FICS (Addams Family Values, Doctor Who (9), SG-1)
All for 100fandoms.
#43 'teasing'
Fandom: Addams Family Values
As is traditional, it was a dark and stormy night: perfect for an impromptu picnic. The children had excused themselves from the party after leaving Pubert's presents by his side - both gifts had a Fester-enabled time-delay bit to them, so they were reasonably sure that they wouldn't miss any of the explosions -
"I thought you were going to eat with your new boyfriend," Pugsley said, helping himself to more commandeered party food.
Wednesday raised an eyebrow at that and sat herself primly on the crypt bench. "He's not my boyfriend."
"He came to Pubert's party." That pretty much sealed things in Pugsley's mind - Debbie became Uncle Fester's girlfriend when they went out with Mother and Father, and Joel had gone with Wednesday to Pubert's party. They were practically engaged.
Wednesday's mouth thinned. "Not as my boyfriend."
"I guess. You seem to be glowing, though."
"I am not glowing because I have a boyfriend," She said waspishly and started buttering her bread with vicious determination. "It's the crudités."
*
*
#90 'perfection'
Fandom: Doctor Who (9)
At first, she had been flattered. Well, who wouldn't be? Adam was smart, funny and just as human as she was, but he'd been found wanting. He wasn't the best: she was. That was why she got to go back to the TARDIS and he got to stay on Earth, in his mum's living room.
That was why she got to hold the Doctor's hand, and have him look at her like she was his entire world.
For a while (and she could count the time on her fingers, minute by minute) it had been enough.
It is only later - just before dawn when the Doctor is asleep and she isn't; when the Doctor is busy and she isn't; when the Doctor is planning their next trip and she isn't - it is only later that she touches her palms together and feet it. There: just below the skin, sliding under layers of muscle and sinew, there is… nothing.
Not a single thing.
She had been sure that there was something different about her, something special and exciting and wonderful that made her unique in the Doctor's eyes. But here, in the dark of the TARDIS, the quiet hum of machinery barely audible, she can't bring it back, whatever it was. Only flesh and bone, after all, she thinks dully, and it is terrifying. When he first touched her, palm to palm, she felt something spark between them. It made her jump a little at the time, almost like an electric shock.
But then Mickey, and her mum, and all the aliens and strange people they met were examined by the Doctor's keen blue eyes, looked over and weighed and found wanting.
They weren't good enough.
For one moment - for one brief, intoxicating moment - she thought that it was about her. Rose Tyler: the Chosen One! There was something special about her to make him stop and pause and offer her the TARDIS. She lived with him now, didn't she? No name, no home, no identity, just him: almost human, almost male, almost man, enough to drive her to distraction sometimes. He's almost not there except when he is, and he only ever is with her.
She knows better now. There is no spark beneath her skin. There is no answering call of electricity or - or - magic, or whatever it was. There's nothing but flesh.
She shivers.
Where is Adam now, she wonders? She'd left him - to follow the Doctor, true, but that excuse doesn't wash anymore, not when the TARDIS is happy and humming beneath her fingertips - no, she'd left him with a hole in his head to whatever nasty fate might befall him. She doesn't dare ask what happened to Adam after they left because she's sure, she's certain, she knows that he had a happy life. She knows that he didn't die in some lab somewhere, hooked up to monitors and full of drugs and God knows what else.
When she was little, she used to watch the X-Files on the telly, long after her mum used to tell her to go to bed. Monsters and aliens and government conspiracies and mad scientists in white coats ready to dissect you - oh yes, she knows. She doesn't dare ask, just in case it shakes her certainty with this world.
What had she been thinking of, anyway? The Doctor's remark - small and throwaway - is lodged like a stone in freshly opened skin. In time, she'll absorb it into herself, grow thicker skin and learn to ignore it.
Your boyfriends.
Your boyfriends.
Your. Boyfriends.
Does the Doctor have sex? Is he… do they…
She pushes at the slick metal beneath her fingers and thinks of what it would be like to live outside of time. Does he even age? In a thousand years she will be long dead, just dust beneath his footsteps, and he would… he might…
There is a tremor beneath her fingers, as if the TARDIS can hear the hurt.
At first, it was flattering. Now, once she has had a moment to think, she can't stop the light, almost hiccoughing breaths from escaping. He only takes the best, and she's the best. That's why he chose her. That's why she's here. And that's the only reason he keeps her around.
Like one of those magic-eye pictures her mum used to love, you had to stare long and hard at it to see what was hidden beneath.
