(no subject)
Title: California Dreamin'
Fandom: RPF - Pundit Round Table
Prompt: #16. Autumn
Character(s): Rachel Maddow, Keith Olbermann
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Summary: You can take the Maddow out of California, but you can't take the California out of the Maddow.
Notes: Just because I'm using these lovelies doesn't mean that I'm lookin' for a lawsuit, okay?
They're all rosy cheeks and noses and fingers and ears from the frigid November air. Manhattan sure as hell isn't Massachusetts, but Rachel is a California girl at heart (though she's not a big Beach Boys fan) and prefers the temperature to stay somewhere within the range of 60 and 80 degrees. But she's not about to tell Keith that because, well, he'd say something like, "I guess the Red Sox don't do well in the cold, too." And while she's always up to a good baseball debate, it's just too damn cold for her brain to even consider getting into a war of words with Mr. Verbosity himself.
There's a dark, skinny guy strumming his guitar on the other side of the street, his eyes shut while he sways, clearly lost in the soft, warm layers of sound and harmony fluttering from beneath his fingers. He's bundled up in a thin corduroy jacket and a pair of Giants pajama pants. The woven, well-worn hat barely covers his long, matted hair, and the fraying scarf around his neck looks about ready to fall apart.
Keith apparently spots the man who has taken Rachel's attention from him during their lunch break, and when he sees her bite her bottom lip, something snaps in him, and he stands up, pulling off his wool gloves while walking over to the guitarist. The man looks up, and Keith says something to him that Rachel can't hear from across the street. The man stops playing and grins a toothy smile. Keith bends down and hands the guitarist the woolen gloves before shaking his hand and turning back to his best friend.
She quickly wipes away the tears that sting her brown eyes because, well, what Keith doesn't know won't kill him. And when he asks why her eyes are red, she doesn't miss a beat. "Just one of the symptoms of Daily Show Hiatus Syndrome."
He laughs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.
Title: As Much As I Like Elevator Porn...
Fandom: RPF - Pundit Round Table
Prompt: #37. The Elevator is Out of Order.
Character(s): Anderson Cooper, Rachel Maddow
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Summary: Oh, hell no.
Notes: Real people own themselves, kthnx. Lawyers in suits can be sexy. Lawsuits can not.
The 4 and 5 lights blink, flashing on and off in some sort of rhythm that makes Anderson very, very nervous. And the lights go out. And they flicker on again, before the elevator creaks to a screechy halt, and he can no longer see the piss stain on the carpet.
He hears Rachel clear her throat. She pushes the emergency button. He smacks the metal wall beside him and immediately wipes his hand on her sleeve.
"Did you really just do that?" she asks, stunned. He frowns.
"Honey, I paid way too much for this Armani top to get elevator funk all over it."
He almost hears her eyebrows furrow. "And how do you know I didn't pay just as much for mine?"
"You're right. Terribly sorry, Ms. I've-Worn-The-Same-AIDS-Walk-Tee-For-The-Past-Two-Days."
"Paid for it in blood, sweat and tears. And Advil for the back pain."
"Well, elevator funk is basically a mixture of those three things. Maybe the fourth."
She snorts. "Um, what if I told you that Jon and Stephen did it against that wall last week?"
He freezes. "So... blood, sweat, tears... and comedian baby batter." He presses the emergency button twice, just because. "Why would they do that?"
Rachel shrugs. "Boredom? I think the elevator... got stuck."
A moment passes slowly. And then, in unison: "HELP!"
Fandom: RPF - Pundit Round Table
Prompt: #16. Autumn
Character(s): Rachel Maddow, Keith Olbermann
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Summary: You can take the Maddow out of California, but you can't take the California out of the Maddow.
Notes: Just because I'm using these lovelies doesn't mean that I'm lookin' for a lawsuit, okay?
They're all rosy cheeks and noses and fingers and ears from the frigid November air. Manhattan sure as hell isn't Massachusetts, but Rachel is a California girl at heart (though she's not a big Beach Boys fan) and prefers the temperature to stay somewhere within the range of 60 and 80 degrees. But she's not about to tell Keith that because, well, he'd say something like, "I guess the Red Sox don't do well in the cold, too." And while she's always up to a good baseball debate, it's just too damn cold for her brain to even consider getting into a war of words with Mr. Verbosity himself.
There's a dark, skinny guy strumming his guitar on the other side of the street, his eyes shut while he sways, clearly lost in the soft, warm layers of sound and harmony fluttering from beneath his fingers. He's bundled up in a thin corduroy jacket and a pair of Giants pajama pants. The woven, well-worn hat barely covers his long, matted hair, and the fraying scarf around his neck looks about ready to fall apart.
Keith apparently spots the man who has taken Rachel's attention from him during their lunch break, and when he sees her bite her bottom lip, something snaps in him, and he stands up, pulling off his wool gloves while walking over to the guitarist. The man looks up, and Keith says something to him that Rachel can't hear from across the street. The man stops playing and grins a toothy smile. Keith bends down and hands the guitarist the woolen gloves before shaking his hand and turning back to his best friend.
She quickly wipes away the tears that sting her brown eyes because, well, what Keith doesn't know won't kill him. And when he asks why her eyes are red, she doesn't miss a beat. "Just one of the symptoms of Daily Show Hiatus Syndrome."
He laughs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.
Title: As Much As I Like Elevator Porn...
Fandom: RPF - Pundit Round Table
Prompt: #37. The Elevator is Out of Order.
Character(s): Anderson Cooper, Rachel Maddow
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Summary: Oh, hell no.
Notes: Real people own themselves, kthnx. Lawyers in suits can be sexy. Lawsuits can not.
The 4 and 5 lights blink, flashing on and off in some sort of rhythm that makes Anderson very, very nervous. And the lights go out. And they flicker on again, before the elevator creaks to a screechy halt, and he can no longer see the piss stain on the carpet.
He hears Rachel clear her throat. She pushes the emergency button. He smacks the metal wall beside him and immediately wipes his hand on her sleeve.
"Did you really just do that?" she asks, stunned. He frowns.
"Honey, I paid way too much for this Armani top to get elevator funk all over it."
He almost hears her eyebrows furrow. "And how do you know I didn't pay just as much for mine?"
"You're right. Terribly sorry, Ms. I've-Worn-The-Same-AIDS-Walk-Tee-For-The-Past-Two-Days."
"Paid for it in blood, sweat and tears. And Advil for the back pain."
"Well, elevator funk is basically a mixture of those three things. Maybe the fourth."
She snorts. "Um, what if I told you that Jon and Stephen did it against that wall last week?"
He freezes. "So... blood, sweat, tears... and comedian baby batter." He presses the emergency button twice, just because. "Why would they do that?"
Rachel shrugs. "Boredom? I think the elevator... got stuck."
A moment passes slowly. And then, in unison: "HELP!"