Janice used to make it, and it makes you long to hear her voice again, in your mind or just in the world. But you'll never hear it again.
Your eyes fall to the floor that's clean and perfect and absolutely spotless. It's not like where they found her in the kitchen; head cut, blood everywhere. You swallow, and it sounds so loud and it echoes inside your head. Audrey sits beside you, but you don't look at her. You can just feel the dip in the bed beside you.
You sniffle, and you feel her hand close around yours, gripping it tightly, and she gives you a squeeze. Her voice echoes in your mind like a soft lullaby that calms a baby, and you're grateful for her presence and her voice, and the warmth of her hand as it gives you another reassuring squeeze, "You're going to get through this, Matt. We'll get through it together."
Your heart beats, and you know you'll get through it, you'll get through this sudden loss with the blonde that's alive and warm and beside you, and she won't leave you when you need her. Your hand captures hers instead of laying dead beneath, and you grip her hand and give her a squeeze, and it signals that everything is going to be okay.
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02. Hiro/Ando, fun.
A/N: I'm not too sure about this, but it was the only thing I could think of with these two. I'm worried that I didn't capture their voices.
"Is this a mission?" You ask Hiro. He's nutty, really nutty, and you don't understand why you're sitting on the floor with a board in between you.
Hiro moves his little piece and pumps his fists in the air, "Yatta!" You raise your eyebrow, and roll the dice, "This is a mission, a sidetrack mission. We must win as much money as we can."
You move your piece five squares, "Don't we do that in casinos?" You groan as you look at the board, and Hiro's grinning at you again.
"Mr Monopoly says pay." He thrusts his open palm in front of your face, and you grumble under your breath that he's an idiot and a cheater. "Mr Monopoly has sent me on a mission. To win this game."
"What about me?" You pout and make a noise in the back of your throat as you slap the money into his hand. It's fake, you think, as it doesn't resemble the money you had won and lost in Las Vegas.
Hiro snickers as he rolls the dice, "You, my friend, lose."
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+ lipslikevelvet -
01. Dean/Brooke, pool tables.
You always sees her here, at Ellen's empty bar, sitting on the dusty and hardly used pool table. She's always there whenever you and Sammy walk through the door. You always wonder why a pretty young thing like her is interested in you, why she bothers to stick around and risk getting hurt again. You want to take her with you on your hunts, but Sammy and Ellen say otherwise. (Ellen doesn't need words to tell you not to take her out, she has this glint in her eye that you only ever see when you're talking sex with Jo, and it makes you shut your mouth and gulp down your beer).
You always think that she won't be here when you get back; that she'll break her promise just like you've broken the many you've whispered in her hair, but she's always here, waiting at the pool table, and you always walk up to her, place your hands on either side of her, and press your lips to hers.
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02. Dean/Brooke, cards.
You're sick and tired of playing poker with him. He always wins, and the only way you win is when you bend over and give him a longing glance at your cleavage. You sigh and huff as he wins again, smirking at you triumphantly as you throw your cards down on the table that rests between the two of you. It's the only thing that keeps you from leaping over and tackling him; you're scared you'll break it and you'll have to spend the little money you have replacing it.
He starts shuffling again, and you groan, "Dean, come on. This is boring. You always win." You start to pout, but he only laughs and shakes his head.
"Tough, sweetheart. I warned you that you couldn't beat me even if you were stark naked." He starts gathering your thrown cards into a neat pile, and a smirk crosses your features.
"Hey, baby," you say slyly, and he looks up at you in surprise. You lean over the table and allow your finger to tip his chin up so his eyes are focused on your red coated lips. You dart your tongue out to moisten them, watching as his eyes don't look away. "Wanna play strip poker?"
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+ impalalove -
01. Dean/Izzie, bandages.
"You're not freaking invincible Dean," she says as her warm hands grasp at your arm, and you hiss as the alcohol mixes with the open wound. "You can't just run out there like a chicken without a head."
"I have Sammy," you grunt and hiss as she dabs your arm again.
"You're only here because of Sammy, Dean. If he didn't bring you here, who knows if your arm would've gotten infected."
"I've had infections before." You don't watch as she pads your wound again, you keep your eyes forward and your body tense as silence fills the room with an uncomfortable air that feels suffocating. You cough. Izzie stops her poking to make sure it isn't blood that you cough up and as she sighs in relief. The uncomfortableness reappears and slaps you across the cheek.
She clears her throat, and her voice sounds quieter, more teary than stern like before, and she doesn't meet your eyes when you look at her, "You didn't want to see me, did you?"
You look away as you feel her gaze on the side of your head, and you really wish now that Sammy didn't insist you come and get cleaned up. It's only a small cut, but with Sammy's height and how he overshadowed you with his being bullied you into coming here, asking for Dr Stevens. You clear your throat, and your voice cracks as you look to the shiny floor, "I always wanted to see you, Iz."
"Then why haven't you?" Her response is quick, and you look anywhere around the room for a distraction, but you can't run away from Izzie, not now when she's got her warm hands on your arm, sending bolts of something fuzzy and hot around your body, and she's bandaging up your arm with a small roll. She's always been cautious and overly worried when it comes to you Winchester men.
You summon up the courage to look her in the face, the face you've missed for what feels like an age, and you speak with absolute honesty, allowing the walls to strip away from you as you tell her, "I just don't want to leave you."
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02. Oliver/Izzie, green and blue.