A bloody stupid thing, she used to think. Couldn't happen, no, could never happen, and if anyone else thought otherwise, they were deluding themselves. You don't love someone if they do this, this and this; you don't love someone because of some things and not because of others. You don't get to chop them up in little pieces and tag each piece with love or hate or - or - or indifference -
Another hiccough beneath her splayed hands, sharp and distressed, travelling up the length of her entire arm and she bites her lip. There's no time for this, not even here; with the TARDIS beneath her hands, humming something she can almost recognise. She has to dry her eyes and fix her make-up and meet the Doctor in the Control Room in half an hour. They're headed for Paris, a bare three hundred years from now, and she has to be smart and perky and wonderfully human.
*
fin
*
#47 'bed'
Fandom: SG-1
Title: One Native Custom Too Far
"This had better work, Daniel."
"I don't see why it shouldn’t. We'd be following their law to the letter --"
"But not exactly the way they thought we would! I’ve got a bad feeling about this..."
"Hakeena thinks that it’ll work. It’s in keeping with their ritual requirements, but it doesn’t break any of their laws. Besides, would you rather have the alternative?"
O'Neill had to admit that Daniel had a point. The alternative was... not that great. "It’s stupid. We’re not from their world, we don’t fit their ‘requirements’,” his voice was heavy with scorn, “and we still have to go through this. I’m seriously beginning to think that making contact was a bad idea."
"These people provide shelter for the Tok'ra, O'Neill," Teal'c's sombre tones drifted over Jack's shoulder.
O'Neill's look of distaste intensified. {{Great, Teal'c. Fine. Sit with us and watch. We'll get you some popcorn, and you can discover another quaint human custom - you get to watch cheap live porn, and your CO gets to be humiliated in front of his entire team. Sweet.}} "Your point?"
"They could prove valuable allies in our fight against the Goa'uld. You agreed with DanielJackson and CaptainCarter that direct contact would be the best course of action."
Was it just Jack's imagination, or was there a hint of a smirk on Teal'c face?
{{You knew about this!}} A part of him accused, irrational and uncaring in the privacy of his mind. Of course Teal’c hadn’t known. If he had, he would have warned them. But even if his team hadn’t set up this humiliating situation, they seemed to be relishing the humour in it more than Jack appreciated. He just managed to bite back the obscenity that threatened to form in his mind. Now was not the time to lose his temper. His team needed him to be invulnerable to rain, sleet, snow and the gloom of humiliation.
He cast a glance at Daniel, often thought of as the most vulnerable member of the team by outsiders. He continued to surprise them all by all he had withstood. And Jack had been through worse that this, hadn’t he? He could do this. {{I can do this,}} he reminded himself.
"Sir?" Carter, looking up at him with concern and just a trace of amusement. No doubt she thought that Daniel had the worse end of this deal. Jack had to admit that he was rather glad he was on this side of the ‘blessing’ ritual, despite its humiliating parts. He’d tasted some pretty strange things in his life, but this would have taken the cake. {{Taken the biscuit,}} his brain supplied automatically. Great, now he was starting to sound like Daniel in his own head.
Jack groaned mentally as the reason that particular expression had popped into his mind abruptly cleared from the twenty or so years of combat that followed it. So much for the renowned British stiff upper lip. {{I’ve known sailors who’d be grossed out by that.}} And that RAF officer had just grimaced and eaten the biscuit...
{{Urgh. Well, this is a bad time to reminisce.}} Especially since Sam was looking at him strangely. No doubt his face was saying more than he ever could. {{Urgh. Just - urgh. I wonder if Daniel has ever tried that? Oh, man, don’t even think it.}}
"Yeah.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Are we going to do this?" {{And are you gonna watch?}}
"Everything's ready, Hakeena says. You and Daniel can begin any time." She smiled slightly at this. "Um, Teal'c and I will turn our backs, of course..." She offered gallantly, taking in Jack's suddenly panicked look.
“Just close your eyes and think of... uh... Miss America,” Daniel suggested helpfully, eliciting a glare from Jack.
"For crying out loud, Daniel, I don’t need any help in this!” Jack grated, trying without any degree of success whatsoever to keep the pressure from his voice.
Daniel threw a glance back at him over one green-clad shoulder. “You should relax,” he advised, completely ignoring Sam’s smirk and Jack’s thunderous look. “It helps.”
There was the brief urge to bury his head in his hands and quickly beg for mercy from whichever deity he’d managed to piss off. Jack stifled the instinct with no small measure of self-control, and made himself face the ever-smiling Hakeena.
