Ficlets, as requested...
Shouldn't be any spoilers in any of these. Might be sex and violence and language.
svilleficrecs | Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk:
Apollo was betting against Starbuck.
First mistake.
Dee was across from him, Crash sitting next to her, half-drunk, half-leering. Lee set his bottle of chocolate milk next to the cigarettes he'd won off Gaeta earlier.
Second mistake.
"Well now," Starbuck smirked and considered her cards before setting two pairs of socks into the pile.
Lee smiled.
Third mistake.
"Well, Captain? Call or bet."
The others had dropped out two hands ago, and were just watching the back and forth between Apollo and Starbuck. Dee had twenty credits riding on Starbuck kicking his ass, Crash had bet against her.
"I call." Lee set his last stake into the pot, a lovely little lighter.
Fourth mistake.
Lee laid out his cards, the second highest hand possible, and smirked, "I think this time, you lose, Starbuck."
"Oh, oh, Lee, didn't anyone tell you never to play with the big girls?" She smiles sweetly at him and set her cards down. "Full colors, Captain."
"That's not possible."
Fifth mistake.
"You accusing me of cheating, Apollo?"
"No, I just--"
The Starbuck temper erupted in front of him. "You wanna say that to my face, Captain?"
"Kara," He started.
"Don't Kara me, Lee."
"Fine. I wasn't saying you'd cheated, so stop getting on your high horse."
She considered, then snorted, "I suppose I can let you off. I did win, after all." She began collecting her booty.
"Yeah," Lee muttered as he mournfully eyed the chocolate milk, "You did."
-=-=---------------------------------------------
redstarrobot | Could I have either a Leela/coffee or a Stark/Aeryn, please? (Or a Cally/coffee/Avon?)
"You killed him for *this*?"
Maybe there should have been less disbelief in his tone, Avon decided as he suddenly found himself on the business end of Cally's gun.
"Hand it over." Her tone was cold, her eyes just as flinty, and Avon was suddenly very certain that at any moment he'd find her voice in his mind telling him to do things (he didn't want to consider that he might rather *like* that idea). He handed the mug of coffee over. It was vile stuff, but she seemed to like it.
Considering the dead man at their feet, she really liked it. He watched her take a sip, her eyes fluttering closed and something beatific appearing in her expression.
"Good?" He managed carefully.
"Very." Cally opened her eyes and looked at him. "Good enough I think I'll let you live."
Avon felt compelled to point out the illogic to her, "It's only coffee, Cally."
Her gun came up again. "Very good coffee, Avon. Only available in three places and so expensive you could buy the Liberator five times over if you sold an ounce in the right market."
"And you're drinking it?" New avenues of credit could be useful, after all. And wasting it on simply drinking it smacked of, well, foolishness.
"Yes." She smiled and took another long sip. "Why don't you search his pockets for credits and identification?"
"Fine." Flicking her a look that spoke volumes of 'bored' (he hoped), Avon bent down and searched the man's pockets swiftly, turning up a wallet with fifty credits, five Altairian dollars, and a token for the Megaplex on Tarkin 4. "Now what?"
"I finish my coffee, and we get back to this arms-dealing business you've dragged us into."
Things, Avon reflected as he stood, pocketing the money and watching her scan the area for people coming to kill her for her coffee, had been a lot more tense since Blake had left.
--------------------------------------------
sabaceanbabe | How 'bout Helo and new stash of lollipops?:
"I can't believe--" He grabbed the bag and stared at them, then looked at Sharon. "Where the hell did you get these?"
She tried to smile, but the sentiment didn't really reach her eyes (too tired). "That store we went by, I saw them under the counter, and, I thought of you."
Helo smiled, and pulled one of the lollipops out, "Thank you." He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, then let out a contented sigh. "Doesn't that just hit the frakkin' spot."
"Yes." Something in her turned and twisted at the serene calm on his face (if he only knew the truth). Sharon shoved the feeling down and reached out to touch his cheek. "I thought you'd like them."
He reached out and pulled her to him, snuggling her against his side. "I do. Thanks."
And Sharon fought down the bitter sweetness of the gesture, and balanced on the knife point of human versus Cylon. "You're welcome." She ignored the slightly metallic burr to her voice and closed her eyes. He would find out later, it was inevitable. For now, though, she'd brought him lollipops.
