[OOC] Writing Meme

[lionofmanc]

Stolen from most of Gene's flist, at this point:

Comment here, with any of your characters and any of my characters (mouseover for journal names), and I will write you a fic. Specifically, I will write you a fic wherein they have OFFSPRING - accidental, surrogate'd, adopted, completely clueless, whatever.

FOAR GRATE LULZ. Or just, y'know, crack.

Comments

[lionofmanc]

{{Playing off Beka's fic, in REALLY HORRIBLE WAYS. Quick and dirty and really obviously unbetaed.}}

It took the better part of a year before they could talk about Annie -- the better part of a year in which Sam was shell-shocked, and Gene drank (far away from Maya, of course... he wouldn't turn into his dad, not now or ever), and Maya herself grew increasingly sullen, rebellion in her eyes and strange bits of metal embedded in her skin like she wanted to set off every bleeding metal detector she passed.

He'd made a promise while Annie bled out on the ground between him and Sam, while he clutched at a pale and bloody hand and Sam pressed his hands to Annie's chest as though he could hold all the blood in himself. Every nightmare he'd ever had was reaching up from hell itself to wrap icy fingers around his brain, and he'd tried to avoid saying it at first, told her she'd be fine, but she gripped his hand and made him swear he would, and that was that.

He had to look after a girl he'd had no part in raising, had to be a father when his own made even the most dysfunctional father/child relationships look cheery by comparison.

Not like it mattered -- not like he could claim the title of 'Dad', anyway. That was all Sam, though a fat lot of good he did when half the time he looked at the girl and saw someone she wasn't, someone dead and gone.

Still, he had to do something, even if all he knew was how to shout at her when he caught her stealing his smokes, how to get her to school day in and day out, despite her best attempts at skiving off, how to glower disapprovingly at whatever bit of industrial hardware she'd chosen to shove through unsuspecting body parts this week.

He was no kind of father, that much he knew, but he tried.

The better part of a year passed with Maya slipping away from them both, until the night she'd found one of the flasks he'd secreted about the house, and he caught her with it raised to her lips, and that, that was one slight too many, every previous subversion of his authority boiling over into one giant mass in his brain. There were things Gene Sodding Hunt wouldn't put up with under his own roof, and that was just about number one on the list... Someone had to put some discipline into the little slag, and if it wasn't going to be Tyler, it was damn well going to be him.

"You thieving little..." The words came out in a snarl that was only barely human, and the world vanished in a haze as he crossed the room, one hand snatching the flask from her, and the other...

The other was caught, mid-strike.

"You want to hit something, Hunt?" Sam standing there, his eyes clear and bright for once, full of protective fury, his hand gripping Gene's wrist with all the strength of the nutter he was. "Because if you do, I'm right here."