Happy (belated) birthday Dramaturgca!
Happy birthday to one of my newest friends! We seem to keep each other a little sane at least, right? I'm sorry I couldn't get these up sooner, the internet = LAME. Well, it did over the weekend anyway. I hope you enjoy them, hon, and the holiday treats you well! ♥
BSG/Burn Notice, Kara Thrace/Fiona Glenanne, bar fight:
They're back to back, but Kara's pretty sure that they'd be just as likely to be throwing punches at each other (or shoving each other around in bed) under different circumstances; it's comforting cos maybe Kara will take less of the blame for this frakkin' mess. (Gods know the colonel will be on her again, harping on how she ought to have her own devoted DCT.)
"Name's Fiona," the woman says (and damn but Starbuck likes the mischief in her eyes), "just in case we're both left standin' later."
BSG/Burn Notice, Kara Thrace/Fiona Glenanne, show me your guns:
"Wow, the military gives you such pretty toys," Fiona says, admiring --but not touching-- the weapons in the locker, eyes skipping over to the heavy metal, and damn, but Kara just picture her at a range... Fiona turns, eyes sparking mischievously all over again; Kara has to remind herself that she's been strictly forbidden by the Old Man to frak in the weapons lockers, cos otherwise she'd be closing the hatch behind her right now. "So where do you keep your guns, Captain Thrace?"
Leverage, Parker + Bunny, quiet evening at home:
Parker flops into bed (at least, she thinks it's flopping, when she's done cartwheels and a backflip and vaulted like she used to do for Archie) and rolls until she can snuggle her bunny, face tucked against the soft, warm belly and breathing deep. It smells like home after a long day's work, mostly like cereal, and a little like cash, and a lot like Hardison and Eliot (because when they first came to Boston she couldn't find a place she liked, but co-opting their places when they weren't looking was a god place to start). Later Parker will work on her lock picking and if she can beat all five of her records (just in case Nate needs her to crack one of the newer Glenn Reader) her and bunny were having fudge sundaes.
White Collar, Elizabeth/Peter/Neal, wacky kitchen hijinks:
Elizabeth isn't going to ask -- not because she doesn't need to know, but because she doesn't need to voice the words; she just lets a delicately raised brow do the heavy lifting for her. The only one that doesn't look guilty --and was, in fact, always immune to this expression-- is Satchmo, despite the fact that he's now tracking flour, chocolate powder, and what Elizabeth can only assume by scent is cinnamon out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Peter looks sheepish -- collar and tie askew, flour and chocolate sauce smudged on his face and hands and floury hand prints on his black pants around his belt and thighs -- while Neal gives her a smile that's as guilty as it is pleased; it's not fair, really, with his shirt off, and silk pajama pants that cling in all the right places, spattered in dough and sauce and flour like it's clay and paint, it's not fair, and Elizabeth wishes she'd been just another ten minutes late...
White Collar, Elizabeth/Peter/Neal, home for the holidays:
Neal looks surprised, no matter how well he tries to hide it -- never mind that Peter's always been able to tell -- as though he didn't expect more than being allowed to be present, as though he didn't know he belonged. As though he could give them gifts, real, heartfelt gifts like food he's made and coffee Peter's never even heard of before, but well and truly thought he wouldn't receive anything in return.
Peter wonders, sometimes, what it must have been like for Neal before, if he's never really had Christmas before; he doesn't give it much thought, though, because that was then, and now, now Neal's smiling with a smile so small and so true the man probably didn't even know it existed in his repertoire.
Firefly, Wash/Zoe, dinosaurs:
"Put them away now dear," Zoe says with all the gentleness she uses for polite threats; she knows her husband loves his toys, but enough is enough, and honestly, he doesn't need them in the bath.
"But... they've just discovered the underwater--"
"Yes, dear," she says, and by that, of course, she means no; at least this time she gives him a good reason to toss his toys across the room.
