WIP Meme
When you see this, post an excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
Oh, Christ, this is going to be a long post. I guess I'll break it up by fandom.
DC Comics
(where Zatanna finds out about Kingdom Come and spends time with John)
Zatanna wakes up in an unfamiliar bed that stinks of cigarette smoke and whiskey. There's a warm heat and familiar snoring beside her, though, and she sighs as the night before comes flooding back to her. Big battle in London with lots of magic used that left her too exhausted to make it home, so she'd showed up at John's door and practically collapsed on him from sheer exhaustion. Yeah. (It's times like these she remembers why she still loves him at least a little.)
It's always amazed her how much younger John looks sleeping. (She'd say more innocent but such a thing is hardly possible for him.) She only watches him for maybe a minute before he cracks one eye open at her. "If yer gonna wake me up, luv, th' least you could do is fix us some coffee." Part of her is amused, part offended and part impressed by his reflexes. They've not dulled over the years.
A cup of coffee and bowl of stale cereal later, Zatanna feels nervous-like a schoolgirl at the end of a first date. (She knows he can tell by the way he's smirking, the bastard.) "Thanks, John," she says sincerely. She goes to peck his cheek but he turns his head and steals a kiss on the mouth.
She can't find it in her to be angry, despite that stupid smirk still being on his face. "Be safe." She means it, too.
He pats her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. (It's a surprisingly tender gesture from him.) "Say it backward, luv."
(Batman's would-be friends: Zatanna, Lex Luthor, Dinah Lance & Oliver Queen)
It was just after dusk when she made her presence known to him that night. The hairs on the back of his head prickled, then he heard the distinct clack of her boots echo through the cave. He ignored the sound and her as was his wont to do when he was working on important cases. (And they were all important; he was the Batman, after all.) This was a social call, after all-she always called ahead if it wasn't.
He heard her mutter, "Krow sehtolc yawa," and her footfalls became a more modest slapping sound. Rubber soles, he deduced, still not turning her direction.
If she was turned off by his rudeness, she didn't show it as she sidled up to where he was working. Hair pulled in a high ponytail, black sweater with jeans and ballet flats that Stephanie insisted on telling him about, she looked the picture of comfort leaning against thousands of dollars worth of expensive equipment.
"Don't touch anything," he grunted, eyes still glued to the screen as words scrolled past at an alarming rate.
She grinned, running a hand through his hair in a teasing manner. "Good to see you, too, Bruce," was her pleasant response.
Rolling his eyes, he paused and really looked at her for the first time since her arrival. "What do you want, Zee?" he asked pointedly.
"Nothing!" she told him innocently, holding her hands up. "I just came by to make sure you weren't wasting away."
His expression darkened. "Contrary to popular belief, I can get by without Alfred. He's only been gone for two days, you know."
Harry Potter
(where Scorpius is a cad chasing Lily the professional quiddich player)
Scorpius Malfoy had spent all twenty-one years of his life living down to everyone's expectations. His academic performance had been adequate, his quiddich prowess nothing to write home about and his goals and aspirations practically nonexistent. In fact, the only remarkable thing about him was how incredibly charming he managed to be. (But that was likely a necessity for survival as nearly everyone had held preconceived ideas about what the sole Malfoy heir would-could-should be like.)
In the years following his graduation from Hogwarts, he'd worked for his father doing something or the other. Whatever it was, he somehow managed to spend an inordinate amount of time traveling through Europe, playing the role of spoiled playboy. In fact, the only thing people really seemed to know about the good-looking wizard was that he was a handsome, smooth operating lout. And nearly the spitting image of his father before his hairline began its recession.
It was during one of these grand tours (this time to Vail) that he ran into a group of old school mates. The majority were from the year behind him but, after a couple rounds on his tab, they were all getting on remarkably well. Scorpius held a glass of whiskey (the good stuff) as he sashayed through the crowd. It was simply brilliant being him-he held few cares in the world, fewer responsibilities and had plenty of money to burn. His father wished he could've had the life his son now led.
A few more mates joined the British wizards from some late night outdoor gallivanting. None were familiar but one had the Weasley red hair. "What is it about redheads?" Scorpius wondered aloud, sipping his drink.
(a Rose/Scorpius take on the crappy teen film)
The next day, it was about half seven when the world went tits up. True to the plan, Scorpius Malfoy came over to where Rose Weasley was about to tuck in and said good-morning. The conversation went something like the following:
"'Morning, Rose."
"Hullo, Scorpius."
"So, uh, did you finish the potions essay yet?"
"Almost. Just an inch left to go but I feel like I'm running out of things to say."
"I know what you mean."
"Maybe we could work on it together?"
"Sure. I was thinking about going to the library before dinner."
"I'll meet you there."
"Okay. See you later then."
"'Bye."
With the ruckus that followed at the table, however, they may as well have been declaring passionate love for each other. Rose was quickly bombarded by a variety of comments and questions.
(in which Rose goes from hating to loving Scorpius)
"I can't believe it!" Rose cried, throwing herself onto a couch in the common room.
Albus didn't look up from where he was playing chess with Victor Carmichael, used to her antics by then. When she huffed loudly enough, he threw her a bone. "What happened now?"
Sitting up, she scowled at the lack of attention her best friend was paying her. "I'm second in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said quietly. "I asked Professor Flitwick-I wanted to see if I was on track for my prefect badge. I'm first in all my classes except D-A-D-A."
"Okay, so?" Al prompted, taking Vic's Bishop violently.
"So?" Rose repeated. "So? So, I'm never second! I'm the smartest witch in our class! I can't be second!" She threw herself down against the couch again, moaning. "This is horrible."
