Purging
My apologies to my F-list for all of the Nev!Spam happening today :p I haven't been writing as often, for some time now, as I once did, and what I have written I haven't been posting here like I should, so I'm trying to put things in order. Or what passes for order around here... I'm pretty sure that putting a mutated Kurt Hummel and Eliot Spencer duking it out in an alley with Arthur from Inception onto the same page isn't anyone's definition of that word, but, eh :p Works for me.
Title: The Battles of Your Youth
Fandom(s): Glee/White Collar
Details: Cooper!Neal, rated G
Cooper is the best secret that Blaine can never share with anyone. Their crooked cop of a father left them before Blaine was old enough to know him as anything but a disappointment in his big brother's eyes, a weight on Coop's shoulders the day he came home and told Mom that he wasn't enrolling in the police academy any longer. That he was dropping out of school. A sadness in their mother's eyes as she desperately tried to sell them the lie that dear old Dad had died on the job... a hero. That he wasn't just as much of a louse of a family man as he was an officer of the law and that he hadn't really abandoned them all to their own devices.
Blaine would never want to tell anyone about him.
But Cooper is different. He's broken laws their father probably never even knew about. Blaine's pretty sure he's stolen things from half the countries on the planet. He's even been to prison. He's a criminal. ("Just like his father," Mom said, her voice bitter but brittle, too; anger iced over pain, maybe to hold it down and keep it from sweeping up over her). But he's nothing like their Dad, Blaine thinks. He's charming and talented and he's never, ever hurt anyone. He's never stolen from anyone who couldn't afford to lose what Blaine's brother took from them. Cooper wouldn't let Blaine or Mom come and see him in jail, but when Blaine thinks about it, his blood runs cold. Cooper doesn't belong in a prison. Never has, no matter what the courts say. Blaine would brag about his brother if he could, to everybody.
But he can't.
The fact that nobody knows Cooper's real name is the only thing that allows him to keep coming "home" to see his family. It's why Mom moved herself and Blaine about as far away from New York as they could get without going to California. (She's never said what she has against that place, but she has her own secrets to keep, Blaine's guessed.)
Blaine can't tell anyone about Cooper because if he did, they might tell someone. Who might tell someone else, who might figure out that George Davery... or Nick Halden... or Neal Caffrey is actually Cooper Anderson. One-time Theater Arts major (with a minor in Criminal Justice), current con artist and art forger.
If Blaine told anybody about his brother, he'd be putting his brother in danger, and that is not how Coop taught Blain to take care of their family. The one thing that makes Cooper most unlike Dad is that he has never taken more from Blaine or their Mom than he's given... He's never abandoned them. As far away as he's travelled from them, as long as they've gone without seeing him face to face, Cooper's always kept in touch, sent home word and gifts. The money to pay off each of Mom's mortgages... Blaine's tuition to Dalton Academy. Cooper protects his family.
So Blaine protects him. The only way Blaine knows how for now.
By keeping Cooper's secrets.
[end.]
Title:I Am Not The Boy Next Door
Fandom: Glee
Details: Kurt, gen, 100 words, X-Men AU, rated G.
He knows he's lucky... Never mind how cool it would be to fly or to walk through walls... Or to read minds? The things people say are bad enough; Kurt would rather not know what nasty things they hold back.
Sure, it's lonely... Kurt isn't dangerous, so sometimes mutants envy his ability to pass - but he's still a "freak", so "normal" humans fear him.
But if ever a mutant ability was made for anyone, Kurt's was made for him.
The ability to play Tony or Maria in West Side Story...
When Mutant Equality catches on in showbusiness, Kurt's career will soar.
[end.]
Title: A Very Distinctive Method (To This Madness)
Fandom(s): Leverage/Inception
Details: Eliot/Quinn, Arthur/Eames, rated PG-13.
Eliot makes him about two blocks away from the restaurant. It's an easy decision to veer off towards a secluded alley, to face the problem there. Eliot doesn't know what the tall, slender man in the suit wants - or who he works for - but in Eliot's experience, nobody tails a guy across this city for anything good. And there are a lot of people in the world with reason to send someone to do bad to Eliot.