-=---------------------------------------------
antiwesley | Kara/Kara aka Starbuck/Supergirl:
"I think I still prefer a viper."
"Are you sure?"
The wind changes as Kara lazily flips them over and tumbles down and down and down until at the last second she breaks the free-fall and they swoop upwards.
"Very sure." But there's something wistful and envious in Kara's tone as she watches the ground below them. "Besides, honey, I like to be in control."
"I've noticed," Supergirl replies, tilting her head and kissing Starbuck's neck. Her tongue flicks out and she tastes Kara's pulse (too fast, right now, with the adrenaline flowing through them both).
Starbuck wriggles against her, and smirks. "I'm sure you have."
And Kara cuts their jaunt short, suddenly wanting more than wind on her skin.
--------------------------------------------
nakedtoes | Some with Faith interaction from BtVS?:
She doesn't think of it as paying for her sins. That would be trite and indicate that, in some way, she's apologizing to the world for being herself. Faith hates the world, generally. Sometimes she wonders what the hell it ever did for her.
But there's something almost ritualistic about being in jail, doing laundry and sweeping floors and dodging weekly beatings because she doesn't do drugs and refuses to kowtow to whoever the mob leader is that week.
When she's sitting on her bunk cross-legged and staring at nothing, it occurs to her that she misses leather pants. She doesn't miss the men (or women) much, but she misses the pants, and the way they creaked when she moved, and their protection from fingers and floor and walls (being a Slayer meant getting thrown around a lot).
There was always something extra-physical about her fighting. She liked to slam her knuckles into demons and bite things, and sometimes she bled.
B was always a little more clinical, lily-white hands protected from blood and dirt and grime.
Grime is almost always something she's used to, now. They have showers, but being naked isn't the best thing when there are women who will swing brooms at you, and women who will hold you down while the guards look away and they pour bleach down your throat. She's been lucky enough to avoid the latter fate, though she thinks it won't be long before they get lucky.
Or she gets lucky, and some unknown clause breaks her out of jail.
Maybe she'll just get fed up.
Not that she'd have anywhere to go then. Just like she's never had anywhere--so she'll stay here, for now.
It's as good a place as any.
--------------------------------------------
stacyx | Nick fic!!!: (I haven't dug out my notes, and I just TOTALLY STOLE THIS FROM youknowwhere)
"Nick."
Shit. He knew that tone. "Val."
"Nick, where did the curtains my great-aunt Jean gave me disappear to?"
Okay. He could lie, and she'd find out (and she would, she was EVIL like that). Or he could tell the truth. Either way, he figured his ass was pretty much toast. With extra barbecue sauce. "I might've accidentally vacuumed them."
"Vacuumed? Nick, what did you do to the vacuum cleaner?"
Yeah. He was toast. Maybe Bridge would give the eulogy at his funeral. Nah. He'd be too busy laughing still. "Well, I thought it was broken, so I had one of the tech guys--"
"Nick?"
"Yeah, Val?"
"Was the bag full, perhaps?"
"Maybe," he hedged.
"Uh-huh." And she crossed her arms and looked at him.
Damn, but it was unfair that she could look so hot while being pissed at him. Which gave him an idea, "Let's have sex."
Okay. Maybe not the best idea, when she was giving him *that* look. Although at least he thought there was something less pissed in her eyes now. Maybe even a little laughter.
"Or not?"
"You know, Nick," She said, dropping her arms and tilting her head. "I think it's a good thing I like you to much to kill you. Because you know I could get rid of the body, and no one would ever figure it out."
"Yeah." He really wished she hadn't made it a rule he couldn't smoke inside. Being able to chomp on his cigar would have been distracting. "I'm sorry?"
She sighed. "Just don't do it again."
"It's not like I make the same mistakes twice."
"No, and that's just the problem," she muttered. Then she half-smiled. "I take it you're bored again."
"Yep."
"Good. I bought you some yarn, I figured we could learn to knit." She turned away and began rummaging in the bags she'd brought, "We can make every SHIELD agent little matching scarves, sort of a thank-you--"
"Uh, Val? I think I should check on the barbecue." Nick edged towards the door, and the back porch, and the yarn-free zone.