Al rolled his eyes and mouthed a, "Be right back," to Vic. Standing, he crossed to Rose and pat her on the back. "First of all, this is not that big of a deal. You're still the smartest witch in our class, regardless of your standing in one class. Secondly, you could always study harder." Here, Rose glared at him. "Or you could ask the student ahead of you for help."
Now Rose avoided his gaze.
"What?" Al asked.
She mumbled something into a cushion.
Nudging her, he frowned. "What is it, Rose?" he pressed.
"It's Scorpius," she mumbled, pouting.
NCIS
(a Kate lives AU)
"What are you doing?" Gibbs asked suddenly, eyes narrowed. He wasn't looking at any one of the agents on his team but, rather, to the right of where McGee was sitting.
There were a myriad of emotions on Tim's face, the most obvious confusion and fear, as he sat with the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear. "Um…" He glanced behind him. "Boss?"
Gibbs waved him off. "Not you, McGee," he said, marching over to the desk beside his. It was hidden by a divider and the three other agents stood to try and get a look. "You."
Kate couldn't see who he was pointing to. Neither could Tony or McGee, apparently, because they both shrugged when she cast questioning looks their direction.
"I have been assigned here," came the accented reply. Three stunned special agents stared at the desk as Mossad Officer Ziva David's head appeared above the divider. "Did Director Shepard not tell you?"
Gibbs frowned. "No."
"I am the new Mossad liaison to NCIS," Ziva explained, holding up a paper that Kate assumed explained her orders. "I am to work directly with several departments, including the major case response team when appropriate."
(Tony-centric angst/TIVA attempt)
For Anthony DiNozzo, losses always come in threes.
He lost his father three times.
The first was when Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. disowned him. It hurt like hell and he just couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. Why was his father punishing him? He tried acting out for attention, he tried being what he thought the old man would want. In the end, he decided it was better to just be who he was going to be and let the chips fall where they may. He couldn't change his namesake, so he wasn't going to let the man change him, either.
The second was when injuries forced him to permanently retire from playing football. He hadn't realized what Coach Wilson was to him until he was gone. Of course the old man was still there but it wasn't the same. Tony was just another student and the Coach had a job to do. Athletes to take care of. It still weighed heavy on him, though.
The third was when Leroy Jethro Gibbs lost his memory. He hated that Gibbs could look at him and not see him anymore. It hurt so much more because the man had chosen to make him part of his family. Team Gibbs wasn't an automatic "in". He'd earned it only to have it snatched away again. As if he really wasn't good enough to have something so fundamental in his life. Even now that Gibbs was back, he still wasn't sure things were the same again. He just… didn't know.
(Tony annoys Ziva cuz he can)
He grinned, slipping his feet from his desk and leaning forward. "What's new with you, Zee-vah Dav-eed?"
Clicking her tongue in irritation, she flicked the ball back at him and returned her gaze to her work. Sometimes the man was so annoying. "Do you not have work to do?"
"I am working," he told her with a smirk. She quirked an eyebrow, smirking, and he held his hands up innocently. "I'm supervising."
He was rewarded with a Gibbs smack to the back of the head. "Get to work, DiNozzo," he ordered before taking a sip of his coffee. "You let me worry about supervising."
(McGee/Abby: first they break, then they fix it)
Finally, Gibbs cleared his throat. All three of his agents looked up warily but it was Tim who he was still staring down. "What did you do, McGee?" came the question he'd been dreading all morning.
Flinching, he looking up at his irate boss. "Nothing, boss," was his sincere answer.
Gibbs did not look sated. "Fix it."
It took every reserve of strength inside of him to stop himself from agreeing then and there. Tim took a breath, then shook his head. "No."
Tony's jaw dropped and he exchanged looks with Ziva. "Dead Probie walking," he muttered to her.
"But he is sitting," she returned, eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Tony rolled his eyes before both returned their attention to the tension filled confrontation.
"Look, I don't care what happened," Gibbs said simply. "I just want you to fix it. Now, McGee." This time it was an order and they both knew it.
"No," Tim repeated, more determined than ever to stand his ground. This was his business-theirs, technically-but not Gibbs'. Not at all.
Gibbs didn't speak for a long moment. Then he headed for the elevator and gestured for Tim to follow.
(Gibbs &co. are criminals sorta like on Leverage but more effed up)
Now: 17.02.2009|Buenos Aires, Argentina|1409 GMT-3
Ziva David, codename Lady Zee, is one of the best assassins on Earth. Mossad-trained practically from birth, she chose to go into business for herself when she learned of her brother's betrayal and subsequently executed him. She is wanted in at least twenty nations, including Israel and the United States, and is known by friend and enemy alike for her cool precision and calm demeanor. Her father and younger sister, Tali, would search the ends of the earth for her, the latter wishing revenge for Ari and the former still dreaming of bringing his middle child home.
Currently Ziva is being paid by unknown sources to assist in staging political upheaval in Argentina. "Have you locked on the target?"
Helping Ziva with her mission is her trusty technophile. Once, he was called Timothy McGee, and he had a bright future ahead of him. While attending MIT, he was set up to take the fall in a gambling circuit that he had nothing to do with. All the evidence incriminated him, though, and not one person believed his story. He was summarily dismissed from the institution and blackballed from attending any other reputable university.
Forced underground (lest he go to trial for a crime he did not commit), he took on the moniker Gemcity and became a world-class hacker in a matter of months. He was number one on the FBI, MI-5 and dozens of other most-wanted lists for compromising their databases. Ziva was paid to assassinate him. Instead, she hired him to assist her in exchange for protection and a share of profits.
Now he goes by the name Thom whenever offline (infrequent as that is). "Working on it."
Today Ziva's target is the U.S. ambassador to Argentina. Those who would stage a revolution first want to dissuade United States interference. "Thom, I need the location. The window is passing."