Eliot turns a corner and thinks, 'Quinn's going to be pissed.' If Eliot walks away from this, Quinn's going to be pissed about Eliot being late to dinner. If Eliot doesn't... Quinn's going to be pissed that Eliot didn't lead his tail to the restaurant, where they could have taken care of him together. And Eliot knows his man can take care of himself, but Quinn's baby brother and the brother's boyfriend are supposed to be having dinner with them tonight. There's no way Eliot's leading an unknown straight to them. If either of them got caught in the crossfire-
Eliot chooses a doorway, about a quarter of the way into the alley, that'll allow him to watch for the guy who followed him here and waits.
And waits.
He's got the door at his side picked open and ready in case he needs to duck through, and he can't help but glance - again and again - at his wrist-watch. He's going to be really late for dinner. And then he hears a door clank open a little further in down the alley. What are the odds...
Eliot almost smiles. His guy can't tail for shit, but he's got some skills to speak of.
"I don't suppose you'd want to put our weapons aside and talk about this like smart men?" he calls out to the assassin hiding out there somewhere.
"Does a smart man put aside his weapons when a guy's just followed him five blocks across the city?"
The assassin's voice is young - strangely familiar in a way that Eliot can't place - and young. Eliot's heart sinks. He hates fighting kids. What do they know about what they're killing or they're dying for? Then Eliot realizes-
"Yeah, that's right... I've been following you since you left your apartment. You only made me on West Grand because I wanted you to. I got bored."
Cocky little shit... "Is that right, Junior? Well, why don't you step out where I can see you and I'll try to spice things up for ya."
"Still want me to disarm, old man?" the assassin asks, sounding almost cheerful.
Okay... now Eliot is pissed off. "Naw, keep 'em," he calls. "You might need 'em."
Eliot senses movement down the alley before he hears or sees it... so he's ready. And it's a good thing, because once he and his assassin engage-
Eliot is impressed. He is grudgingly impressed. This kid is good. Really good... He's wiry and he's strong. And Eliot's getting angrier by the second. As soon as this is done - he's gonna hunt whoever sent this kid after him and do things he hasn't done in nearly a decade. All this training and potential- And if Eliot has to kill this kid (he's close enough to being a kid... he looks even younger than he sounds) all that will have been wasted... for what? Eliot would just knock the kid out and be done with it, but the kid is that good. Eliot has to struggle to get the upperhand with him. And the kid knows where Eliot lives. Eliot has to know if he knows about Quinn...
"You gotta gun, old man...," the kid taunts at one point. "Why don't you try to use it? You could be on a date with your boyfriend ten minutes from now."
Eliot curses. That's the confirmation he's been waiting for. And he wants it even less now that he realizes this kid is some kind of suicidal-
"Of course... shooting his brother wouldn't exactly do wonders for your relationship. But-"
"What?"
The kid's dark eyes lighten somehow. His whole face lightens, like the cold purpose in his expression just a moment ago was just a mask. And he actually smiles at Eliot.
Well, he smirks. It's a very distinctive smirk...
"Hello, Eliot. I'm Arthur. I think Quinnie told you we'd be meeting tonight."
"What?" Eliot thinks about it. Then it hits him. "Son of a bitch!" He tosses Arthur so fast, the kid hits the alley wall beside them hard enough to throw brick dust into the air.
Arthur only smirks harder. "Maybe...," he says, trying to dust off his now battle-worn suit. "But I wouldn't bring it up with Quinn. He takes that shit seriously."
They catch a lot of stares as they walk into the four-star establishment Eliot chose for their introductory meal. If they were anyone else, they probably would have gotten escorted out as soon as they walked in. But Eliot's known here... Which only makes him angrier.
For the sake of domestic harmony, Eliot's hoping Quinn will take one look at him and Junior and say, "What the hell?"
But no dice. Eliot can see Quinn smirking - the same smirk Arthur wore in the alley, earlier - as soon as he and Arthur come within visual range of their table.
There's already another man sitting at the table. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a sharp, scruff-lined jaw, in a suit as nice as Arthur's was before he and Eliot fought. This must be the boyfriend.
He looks about like Eliot feels.
"How'd he do?" Quinn asks, barely restraining himself from laughing.
Eliot's learned a few things about being with Quinn. One: he can table shit like this and go back to it later. Quinn won't have forgotten. And fighting with Quinn is a lot more... satisfying in private. (At least the aftermath always is.) And, two: Quinn recognizes Eliot's 'You'll pay for this later' look.