"Oh." She blinked, then shrugged, "All right. I'll just start yours and we can work on it after dinner."
"Uh-huh." And he fled out the door, vowing to himself that he'd distract her enough that she'd forget ALL about the knitting thing. Completely.
Valentina set down the yarn and smirked after her husband. If nothing else, she figured the night would be a lot more interesting now.
--------------------------------------------
timjr | I remember demanding someone write Jayne/Leela fic a bit ago... *coughs* Er, not quite what you were looking for, probably, and you get a side of Cally.
"What the hell are you s'pposed to be?"
"I am Leela, of the Sevateem." Her knife doesn't remove itself from the crease in his throat. "And you?"
"Ah, that would be Jayne, he's harmless, really," Captain Mal says, his tone amused. "Mostly harmless," he amends as Leela flicks a glance at him. "C'mon, now, Jayne, you're harmless, right?"
"Cap'n--" He starts to growl, then stops as the knife bites deeper.
"Interesting." With that one word, she moves, pulling back and way, and sliding the knife back into its sheath while she studies them both once more, then nods.
Jayne figures he's allowed to pull his gun and point it at her.
"Jayne," Mal says, tone warning. "You can't shoot her."
"Aw, please? She pulled a gorram knife on me, Cap'n."
"Uh, yeah, but if you don't let her go, she might let her friend with the gun take your head off."
That's just typical, really. Jayne glares over his shoulder at the other woman standing there in red leather, the rifle held almost negligently to her shoulder, the aim steady. "Well, gorram it!"
"Put your guns on the ground," the brunette suggests calmly.
"I'd listen to the lady," and Mal complies, the gun being carefully set down before he backs away.
"Fine." Jayne yanks the clip out of his pistol, kisses the barrel and sets both down on the dirt before backing away. He carefully skirts Leela, aware that her knife is out again, and the look in her eyes is a mite unfriendly. "Women," he mutters as he comes abreast of Mal.
"Next time, don't be tryin' to touch somethin' without askin'," Mal suggests mildly as the women slowly back way from them.
"It was just a touch, Cap'n."
"A touch that was not requested, nor required," Leela calls to them. Her head tilts, "In my tribe, an unwanted touch can be punishable by death." She drops to one knee, inspecting the weapons, then makes a face, "But I think leaving you these weapons is punishment enough."
"You done having fun?" The other woman asks, her tone slightly bored.
Leela smiles, her teeth flashing, "Yes, Cally, I believe I am."
"Good." The rifle doesn't drop.
"Thank you," Captain Reynolds says, his tone placating, "We really didn't mean to insult you."
"No, I'm sure you didn't." And something in her tone makes the hair on the back of Mal's neck crawl. Jayne just shrugs, ignoring the feeling. He's felt it before, and it usually just means there's a spider back there.
Leela's knife disappears again, and she turns her back to them. A moment later, the two women are gone, striding confidently down the walkway away from the two men. Mal lets out a breath and runs a hand over his face. "That was... interesting."
"That little bitch made me give up my gun." Jayne mutters, dropping to one knee and lovingly picking the weapon up. "Good thing it weren't Vera, or there would have been some fightin'."
"I'm sure," Mal says, his tone long-suffering. "Can we just get the hell to our drop-point and pick up our passengers?"
"Aiigh, Cap'n." The big man stands, smiles goofily. "And then we can find me a whore, right?"
Mal stares at him for a moment, then closes his eyes in resignation. "Should'a let 'er shoot you."
--------------------------------------------
karma_aster AND fallenbelle | Thor and plushies?:
The little grey Asgard frowned (if little grey Asgards could frown) at Dr. Daniel Jackson and tilted his head. "I am afraid I do not understand the use of this." Thor held up the teddy bear.
"Well, on Earth, it's a symbol of childhood, a reassurance that there is something out there that loves you." Daniel took the bear and held it up, smiling, "Plus, it's very cute."
Thor considered this, then nodded, "So I see." He held out his hand. "I believe I will take this back to the new colonies, and perhaps indoctrinate some of the newer Asgard clones into this new idea." He paused, "There is a great need for reassurance amongst those who have faced the replicator threat."