"All right then." He nodded to the alien leader resignedly. She smiled and clapped her hands.
*
#43 'teasing'
Fandom: Addams Family Values
As is traditional, it was a dark and stormy night: perfect for an impromptu picnic. The children had excused themselves from the party after leaving Pubert's presents by his side - both gifts had a Fester-enabled time-delay bit to them, so they were reasonably sure that they wouldn't miss any of the explosions -
"I thought you were going to eat with your new boyfriend," Pugsley said, helping himself to more commandeered party food.
Wednesday raised an eyebrow at that and sat herself primly on the crypt bench. "He's not my boyfriend."
"He came to Pubert's party." That pretty much sealed things in Pugsley's mind - Debbie became Uncle Fester's girlfriend when they went out with Mother and Father, and Joel had gone with Wednesday to Pubert's party. They were practically engaged.
Wednesday's mouth thinned. "Not as my boyfriend."
"I guess. You seem to be glowing, though."
"I am not glowing because I have a boyfriend," She said waspishly and started buttering her bread with vicious determination. "It's the crudités."
*
*
#90 'perfection'
Fandom: Doctor Who (9)
At first, she had been flattered. Well, who wouldn't be? Adam was smart, funny and just as human as she was, but he'd been found wanting. He wasn't the best: she was. That was why she got to go back to the TARDIS and he got to stay on Earth, in his mum's living room.
That was why she got to hold the Doctor's hand, and have him look at her like she was his entire world.
For a while (and she could count the time on her fingers, minute by minute) it had been enough.
It is only later - just before dawn when the Doctor is asleep and she isn't; when the Doctor is busy and she isn't; when the Doctor is planning their next trip and she isn't - it is only later that she touches her palms together and feet it. There: just below the skin, sliding under layers of muscle and sinew, there is… nothing.
Not a single thing.
She had been sure that there was something different about her, something special and exciting and wonderful that made her unique in the Doctor's eyes. But here, in the dark of the TARDIS, the quiet hum of machinery barely audible, she can't bring it back, whatever it was. Only flesh and bone, after all, she thinks dully, and it is terrifying. When he first touched her, palm to palm, she felt something spark between them. It made her jump a little at the time, almost like an electric shock.
But then Mickey, and her mum, and all the aliens and strange people they met were examined by the Doctor's keen blue eyes, looked over and weighed and found wanting.
They weren't good enough.
For one moment - for one brief, intoxicating moment - she thought that it was about her. Rose Tyler: the Chosen One! There was something special about her to make him stop and pause and offer her the TARDIS. She lived with him now, didn't she? No name, no home, no identity, just him: almost human, almost male, almost man, enough to drive her to distraction sometimes. He's almost not there except when he is, and he only ever is with her.
She knows better now. There is no spark beneath her skin. There is no answering call of electricity or - or - magic, or whatever it was. There's nothing but flesh.
She shivers.
Where is Adam now, she wonders? She'd left him - to follow the Doctor, true, but that excuse doesn't wash anymore, not when the TARDIS is happy and humming beneath her fingertips - no, she'd left him with a hole in his head to whatever nasty fate might befall him. She doesn't dare ask what happened to Adam after they left because she's sure, she's certain, she knows that he had a happy life. She knows that he didn't die in some lab somewhere, hooked up to monitors and full of drugs and God knows what else.
When she was little, she used to watch the X-Files on the telly, long after her mum used to tell her to go to bed. Monsters and aliens and government conspiracies and mad scientists in white coats ready to dissect you - oh yes, she knows. She doesn't dare ask, just in case it shakes her certainty with this world.
What had she been thinking of, anyway? The Doctor's remark - small and throwaway - is lodged like a stone in freshly opened skin. In time, she'll absorb it into herself, grow thicker skin and learn to ignore it.
Your boyfriends.
Your boyfriends.
Your. Boyfriends.
Does the Doctor have sex? Is he… do they…
She pushes at the slick metal beneath her fingers and thinks of what it would be like to live outside of time. Does he even age? In a thousand years she will be long dead, just dust beneath his footsteps, and he would… he might…
There is a tremor beneath her fingers, as if the TARDIS can hear the hurt.
At first, it was flattering. Now, once she has had a moment to think, she can't stop the light, almost hiccoughing breaths from escaping. He only takes the best, and she's the best. That's why he chose her. That's why she's here. And that's the only reason he keeps her around.
Like one of those magic-eye pictures her mum used to love, you had to stare long and hard at it to see what was hidden beneath.
