Ten little fics that I once knew, fat ones, skinny ones, fair ones, too...
So, here are nine little ficlets requested by friends, and one just for me. They’re all short-mostly between one and five hundred words; the longest is 593 and the shortest is 119. None are rated above PG. Mostly they’re happy little fluff pieces, because I was in an awesome mood and wanted to share my joy. :) In the header for each is the fandom and characters, as well as the prompt word. I didn’t always succeed in following the prompt all that well, though. Not very well proofed, so if you spot a typo let me know. Most of these were written in fifteen minutes to a half hour, in the comment box, then posted immediately, like a good commentfic should be.
Jedi Apprentice: Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan; safe
For archaeologist_d
"Do you really think this is going to work?" Obi-Wan whispered, trying not to fidget.
Qui-Gon pressed a finger to his lips, one ear still pressed against the metal box. "It will if I am not constantly interrupted. Keep a look out, Padawan."
Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped, and he went back to his post at the door, stretching his senses out into the hall. He felt utterly twitchy, as if there were bugs under his robes. We're not doing anything wrong, he reminded himself, echoing Qui-Gon's earlier words in his head. Sometimes we must use unorthodox methods to obtain the truth.
Still, it just felt so wrong, knowing that if one of the planetary constables stumbled upon them right now, they would be seen as enemies, not allies. He and Master Qui-Gon were even wearing dark clothes to blend into the darkness, and it was weird.
A final click, and the door of the safe swung open on silent hinges. Qui-Gon grinned, a broad flash of white in the dim light of the governor's office, and scooped up the datacards inside. "All right, we can go now. This should be all the proof we need."
Obi-Wan sighed in relief. They moved quickly but silently to the window and slid down the grappling line to the grass beneath.
"Master, I think you enjoyed that," he said, faintly scandalized.
Qui-Gon's chuckle was low and warm in the darkness, and Obi-Wan couldn't help it. He smiled back.
Star Wars: Jaina/Kyp Durron; puppy eyes
For tahirire
The crackle-hiss of lightsabers echoed off the walls of the cargo bay, rebounding until the sounds of their sparring covered even their soft, breathless panting. Kyp leaped and spun, fiercely proud of the burn of his muscles, the intense light of the Force filling every bone and sinew. He had fought long and hard to obtain this, and it had been worth the struggle.
Jaina grinned back at him, feeling his joy, eyes bright in the flickering light of their 'sabers. Her own pleasure in the fight met his, magnifying it. A meeting of souls, quick and hot, no barriers between them.
"Hah!" A flick of the wrist, and Jaina caught him badly, sent his lightsaber spinning away, automatically shutting off as it left his hand.
Kyp grunted and fell to his knees in mock surrender, half teasing, half truly upset at his loss. She still beat him three times out of four, but he had thought that he'd had her this time.
"Again?" Jaina asked, staring at him with her big brown eyes, pleading.
And Sithspawn, he never could resist those eyes. It was so unfair.
"Again." He nodded agreement, and went to fetch his lightsaber.
Numb3rs: wee!Eppeses; carousel
For rinkle
"I wanna go again!"
Don frowned down at his mop-headed little brother, watching him bounce from foot to foot. He was utterly confused.
"Why? Is it because of fractals? Or because you haven't finished calculating the mean speed from the start of the ride to the finish? Does centripetal force have something to do with it?"
"No! I wanna go again because riding the horses is fun!"
Charlie grabbed Don's hand and started pulling him back toward the end of the line for the carousel. Don let himself be dragged, listening to the tinkly music, smelling popcorn and cotton candy.
Sometimes he forgot that his genius brother was still only eight years old. It was cool to be reminded.
Dexter/Stargate SG-1: Dexter, Ba’al; meet
For sulien77
I saw him on the evening news, a businessman in a tailored suit. They said he had come to Miami to look at waterfront property. Everyone seemed to think this was a good thing. I thought I felt a thrill of recognition, but let it pass me by.