"See?" Daniel smiled, "I knew it would help."
"Indeed. My thanks Daniel Jackson."
"You're welcome, Thor. And, remember, anytime, I can--"
"I remember." Thor tilted his head again. "I shall call you when I need."
"Especially if, y'know--"
"Vala is around." And now, you could almost swear the little grey Asgard was smiling. He moved his little fingers across the control board in front of him, and Daniel disappeared in a flash of light. "I believe," Thor told his ship, "That Vala is good for Daniel Jackson."
The ship couldn't exactly answer, but then, Thor didn't expect it to. He poked at the teddy bear. There were things to do.
------------------------------------
liminalliz | Lee/Kara vs. RC:
"How intriguing."
"Find this intriguing, bitch," Kara fires, then drops back behind her cover.
"I do not find your primitive weapons intriguing," the blonde says, tone haughty. "I merely find this sphere of existence intriguing."
"Gods, do toasters ever not talk?"
"No, Lee, they all prefer proselytizing to action." Starbuck bounces up, and a hand closes around her neck. She fires at the woman, bullets seeming to go through her and accomplish nothing.
"I said they were primitive," Eighth reproves gently, negligently back-handing Lee into the wall. She studies Kara. "Let's see what you can tell me about my new world."
Kara's vision greys as the Cylon's hand reaches out to touch her forehead. "Frak you." She rasps. And then she screams.
The sound pulls Lee from his daze, and he looks up to find the Cylon's hand buried in Kara's head. The sight sickens him. "Let her go!"
"Don't even try, little man, or I will hurt her forever."
"Let her go. Please." He chokes as Kara goes eerily silent, her eyes still open and staring at nothing. "Take me instead. Leave her alone."
"Humans," Eighth says, her tone amused, "You're all so self-sacrificing. It's so ideallistic." She shivers and lets Kara go, the pilot dropping limply to the ground. "But I can't let either of you go. Not until I know everything."
Lee doesn't stand a chance, but gets in one punch that breaks his knuckles, and then her hands (cold) are gliding over his skin, her fingers are going into his brain, and now he's the one screaming.
----f----
svilleficrecs | Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk:
Apollo was betting against Starbuck.
First mistake.
Dee was across from him, Crash sitting next to her, half-drunk, half-leering. Lee set his bottle of chocolate milk next to the cigarettes he'd won off Gaeta earlier.
Second mistake.
"Well now," Starbuck smirked and considered her cards before setting two pairs of socks into the pile.
Lee smiled.
Third mistake.
"Well, Captain? Call or bet."
The others had dropped out two hands ago, and were just watching the back and forth between Apollo and Starbuck. Dee had twenty credits riding on Starbuck kicking his ass, Crash had bet against her.
"I call." Lee set his last stake into the pot, a lovely little lighter.
Fourth mistake.
Lee laid out his cards, the second highest hand possible, and smirked, "I think this time, you lose, Starbuck."
"Oh, oh, Lee, didn't anyone tell you never to play with the big girls?" She smiles sweetly at him and set her cards down. "Full colors, Captain."
"That's not possible."
Fifth mistake.
"You accusing me of cheating, Apollo?"
"No, I just--"
The Starbuck temper erupted in front of him. "You wanna say that to my face, Captain?"
"Kara," He started.
"Don't Kara me, Lee."
"Fine. I wasn't saying you'd cheated, so stop getting on your high horse."
She considered, then snorted, "I suppose I can let you off. I did win, after all." She began collecting her booty.
"Yeah," Lee muttered as he mournfully eyed the chocolate milk, "You did."
-=-=---------------------------------------------
redstarrobot | Could I have either a Leela/coffee or a Stark/Aeryn, please? (Or a Cally/coffee/Avon?)
"You killed him for *this*?"
Maybe there should have been less disbelief in his tone, Avon decided as he suddenly found himself on the business end of Cally's gun.
"Hand it over." Her tone was cold, her eyes just as flinty, and Avon was suddenly very certain that at any moment he'd find her voice in his mind telling him to do things (he didn't want to consider that he might rather *like* that idea). He handed the mug of coffee over. It was vile stuff, but she seemed to like it.