Pride and Prejudice
(Elisabeth's checking out Pemberly; Darcy's ghost is there.)
Something in his green eyes clicked and the way he was looking at her went from irritating to downright odd. Like he'd just realized she actually had three arms and wasn't sure whether to be fascinated or horrified. After a moment, he seemed to swallow those feelings down and nodded stiffly. "Ah, well, Miss Bennett-"
"Betsy will do just fine," she interrupted pointedly. "Elisabeth if you must. And you are?"
He glanced behind him quickly before looking at her again. "Fitzwilliam."
She quirked an eyebrow. "No, I mean your real name, boyo," she clarified. "I swear, I won't tell the role playing police or whoever you answer to."
"Call me Will, then, if it pleases you," he told her in a slightly irritated voice, lip curled with displeasure.
She got the distinct impression he didn't give two shites what pleased her. But Betsy wasn't thick. Obviously he didn't want to discuss it any further and she didn't feel particularly inclined to push the envelope when he'd caught her in such a compromising situation. "Fine, Will."
(Lizzie and Jane are Danish collegiates; Darcy and Bingly are British exchange students)
Liza grinned, leaning toward Jana. "It seems you have already found an admirer," she murmured into her ear, expression full of laughter as a deep crimson began to set into her sister's cheeks. "Come, you cannot be surprised. You are by far the most beautiful one in the room."
"You look lovely, Liza, and you know it," Jana returned, though she could not seem to clear the red from her cheeks. Liza had to admit that she did look nice, wearing a crisp v-neck collared shirt with a pleated pink and gray plaid skirt, but she was not ashamed to admit she paled next to her sibling.
Charlie sidled up to the pair again, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "They're coming over, ladies!" she whispered excitedly. "It just figures they would be the best looking of the bunch, too." Then she dashed off again, not wanting to ruin the moment.
The redhead appeared to be all but dragging his friend with him, the rest of their party having veered off toward the refreshments table. He stopped right in front of Jana, eyes on her. "Hi, I'm Chase," he greeted eagerly, giving Liza a passing glance so she knew she was included in this conversation. "And this is Liam."
Jana looked nothing short of mortified, her blush spreading down her neck and onto her ears. Liza stepped up for her sister. "Hello, Chase, Liam," she returned, nodding to each in turn. "I am Lee-zah and this is my sister Yah-nah." She pronounced each name slowly, hoping her introduction would save the hassle of mispronunciation later.
"It is nice to meet you," Jana added, finally regaining some of her bearings. "How was your trip to Copenhagen?"
Chase glanced at Liam who scowled. "Long," was all the latter offered, crossing his arms.
(Lizzie gets voicemails from various P&P characters)
Without opening her eyes, Betsy made quick work of the buttons and soon had the robot voice pleasantly informing her she had "five new messages and one saved message.
"First new message: Bets, it's Janie. Just wanted to make sure you got into Derbyshire all right. Give me a call when you get this, okay? You know how I worry. Hugs and kisses! Bye."
That had Betsy smiling as she deleted the message. Sweet Janie was just so cute. No doubt she'd called Charlie and get the whole story about the dead cell phone. Hopefully that would keep her from fretting the night away.
"Next message: Elisabeth, it's Darcy. Where are the Netherfield papers?" She heard mumbling that sounded suspiciously derogatory toward her organization style and scowled. Even from hundreds of miles away, Liam found fault with her. Honestly, maybe he ought to just fire her, she was so inept. "Call me a-s-a-p-I need them for my conference call with the buyer."
She couldn't help but stab at her phone as she deleted that message. Apparently, Janie would have to wait.
"Next message: Elisabeth Bennett!" Betsy cringed from her seat, moving the phone away from her ear. The shrill voice of Fran Bennett was one thing she did not miss about living in Meryton. "How can you be so irresponsible? You have your sister in a fit of worry! And what about my poor nerves-you know how I suffer. You call me, Elisabeth, before years are shaved off my life. Honestly-have you no compassion for your poor mother?" There was a huff and sniff, then-"You know I nag because I love. Be safe, dear."
Star Trek XI
(where Rand goes from yeoman to diplomat)
When Yeoman Janice Rand reads Captain James T. Kirk's file, several phrases strike her as particularly worrisome: has trouble with authority; prone to taking dangerous actions; often fails to abide by rules. And while there is something to be said for serving under a hero, those words remain with her long after she accepts her posting on the Enterprise.
She fears his file might color her first impression of him but, in truth, their meeting is astonishingly mild. Janice introduces herself and explains what she's been assigned to do for him. (In a way that, hopefully, makes it clear she's more than his glorified secretary.)
The Captain watches her with shining blue eyes and an unreadable expression. When she finishes, he nods once and dismisses her. He doesn't ask a single question, doesn't make one remark about her or her credentials-or even her suggested plan of action regarding his bureaucratic responsibilities.
Janice is so stunned that she's already in the turbolift, heading to examine her office, before she realizes what's happened.
(five times Gaila's sex talk shocked Scotty and one time it didn't)
"You know, we should celebrate."
Even exhausted, Scotty found himself smiling in amusement. He didn't think the idea sounded half bad, actually. "Aye, what'd you have in mind?"
Tilting her head, she looked at him. "We could have sex."
He made a strangled noise and promptly bumped his head as he tried to scramble into a sitting position. "What?" He rubbed his head gingerly, eying her somewhat warily.
Gaila's face fell. "Oh… do you not like sex?"
Blinking a few times, Scotty tried to form coherent thoughts. "No, of course, I-" He shook his head, certain his face was flaming. "But it's hardly appropriate! You're my subordinate and we're not-" He gestured wildly between them as if that explains everything.