I saw him again at a crime scene, one of mine, where the blood had fallen like rain. He was standing to the side, just a passerby, but I met his eye for a moment. A chill went through me, despite the golden Florida sun already sticking my shirt to my back. I knew then that this was a man who had killed, a Hitler or a Pol Pot. I had no proof, but I knew I would find it.
The strangest thing was that I thought I saw his eyes flash, for a second as golden as the sun above. It made no sense, but I've learned not to ignore these little signs. It meant something. I was going to find out what.
The next day on the news, they said that he had gone back to his home city without buying anything. The city planners seemed disappointed, and I was, too. Not my city, not my problem.
Perhaps someday I will have the freedom to travel the country in search of my prey, but not now. I am a creature of Miami, and these are my hunting grounds, my land to protect.
Perhaps someday, you businessman, in your three-piece suit, with your golden eyes. Perhaps someday.
Stargate SG-1: Sam, Teal’c; flying
For aurora_novarum
Damn it, you knew that a mission briefing had been going on for far too long when even Sam was bored.
The Colonel's eyes had glazed over long ago, General Hammond kept his eyes fixed on the screen in a way that clearly said, "If I glance away for even a second, I will fall asleep," and Daniel...
Daniel just kept talking.
Sam tried to listen. She really did. But there was a certain point when even Daniel's unquenchable enthusiasm for all things archaic couldn't quite make it interesting.
Still, it was an utter surprise when the paper airplane hit her on the head, then bounced down into her lap.
It had happened during a brief moment when Daniel was turned toward the screen, gesturing effusively at some glyphs, so he hadn't noticed. Sam stared wide-eyed at the paper plane, then looked around the table. Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond were still staring at Daniel, completely slack-jawed, zombified. There wasn't even any paper in front of them.
Teal'c...Teal'c was very carefully, very precisely, and very sneakily folding another plane, his work hidden from Daniel's view by the Colonel's elbow. He felt Sam's eyes on him and looked up to give her a very slow, very solemn nod, then raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Sam smiled, slow and wide, then smoothed it away when Daniel turned back around. She was already fumbling in her attaché case for more paper, though.
Oh, it was on.
Star Wars/Supernatural: Obi-Wan, Dean; bar fights
For lita_of_jupiter
"And I got this one on this dustball planet on the Outer Rim, can't even remember the name..."
The guy turned his head to show Obi-Wan the scar under his right ear. Obi-Wan wondered what he had ever done to deserve this much attention from a drunken stranger at a bar. This was all Qui-Gon's fault, telling him to "go out and have fun for awhile, you can't spend every moment of every day training." Obi-Wan frowned and sipped his ale.
He had no idea why people found this sort of thing entertaining.
"And this one on my arm, man, it's huge..."
Obi-Wan let out a breath and put a hand on the stranger's wrist, stopping him from pulling up his sleeve. "Friend, I mean you no disrespect, but what indication did I give you that I wanted to hear the history of every scar on your body?"
The man gave him a sideways smirk, looking at Obi-Wan out of the corner of one green eye, and for a moment he looked like a boy, little older than Obi-Wan, not the veteran soldier he had appeared to be at first, roughened and scarred by many battles.
"Hey, buddy, no disrespect taken. Just wanted to get your attention so it would look natural when I did this." He leaned in close to murmur in Obi-Wan's ear. "There's a couple of guys tailing you, back corner near the holo-chess table." Then he leaned back, smooth as silk, tipping his glass toward the bartender to signal for another round.
Obi-Wan didn't turn around, but expanded his senses to take in the men the green-eyed stranger spoke of. It was two of the mercenaries he and Qui-Gon had fought on their last mission. Their minds were full of malice, and yes, they intended to do him great harm.
But Obi-Wan was a Jedi.
He turned toward the other man, casual, setting his glass down and putting his back to the bar, angling his head so that he appeared to still be deep in conversation. "Thank you, friend. What is your name? I'm in your debt."
"It's Dean, dude. And no sweat. You want some help taking care of these guys?"
"I am a Jedi Padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi. I can handle it."
Dean raised his hands and turned in the same way Obi-Wan had, leaning back against the bar. "Didn't say you needed help. Asked if you wanted it."