Considering the dead man at their feet, she really liked it. He watched her take a sip, her eyes fluttering closed and something beatific appearing in her expression.
"Good?" He managed carefully.
"Very." Cally opened her eyes and looked at him. "Good enough I think I'll let you live."
Avon felt compelled to point out the illogic to her, "It's only coffee, Cally."
Her gun came up again. "Very good coffee, Avon. Only available in three places and so expensive you could buy the Liberator five times over if you sold an ounce in the right market."
"And you're drinking it?" New avenues of credit could be useful, after all. And wasting it on simply drinking it smacked of, well, foolishness.
"Yes." She smiled and took another long sip. "Why don't you search his pockets for credits and identification?"
"Fine." Flicking her a look that spoke volumes of 'bored' (he hoped), Avon bent down and searched the man's pockets swiftly, turning up a wallet with fifty credits, five Altairian dollars, and a token for the Megaplex on Tarkin 4. "Now what?"
"I finish my coffee, and we get back to this arms-dealing business you've dragged us into."
Things, Avon reflected as he stood, pocketing the money and watching her scan the area for people coming to kill her for her coffee, had been a lot more tense since Blake had left.
--------------------------------------------
sabaceanbabe | How 'bout Helo and new stash of lollipops?:
"I can't believe--" He grabbed the bag and stared at them, then looked at Sharon. "Where the hell did you get these?"
She tried to smile, but the sentiment didn't really reach her eyes (too tired). "That store we went by, I saw them under the counter, and, I thought of you."
Helo smiled, and pulled one of the lollipops out, "Thank you." He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, then let out a contented sigh. "Doesn't that just hit the frakkin' spot."
"Yes." Something in her turned and twisted at the serene calm on his face (if he only knew the truth). Sharon shoved the feeling down and reached out to touch his cheek. "I thought you'd like them."
He reached out and pulled her to him, snuggling her against his side. "I do. Thanks."
And Sharon fought down the bitter sweetness of the gesture, and balanced on the knife point of human versus Cylon. "You're welcome." She ignored the slightly metallic burr to her voice and closed her eyes. He would find out later, it was inevitable. For now, though, she'd brought him lollipops.
-=---------------------------------------------
antiwesley | Kara/Kara aka Starbuck/Supergirl:
"I think I still prefer a viper."
"Are you sure?"
The wind changes as Kara lazily flips them over and tumbles down and down and down until at the last second she breaks the free-fall and they swoop upwards.
"Very sure." But there's something wistful and envious in Kara's tone as she watches the ground below them. "Besides, honey, I like to be in control."
"I've noticed," Supergirl replies, tilting her head and kissing Starbuck's neck. Her tongue flicks out and she tastes Kara's pulse (too fast, right now, with the adrenaline flowing through them both).
Starbuck wriggles against her, and smirks. "I'm sure you have."
And Kara cuts their jaunt short, suddenly wanting more than wind on her skin.
--------------------------------------------
nakedtoes | Some with Faith interaction from BtVS?:
She doesn't think of it as paying for her sins. That would be trite and indicate that, in some way, she's apologizing to the world for being herself. Faith hates the world, generally. Sometimes she wonders what the hell it ever did for her.
But there's something almost ritualistic about being in jail, doing laundry and sweeping floors and dodging weekly beatings because she doesn't do drugs and refuses to kowtow to whoever the mob leader is that week.
When she's sitting on her bunk cross-legged and staring at nothing, it occurs to her that she misses leather pants. She doesn't miss the men (or women) much, but she misses the pants, and the way they creaked when she moved, and their protection from fingers and floor and walls (being a Slayer meant getting thrown around a lot).
There was always something extra-physical about her fighting. She liked to slam her knuckles into demons and bite things, and sometimes she bled.
B was always a little more clinical, lily-white hands protected from blood and dirt and grime.
Grime is almost always something she's used to, now. They have showers, but being naked isn't the best thing when there are women who will swing brooms at you, and women who will hold you down while the guards look away and they pour bleach down your throat. She's been lucky enough to avoid the latter fate, though she thinks it won't be long before they get lucky.
Or she gets lucky, and some unknown clause breaks her out of jail.
Maybe she'll just get fed up.