(where McCoy is in denial over Chapel)
It was safe to say Leonard McCoy disliked her from the start. She wasn't a bad nurse; in fact, she was promoted to Head Nurse in much the same manner that he became Chief Medical Officer during the Narada incident. (A lot of them received their promotions that way, unfortunately.) And rightfully so-she was the best one for the job, if not the most senior.
He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly that annoyed him about the woman so much. She followed the rules and regulations (as much as anyone could with Jim as captain) and was nothing but respectful toward him and the other doctors with her generic responses of: "Yes, Doctor," "Right away, Doctor," and "Will that be all, Doctor?" Not subservient like the archaic times of the past but rather a sort of calm politeness that only a woman with class and dignity could truly pull off.
Christine Chapel was that kind of woman.
And she was something of a looker, if he'd been the type to look. Not exotic like Uhura or the delicate waif type like that yeoman assigned to hold Jim's hand through all the paperwork (R-something) but there was something about her all the same. McCoy was convinced most the men on their boat were half in love with her after she cared for them-quite probably because her bedside manner was some of the best he'd ever seen.
(sequel to Cosmic Jokes, Karmic Retribution & Other Excuses For Life's Little Ironies that covers the semi-epilogue thing of how McCoy & Chapel get together)
They're both panting and covered in sweat. Christine's leaning against the wall, disheveled, while McCoy has dropped into her abandoned chair-pants still unzipped.
Taking a deep breath, she begins to fix herself into something resembling collected… instead of, say, thoroughly fucked. "So that happened." She's not looking him in the eye as she adjusts her skirt. (Her panties are gone-wrecked, actually-and she hopes no one will notice.)
The sound of his pants zipping seems impossibly loud. "Yup."
Christine's fixing her hair now, so she chances a look toward him. "Won't again."
"Sure." McCoy's agreement is halfhearted at best as he uses a hand to comb his hair back into a presentable state.
Her eyes narrow. "I mean it."
He has this smile-it's too easy, too knowing. She wants to wipe it off his face in the most painful way possible. "I know you do, darlin'."
(McCoy/Chapel where they have their TOS age difference)
The first time she sees him it's partway into the fall semester of her second year. Christine's in the not too far out of the way coffee shop where she most often studies (the dorm being too distracting, the library too quiet and the various parks too bright to easily read her PADDs), having found its selection of teas and pastries vastly superior to those on campus. The people there know her, she's been dropping by a few times a week for over a year now, and she knows them. That's what makes his appearance all the more interesting-he's new. Unfamiliar.
There are things that, later, she'll think should have struck her first. This man, he's the textbook definition of tall, dark and handsome with a distinctive Georgia drawl that reminds her of home, just a little. He wears the clean-cut look well, though she thinks he'd look nicer if he'd just smile already. He's a bit older than her (probably mid-twenties?) and wearing a hospital doctor's uniform. The thing that strikes her, though-the thing that makes it hard for her to forget him and has her surreptitiously watching him every time she sees him subsequently-is his eyes. They're so sad. She doesn't think she's ever seen anyone with such sad eyes before.
Christine wonders what happened to him. (Explains why he doesn't smile, though she still thinks it'd suit him.) Sometimes, when she needs a moment's reprieve from studying xenobiology and endocrinology, she makes up stories about what that something might be. Maybe he found his true love but she didn't feel the same way. Maybe he had a family and something terrible happened to them. Maybe he's all alone in this world and no one's ever brave enough to hug him. Maybe he's never felt love and doesn't even realize how sad he is without it. Maybe he has and does.
X-Men Comics
(Dani has dreams about another life, while Sam struggles with some demons)
"No!" she shouts, loud and angry now. "It is not fair! I am not an object to be bought and sold! I am not payment!"
His hand is quick as it strikes her. It is so surprising that she holds her cheek and gapes up at him. "Do not make this any harder than it is, little one." Then he turns away.
She tries to go after him but the white men grab her and begin to drag her away. She kicks and fights with all her strength but there is only one of her and there are three of them. "No!" she screams. "Grandfather, please! Do not let them do this! Grandfather! No!"
He does not turn back.
--------
"No!" Danielle Moonstar bolted up with a shout, beads of perspiration on her forehead. She slouched against her headboard, panting. Great. Of all the nights for her to have one of those dreams, her subconscious (or whatever) had to pick the one before her parents were visiting. That was just perfect.
Shaking her head, she shucked off the covers and stretched. The red numbers on her bedside clock glared mockingly, reminding her that her parents were going to be there at noon. That only gave her three hours to clean and get ready-two and three-quarters if they were early like they always were. Grumbling to herself, she headed to the shower.
(five times Dani left Sam and one time he wouldn't let her)
one.
"Why didn't you tell me you were stayin'?" he asks softly in a tone that she's only recently become accustomed to hearing from him. It makes her heart beat a faster tattoo against her chest and she can feel her cheeks warm, despite her desperate attempts to keep from flushing.
She ducks her chin, keeping her attention focused on brushing Brightwind's mane with her fingers. She doesn't want to deal with this-with him. Not now. It's too much… and she has to be strong. She always has to be strong. (It's kind of her thing.) Soon it will be all she has left.
Her stomach clenches unpleasantly with the realization and she swallows hard. Inside, her fight or flight instincts flare but she buttons down on them. She can't run from him now, not after all they've been through. It wouldn't be fair. And, honestly, she's done enough of that in her short life already. "Because I knew you could convince me not to," she answers finally, knowing she can't avoid it forever and simultaneously wishing she could.
The others are standing not far off, pretending not to eavesdrop as they wait to head back home. She can practically feel their eyes boring holes in the back of her head and it only increases her guilty feelings. (As if she needed more of those.) But they melt away when he gently holds her hand still. Suddenly the world consists only of him and her.
x-posted to my ij
Oh, Christ, this is going to be a long post. I guess I'll break it up by fandom.