So Eliot throws one his way and simply says, before Arthur can manage, "Not so great. I made him."
"I let you," Arthur counters, as he and Eliot take their seats next to their respective boyfriends. "Oh, and he didn't even try to shoot me," Arthur reports, with a roll of his eyes that startles a huff of laughter out of Eliot despite himself.
"He better have not," Arthur's man - Eames - growls. There's the hint of an accent in his low voice. "So, are you as batshit looney as this one's brother, then?" he asks Eliot.
"God, I hope not," Eliot says as he samples the wine waiting by his setting. For fuck's sake... he thinks he may actually find this little... whatever- vetting session of Quinn's and Junior's (god help him) cute.
"I don't know what you're complaining about..." Quinn says casually. "We just talked."
"Talking, was it?" Eames startles Eliot himself by slapping Arthur's hand away when Arthur reaches for his own wine glass. "Oh, no. We're ordering you a fresh setting."
Now Quinn rolls his eyes. Really, the family resemblance is uncanny. Eliot takes another, longer sip of his wine (a swig, really) as he considers the ramifications of there being another force of nature like his man out in the world.
"He's my brother, Eames. I would never hurt my brother. That's the point of all this."
"I'm not taking my chances with you, Barbie. Hold on, darling, I'll find us the sommelier."
Eliot is relatively certain he does not want to know.
[End.]
Title: Give Me Another Half a Century
Fandom(s): Sherlock Holmes/Highlander
Details: 100 words, John + Sherlock
He learned himself on a battlefield in his home country... waking in blood-stained, shrapnel-torn clothing amidst a pile of dead men. His reaction, then, was as it is now whenever he meets a singular mind or a most remarkable personality:
'Why me?'
Out of all the men who met with death that day, why did the condition not stick with him?
John's asked himself that question many times over the course of his existence. He asked it almost daily during his acquaintance with a certain detective of whose genius John has yet to meet the equal.
'Why not Sherlock?' John asked, again and again. 'Why only me?'
It was on his death bed that John's greatest friend - of any lifetime - provided the most acceptable answer.
"Why, my dear Watson," Holmes quipped, eyes as keen and tongue as sharp at seventy as they'd been forty years prior. "Give me another half a century, and I will have eradicated crime from our dear Mother Country altogether... And then where will all the British Capitalists go?"
[End.]
Title: The Predilections of Octupi
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: background Klaine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Blaine's options are to sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house, in his maybe ex-boyfriend's bed... or to sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house... in another's guy's bed.
It's maybe the most awkward situation Blaine has been in recently, and that includes his audition for the Dungeons & Dragons club; the Heroes & Sidekicks Club's 'Damsel in Distress Day'; and the conversation in which Blaine possibly ended his relationship with the love of his life.
They'd been practicing their parts in the glee club production of Grease all day... when Sam and Finn invited some of the guys over to the Hudson-Hummel household, and they kept practicing all night. Finn is really throwing himself into his part as Mr. Schue's Assistant Director. Blaine can relate. He's been trying to keep himself busy, too.
Unfortunately, in this instance, drowning his sorrows in drama seems to have reared around and bit Blaine on the ass. Because now he's yawning... He has a long drive home in front of him which none of the guys will agree to let him make.
"Dude, no. You're dead on your feet. No way you're driving right now. If something happened to you, I'd feel responsible," Finn says.
"Yeah. Just crash here," Sam insists. And Puck and Mike join in, as well. Mike has already claimed the couch downstairs in the den; Puck is going to sleep in Finn's room with Finn. That leaves Blaine with two choices if he stays over...
To sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house, in his maybe ex-boyfriend's bed.
Or to sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house... in another's guy's bed.
"I... don't think Mr. Hummel would go for that," Blaine says simply, trying not to let the sadness of that statement seep through in his voice. It's not only Kurt who Blaine will miss if Kurt does finally call Blaine only to break up with him. It's the warm sense of rightness Blaine's always felt while being welcomed in by Kurt's family. A rightness Blaine felt he would be wrong in seeking out now, considering the circumstances. He went straight to the family room when he arrived at the Hudson-Hummel's, bypassing the kitchen where he heard Burt and Carole talking to Puck and Mike.
