fic meme: 10 snippets in 10 genres (elle/claire)
Heroes, Elle/Claire, NC-17
Note: One thing in here is completely the blame of boomwizard who, as usual, enables my crack. Blame or thank her as you will. Also. Elle and Claire could totally act out Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Yes. IT MUST BE DONE. Also. I may have to do this with Jill/Cindy. Should I?
01. Angst
No idea. Claire has no idea where she is. There’s no bitching or whining beside her and no crackle of electricity to illuminate the dark and the blood’s drying on her hands and she has no fucking idea where Elle is, or if she’s even-
Claire keeps searching.
02. AU
There are more girls than boys in the class and her suggestion that she just be a single mother almost makes the professor laugh in her face. The pink nightmare known as Claire Bennet is picking up her bag to grab the seat next to her as the professor insists that they can work together and that’s that.
When she inevitably kills the cheerleader, she’ll make sure to blame Professor Peace-and-Love.
The next day Pompom shows up at her house in a pink sweatshirt with her hair in pigtails (pigtails) and the knot of annoyance over being stuck in this situation grows into an urge to bang her head against the wall. Only a week, she mutters mentally and forces herself to open the door so Claire-bear can come in. Then it gets better because the cheerleader notices her bloody cheeseburger sitting on the couch and the equally-height-challenged blonde is in her face gesturing and babbling about cows and cattle prods and E. coli virus.
Elle almost beats her over the head with the stupid toy baby they’re stuck with for the next week.
03. Crack!
This is not going well.
She’s run out of bullets and she’s running out of knives to throw and she really wishes she had brought the rocket launcher out of the basement but, nope, it’s still down there, where she can’t get to it. And Elle, Elle’s out of bullets but that doesn’t mean anything since, hey, Elle doesn’t need any damn bullets, she can throw electricity through the fucking walls and fry Claire like a damn… something that fries.
Chicken, maybe.
Claire grabs the last steak knife from the scattered pile of utensils and the cleaver she’s been saving for last and scoots frantically across the glass-covered floor, hearing Elle swing fast into the kitchen and stalk in her direction. Scrambling around the kitchen island, Claire staggers to her feet and can’t even manage a yelp when a blast hits her. It’s a mistake on Elle’s part because she’s thrown forward into the hall, is back on her feet and running even as Elle swears and rushes after.
A split second before Claire skids around the corner she spins, jerks her arm, and can’t help a smug grin when Elle yelps and flings herself to the side. There’s a crashing sound as the knife knocks the ugly pink and green lamp on the side table to the ground. Elle’s mouth is hanging open in shock before her head snaps around, her expression furious and eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. “I knew you hated it, I knew it. That time it fell and almost broke-”
“I threw it down,” Claire says flatly, and it’s the happiest she’s been in the last five years because, yes, yes, she threw that fucking lamp down but it hadn’t broke, the fucker, and Elle had come rushing in before she could accidentally hit it with a hammer. “I threw it down because I hated it, because it’s ugly, because it was the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen and-”
And Elle is even more pissed than before, ball of electricity gathering between her fingers.
Claire yelps and takes off again, cleaver gripped in her hand.
04. Crossover
“It’s not on fire.” There’s a grunt beside her as Brooke parks, yanks the keys out of the ignition and takes off after Claire across the concrete. “Not on fire,” she repeats in the tone one would use while attempting to ignore the dead body stashed in the freezer in the basement. “Not on fire.”
It’s not on fire, Brooke thinks and notices that some of the horrible tension is leaving Claire’s frame as she too realizes that there’s sign of any problem in the building in front of them. “I don’t smell smoke,” Claire blurts in an almost tragically relieved tone and Brooke nods furiously in agreement.
Brooke is still nodding when the two women come running out from around the side of the building, shrieking and trying to slap at one another even as they keep each other from tripping, too caught up in their panic to realize they're being watched until a throat is cleared. There’s a grunt when the tiny blonde slams into the back of the brunette who has suddenly gone utterly still, listening to ancient instincts known by all weak prey animals. After a second, blue eyes pop up over Sam’s shoulder, widen at the sight of Claire and quickly disappear again.
Sam attempts to step back and gets shoved forward instead, Elle unashamed of using a human shield. A few quick words are exchanged, tone muted as they begin to shove at each other, promptly forgetting the threat of death before them as they regress in childish annoyance. Claire and Brooke step forward automatically to begin speeches that include words like “with great power comes great responsibility” and “none for you tonight” and then the building explodes before they can even start.
It’s a lot louder than in the movies, glass shattering and flame rippling the air, blast illuminating the same guilty expression on two different faces. After a beat, a flaming hoop of metal rolls between the two pairs of women and merrily sets off down the street; after five seconds, tires squeal in the night as the car goes roaring out of the parking lot in the same direction.