DC Comics
(where Zatanna finds out about Kingdom Come and spends time with John)
Zatanna wakes up in an unfamiliar bed that stinks of cigarette smoke and whiskey. There's a warm heat and familiar snoring beside her, though, and she sighs as the night before comes flooding back to her. Big battle in London with lots of magic used that left her too exhausted to make it home, so she'd showed up at John's door and practically collapsed on him from sheer exhaustion. Yeah. (It's times like these she remembers why she still loves him at least a little.)
It's always amazed her how much younger John looks sleeping. (She'd say more innocent but such a thing is hardly possible for him.) She only watches him for maybe a minute before he cracks one eye open at her. "If yer gonna wake me up, luv, th' least you could do is fix us some coffee." Part of her is amused, part offended and part impressed by his reflexes. They've not dulled over the years.
A cup of coffee and bowl of stale cereal later, Zatanna feels nervous-like a schoolgirl at the end of a first date. (She knows he can tell by the way he's smirking, the bastard.) "Thanks, John," she says sincerely. She goes to peck his cheek but he turns his head and steals a kiss on the mouth.
She can't find it in her to be angry, despite that stupid smirk still being on his face. "Be safe." She means it, too.
He pats her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. (It's a surprisingly tender gesture from him.) "Say it backward, luv."
(Batman's would-be friends: Zatanna, Lex Luthor, Dinah Lance & Oliver Queen)
It was just after dusk when she made her presence known to him that night. The hairs on the back of his head prickled, then he heard the distinct clack of her boots echo through the cave. He ignored the sound and her as was his wont to do when he was working on important cases. (And they were all important; he was the Batman, after all.) This was a social call, after all-she always called ahead if it wasn't.
He heard her mutter, "Krow sehtolc yawa," and her footfalls became a more modest slapping sound. Rubber soles, he deduced, still not turning her direction.
If she was turned off by his rudeness, she didn't show it as she sidled up to where he was working. Hair pulled in a high ponytail, black sweater with jeans and ballet flats that Stephanie insisted on telling him about, she looked the picture of comfort leaning against thousands of dollars worth of expensive equipment.
"Don't touch anything," he grunted, eyes still glued to the screen as words scrolled past at an alarming rate.
She grinned, running a hand through his hair in a teasing manner. "Good to see you, too, Bruce," was her pleasant response.
Rolling his eyes, he paused and really looked at her for the first time since her arrival. "What do you want, Zee?" he asked pointedly.
"Nothing!" she told him innocently, holding her hands up. "I just came by to make sure you weren't wasting away."
His expression darkened. "Contrary to popular belief, I can get by without Alfred. He's only been gone for two days, you know."
Harry Potter
(where Scorpius is a cad chasing Lily the professional quiddich player)
Scorpius Malfoy had spent all twenty-one years of his life living down to everyone's expectations. His academic performance had been adequate, his quiddich prowess nothing to write home about and his goals and aspirations practically nonexistent. In fact, the only remarkable thing about him was how incredibly charming he managed to be. (But that was likely a necessity for survival as nearly everyone had held preconceived ideas about what the sole Malfoy heir would-could-should be like.)
In the years following his graduation from Hogwarts, he'd worked for his father doing something or the other. Whatever it was, he somehow managed to spend an inordinate amount of time traveling through Europe, playing the role of spoiled playboy. In fact, the only thing people really seemed to know about the good-looking wizard was that he was a handsome, smooth operating lout. And nearly the spitting image of his father before his hairline began its recession.
It was during one of these grand tours (this time to Vail) that he ran into a group of old school mates. The majority were from the year behind him but, after a couple rounds on his tab, they were all getting on remarkably well. Scorpius held a glass of whiskey (the good stuff) as he sashayed through the crowd. It was simply brilliant being him-he held few cares in the world, fewer responsibilities and had plenty of money to burn. His father wished he could've had the life his son now led.
A few more mates joined the British wizards from some late night outdoor gallivanting. None were familiar but one had the Weasley red hair. "What is it about redheads?" Scorpius wondered aloud, sipping his drink.
(a Rose/Scorpius take on the crappy teen film)
The next day, it was about half seven when the world went tits up. True to the plan, Scorpius Malfoy came over to where Rose Weasley was about to tuck in and said good-morning. The conversation went something like the following:
"'Morning, Rose."
"Hullo, Scorpius."
"So, uh, did you finish the potions essay yet?"
"Almost. Just an inch left to go but I feel like I'm running out of things to say."
"I know what you mean."
"Maybe we could work on it together?"
"Sure. I was thinking about going to the library before dinner."
"I'll meet you there."
"Okay. See you later then."
"'Bye."
With the ruckus that followed at the table, however, they may as well have been declaring passionate love for each other. Rose was quickly bombarded by a variety of comments and questions.
(in which Rose goes from hating to loving Scorpius)
"I can't believe it!" Rose cried, throwing herself onto a couch in the common room.
Albus didn't look up from where he was playing chess with Victor Carmichael, used to her antics by then. When she huffed loudly enough, he threw her a bone. "What happened now?"
Sitting up, she scowled at the lack of attention her best friend was paying her. "I'm second in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said quietly. "I asked Professor Flitwick-I wanted to see if I was on track for my prefect badge. I'm first in all my classes except D-A-D-A."
"Okay, so?" Al prompted, taking Vic's Bishop violently.
"So?" Rose repeated. "So? So, I'm never second! I'm the smartest witch in our class! I can't be second!" She threw herself down against the couch again, moaning. "This is horrible."