Obi-Wan gave him an assessing look, seeing the hard competence barely hidden by his cocky smile, the rippling of well-hewn muscles under his tunic. Dean's sense in the Force was focused, powerful. And surprisingly pure. This was a man who fought to protect others, not for his own gain.
At last, Obi-Wan nodded. "I wouldn't mind."
Dean rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and they were ready.
Supernatural/Stargate SG-1: Dean, Sam Carter; snarking
For aislinamara
The throaty growling of the motorcycle next to them at the stoplight had Dean glancing over, but then he kept looking, feasting his eyes. Long leather-clad legs complemented the lines of the rumbling machine, the curve of the rider's back, the fringe of blond hair sticking out from the edges of her helmet.
Dean gave a low whistle. "Sam, check out the babe on the bike."
He didn't have to look to know that Sam was giving him one of his many bitchfaces, but he wasn't taking his eyes away. The woman on the bike turned her head to grin at him. She had a few years on him-he could see the little crow's feet-but somehow that just made her all the more beautiful. Her smile was blinding. Dean had to blink the stars out of his vision, his mouth suddenly dry.
She revved the throttle of her bike, clearly an invitation to race, and inclined her head to the next stoplight. Dean nodded back, and flashed his own smile. This was going to be fun.
Sam blew out a sigh through his nose. "God, Dean, don't..."
"Shut up, Sam." Dean focused his attention ahead, eyes fixed on the stoplight waiting for green, fingers gripping the steering wheel tight and hard. "We got a race to win."
Star Wars/Stargate SG-1: Jack, Qui-Gon; fishing
For linterambiel
Jack O'Neill took another sip of beer and sighed in contentment, gazing out across the lake. Fishing was awesome, especially when you had a buddy to do it with. This one was a little weird, but Jack was dealing. Mostly.
He glanced over, and his sigh turned exasperated. The guy's eyes were closed again. Dammit. Didn't he get it?
Jack reached over to poke his shoulder. "Hey, Qui-Gon! Are you meditating again? I told you, that's not what this is about."
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, and looked back at him. Still that unruffled calm, but Jack could see the little wrinkles of frustration at the corners of his eyes. So he wasn't a robot. Good to know.
"I still don't understand the purpose of this, Master O'Neill."
"The purpose is to relax."
"Meditating is relaxing."
"Not that kind. You all...go inside yourself. Focus inward. You and Teal'c, sheesh, you're always so busy being stoic. This is about enjoying where you are. Focus outward. Rather, don't focus at all. Just...relax. Enjoy the lake."
Jack turned back to give his pole an irritated swish. Dammit, why couldn't he ever get through to these alien warrior types? It wasn't for lack of trying.
But Qui-Gon nodded at this, slow, true understanding begin to light in his face. "Ah. I think I see now."
And he didn't close his eyes again, but he did gaze over the lake.
Jack smirked softly and drank his beer.
Doctor Who/Stargate SG-1: Jack, The Doctor; authority
For quettalinde
"You know, I swear this planet was uninhabited just ten minutes ago."
Jack kept his hand on his gun, watching the strange man bounce around the ruins, chattering at Daniel and Carter about all sorts of geeky stuff. The guy was...odd, but he wasn't getting any sense of danger off him. Well, not any intention, anyway. Something told Jack that this guy could destroy the universe, if he really wanted to, but he meant no harm to them.
Still, he kept his hand on his gun.
Teal'c nodded solemnly. "His vehicle is most unusual, too."
The two of them had tracked back to the weird blue box thing, when it was clear that the Doctor would be busy talking geek for a while. They hadn't been able to get inside, but for pity's sake, the thing was no bigger than a phone booth. Yet the Doctor's tracks had ended there, and even Teal'c's considerable skills had found no more.
Jack's head went up when he saw the Doctor suddenly stiffen, standing still for a few seconds. The guy hadn't been motionless since they met him, constantly moving, talking, exploring. Now he turned around and came back toward Jack and Teal'c, his face serious. It was a strange look on him. Carter and Daniel followed in his wake like confused ducklings.