"It's Burt, Blaine," Finn says, looking as sad as Blaine feels. And Blaine can hardly believe he's so lucky, when Finn continues, "I know you and Kurt are- Whatever. But you're still our friend. And even if you weren't, Burt and my mom- We'd all want you to be safe."
Blaine still isn't convinced, and his heart beats a mile a minute as Finn and Sam drag him off to Burt to ask.
Burt stares at him a moment. He doesn't stare him down exactly, which is probably what Blaine deserves. Burt's eyes don't bore laser-hot holes through Blaine's chest, which is about what he expected. But then he says, "Yeah. No, yeah, of course he can stay. You're welcome here anytime, Blaine, you should know that. Unless Kurt's here and he says you're not, you're welcome. I've got no problem with anybody, so long as they're respecting my family."
Burt doesn't say, 'So long as they aren't banging other guys while dating my son,' for which Blaine is grateful, but it's what Blaine hears, so his face burns. It's also really nice, Blaine thinks, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to choke up in the middle of anything he might say to Kurt's father and embarrass them both.
There's embarrassment aplenty to come, in any case, Blaine learns as everyone is settling down to sleep.
Blaine is going to 'bunk' with Sam, it's been determined. He took one look at Kurt's empty (save for all its memories) bed and went running in the opposite direction - and then Sam said, "Blaine, obviously you'll bunk with me. You think I'd make you sleep in your sorta ex's bed? That'd be cold, man. And weird. And we're bros! Bros don't do that to one another."
Blaine takes Sam's word for it. Never having had someone claim to be his 'bro' before (besides Cooper, Blaine's actual bro) Blaine is still learning the ins and outs of bro-dom.
So, as it would seem, is Mr. Hummel.
He sticks his head in the door, apparently making rounds to tell every one of his guest's goodnight, and when he sees Sam and Blaine lying in bed together (a perfectly normal amount of space between them) he freezes.
"G'night, Sam, Blaine... Remember what I said about respect," Burt says, and Blaine immediately fills with a new wash of humiliation and shame.
Burt glances at him, as if just seeing him and startles at how Blaine's face must look. "Oh, Blaine. I didn't mean-"
Sam reaches over to poke Blaine in the side. "He's talking about me, dude."
Blaine almost laughs, scathingly, at the very obvious attempt to cover a slip and spare Blaine's feelings... But Burt is looking straight at Sam, not a trace of guile on his face - or in his voice - as he says, "Now, you know I don't mind what you do and who you do it with, so long as no one's getting hurt." Blaine's struggling to keep up with what Burt is talking about (Sam is straight... isn't he?) Until Burt continues, "But seeing as this is my kid's boyfriend..." (Blaine appreciates, also, that Burt doesn't say "for now.")
"I will keep my hands to myself, Mr. H," Sam promises. Blaine feels like he's fallen into the twilight zone. But Sam turns to him and explains, "I'm sort of embarrassingly cuddly when I sleep. It's nothing personal, man. So don't worry... I can control it."
Burt finishes saying his goodnights and Sam clicks off the lamp on his bedside table. The entire exchange that just happened still feels surreal, and Blaine only realizes that he's been holding his breath, waiting for the awkwardness to evaporate - or the next crazy thing to happen, whatever comes next - when Sam says, into the darkness, "Blaine?"
"Yeah?"
"Uh... Actually, I kind of can't control it. You know... The cuddliness. So if I'm, like, octupus-arming you in the middle of the night-"
Blaine's laughter bursts out of him, dispelling as much tension as silence.
"Nothing personal?"
"Right."
"I won't report you to Burt."
"Cool, man. Thanks."
Awkward... But as Blaine thinks of Burt's 'Oh, Blaine' and Sam's '...we're bros!', Finn's concern and Mike's and Puck's treating him as if nothing's changed... Blaine is glad he came to the Hudson-Hummels' tonight, and glad he stayed. He sleeps better than he has since his fateful trip to New York.
[end.]
Title: Selective Memory
Fandom: Looper
Pairing: Sarah/Joe
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's a choice... To see the corn stalks that sway gently in the summer breeze, lit by moonlight... Not the graves that Sarah and Joe dug and hid underneath.
Memory is a funny thing.