Not that she'd have anywhere to go then. Just like she's never had anywhere--so she'll stay here, for now.
It's as good a place as any.
--------------------------------------------
stacyx | Nick fic!!!: (I haven't dug out my notes, and I just TOTALLY STOLE THIS FROM youknowwhere)
"Nick."
Shit. He knew that tone. "Val."
"Nick, where did the curtains my great-aunt Jean gave me disappear to?"
Okay. He could lie, and she'd find out (and she would, she was EVIL like that). Or he could tell the truth. Either way, he figured his ass was pretty much toast. With extra barbecue sauce. "I might've accidentally vacuumed them."
"Vacuumed? Nick, what did you do to the vacuum cleaner?"
Yeah. He was toast. Maybe Bridge would give the eulogy at his funeral. Nah. He'd be too busy laughing still. "Well, I thought it was broken, so I had one of the tech guys--"
"Nick?"
"Yeah, Val?"
"Was the bag full, perhaps?"
"Maybe," he hedged.
"Uh-huh." And she crossed her arms and looked at him.
Damn, but it was unfair that she could look so hot while being pissed at him. Which gave him an idea, "Let's have sex."
Okay. Maybe not the best idea, when she was giving him *that* look. Although at least he thought there was something less pissed in her eyes now. Maybe even a little laughter.
"Or not?"
"You know, Nick," She said, dropping her arms and tilting her head. "I think it's a good thing I like you to much to kill you. Because you know I could get rid of the body, and no one would ever figure it out."
"Yeah." He really wished she hadn't made it a rule he couldn't smoke inside. Being able to chomp on his cigar would have been distracting. "I'm sorry?"
She sighed. "Just don't do it again."
"It's not like I make the same mistakes twice."
"No, and that's just the problem," she muttered. Then she half-smiled. "I take it you're bored again."
"Yep."
"Good. I bought you some yarn, I figured we could learn to knit." She turned away and began rummaging in the bags she'd brought, "We can make every SHIELD agent little matching scarves, sort of a thank-you--"
"Uh, Val? I think I should check on the barbecue." Nick edged towards the door, and the back porch, and the yarn-free zone.
"Oh." She blinked, then shrugged, "All right. I'll just start yours and we can work on it after dinner."
"Uh-huh." And he fled out the door, vowing to himself that he'd distract her enough that she'd forget ALL about the knitting thing. Completely.
Valentina set down the yarn and smirked after her husband. If nothing else, she figured the night would be a lot more interesting now.
--------------------------------------------
timjr | I remember demanding someone write Jayne/Leela fic a bit ago... *coughs* Er, not quite what you were looking for, probably, and you get a side of Cally.
"What the hell are you s'pposed to be?"
"I am Leela, of the Sevateem." Her knife doesn't remove itself from the crease in his throat. "And you?"
"Ah, that would be Jayne, he's harmless, really," Captain Mal says, his tone amused. "Mostly harmless," he amends as Leela flicks a glance at him. "C'mon, now, Jayne, you're harmless, right?"
"Cap'n--" He starts to growl, then stops as the knife bites deeper.
"Interesting." With that one word, she moves, pulling back and way, and sliding the knife back into its sheath while she studies them both once more, then nods.
Jayne figures he's allowed to pull his gun and point it at her.
"Jayne," Mal says, tone warning. "You can't shoot her."
"Aw, please? She pulled a gorram knife on me, Cap'n."
"Uh, yeah, but if you don't let her go, she might let her friend with the gun take your head off."
That's just typical, really. Jayne glares over his shoulder at the other woman standing there in red leather, the rifle held almost negligently to her shoulder, the aim steady. "Well, gorram it!"
"Put your guns on the ground," the brunette suggests calmly.
"I'd listen to the lady," and Mal complies, the gun being carefully set down before he backs away.
"Fine." Jayne yanks the clip out of his pistol, kisses the barrel and sets both down on the dirt before backing away. He carefully skirts Leela, aware that her knife is out again, and the look in her eyes is a mite unfriendly. "Women," he mutters as he comes abreast of Mal.
"Next time, don't be tryin' to touch somethin' without askin'," Mal suggests mildly as the women slowly back way from them.