"You have to leave this planet immediately," the Doctor said, holding Jack's gaze with wide eyes.
Jack scowled. "Sorry, buddy, but we don't take orders from people we don't know."
"It's very dangerous for you here. I saw indications of one of my enemies, one that I had thought was destroyed."
"You have enemies?" Jack shrugged. "So do we. Not really a new thing, pal."
"I know all about the SGC and your war against the Goa'uld, Colonel O'Neill."
Jack stiffened. They hadn't given this guy their names, and they certainly hadn't talked about the Goa'uld or their home.
"You're doing a fantastic job, and the universe will thank you for it in the end. But you can't handle this."
"I think you might be surprised by what we can handle."
All four of them were standing around the skinny guy now, not menacing, just standing as a unit. Jack looked at Carter and Daniel, their open expressions, and could tell that they liked this strange guy, perhaps trusted him already. Teal'c hadn't gotten any bad vibes off him either, and Jack...
Well, he kind of instinctively liked this weird fellow, and Jack wasn't the kind to ignore his instincts. They were out here to find allies, and this seemed like a fine place to do it.
Jack rubbed his fingernails against his fatigue jacket, casual, loose. "Nah, we're not leaving. So unless you wanna make us, you might as well tell us what we're up against."
The Doctor stared at him, the stare of a loner unused to being offered help, and yeah, Jack got that, too. "Seriously, we're awesome. Give us a shot, and you'll see what we can do."
A brilliant, sunny grin burst over the Doctor's face, and he all but wiggled in delight. "Oh, I should have known. You humans, so plucky and confident despite everything. May I hug you? I want to hug you."
He wrapped his skinny arms around Jack without waiting for permission and squeezed him fiercely, crushing the gun between them and forcing a grunt from the Colonel's throat. Then he bounced away, already back into full spaz mode, grinning, looking around. "All right, we can do this. Let me tell you about the Daleks..."
Supernatural: Sam, Dean; rant
For me. In the same universe as “The Tale of Teenie Weenie Deanie.” :D
“Dude, that part shop was definitely overcharging. We should have known just from the stuff on the shelf. I mean, five dollars for a quart of oil? Only if the oil has gold flecks in it, man! We can’t afford this, what with the price of gas and food and lodgings and everything, stupid American economy, but yeah, it just had to be the only part shop in fifty miles. It was price-gouging. Isn’t that illegal? I can’t believe we let him do that to us. We should go back and salt and burn the place. Or just blow it up. I think there’s an old marine buddy of Dad’s living somewhere around here…we could go get some C4 and have our way with it…”
Dean had been ranting for a full thirty minutes, and wasn’t showing any signs of slowing. Sam sighed, watching his brother drive and talk and gesticulate and vibrate with annoyance and tap his fingers to the music, all at the same time. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so annoying.
“Dean, c’mon, you gotta calm down now. It’s not that big a deal. Not like we’re spending our own money.”
Dean scoffed and turned an incredulous stare to his brother, white all around his irises. “Of course it’s a big deal! Just because it’s not our money doesn’t mean it’s unlimited! And they’re doing it to other people, too, helpless, innocent people who can’t drive fifty miles for a quart of oil, and…”
Yeah, still going strong. Sam hesitated, because this power really ought to be used for good. But this probably counted-much more of this and Dean would drive them off the road.
He reached over, quickly so Dean couldn’t stop him, and laid a hand on the spiky hair on the top of his brother’s head, sticky with sweat and hair gel. Then he rubbed Dean’s head, gently but firmly, in slow, even strokes from the front to the back.
Dean calmed immediately, flowing smoothly from agitation into relaxation. His limbs fell still and his head thumped back against the seat, eyes fixed ahead, slowly drooping. The words trailed off into incomprehensible syllables. He even made a happy little humming noise.