Sitting out on this porch, next to Joe... Running her fingers through his hair (he's growing it out now, a little; not so city-slick) Joe's hand resting atop her knee, a thought away from rising up her skirt-
It's hard to remember that this man's hand took a lot of lives before it came into hers...
Just like it's hard to remember, when she holds her baby, that there's a terrible thing that lurks inside of him. Inside his anger. That her boy could become that thing, again, if she lets him - though, of course, Sarah can't ever forget.
It's a choice, Sarah figures. To see the corn stalks that sway gently in the summer breeze, lit by moonlight... Not the graves that Sarah and Joe dug and hid underneath. To see the man who hugged her child to his leg, all covered in blood - and loved him - not the junkie who went into withdrawal right here where they sit. The man who wandered onto Sarah's land with probably more than half a mind to kill her and her boy both once he was done with his older self.
But that's what it's all about, aint it? Sarah chose to come and stand by her baby after what happened with her sister... Not to cast him out. She chose to make amends. Joe chose to stay with them, to fight for them, rather than play it safe and throw them both to time's dogs.
Sarah's felt, at times in her life, haunted by memory. Beat down. But now... in this life, in this time, she can't help but feel different. She and Joe made choices that changed the fate of her son; Sarah has to believe that. Together they've made the choice to change the fate of the world, and isn't that a wonder? That a person can choose such a thing? Whatever happens, whatever's happened or can, Sarah may never forget the bad things that lurk beneath just about everything... But now she has good things to remember, too, and - given a choice - she's choosing the good, every chance she gets.
[End.]
Title: There's No Monster At The End Of This Book
Fandom: Looper
Pairing: Gen, Joe + Cid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Joe doesn't know what to do with a kid... He doesn't know what to do with a lot of things that don't hurt somebody.
Joe doesn't know what to do with a kid. You can say not too many years have passed since Joe was one; he'd say that depends on what happened in those years.
Joe wouldn't wish what filled the first ten years of his life on a dog... Not even on the boy who will maybe, one-day (if they fuck up) become the Rainmaker.
But Joe does this now - walks Cid up to bed when he asks. Tucks him in. Even helps out with the bath, when Sarah's trying to whip up something special in the kitchen and wants "both her boys" out of the way. Reads to the kid. Like Joe's ever read anything for fun.
'Especially not this boy,' Joe realizes, about the fifth time he's done it. It's a little bit frightening - yeah, he let the kid live when future him would've put a bullet in Cid's scary little brain. But there's a difference between leaving someone be and being glad that he is.
"You're not reading it right! That's not how the story goes!" Cid argues with him, about a half hour later. Cid's beginning to scowl.
It's still weird... Facing Cid's anger. His power. Joe being torn between calling himself a pussy when his hair rises on end... and telling himself he's fucking nuts to risk his life to-
Joe always stops at the 'to' part. He could finish that statement one of three ways... To change the future? To save the world... To just belong to a real goddamned family for the first time in his life- Even Joe doesn't know which is his reason. But he knows that any of those things is probably worth it. Worth more than ten of the life he lived before coming onto Sarah's farm.
"Alright, alright..." Sarah has a way with calming Cid down. She coos at him and tells him she loves him... that's he's a good boy. It's the only way to go when Cid is seriously, dangerously pissed.
But Joe's way - for every day, normal tantrums... Is a little different.
"So I didn't read it right. Who says a story can't change?"
Cid opens his mouth, as if to yell. Joe's pulse picks up, a little. And then Cid blinks... like he's not sure how to yell about that one.
Joe doesn't smile... That'd piss him off, too, if he was Cid. He just keeps talking like the toy train sitting on Cid's bedside table didn't rattle a little, a moment ago. Nothing major - just a start.
That stops before it can even get going. "You want me to read it the other way, or what?"
"Why didn't you read it the other way in the first place?"
"What can I say, kid? I like mixing things up."
Obviously. And given time to think about it... What do you know? Cid runs up to Joe, the next morning, while Joe and Sarah sit at the kitchen table drinking coffee (like Joe's ever just sat with a pretty woman and drank coffee, offered to do the dishes and known he'd be eating off of them again later). And Cid says, "You're right!"
"Right about what, baby?"