BSG, Kara/Lee, up against a wall:
He pushes and she shoves, their words more biting than their mouths, but their teeth leave marks that the crew will see tomorrow, that everyone will see tomorrow, and Lee has a hard time caring because for once, for once, he's the one pushing her hard into the wall.
"This what you think you want?" she asks, and he thinks for a second she might punch him; problem being the answer is yes, it always was, always, even with the drinking and the fighting and the hitting, Lee has always wanted this, wanted it to be the moment she finally just frakking lets go..
But this isn't it, and maybe it never could be; Lee lets her go, lets the bruises she doesn't leave linger.
BSG/Firefly, Kara + Zoe, firing range:
Kara's not surprised to see someone else on the range, though maybe she wasn't expecting tall, built like a goddess, and a sturdy air of ex-military despite her apparent age; on a whim she takes the booth next to her, whoever she is, probably off one of the scattered mercenary ships amongst the fleet.
"That's quite the classic," Kara says just as she passes, prepping her own gear on the firing line. "Gotta admit, I prefer something heavier."
Inception/White Collar, Neal/Arthur, suits:
There's a lot that outsiders don't know about criminals, their reputations, and how competitive they are about said reputations; there's the fastest fingers on a tumbler lock, or the weekend the top grifters descend on a single city - chosen by bid, with money on the line of course - to see who can walk away with the most cash in a short-term crime, and the silly things which any respectable thief would never consent to discuss with someone outside the community.
Like who wears the best suit.
There's some pretty stiff competition of course, but Neal's won pretty consistently for the past three years, and he's confident he'll win again; that is, until Arthur strolls in, his vest immaculate, his tie perfect, and those pinstripes...
BSG/White Collar, Kara Thrace/Diana, badasses in dresses:
"You would never know," the man says --Caffrey, Lee thinks, some consultant or another-- with no small amount of amazement, "that you were looking at the foremost fighter pilot and most prominent security agent in the whole universe." Baltar makes an appreciative noise from behind them, and Lee turns to see him sipping champagne, eyeing Kara and the woman President Roslin had introduced to him as Diana. "Don't get your hopes up, Gaius -- there's no room on their dance card for you."
BSG/Burn Notice, Kara Thrace/Fiona Glenanne, bar fight:
They're back to back, but Kara's pretty sure that they'd be just as likely to be throwing punches at each other (or shoving each other around in bed) under different circumstances; it's comforting cos maybe Kara will take less of the blame for this frakkin' mess. (Gods know the colonel will be on her again, harping on how she ought to have her own devoted DCT.)
"Name's Fiona," the woman says (and damn but Starbuck likes the mischief in her eyes), "just in case we're both left standin' later."
BSG/Burn Notice, Kara Thrace/Fiona Glenanne, show me your guns:
"Wow, the military gives you such pretty toys," Fiona says, admiring --but not touching-- the weapons in the locker, eyes skipping over to the heavy metal, and damn, but Kara just picture her at a range... Fiona turns, eyes sparking mischievously all over again; Kara has to remind herself that she's been strictly forbidden by the Old Man to frak in the weapons lockers, cos otherwise she'd be closing the hatch behind her right now. "So where do you keep your guns, Captain Thrace?"
Leverage, Parker + Bunny, quiet evening at home:
Parker flops into bed (at least, she thinks it's flopping, when she's done cartwheels and a backflip and vaulted like she used to do for Archie) and rolls until she can snuggle her bunny, face tucked against the soft, warm belly and breathing deep. It smells like home after a long day's work, mostly like cereal, and a little like cash, and a lot like Hardison and Eliot (because when they first came to Boston she couldn't find a place she liked, but co-opting their places when they weren't looking was a god place to start). Later Parker will work on her lock picking and if she can beat all five of her records (just in case Nate needs her to crack one of the newer Glenn Reader) her and bunny were having fudge sundaes.
