update, plus fic
Hi, hey, hello! Sorry I've been MIA for so long. Work's been absolutely nuts and RL hasn't been any better. But things are looking to be a lot more calm for the next few weeks. I'm catching up on all the errands etc I've been putting off, and I'm also trying to get back in the swing of writing. (I am hoping to make a lot of progress on my dS/c6d big bang in the next month or two.) I've got ideas for several other of the prompts already, but I thought I'd start collecting and posting these ficlets.
Pink for
omens (Flashpoint, team gen)
"But how did it even get there?" squawked Spike. He was contorting in front of a mirror, trying to see the back of his own head.
"Come on, hold still," said Wordy patiently. "You'll make it worse."
"Worse!? What's worse?"
"Well, if you get it tangled badly enough, we'll have to cut it out -"
Spike's hand flew up to protect his hair from Wordy's scissors, accidentally making contact again with the squishy pink lump of gum. "Awwwwwww, yuck!"
He wiped the stringy goo off on his pants, shooting a murderous glance at the rest of the team. Ed was laughing the loudest.
Wordy called Jules over for a second opinion. "What do you think? It's really in there, with the hair matted into it. And look underneath…"
Jules winced. "Ice?"
Wordy sighed. "Yeah. I think that's our best hope. Spike, we're going to try to freeze it out, but you may be looking at a haircut here."
Someone behind them whistled Shave had a hair cut.
"You know, Ed, I really appreciate that, even though you haven't been in danger of this kind of thing happening to you in about 10 years, you are still just brimming with empathy. Good job with the whole connect-respect thing, there."
"You're right, Spike," said Ed with an unrepentant smile. "You wanna take it, Boss?"
"Sure Eddie," said Greg, clearing his throat. "Spike. Let's just slow it down here for a minute and talk. You haven't had the best day, have you buddy? First off, a six year old got the drop on you. Then said six year old lost control of their watermelon bubblicious and you, my friend, paid the price. And now your teammates are threatening to cut it out of your hair. Believe me, I understand the fear of losing your hair. But it doesn't have to be like this, with the tears and the shouting." Greg held up a pair of tactical shears. "It's in your power to end this..."
Spike gulped.
Jules returned with a cup of ice. She fished out a few cubes and held them up to the glob of gum. Her face was about six inches away from his, and Spike looked her directly in the eyes. "Tell me true, Jules. Is it a lost cause?"
Jules bit her lip, eyes swimming with sympathy. She glanced up at Wordy, who nodded. "Yeah, Spike, I don't see a way out of this one."
Spike nodded, resigned, and held his shears out to Wordy. "Cut me, Mick."
Roadside Assistance for
luzula (Due South, RayK & Frannie)
Ray had just settled in for the evening. It was shaping up to be a pretty good one - he had the Hawks game on the tube and his feet on the coffee table. He balanced a Chinese take-out container on his thigh and cracked open a beer. Yeah, life was pretty good. Of course, his phone rang seconds after that.
He mentally ran through some possibilities as he crossed the room. Welsh yelling at him for something Vecchio did. His new partner calling to ask about his nose again. Stella saying she'd made a mistake. Sandor saying he knew Ray cheated on him with Pagoda Dragon. None of them seemed very likely, except the Welsh thing, but it was 8pm and surely not even Welsh would call a man up during a hockey game to yell at him for something he didn't do? Not twice in the same week, at least.
"K-Vecchio," Ray answered, mentally kicking himself. It had been a few weeks already; his cover identity should be seamless.
"…Ray?" said a small feminine voice on the other end. It sounded vaguely familiar.
"Yeah?"
"Ray, it's, um, Frannie. I, uh…" she let out a frustrated sigh. "I've got a flat tire and I need my brother to come help me out, ok?"
"Yeah, Frannie, sure. I'm leaving now. Where are you?"
oOo
Ray pulled into the grocery store parking lot and spotted the blue Plymouth right away. Frannie was sitting on the curb next to it, wiping at her eyes. She sniffled and cleared her throat as Ray approached. Ray sat down beside her, knees pushed up almost to his chin, and Frannie attempted a smile.