05. First Time
She reached for the drink. That’s totally what she reached for. She didn’t reach for Elle’s leg because she didn’t want Elle’s leg. She had no interest in Elle’s stupid ugly chicken leg. The fact that she now has Elle’s well-muscled leg over her shoulder as Elle makes excited little whining noises and pulls at her hair means nothing. Nothing. And even if it does, it’s not like it’s ever going to happen again. Ever.
06. Fluff
“I want it.”
“It’s a scam.”
“I want it,” Elle grits out through her teeth and plants her feet in front of the booth, eyes blazing and jaw set, arms crossed over her chest. “You said you’d win it for me and I want it.”
“I’ve already spent twenty bucks, Elle, it’s a scam.”
Elle’s expression grows even more lethal- but her bottom lip trembles.
“Fuck,” Claire spits in exasperation and digs out her wallet, pulling out another twenty and slapping it on the counter in front of her. When the guy who takes the money smirks knowingly as he gets her more rings, she forces herself to channel her homicidal aggravation into her life-and-death struggle to get just one of the stupid hoops on just one of the bottles at the back of the booth.
Hanging from the wall, the stuffed bear grins smugly back at her.
07. Humor
“I’m a Company agent,” Elle sneers with an impressive amount of arrogance, “not a maid.”
“Pick up your fucking towels, Elle, or I will spank you with them.”
08. Hurt/Comfort
There are nails in her skin, a leg wrapped tight around hers, as Elle tries and fails to swallow tears, struggles to control electricity that struggles to escape. Claire presses her lips to Elle’s in the dark, swallows the salt she tastes and kisses Elle again.
09. Smut
She’s slick against her hand, hair damp and tangled between Elle’s fingers as she bucks, sets a pace that’s Elle struggles to keep up with. When Elle pushes deeper, Claire arches to muffle a frantic sound into Elle’s throat and quickens the pace even more.
10. UST
This is not how normal enemies exchange death threats.
In front of Mr. Bennet, Claire shoves Elle back into a wall, pins her there and growls words as Elle strains forward, head tilted back and eyes dark as she bucks her hips up. Claire shoves her back harder, leans closer to keep her against the wall, and Elle’s leg thrusts up between Claire’s thighs, her hands coming up to fist in Claire’s shirt in what should be an attempt to push her away.
Instead she’s drawing Claire closer.
Noah is disturbed, can’t quite keep the horror out of his voice as he rushes to pull them apart.
Note: One thing in here is completely the blame of boomwizard who, as usual, enables my crack. Blame or thank her as you will. Also. Elle and Claire could totally act out Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Yes. IT MUST BE DONE. Also. I may have to do this with Jill/Cindy. Should I?
01. Angst
No idea. Claire has no idea where she is. There’s no bitching or whining beside her and no crackle of electricity to illuminate the dark and the blood’s drying on her hands and she has no fucking idea where Elle is, or if she’s even-
Claire keeps searching.
02. AU
There are more girls than boys in the class and her suggestion that she just be a single mother almost makes the professor laugh in her face. The pink nightmare known as Claire Bennet is picking up her bag to grab the seat next to her as the professor insists that they can work together and that’s that.
When she inevitably kills the cheerleader, she’ll make sure to blame Professor Peace-and-Love.
The next day Pompom shows up at her house in a pink sweatshirt with her hair in pigtails (pigtails) and the knot of annoyance over being stuck in this situation grows into an urge to bang her head against the wall. Only a week, she mutters mentally and forces herself to open the door so Claire-bear can come in. Then it gets better because the cheerleader notices her bloody cheeseburger sitting on the couch and the equally-height-challenged blonde is in her face gesturing and babbling about cows and cattle prods and E. coli virus.
Elle almost beats her over the head with the stupid toy baby they’re stuck with for the next week.
03. Crack!
This is not going well.
She’s run out of bullets and she’s running out of knives to throw and she really wishes she had brought the rocket launcher out of the basement but, nope, it’s still down there, where she can’t get to it. And Elle, Elle’s out of bullets but that doesn’t mean anything since, hey, Elle doesn’t need any damn bullets, she can throw electricity through the fucking walls and fry Claire like a damn… something that fries.
Chicken, maybe.
Claire grabs the last steak knife from the scattered pile of utensils and the cleaver she’s been saving for last and scoots frantically across the glass-covered floor, hearing Elle swing fast into the kitchen and stalk in her direction. Scrambling around the kitchen island, Claire staggers to her feet and can’t even manage a yelp when a blast hits her. It’s a mistake on Elle’s part because she’s thrown forward into the hall, is back on her feet and running even as Elle swears and rushes after.