Al rolled his eyes and mouthed a, "Be right back," to Vic. Standing, he crossed to Rose and pat her on the back. "First of all, this is not that big of a deal. You're still the smartest witch in our class, regardless of your standing in one class. Secondly, you could always study harder." Here, Rose glared at him. "Or you could ask the student ahead of you for help."
Now Rose avoided his gaze.
"What?" Al asked.
She mumbled something into a cushion.
Nudging her, he frowned. "What is it, Rose?" he pressed.
"It's Scorpius," she mumbled, pouting.
NCIS
(a Kate lives AU)
"What are you doing?" Gibbs asked suddenly, eyes narrowed. He wasn't looking at any one of the agents on his team but, rather, to the right of where McGee was sitting.
There were a myriad of emotions on Tim's face, the most obvious confusion and fear, as he sat with the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear. "Um…" He glanced behind him. "Boss?"
Gibbs waved him off. "Not you, McGee," he said, marching over to the desk beside his. It was hidden by a divider and the three other agents stood to try and get a look. "You."
Kate couldn't see who he was pointing to. Neither could Tony or McGee, apparently, because they both shrugged when she cast questioning looks their direction.
"I have been assigned here," came the accented reply. Three stunned special agents stared at the desk as Mossad Officer Ziva David's head appeared above the divider. "Did Director Shepard not tell you?"
Gibbs frowned. "No."
"I am the new Mossad liaison to NCIS," Ziva explained, holding up a paper that Kate assumed explained her orders. "I am to work directly with several departments, including the major case response team when appropriate."
(Tony-centric angst/TIVA attempt)
For Anthony DiNozzo, losses always come in threes.
He lost his father three times.
The first was when Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. disowned him. It hurt like hell and he just couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. Why was his father punishing him? He tried acting out for attention, he tried being what he thought the old man would want. In the end, he decided it was better to just be who he was going to be and let the chips fall where they may. He couldn't change his namesake, so he wasn't going to let the man change him, either.
The second was when injuries forced him to permanently retire from playing football. He hadn't realized what Coach Wilson was to him until he was gone. Of course the old man was still there but it wasn't the same. Tony was just another student and the Coach had a job to do. Athletes to take care of. It still weighed heavy on him, though.
The third was when Leroy Jethro Gibbs lost his memory. He hated that Gibbs could look at him and not see him anymore. It hurt so much more because the man had chosen to make him part of his family. Team Gibbs wasn't an automatic "in". He'd earned it only to have it snatched away again. As if he really wasn't good enough to have something so fundamental in his life. Even now that Gibbs was back, he still wasn't sure things were the same again. He just… didn't know.
(Tony annoys Ziva cuz he can)
He grinned, slipping his feet from his desk and leaning forward. "What's new with you, Zee-vah Dav-eed?"
Clicking her tongue in irritation, she flicked the ball back at him and returned her gaze to her work. Sometimes the man was so annoying. "Do you not have work to do?"
"I am working," he told her with a smirk. She quirked an eyebrow, smirking, and he held his hands up innocently. "I'm supervising."
He was rewarded with a Gibbs smack to the back of the head. "Get to work, DiNozzo," he ordered before taking a sip of his coffee. "You let me worry about supervising."
(McGee/Abby: first they break, then they fix it)
Finally, Gibbs cleared his throat. All three of his agents looked up warily but it was Tim who he was still staring down. "What did you do, McGee?" came the question he'd been dreading all morning.
Flinching, he looking up at his irate boss. "Nothing, boss," was his sincere answer.
Gibbs did not look sated. "Fix it."
It took every reserve of strength inside of him to stop himself from agreeing then and there. Tim took a breath, then shook his head. "No."
Tony's jaw dropped and he exchanged looks with Ziva. "Dead Probie walking," he muttered to her.
"But he is sitting," she returned, eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Tony rolled his eyes before both returned their attention to the tension filled confrontation.
"Look, I don't care what happened," Gibbs said simply. "I just want you to fix it. Now, McGee." This time it was an order and they both knew it.
"No," Tim repeated, more determined than ever to stand his ground. This was his business-theirs, technically-but not Gibbs'. Not at all.
Gibbs didn't speak for a long moment. Then he headed for the elevator and gestured for Tim to follow.
(Gibbs &co. are criminals sorta like on Leverage but more effed up)
Now: 17.02.2009|Buenos Aires, Argentina|1409 GMT-3
Ziva David, codename Lady Zee, is one of the best assassins on Earth. Mossad-trained practically from birth, she chose to go into business for herself when she learned of her brother's betrayal and subsequently executed him. She is wanted in at least twenty nations, including Israel and the United States, and is known by friend and enemy alike for her cool precision and calm demeanor. Her father and younger sister, Tali, would search the ends of the earth for her, the latter wishing revenge for Ari and the former still dreaming of bringing his middle child home.
Currently Ziva is being paid by unknown sources to assist in staging political upheaval in Argentina. "Have you locked on the target?"
Helping Ziva with her mission is her trusty technophile. Once, he was called Timothy McGee, and he had a bright future ahead of him. While attending MIT, he was set up to take the fall in a gambling circuit that he had nothing to do with. All the evidence incriminated him, though, and not one person believed his story. He was summarily dismissed from the institution and blackballed from attending any other reputable university.
Forced underground (lest he go to trial for a crime he did not commit), he took on the moniker Gemcity and became a world-class hacker in a matter of months. He was number one on the FBI, MI-5 and dozens of other most-wanted lists for compromising their databases. Ziva was paid to assassinate him. Instead, she hired him to assist her in exchange for protection and a share of profits.
Now he goes by the name Thom whenever offline (infrequent as that is). "Working on it."
Today Ziva's target is the U.S. ambassador to Argentina. Those who would stage a revolution first want to dissuade United States interference. "Thom, I need the location. The window is passing."