Sam kept it up for a little while longer, than pulled back, hand spread open in conciliation. Dean rolled his head over to glare at him for a second. “Dude. So not fair. Just because I was a mouse once and that still works…”
Sam smiled and looked ahead. The words were irritated, but there was no heat behind them. Dean returned his gaze to the road with a little sigh, still utterly content and relaxed, body molded into the seat, eyes drooping slightly.
Yeah, maybe this power should only be used for good. But it was an awful lot of fun, and it always, always worked.
Jedi Apprentice: Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan; safe
For archaeologist_d
"Do you really think this is going to work?" Obi-Wan whispered, trying not to fidget.
Qui-Gon pressed a finger to his lips, one ear still pressed against the metal box. "It will if I am not constantly interrupted. Keep a look out, Padawan."
Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped, and he went back to his post at the door, stretching his senses out into the hall. He felt utterly twitchy, as if there were bugs under his robes. We're not doing anything wrong, he reminded himself, echoing Qui-Gon's earlier words in his head. Sometimes we must use unorthodox methods to obtain the truth.
Still, it just felt so wrong, knowing that if one of the planetary constables stumbled upon them right now, they would be seen as enemies, not allies. He and Master Qui-Gon were even wearing dark clothes to blend into the darkness, and it was weird.
A final click, and the door of the safe swung open on silent hinges. Qui-Gon grinned, a broad flash of white in the dim light of the governor's office, and scooped up the datacards inside. "All right, we can go now. This should be all the proof we need."
Obi-Wan sighed in relief. They moved quickly but silently to the window and slid down the grappling line to the grass beneath.
"Master, I think you enjoyed that," he said, faintly scandalized.
Qui-Gon's chuckle was low and warm in the darkness, and Obi-Wan couldn't help it. He smiled back.
Star Wars: Jaina/Kyp Durron; puppy eyes
For tahirire
The crackle-hiss of lightsabers echoed off the walls of the cargo bay, rebounding until the sounds of their sparring covered even their soft, breathless panting. Kyp leaped and spun, fiercely proud of the burn of his muscles, the intense light of the Force filling every bone and sinew. He had fought long and hard to obtain this, and it had been worth the struggle.
Jaina grinned back at him, feeling his joy, eyes bright in the flickering light of their 'sabers. Her own pleasure in the fight met his, magnifying it. A meeting of souls, quick and hot, no barriers between them.
"Hah!" A flick of the wrist, and Jaina caught him badly, sent his lightsaber spinning away, automatically shutting off as it left his hand.
Kyp grunted and fell to his knees in mock surrender, half teasing, half truly upset at his loss. She still beat him three times out of four, but he had thought that he'd had her this time.
"Again?" Jaina asked, staring at him with her big brown eyes, pleading.
And Sithspawn, he never could resist those eyes. It was so unfair.
"Again." He nodded agreement, and went to fetch his lightsaber.
Numb3rs: wee!Eppeses; carousel
For rinkle
"I wanna go again!"
Don frowned down at his mop-headed little brother, watching him bounce from foot to foot. He was utterly confused.
"Why? Is it because of fractals? Or because you haven't finished calculating the mean speed from the start of the ride to the finish? Does centripetal force have something to do with it?"
"No! I wanna go again because riding the horses is fun!"
Charlie grabbed Don's hand and started pulling him back toward the end of the line for the carousel. Don let himself be dragged, listening to the tinkly music, smelling popcorn and cotton candy.
Sometimes he forgot that his genius brother was still only eight years old. It was cool to be reminded.
Dexter/Stargate SG-1: Dexter, Ba’al; meet
For sulien77
I saw him on the evening news, a businessman in a tailored suit. They said he had come to Miami to look at waterfront property. Everyone seemed to think this was a good thing. I thought I felt a thrill of recognition, but let it pass me by.
I saw him again at a crime scene, one of mine, where the blood had fallen like rain. He was standing to the side, just a passerby, but I met his eye for a moment. A chill went through me, despite the golden Florida sun already sticking my shirt to my back. I knew then that this was a man who had killed, a Hitler or a Pol Pot. I had no proof, but I knew I would find it.
The strangest thing was that I thought I saw his eyes flash, for a second as golden as the sun above. It made no sense, but I've learned not to ignore these little signs. It meant something. I was going to find out what.