A split second before Claire skids around the corner she spins, jerks her arm, and can’t help a smug grin when Elle yelps and flings herself to the side. There’s a crashing sound as the knife knocks the ugly pink and green lamp on the side table to the ground. Elle’s mouth is hanging open in shock before her head snaps around, her expression furious and eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. “I knew you hated it, I knew it. That time it fell and almost broke-”
“I threw it down,” Claire says flatly, and it’s the happiest she’s been in the last five years because, yes, yes, she threw that fucking lamp down but it hadn’t broke, the fucker, and Elle had come rushing in before she could accidentally hit it with a hammer. “I threw it down because I hated it, because it’s ugly, because it was the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen and-”
And Elle is even more pissed than before, ball of electricity gathering between her fingers.
Claire yelps and takes off again, cleaver gripped in her hand.
04. Crossover
“It’s not on fire.” There’s a grunt beside her as Brooke parks, yanks the keys out of the ignition and takes off after Claire across the concrete. “Not on fire,” she repeats in the tone one would use while attempting to ignore the dead body stashed in the freezer in the basement. “Not on fire.”
It’s not on fire, Brooke thinks and notices that some of the horrible tension is leaving Claire’s frame as she too realizes that there’s sign of any problem in the building in front of them. “I don’t smell smoke,” Claire blurts in an almost tragically relieved tone and Brooke nods furiously in agreement.
Brooke is still nodding when the two women come running out from around the side of the building, shrieking and trying to slap at one another even as they keep each other from tripping, too caught up in their panic to realize they're being watched until a throat is cleared. There’s a grunt when the tiny blonde slams into the back of the brunette who has suddenly gone utterly still, listening to ancient instincts known by all weak prey animals. After a second, blue eyes pop up over Sam’s shoulder, widen at the sight of Claire and quickly disappear again.
Sam attempts to step back and gets shoved forward instead, Elle unashamed of using a human shield. A few quick words are exchanged, tone muted as they begin to shove at each other, promptly forgetting the threat of death before them as they regress in childish annoyance. Claire and Brooke step forward automatically to begin speeches that include words like “with great power comes great responsibility” and “none for you tonight” and then the building explodes before they can even start.
It’s a lot louder than in the movies, glass shattering and flame rippling the air, blast illuminating the same guilty expression on two different faces. After a beat, a flaming hoop of metal rolls between the two pairs of women and merrily sets off down the street; after five seconds, tires squeal in the night as the car goes roaring out of the parking lot in the same direction.
05. First Time
She reached for the drink. That’s totally what she reached for. She didn’t reach for Elle’s leg because she didn’t want Elle’s leg. She had no interest in Elle’s stupid ugly chicken leg. The fact that she now has Elle’s well-muscled leg over her shoulder as Elle makes excited little whining noises and pulls at her hair means nothing. Nothing. And even if it does, it’s not like it’s ever going to happen again. Ever.
06. Fluff
“I want it.”
“It’s a scam.”
“I want it,” Elle grits out through her teeth and plants her feet in front of the booth, eyes blazing and jaw set, arms crossed over her chest. “You said you’d win it for me and I want it.”
“I’ve already spent twenty bucks, Elle, it’s a scam.”
Elle’s expression grows even more lethal- but her bottom lip trembles.
“Fuck,” Claire spits in exasperation and digs out her wallet, pulling out another twenty and slapping it on the counter in front of her. When the guy who takes the money smirks knowingly as he gets her more rings, she forces herself to channel her homicidal aggravation into her life-and-death struggle to get just one of the stupid hoops on just one of the bottles at the back of the booth.
Hanging from the wall, the stuffed bear grins smugly back at her.
07. Humor
“I’m a Company agent,” Elle sneers with an impressive amount of arrogance, “not a maid.”
“Pick up your fucking towels, Elle, or I will spank you with them.”
08. Hurt/Comfort
There are nails in her skin, a leg wrapped tight around hers, as Elle tries and fails to swallow tears, struggles to control electricity that struggles to escape. Claire presses her lips to Elle’s in the dark, swallows the salt she tastes and kisses Elle again.
09. Smut
She’s slick against her hand, hair damp and tangled between Elle’s fingers as she bucks, sets a pace that’s Elle struggles to keep up with. When Elle pushes deeper, Claire arches to muffle a frantic sound into Elle’s throat and quickens the pace even more.
10. UST
This is not how normal enemies exchange death threats.
In front of Mr. Bennet, Claire shoves Elle back into a wall, pins her there and growls words as Elle strains forward, head tilted back and eyes dark as she bucks her hips up. Claire shoves her back harder, leans closer to keep her against the wall, and Elle’s leg thrusts up between Claire’s thighs, her hands coming up to fist in Claire’s shirt in what should be an attempt to push her away.
Instead she’s drawing Claire closer.
Noah is disturbed, can’t quite keep the horror out of his voice as he rushes to pull them apart.