Pride and Prejudice
(Elisabeth's checking out Pemberly; Darcy's ghost is there.)
Something in his green eyes clicked and the way he was looking at her went from irritating to downright odd. Like he'd just realized she actually had three arms and wasn't sure whether to be fascinated or horrified. After a moment, he seemed to swallow those feelings down and nodded stiffly. "Ah, well, Miss Bennett-"
"Betsy will do just fine," she interrupted pointedly. "Elisabeth if you must. And you are?"
He glanced behind him quickly before looking at her again. "Fitzwilliam."
She quirked an eyebrow. "No, I mean your real name, boyo," she clarified. "I swear, I won't tell the role playing police or whoever you answer to."
"Call me Will, then, if it pleases you," he told her in a slightly irritated voice, lip curled with displeasure.
She got the distinct impression he didn't give two shites what pleased her. But Betsy wasn't thick. Obviously he didn't want to discuss it any further and she didn't feel particularly inclined to push the envelope when he'd caught her in such a compromising situation. "Fine, Will."
(Lizzie and Jane are Danish collegiates; Darcy and Bingly are British exchange students)
Liza grinned, leaning toward Jana. "It seems you have already found an admirer," she murmured into her ear, expression full of laughter as a deep crimson began to set into her sister's cheeks. "Come, you cannot be surprised. You are by far the most beautiful one in the room."
"You look lovely, Liza, and you know it," Jana returned, though she could not seem to clear the red from her cheeks. Liza had to admit that she did look nice, wearing a crisp v-neck collared shirt with a pleated pink and gray plaid skirt, but she was not ashamed to admit she paled next to her sibling.
Charlie sidled up to the pair again, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "They're coming over, ladies!" she whispered excitedly. "It just figures they would be the best looking of the bunch, too." Then she dashed off again, not wanting to ruin the moment.
The redhead appeared to be all but dragging his friend with him, the rest of their party having veered off toward the refreshments table. He stopped right in front of Jana, eyes on her. "Hi, I'm Chase," he greeted eagerly, giving Liza a passing glance so she knew she was included in this conversation. "And this is Liam."
Jana looked nothing short of mortified, her blush spreading down her neck and onto her ears. Liza stepped up for her sister. "Hello, Chase, Liam," she returned, nodding to each in turn. "I am Lee-zah and this is my sister Yah-nah." She pronounced each name slowly, hoping her introduction would save the hassle of mispronunciation later.
"It is nice to meet you," Jana added, finally regaining some of her bearings. "How was your trip to Copenhagen?"
Chase glanced at Liam who scowled. "Long," was all the latter offered, crossing his arms.
(Lizzie gets voicemails from various P&P characters)
Without opening her eyes, Betsy made quick work of the buttons and soon had the robot voice pleasantly informing her she had "five new messages and one saved message.
"First new message: Bets, it's Janie. Just wanted to make sure you got into Derbyshire all right. Give me a call when you get this, okay? You know how I worry. Hugs and kisses! Bye."
That had Betsy smiling as she deleted the message. Sweet Janie was just so cute. No doubt she'd called Charlie and get the whole story about the dead cell phone. Hopefully that would keep her from fretting the night away.
"Next message: Elisabeth, it's Darcy. Where are the Netherfield papers?" She heard mumbling that sounded suspiciously derogatory toward her organization style and scowled. Even from hundreds of miles away, Liam found fault with her. Honestly, maybe he ought to just fire her, she was so inept. "Call me a-s-a-p-I need them for my conference call with the buyer."
She couldn't help but stab at her phone as she deleted that message. Apparently, Janie would have to wait.
"Next message: Elisabeth Bennett!" Betsy cringed from her seat, moving the phone away from her ear. The shrill voice of Fran Bennett was one thing she did not miss about living in Meryton. "How can you be so irresponsible? You have your sister in a fit of worry! And what about my poor nerves-you know how I suffer. You call me, Elisabeth, before years are shaved off my life. Honestly-have you no compassion for your poor mother?" There was a huff and sniff, then-"You know I nag because I love. Be safe, dear."
Star Trek XI
(where Rand goes from yeoman to diplomat)
When Yeoman Janice Rand reads Captain James T. Kirk's file, several phrases strike her as particularly worrisome: has trouble with authority; prone to taking dangerous actions; often fails to abide by rules. And while there is something to be said for serving under a hero, those words remain with her long after she accepts her posting on the Enterprise.
She fears his file might color her first impression of him but, in truth, their meeting is astonishingly mild. Janice introduces herself and explains what she's been assigned to do for him. (In a way that, hopefully, makes it clear she's more than his glorified secretary.)
The Captain watches her with shining blue eyes and an unreadable expression. When she finishes, he nods once and dismisses her. He doesn't ask a single question, doesn't make one remark about her or her credentials-or even her suggested plan of action regarding his bureaucratic responsibilities.
Janice is so stunned that she's already in the turbolift, heading to examine her office, before she realizes what's happened.
(five times Gaila's sex talk shocked Scotty and one time it didn't)
"You know, we should celebrate."
Even exhausted, Scotty found himself smiling in amusement. He didn't think the idea sounded half bad, actually. "Aye, what'd you have in mind?"
Tilting her head, she looked at him. "We could have sex."
He made a strangled noise and promptly bumped his head as he tried to scramble into a sitting position. "What?" He rubbed his head gingerly, eying her somewhat warily.
Gaila's face fell. "Oh… do you not like sex?"
Blinking a few times, Scotty tried to form coherent thoughts. "No, of course, I-" He shook his head, certain his face was flaming. "But it's hardly appropriate! You're my subordinate and we're not-" He gestured wildly between them as if that explains everything.