"Hey," Ray said. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. It's just. My brother, he always took care of things. I never learned how to change a tire. I never had to. Ray knew how to change tires and how to replace the flash plugs. Ray would come jump my car and take it to get a new battery, and if I locked my keys in the car, Ray always had my spare. There were things I never bothered to figure out for myself because I didn't have to. I had a brother, and he was always, always there if I needed him. But now…" Frannie bit her lip, and when she continued, she was whispering. "Now he's gone."
Ray put his arm around Frannie's shoulders. "He'll be back."
Frannie sniffled again. "Listen to me. Ray is god-knows-where, and instead of worrying about his safety, I'm complaining that there's no one to come help me with the car."
"I'll come, Frannie. I mean. I'll teach you how to change a tire, if you want. But I'll also come whenever you call."
"Really? "
"Yeah, really. I never had a sister before, but I know how roadside assistance is part of the big brother gig." He squeezed her shoulders again. "Now, let's get this tire changed, ok?"
Ray explained what he was doing as he went, making jokes the whole time. After a few minutes, Frannie was laughing again. Ten minutes later, Ray slammed the trunk shut and wiped his hands on his jeans.
"You're a pretty good grease gorilla."
"Monkey, Frannie. Grease monkey."
"Whatever, you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I get you."
She smiled at him, a wide and genuine grin, and then she slugged him in the arm. "Thanks, bro."
"Anytime."
Ray watched until Frannie was out of sight down the street before getting back in his own car. When he got home that night, he pulled a filebox out of the very back of his closet and opened it up. He dug around in it until he found Vecchio's key ring. When he had first gotten them, he figured the only two he'd need would be the key to the Riv and the one to the house on Octavia. He had no idea what any of rest of them were for, but he added every one of them to his own key ring, just in case.
"I'll take care of them, Vecchio," Ray muttered. "You just do your job and come back in one piece, and I'll do my best here not to let anyone down."
...And now I'm off to knit more on my
imadeathing project. (Ack, just one week left!) Fortunately for me, there's a Top Gear mini-marathon on BBC America, which is my absolute favorite knit-while-watching show. How are you all? What'd I miss?
This entry was originally posted at my dreamwidth. Comments are welcome either place.
Pink for
omens (Flashpoint, team gen)
"But how did it even get there?" squawked Spike. He was contorting in front of a mirror, trying to see the back of his own head.
"Come on, hold still," said Wordy patiently. "You'll make it worse."
"Worse!? What's worse?"
"Well, if you get it tangled badly enough, we'll have to cut it out -"
Spike's hand flew up to protect his hair from Wordy's scissors, accidentally making contact again with the squishy pink lump of gum. "Awwwwwww, yuck!"
He wiped the stringy goo off on his pants, shooting a murderous glance at the rest of the team. Ed was laughing the loudest.
Wordy called Jules over for a second opinion. "What do you think? It's really in there, with the hair matted into it. And look underneath…"
Jules winced. "Ice?"
Wordy sighed. "Yeah. I think that's our best hope. Spike, we're going to try to freeze it out, but you may be looking at a haircut here."
Someone behind them whistled Shave had a hair cut.
"You know, Ed, I really appreciate that, even though you haven't been in danger of this kind of thing happening to you in about 10 years, you are still just brimming with empathy. Good job with the whole connect-respect thing, there."
"You're right, Spike," said Ed with an unrepentant smile. "You wanna take it, Boss?"
"Sure Eddie," said Greg, clearing his throat. "Spike. Let's just slow it down here for a minute and talk. You haven't had the best day, have you buddy? First off, a six year old got the drop on you. Then said six year old lost control of their watermelon bubblicious and you, my friend, paid the price. And now your teammates are threatening to cut it out of your hair. Believe me, I understand the fear of losing your hair. But it doesn't have to be like this, with the tears and the shouting." Greg held up a pair of tactical shears. "It's in your power to end this..."
Spike gulped.