"It was just a touch, Cap'n."
"A touch that was not requested, nor required," Leela calls to them. Her head tilts, "In my tribe, an unwanted touch can be punishable by death." She drops to one knee, inspecting the weapons, then makes a face, "But I think leaving you these weapons is punishment enough."
"You done having fun?" The other woman asks, her tone slightly bored.
Leela smiles, her teeth flashing, "Yes, Cally, I believe I am."
"Good." The rifle doesn't drop.
"Thank you," Captain Reynolds says, his tone placating, "We really didn't mean to insult you."
"No, I'm sure you didn't." And something in her tone makes the hair on the back of Mal's neck crawl. Jayne just shrugs, ignoring the feeling. He's felt it before, and it usually just means there's a spider back there.
Leela's knife disappears again, and she turns her back to them. A moment later, the two women are gone, striding confidently down the walkway away from the two men. Mal lets out a breath and runs a hand over his face. "That was... interesting."
"That little bitch made me give up my gun." Jayne mutters, dropping to one knee and lovingly picking the weapon up. "Good thing it weren't Vera, or there would have been some fightin'."
"I'm sure," Mal says, his tone long-suffering. "Can we just get the hell to our drop-point and pick up our passengers?"
"Aiigh, Cap'n." The big man stands, smiles goofily. "And then we can find me a whore, right?"
Mal stares at him for a moment, then closes his eyes in resignation. "Should'a let 'er shoot you."
--------------------------------------------
karma_aster AND fallenbelle | Thor and plushies?:
The little grey Asgard frowned (if little grey Asgards could frown) at Dr. Daniel Jackson and tilted his head. "I am afraid I do not understand the use of this." Thor held up the teddy bear.
"Well, on Earth, it's a symbol of childhood, a reassurance that there is something out there that loves you." Daniel took the bear and held it up, smiling, "Plus, it's very cute."
Thor considered this, then nodded, "So I see." He held out his hand. "I believe I will take this back to the new colonies, and perhaps indoctrinate some of the newer Asgard clones into this new idea." He paused, "There is a great need for reassurance amongst those who have faced the replicator threat."
"See?" Daniel smiled, "I knew it would help."
"Indeed. My thanks Daniel Jackson."
"You're welcome, Thor. And, remember, anytime, I can--"
"I remember." Thor tilted his head again. "I shall call you when I need."
"Especially if, y'know--"
"Vala is around." And now, you could almost swear the little grey Asgard was smiling. He moved his little fingers across the control board in front of him, and Daniel disappeared in a flash of light. "I believe," Thor told his ship, "That Vala is good for Daniel Jackson."
The ship couldn't exactly answer, but then, Thor didn't expect it to. He poked at the teddy bear. There were things to do.
------------------------------------
liminalliz | Lee/Kara vs. RC:
"How intriguing."
"Find this intriguing, bitch," Kara fires, then drops back behind her cover.
"I do not find your primitive weapons intriguing," the blonde says, tone haughty. "I merely find this sphere of existence intriguing."
"Gods, do toasters ever not talk?"
"No, Lee, they all prefer proselytizing to action." Starbuck bounces up, and a hand closes around her neck. She fires at the woman, bullets seeming to go through her and accomplish nothing.
"I said they were primitive," Eighth reproves gently, negligently back-handing Lee into the wall. She studies Kara. "Let's see what you can tell me about my new world."
Kara's vision greys as the Cylon's hand reaches out to touch her forehead. "Frak you." She rasps. And then she screams.
The sound pulls Lee from his daze, and he looks up to find the Cylon's hand buried in Kara's head. The sight sickens him. "Let her go!"
"Don't even try, little man, or I will hurt her forever."
"Let her go. Please." He chokes as Kara goes eerily silent, her eyes still open and staring at nothing. "Take me instead. Leave her alone."
"Humans," Eighth says, her tone amused, "You're all so self-sacrificing. It's so ideallistic." She shivers and lets Kara go, the pilot dropping limply to the ground. "But I can't let either of you go. Not until I know everything."
Lee doesn't stand a chance, but gets in one punch that breaks his knuckles, and then her hands (cold) are gliding over his skin, her fingers are going into his brain, and now he's the one screaming.
----f----