(where McCoy is in denial over Chapel)
It was safe to say Leonard McCoy disliked her from the start. She wasn't a bad nurse; in fact, she was promoted to Head Nurse in much the same manner that he became Chief Medical Officer during the Narada incident. (A lot of them received their promotions that way, unfortunately.) And rightfully so-she was the best one for the job, if not the most senior.
He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly that annoyed him about the woman so much. She followed the rules and regulations (as much as anyone could with Jim as captain) and was nothing but respectful toward him and the other doctors with her generic responses of: "Yes, Doctor," "Right away, Doctor," and "Will that be all, Doctor?" Not subservient like the archaic times of the past but rather a sort of calm politeness that only a woman with class and dignity could truly pull off.
Christine Chapel was that kind of woman.
And she was something of a looker, if he'd been the type to look. Not exotic like Uhura or the delicate waif type like that yeoman assigned to hold Jim's hand through all the paperwork (R-something) but there was something about her all the same. McCoy was convinced most the men on their boat were half in love with her after she cared for them-quite probably because her bedside manner was some of the best he'd ever seen.
(sequel to Cosmic Jokes, Karmic Retribution & Other Excuses For Life's Little Ironies that covers the semi-epilogue thing of how McCoy & Chapel get together)
They're both panting and covered in sweat. Christine's leaning against the wall, disheveled, while McCoy has dropped into her abandoned chair-pants still unzipped.
Taking a deep breath, she begins to fix herself into something resembling collected… instead of, say, thoroughly fucked. "So that happened." She's not looking him in the eye as she adjusts her skirt. (Her panties are gone-wrecked, actually-and she hopes no one will notice.)
The sound of his pants zipping seems impossibly loud. "Yup."
Christine's fixing her hair now, so she chances a look toward him. "Won't again."
"Sure." McCoy's agreement is halfhearted at best as he uses a hand to comb his hair back into a presentable state.
Her eyes narrow. "I mean it."
He has this smile-it's too easy, too knowing. She wants to wipe it off his face in the most painful way possible. "I know you do, darlin'."
(McCoy/Chapel where they have their TOS age difference)
The first time she sees him it's partway into the fall semester of her second year. Christine's in the not too far out of the way coffee shop where she most often studies (the dorm being too distracting, the library too quiet and the various parks too bright to easily read her PADDs), having found its selection of teas and pastries vastly superior to those on campus. The people there know her, she's been dropping by a few times a week for over a year now, and she knows them. That's what makes his appearance all the more interesting-he's new. Unfamiliar.
There are things that, later, she'll think should have struck her first. This man, he's the textbook definition of tall, dark and handsome with a distinctive Georgia drawl that reminds her of home, just a little. He wears the clean-cut look well, though she thinks he'd look nicer if he'd just smile already. He's a bit older than her (probably mid-twenties?) and wearing a hospital doctor's uniform. The thing that strikes her, though-the thing that makes it hard for her to forget him and has her surreptitiously watching him every time she sees him subsequently-is his eyes. They're so sad. She doesn't think she's ever seen anyone with such sad eyes before.
Christine wonders what happened to him. (Explains why he doesn't smile, though she still thinks it'd suit him.) Sometimes, when she needs a moment's reprieve from studying xenobiology and endocrinology, she makes up stories about what that something might be. Maybe he found his true love but she didn't feel the same way. Maybe he had a family and something terrible happened to them. Maybe he's all alone in this world and no one's ever brave enough to hug him. Maybe he's never felt love and doesn't even realize how sad he is without it. Maybe he has and does.
X-Men Comics
(Dani has dreams about another life, while Sam struggles with some demons)
"No!" she shouts, loud and angry now. "It is not fair! I am not an object to be bought and sold! I am not payment!"
His hand is quick as it strikes her. It is so surprising that she holds her cheek and gapes up at him. "Do not make this any harder than it is, little one." Then he turns away.
She tries to go after him but the white men grab her and begin to drag her away. She kicks and fights with all her strength but there is only one of her and there are three of them. "No!" she screams. "Grandfather, please! Do not let them do this! Grandfather! No!"
He does not turn back.
--------
"No!" Danielle Moonstar bolted up with a shout, beads of perspiration on her forehead. She slouched against her headboard, panting. Great. Of all the nights for her to have one of those dreams, her subconscious (or whatever) had to pick the one before her parents were visiting. That was just perfect.
Shaking her head, she shucked off the covers and stretched. The red numbers on her bedside clock glared mockingly, reminding her that her parents were going to be there at noon. That only gave her three hours to clean and get ready-two and three-quarters if they were early like they always were. Grumbling to herself, she headed to the shower.
(five times Dani left Sam and one time he wouldn't let her)
one.
"Why didn't you tell me you were stayin'?" he asks softly in a tone that she's only recently become accustomed to hearing from him. It makes her heart beat a faster tattoo against her chest and she can feel her cheeks warm, despite her desperate attempts to keep from flushing.
She ducks her chin, keeping her attention focused on brushing Brightwind's mane with her fingers. She doesn't want to deal with this-with him. Not now. It's too much… and she has to be strong. She always has to be strong. (It's kind of her thing.) Soon it will be all she has left.
Her stomach clenches unpleasantly with the realization and she swallows hard. Inside, her fight or flight instincts flare but she buttons down on them. She can't run from him now, not after all they've been through. It wouldn't be fair. And, honestly, she's done enough of that in her short life already. "Because I knew you could convince me not to," she answers finally, knowing she can't avoid it forever and simultaneously wishing she could.
The others are standing not far off, pretending not to eavesdrop as they wait to head back home. She can practically feel their eyes boring holes in the back of her head and it only increases her guilty feelings. (As if she needed more of those.) But they melt away when he gently holds her hand still. Suddenly the world consists only of him and her.
x-posted to my ij