The next day on the news, they said that he had gone back to his home city without buying anything. The city planners seemed disappointed, and I was, too. Not my city, not my problem.
Perhaps someday I will have the freedom to travel the country in search of my prey, but not now. I am a creature of Miami, and these are my hunting grounds, my land to protect.
Perhaps someday, you businessman, in your three-piece suit, with your golden eyes. Perhaps someday.
Stargate SG-1: Sam, Teal’c; flying
For aurora_novarum
Damn it, you knew that a mission briefing had been going on for far too long when even Sam was bored.
The Colonel's eyes had glazed over long ago, General Hammond kept his eyes fixed on the screen in a way that clearly said, "If I glance away for even a second, I will fall asleep," and Daniel...
Daniel just kept talking.
Sam tried to listen. She really did. But there was a certain point when even Daniel's unquenchable enthusiasm for all things archaic couldn't quite make it interesting.
Still, it was an utter surprise when the paper airplane hit her on the head, then bounced down into her lap.
It had happened during a brief moment when Daniel was turned toward the screen, gesturing effusively at some glyphs, so he hadn't noticed. Sam stared wide-eyed at the paper plane, then looked around the table. Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond were still staring at Daniel, completely slack-jawed, zombified. There wasn't even any paper in front of them.
Teal'c...Teal'c was very carefully, very precisely, and very sneakily folding another plane, his work hidden from Daniel's view by the Colonel's elbow. He felt Sam's eyes on him and looked up to give her a very slow, very solemn nod, then raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Sam smiled, slow and wide, then smoothed it away when Daniel turned back around. She was already fumbling in her attaché case for more paper, though.
Oh, it was on.
Star Wars/Supernatural: Obi-Wan, Dean; bar fights
For lita_of_jupiter
"And I got this one on this dustball planet on the Outer Rim, can't even remember the name..."
The guy turned his head to show Obi-Wan the scar under his right ear. Obi-Wan wondered what he had ever done to deserve this much attention from a drunken stranger at a bar. This was all Qui-Gon's fault, telling him to "go out and have fun for awhile, you can't spend every moment of every day training." Obi-Wan frowned and sipped his ale.
He had no idea why people found this sort of thing entertaining.
"And this one on my arm, man, it's huge..."
Obi-Wan let out a breath and put a hand on the stranger's wrist, stopping him from pulling up his sleeve. "Friend, I mean you no disrespect, but what indication did I give you that I wanted to hear the history of every scar on your body?"
The man gave him a sideways smirk, looking at Obi-Wan out of the corner of one green eye, and for a moment he looked like a boy, little older than Obi-Wan, not the veteran soldier he had appeared to be at first, roughened and scarred by many battles.
"Hey, buddy, no disrespect taken. Just wanted to get your attention so it would look natural when I did this." He leaned in close to murmur in Obi-Wan's ear. "There's a couple of guys tailing you, back corner near the holo-chess table." Then he leaned back, smooth as silk, tipping his glass toward the bartender to signal for another round.
Obi-Wan didn't turn around, but expanded his senses to take in the men the green-eyed stranger spoke of. It was two of the mercenaries he and Qui-Gon had fought on their last mission. Their minds were full of malice, and yes, they intended to do him great harm.
But Obi-Wan was a Jedi.
He turned toward the other man, casual, setting his glass down and putting his back to the bar, angling his head so that he appeared to still be deep in conversation. "Thank you, friend. What is your name? I'm in your debt."
"It's Dean, dude. And no sweat. You want some help taking care of these guys?"
"I am a Jedi Padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi. I can handle it."
Dean raised his hands and turned in the same way Obi-Wan had, leaning back against the bar. "Didn't say you needed help. Asked if you wanted it."
Obi-Wan gave him an assessing look, seeing the hard competence barely hidden by his cocky smile, the rippling of well-hewn muscles under his tunic. Dean's sense in the Force was focused, powerful. And surprisingly pure. This was a man who fought to protect others, not for his own gain.