Jules returned with a cup of ice. She fished out a few cubes and held them up to the glob of gum. Her face was about six inches away from his, and Spike looked her directly in the eyes. "Tell me true, Jules. Is it a lost cause?"
Jules bit her lip, eyes swimming with sympathy. She glanced up at Wordy, who nodded. "Yeah, Spike, I don't see a way out of this one."
Spike nodded, resigned, and held his shears out to Wordy. "Cut me, Mick."
Roadside Assistance for
luzula (Due South, RayK & Frannie)
Ray had just settled in for the evening. It was shaping up to be a pretty good one - he had the Hawks game on the tube and his feet on the coffee table. He balanced a Chinese take-out container on his thigh and cracked open a beer. Yeah, life was pretty good. Of course, his phone rang seconds after that.
He mentally ran through some possibilities as he crossed the room. Welsh yelling at him for something Vecchio did. His new partner calling to ask about his nose again. Stella saying she'd made a mistake. Sandor saying he knew Ray cheated on him with Pagoda Dragon. None of them seemed very likely, except the Welsh thing, but it was 8pm and surely not even Welsh would call a man up during a hockey game to yell at him for something he didn't do? Not twice in the same week, at least.
"K-Vecchio," Ray answered, mentally kicking himself. It had been a few weeks already; his cover identity should be seamless.
"…Ray?" said a small feminine voice on the other end. It sounded vaguely familiar.
"Yeah?"
"Ray, it's, um, Frannie. I, uh…" she let out a frustrated sigh. "I've got a flat tire and I need my brother to come help me out, ok?"
"Yeah, Frannie, sure. I'm leaving now. Where are you?"
oOo
Ray pulled into the grocery store parking lot and spotted the blue Plymouth right away. Frannie was sitting on the curb next to it, wiping at her eyes. She sniffled and cleared her throat as Ray approached. Ray sat down beside her, knees pushed up almost to his chin, and Frannie attempted a smile.
"Hey," Ray said. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. It's just. My brother, he always took care of things. I never learned how to change a tire. I never had to. Ray knew how to change tires and how to replace the flash plugs. Ray would come jump my car and take it to get a new battery, and if I locked my keys in the car, Ray always had my spare. There were things I never bothered to figure out for myself because I didn't have to. I had a brother, and he was always, always there if I needed him. But now…" Frannie bit her lip, and when she continued, she was whispering. "Now he's gone."
Ray put his arm around Frannie's shoulders. "He'll be back."
Frannie sniffled again. "Listen to me. Ray is god-knows-where, and instead of worrying about his safety, I'm complaining that there's no one to come help me with the car."
"I'll come, Frannie. I mean. I'll teach you how to change a tire, if you want. But I'll also come whenever you call."
"Really? "
"Yeah, really. I never had a sister before, but I know how roadside assistance is part of the big brother gig." He squeezed her shoulders again. "Now, let's get this tire changed, ok?"
Ray explained what he was doing as he went, making jokes the whole time. After a few minutes, Frannie was laughing again. Ten minutes later, Ray slammed the trunk shut and wiped his hands on his jeans.
"You're a pretty good grease gorilla."
"Monkey, Frannie. Grease monkey."
"Whatever, you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I get you."
She smiled at him, a wide and genuine grin, and then she slugged him in the arm. "Thanks, bro."
"Anytime."
Ray watched until Frannie was out of sight down the street before getting back in his own car. When he got home that night, he pulled a filebox out of the very back of his closet and opened it up. He dug around in it until he found Vecchio's key ring. When he had first gotten them, he figured the only two he'd need would be the key to the Riv and the one to the house on Octavia. He had no idea what any of rest of them were for, but he added every one of them to his own key ring, just in case.
"I'll take care of them, Vecchio," Ray muttered. "You just do your job and come back in one piece, and I'll do my best here not to let anyone down."
...And now I'm off to knit more on my
imadeathing project. (Ack, just one week left!) Fortunately for me, there's a Top Gear mini-marathon on BBC America, which is my absolute favorite knit-while-watching show. How are you all? What'd I miss?
This entry was originally posted at my dreamwidth. Comments are welcome either place.