White Collar, Elizabeth/Peter/Neal, wacky kitchen hijinks:
Elizabeth isn't going to ask -- not because she doesn't need to know, but because she doesn't need to voice the words; she just lets a delicately raised brow do the heavy lifting for her. The only one that doesn't look guilty --and was, in fact, always immune to this expression-- is Satchmo, despite the fact that he's now tracking flour, chocolate powder, and what Elizabeth can only assume by scent is cinnamon out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Peter looks sheepish -- collar and tie askew, flour and chocolate sauce smudged on his face and hands and floury hand prints on his black pants around his belt and thighs -- while Neal gives her a smile that's as guilty as it is pleased; it's not fair, really, with his shirt off, and silk pajama pants that cling in all the right places, spattered in dough and sauce and flour like it's clay and paint, it's not fair, and Elizabeth wishes she'd been just another ten minutes late...
White Collar, Elizabeth/Peter/Neal, home for the holidays:
Neal looks surprised, no matter how well he tries to hide it -- never mind that Peter's always been able to tell -- as though he didn't expect more than being allowed to be present, as though he didn't know he belonged. As though he could give them gifts, real, heartfelt gifts like food he's made and coffee Peter's never even heard of before, but well and truly thought he wouldn't receive anything in return.
Peter wonders, sometimes, what it must have been like for Neal before, if he's never really had Christmas before; he doesn't give it much thought, though, because that was then, and now, now Neal's smiling with a smile so small and so true the man probably didn't even know it existed in his repertoire.
Firefly, Wash/Zoe, dinosaurs:
"Put them away now dear," Zoe says with all the gentleness she uses for polite threats; she knows her husband loves his toys, but enough is enough, and honestly, he doesn't need them in the bath.
"But... they've just discovered the underwater--"
"Yes, dear," she says, and by that, of course, she means no; at least this time she gives him a good reason to toss his toys across the room.
BSG, Kara/Lee, up against a wall:
He pushes and she shoves, their words more biting than their mouths, but their teeth leave marks that the crew will see tomorrow, that everyone will see tomorrow, and Lee has a hard time caring because for once, for once, he's the one pushing her hard into the wall.
"This what you think you want?" she asks, and he thinks for a second she might punch him; problem being the answer is yes, it always was, always, even with the drinking and the fighting and the hitting, Lee has always wanted this, wanted it to be the moment she finally just frakking lets go..
But this isn't it, and maybe it never could be; Lee lets her go, lets the bruises she doesn't leave linger.
BSG/Firefly, Kara + Zoe, firing range:
Kara's not surprised to see someone else on the range, though maybe she wasn't expecting tall, built like a goddess, and a sturdy air of ex-military despite her apparent age; on a whim she takes the booth next to her, whoever she is, probably off one of the scattered mercenary ships amongst the fleet.
"That's quite the classic," Kara says just as she passes, prepping her own gear on the firing line. "Gotta admit, I prefer something heavier."
Inception/White Collar, Neal/Arthur, suits:
There's a lot that outsiders don't know about criminals, their reputations, and how competitive they are about said reputations; there's the fastest fingers on a tumbler lock, or the weekend the top grifters descend on a single city - chosen by bid, with money on the line of course - to see who can walk away with the most cash in a short-term crime, and the silly things which any respectable thief would never consent to discuss with someone outside the community.
Like who wears the best suit.
There's some pretty stiff competition of course, but Neal's won pretty consistently for the past three years, and he's confident he'll win again; that is, until Arthur strolls in, his vest immaculate, his tie perfect, and those pinstripes...
BSG/White Collar, Kara Thrace/Diana, badasses in dresses:
"You would never know," the man says --Caffrey, Lee thinks, some consultant or another-- with no small amount of amazement, "that you were looking at the foremost fighter pilot and most prominent security agent in the whole universe." Baltar makes an appreciative noise from behind them, and Lee turns to see him sipping champagne, eyeing Kara and the woman President Roslin had introduced to him as Diana. "Don't get your hopes up, Gaius -- there's no room on their dance card for you."