At last, Obi-Wan nodded. "I wouldn't mind."
Dean rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and they were ready.
Supernatural/Stargate SG-1: Dean, Sam Carter; snarking
For aislinamara
The throaty growling of the motorcycle next to them at the stoplight had Dean glancing over, but then he kept looking, feasting his eyes. Long leather-clad legs complemented the lines of the rumbling machine, the curve of the rider's back, the fringe of blond hair sticking out from the edges of her helmet.
Dean gave a low whistle. "Sam, check out the babe on the bike."
He didn't have to look to know that Sam was giving him one of his many bitchfaces, but he wasn't taking his eyes away. The woman on the bike turned her head to grin at him. She had a few years on him-he could see the little crow's feet-but somehow that just made her all the more beautiful. Her smile was blinding. Dean had to blink the stars out of his vision, his mouth suddenly dry.
She revved the throttle of her bike, clearly an invitation to race, and inclined her head to the next stoplight. Dean nodded back, and flashed his own smile. This was going to be fun.
Sam blew out a sigh through his nose. "God, Dean, don't..."
"Shut up, Sam." Dean focused his attention ahead, eyes fixed on the stoplight waiting for green, fingers gripping the steering wheel tight and hard. "We got a race to win."
Star Wars/Stargate SG-1: Jack, Qui-Gon; fishing
For linterambiel
Jack O'Neill took another sip of beer and sighed in contentment, gazing out across the lake. Fishing was awesome, especially when you had a buddy to do it with. This one was a little weird, but Jack was dealing. Mostly.
He glanced over, and his sigh turned exasperated. The guy's eyes were closed again. Dammit. Didn't he get it?
Jack reached over to poke his shoulder. "Hey, Qui-Gon! Are you meditating again? I told you, that's not what this is about."
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, and looked back at him. Still that unruffled calm, but Jack could see the little wrinkles of frustration at the corners of his eyes. So he wasn't a robot. Good to know.
"I still don't understand the purpose of this, Master O'Neill."
"The purpose is to relax."
"Meditating is relaxing."
"Not that kind. You all...go inside yourself. Focus inward. You and Teal'c, sheesh, you're always so busy being stoic. This is about enjoying where you are. Focus outward. Rather, don't focus at all. Just...relax. Enjoy the lake."
Jack turned back to give his pole an irritated swish. Dammit, why couldn't he ever get through to these alien warrior types? It wasn't for lack of trying.
But Qui-Gon nodded at this, slow, true understanding begin to light in his face. "Ah. I think I see now."
And he didn't close his eyes again, but he did gaze over the lake.
Jack smirked softly and drank his beer.
Doctor Who/Stargate SG-1: Jack, The Doctor; authority
For quettalinde
"You know, I swear this planet was uninhabited just ten minutes ago."
Jack kept his hand on his gun, watching the strange man bounce around the ruins, chattering at Daniel and Carter about all sorts of geeky stuff. The guy was...odd, but he wasn't getting any sense of danger off him. Well, not any intention, anyway. Something told Jack that this guy could destroy the universe, if he really wanted to, but he meant no harm to them.
Still, he kept his hand on his gun.
Teal'c nodded solemnly. "His vehicle is most unusual, too."
The two of them had tracked back to the weird blue box thing, when it was clear that the Doctor would be busy talking geek for a while. They hadn't been able to get inside, but for pity's sake, the thing was no bigger than a phone booth. Yet the Doctor's tracks had ended there, and even Teal'c's considerable skills had found no more.
Jack's head went up when he saw the Doctor suddenly stiffen, standing still for a few seconds. The guy hadn't been motionless since they met him, constantly moving, talking, exploring. Now he turned around and came back toward Jack and Teal'c, his face serious. It was a strange look on him. Carter and Daniel followed in his wake like confused ducklings.
"You have to leave this planet immediately," the Doctor said, holding Jack's gaze with wide eyes.
Jack scowled. "Sorry, buddy, but we don't take orders from people we don't know."
"It's very dangerous for you here. I saw indications of one of my enemies, one that I had thought was destroyed."