A bloody stupid thing, she used to think. Couldn't happen, no, could never happen, and if anyone else thought otherwise, they were deluding themselves. You don't love someone if they do this, this and this; you don't love someone because of some things and not because of others. You don't get to chop them up in little pieces and tag each piece with love or hate or - or - or indifference -
Another hiccough beneath her splayed hands, sharp and distressed, travelling up the length of her entire arm and she bites her lip. There's no time for this, not even here; with the TARDIS beneath her hands, humming something she can almost recognise. She has to dry her eyes and fix her make-up and meet the Doctor in the Control Room in half an hour. They're headed for Paris, a bare three hundred years from now, and she has to be smart and perky and wonderfully human.
*
fin
*
#47 'bed'
Fandom: SG-1
Title: One Native Custom Too Far
"This had better work, Daniel."
"I don't see why it shouldn’t. We'd be following their law to the letter --"
"But not exactly the way they thought we would! I’ve got a bad feeling about this..."
"Hakeena thinks that it’ll work. It’s in keeping with their ritual requirements, but it doesn’t break any of their laws. Besides, would you rather have the alternative?"
O'Neill had to admit that Daniel had a point. The alternative was... not that great. "It’s stupid. We’re not from their world, we don’t fit their ‘requirements’,” his voice was heavy with scorn, “and we still have to go through this. I’m seriously beginning to think that making contact was a bad idea."
"These people provide shelter for the Tok'ra, O'Neill," Teal'c's sombre tones drifted over Jack's shoulder.
O'Neill's look of distaste intensified. {{Great, Teal'c. Fine. Sit with us and watch. We'll get you some popcorn, and you can discover another quaint human custom - you get to watch cheap live porn, and your CO gets to be humiliated in front of his entire team. Sweet.}} "Your point?"
"They could prove valuable allies in our fight against the Goa'uld. You agreed with DanielJackson and CaptainCarter that direct contact would be the best course of action."
Was it just Jack's imagination, or was there a hint of a smirk on Teal'c face?
{{You knew about this!}} A part of him accused, irrational and uncaring in the privacy of his mind. Of course Teal’c hadn’t known. If he had, he would have warned them. But even if his team hadn’t set up this humiliating situation, they seemed to be relishing the humour in it more than Jack appreciated. He just managed to bite back the obscenity that threatened to form in his mind. Now was not the time to lose his temper. His team needed him to be invulnerable to rain, sleet, snow and the gloom of humiliation.
He cast a glance at Daniel, often thought of as the most vulnerable member of the team by outsiders. He continued to surprise them all by all he had withstood. And Jack had been through worse that this, hadn’t he? He could do this. {{I can do this,}} he reminded himself.
"Sir?" Carter, looking up at him with concern and just a trace of amusement. No doubt she thought that Daniel had the worse end of this deal. Jack had to admit that he was rather glad he was on this side of the ‘blessing’ ritual, despite its humiliating parts. He’d tasted some pretty strange things in his life, but this would have taken the cake. {{Taken the biscuit,}} his brain supplied automatically. Great, now he was starting to sound like Daniel in his own head.
Jack groaned mentally as the reason that particular expression had popped into his mind abruptly cleared from the twenty or so years of combat that followed it. So much for the renowned British stiff upper lip. {{I’ve known sailors who’d be grossed out by that.}} And that RAF officer had just grimaced and eaten the biscuit...
{{Urgh. Well, this is a bad time to reminisce.}} Especially since Sam was looking at him strangely. No doubt his face was saying more than he ever could. {{Urgh. Just - urgh. I wonder if Daniel has ever tried that? Oh, man, don’t even think it.}}
"Yeah.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Are we going to do this?" {{And are you gonna watch?}}
"Everything's ready, Hakeena says. You and Daniel can begin any time." She smiled slightly at this. "Um, Teal'c and I will turn our backs, of course..." She offered gallantly, taking in Jack's suddenly panicked look.
“Just close your eyes and think of... uh... Miss America,” Daniel suggested helpfully, eliciting a glare from Jack.
"For crying out loud, Daniel, I don’t need any help in this!” Jack grated, trying without any degree of success whatsoever to keep the pressure from his voice.
Daniel threw a glance back at him over one green-clad shoulder. “You should relax,” he advised, completely ignoring Sam’s smirk and Jack’s thunderous look. “It helps.”
There was the brief urge to bury his head in his hands and quickly beg for mercy from whichever deity he’d managed to piss off. Jack stifled the instinct with no small measure of self-control, and made himself face the ever-smiling Hakeena.
"All right then." He nodded to the alien leader resignedly. She smiled and clapped her hands.
*