A/N: AU for 6x03 for Smallville. Instead of Lois, it's Izzie. Reference to Batman & Robin.
For Lex's costume party, she dresses up in green as you dress up in blue. Somehow she's managed to colour her scrubs green as you've managed to find a pair of blue surgical scrubs. You laugh when you see her, and as she twirls around, asking what you think, you smile and chuckle, "Going for the Poison Ivy look, Isobel?"
"Do I look anything like Uma Thurman, Ollie?" She hates it when you call her 'Isobel', but it's how you've been raised, and even with the light teasing of your nickname makes it worth annoying her.
You take a moment to look her up and down, "You're definitely much prettier."
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03. Alex/Izzie, photographs.
A/N: Reference to 3x08 and this takes place after 3x19 (Alex has moved into Meredith's).
She's never really had any photographs of them together. Of him and her together and happy. They never really carried a camera around Seattle Grace, as that'd be way too creepy and perverted and it'd give Bailey the wrong ideas about them wanting to take the getting-into-everyone's-pants to the next step.
But she's looking through the box of photographs she's kept in her room, and she's come across one of them together. His lips on her cheek, and her eyes are in his direction, and it feels candid and special and really loving. It's at Joe's, and Cristina, George and Meredith aren't in the background; neither is Joe. It's like it's only them; Alex and Izzie, Izzie and Alex.
She flips it over, and in a familiar scrawl are the words: Alex loves Izzie, forever and ever.
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+ lostdreamer56 -
01. Nathan/Claire, loneliness.
He sits in the apartment, the darkness coating his figure as he's sitting on the chair, hunched over with a glass in his hand, swirling the liquid around as it mesmerises him. It's as golden as her hair, and the darkness doesn't even seem to blind his eyes from the colour. He knows it's black, pure black like his heart, but all he can see is gold and a lively spirit, and he presses his lips to the glass as he feels the liquid burn down his throat.
"You shouldn't do that," she says from the doorframe, and he doesn't look up as she approaches him. She sits down on the floor beside him, watching his hunched figure as he looks straight ahead at the pale ceiling.
"Why not?" He takes another sip of the alcohol, not bothering to hide it from her. She's almost seventeen, and he's positive she's done all the things he did when he was that age. "It takes away the feeling."
She clears her throat, and her voice is quieter than it was before, as if she's expecting the answer that's going to touch his lips, "Of what?"
He looks at her, for the first time since she's entered the room, and he can see her with the shadows caressing her face, and he feels his heart pinch in his chest, "Loneliness." He finishes off the burning alcohol.
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02. Nathan/Claire, feeling.
A/N: Shockingly O.O.C. in my opinion.
You feel his fingertips caress your cheeks, wiping away your tears, "Hey," he coos as he pulls you into him as your sobs start to become louder, "Just breathe, everything's going to be okay."
"Is it?" Your voice is muffled by his chest as the tears soak his jacket, "The world is ending, how is that fine?"
"We have each other, Claire, and our abilities. We can try and stop this from ever happening."
"Peter exploding?" You sniff, and wipe your eyes hastily as you lean into him like your pillow. Your voice dies as you worry about the younger Petrelli, your uncle who saved your life and risked his, "I don't think you can ever stop it."
You listen to his heart beating, and the breaths he takes. You count to fifteen before he breathes out, "We'll try. We'll find a way, and we'll try."
"It's our only hope, right?" You pull away from his warm embrace and look into his dark eyes. You've always found that his eyes never lie, that, as clichéd as it sounds, they're almost like the windows to his soul, to the real Nathan Petrelli and not this mask of a politician with a charming smile.
His hands move up and down your bare arms, warming you up with that unnatural ability he's always had. "Yeah, it's our only hope."
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03. Nathan/Claire, heartache.
You feel the blood pump wildly in your veins whenever you see him and her together. He gives her the smirk he's sure won over Simone, and she giggles and smiles up at him. You've had to abandon your wife, your sons, and almost your mother, and this protectiveness you have over Claire - your daughter - is strange and foreign and usually is only applicable to Peter.
But you see green when you look at them, uncle and niece, flirting like teenagers, and you can't help the slight pinch you feel your heart send through your body; you really want what they have, you want friendship (with her) and this companionable relationship (with her) but all you can do is sit on the sidelines and observe like a father would.
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+ fire_fly_stare -
Sam/Veronica, books.
He fingers the books as you both walk to the end of the aisle. You're far away from the librarian and anyone else who is studying, and he twirls you (in such a Logan way that it makes your heart break) and pushes you gently against the bookcase and his lips are instantly pressing against yours. You feel his tongue impatiently trace the outline of your lips, and you part them as you stand on the very tips of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck (for he is very tall and you're very, very short).
"Sam," you breathe into his hair as his lips descend onto your neck, planting light kisses over the skin. "Sam," you say a little more urgently and smile as you feel him smirk against your skin.
"What?" his breath tickles the naked flesh on your neck, "Are the books giving you the evil glare, V?" You smack him on the back, but laugh as his tongue darts out onto your neck, and you sigh as his hands caress your clothed sides.
"Sam, I really came here for a book." He stops still, you can still feel his breath in puffs against your skin, and you can't help the smile that settles on your face, "I didn't mean we should go to the abandoned aisle in a booty call way." His head descends onto your shoulder, smacking himself lightly with the bone as he substitutes it for a table. You pat him on the back of the neck, "There, there, Sam. We all know how horny you are."
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