"You have enemies?" Jack shrugged. "So do we. Not really a new thing, pal."
"I know all about the SGC and your war against the Goa'uld, Colonel O'Neill."
Jack stiffened. They hadn't given this guy their names, and they certainly hadn't talked about the Goa'uld or their home.
"You're doing a fantastic job, and the universe will thank you for it in the end. But you can't handle this."
"I think you might be surprised by what we can handle."
All four of them were standing around the skinny guy now, not menacing, just standing as a unit. Jack looked at Carter and Daniel, their open expressions, and could tell that they liked this strange guy, perhaps trusted him already. Teal'c hadn't gotten any bad vibes off him either, and Jack...
Well, he kind of instinctively liked this weird fellow, and Jack wasn't the kind to ignore his instincts. They were out here to find allies, and this seemed like a fine place to do it.
Jack rubbed his fingernails against his fatigue jacket, casual, loose. "Nah, we're not leaving. So unless you wanna make us, you might as well tell us what we're up against."
The Doctor stared at him, the stare of a loner unused to being offered help, and yeah, Jack got that, too. "Seriously, we're awesome. Give us a shot, and you'll see what we can do."
A brilliant, sunny grin burst over the Doctor's face, and he all but wiggled in delight. "Oh, I should have known. You humans, so plucky and confident despite everything. May I hug you? I want to hug you."
He wrapped his skinny arms around Jack without waiting for permission and squeezed him fiercely, crushing the gun between them and forcing a grunt from the Colonel's throat. Then he bounced away, already back into full spaz mode, grinning, looking around. "All right, we can do this. Let me tell you about the Daleks..."
Supernatural: Sam, Dean; rant
For me. In the same universe as “The Tale of Teenie Weenie Deanie.” :D
“Dude, that part shop was definitely overcharging. We should have known just from the stuff on the shelf. I mean, five dollars for a quart of oil? Only if the oil has gold flecks in it, man! We can’t afford this, what with the price of gas and food and lodgings and everything, stupid American economy, but yeah, it just had to be the only part shop in fifty miles. It was price-gouging. Isn’t that illegal? I can’t believe we let him do that to us. We should go back and salt and burn the place. Or just blow it up. I think there’s an old marine buddy of Dad’s living somewhere around here…we could go get some C4 and have our way with it…”
Dean had been ranting for a full thirty minutes, and wasn’t showing any signs of slowing. Sam sighed, watching his brother drive and talk and gesticulate and vibrate with annoyance and tap his fingers to the music, all at the same time. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so annoying.
“Dean, c’mon, you gotta calm down now. It’s not that big a deal. Not like we’re spending our own money.”
Dean scoffed and turned an incredulous stare to his brother, white all around his irises. “Of course it’s a big deal! Just because it’s not our money doesn’t mean it’s unlimited! And they’re doing it to other people, too, helpless, innocent people who can’t drive fifty miles for a quart of oil, and…”
Yeah, still going strong. Sam hesitated, because this power really ought to be used for good. But this probably counted-much more of this and Dean would drive them off the road.
He reached over, quickly so Dean couldn’t stop him, and laid a hand on the spiky hair on the top of his brother’s head, sticky with sweat and hair gel. Then he rubbed Dean’s head, gently but firmly, in slow, even strokes from the front to the back.
Dean calmed immediately, flowing smoothly from agitation into relaxation. His limbs fell still and his head thumped back against the seat, eyes fixed ahead, slowly drooping. The words trailed off into incomprehensible syllables. He even made a happy little humming noise.
Sam kept it up for a little while longer, than pulled back, hand spread open in conciliation. Dean rolled his head over to glare at him for a second. “Dude. So not fair. Just because I was a mouse once and that still works…”
Sam smiled and looked ahead. The words were irritated, but there was no heat behind them. Dean returned his gaze to the road with a little sigh, still utterly content and relaxed, body molded into the seat, eyes drooping slightly.
Yeah, maybe this power should only be used for good. But it was an awful lot of fun, and it always, always worked.