"No! Joe! The story is better the way Joe tells it." Sarah smiles and shares a look with Joe. "Can you mix up another story for me tonight, Joe?"
It doesn't even occur to Joe that there's a weight to Cid's words as Joe considers them. Sarah can feel it - mirrors it, without meaning to, in her eyes. She tells herself that there's loving something that's come up on you because somehow you seem made to love it - and then there's wanting to be tied to that thing, loving for real. Pre-meditated.
Joe just wonders how the hell he's supposed to repeat whatever he did to impress Cid the night before. What does he know about children's stories? Luckily, Cid has too fucking many to choose between.
"Okay... On one condition," Joe tells Cid, leaning over in his chair to face the kid on eye level. He doesn't see Sarah tense.
"What's that?"
"We start reading stuff where no one tries eating any little kids in it. Seriously, dude. That sh- stuff creeps me out."
"Okay!" Happy (and therefore ready to find other amusements) Cid skips off.
Joe does notice Sarah smiling at him as Cid leaves. But he doesn't make an issue out of not knowing what's up. Joe doesn't what to do with a lot of things that don't hurt somebody, but as long as he isn't messing up those things that he's somehow been given, Joe figures he can pick up the 'how' as he goes along.
[End.]
Title: The Battles of Your Youth
Fandom(s): Glee/White Collar
Details: Cooper!Neal, rated G
Cooper is the best secret that Blaine can never share with anyone. Their crooked cop of a father left them before Blaine was old enough to know him as anything but a disappointment in his big brother's eyes, a weight on Coop's shoulders the day he came home and told Mom that he wasn't enrolling in the police academy any longer. That he was dropping out of school. A sadness in their mother's eyes as she desperately tried to sell them the lie that dear old Dad had died on the job... a hero. That he wasn't just as much of a louse of a family man as he was an officer of the law and that he hadn't really abandoned them all to their own devices.
Blaine would never want to tell anyone about him.
But Cooper is different. He's broken laws their father probably never even knew about. Blaine's pretty sure he's stolen things from half the countries on the planet. He's even been to prison. He's a criminal. ("Just like his father," Mom said, her voice bitter but brittle, too; anger iced over pain, maybe to hold it down and keep it from sweeping up over her). But he's nothing like their Dad, Blaine thinks. He's charming and talented and he's never, ever hurt anyone. He's never stolen from anyone who couldn't afford to lose what Blaine's brother took from them. Cooper wouldn't let Blaine or Mom come and see him in jail, but when Blaine thinks about it, his blood runs cold. Cooper doesn't belong in a prison. Never has, no matter what the courts say. Blaine would brag about his brother if he could, to everybody.
But he can't.
The fact that nobody knows Cooper's real name is the only thing that allows him to keep coming "home" to see his family. It's why Mom moved herself and Blaine about as far away from New York as they could get without going to California. (She's never said what she has against that place, but she has her own secrets to keep, Blaine's guessed.)
Blaine can't tell anyone about Cooper because if he did, they might tell someone. Who might tell someone else, who might figure out that George Davery... or Nick Halden... or Neal Caffrey is actually Cooper Anderson. One-time Theater Arts major (with a minor in Criminal Justice), current con artist and art forger.
If Blaine told anybody about his brother, he'd be putting his brother in danger, and that is not how Coop taught Blain to take care of their family. The one thing that makes Cooper most unlike Dad is that he has never taken more from Blaine or their Mom than he's given... He's never abandoned them. As far away as he's travelled from them, as long as they've gone without seeing him face to face, Cooper's always kept in touch, sent home word and gifts. The money to pay off each of Mom's mortgages... Blaine's tuition to Dalton Academy. Cooper protects his family.
So Blaine protects him. The only way Blaine knows how for now.
By keeping Cooper's secrets.
[end.]
Title:I Am Not The Boy Next Door
Fandom: Glee
Details: Kurt, gen, 100 words, X-Men AU, rated G.
He knows he's lucky... Never mind how cool it would be to fly or to walk through walls... Or to read minds? The things people say are bad enough; Kurt would rather not know what nasty things they hold back.
Sure, it's lonely... Kurt isn't dangerous, so sometimes mutants envy his ability to pass - but he's still a "freak", so "normal" humans fear him.
But if ever a mutant ability was made for anyone, Kurt's was made for him.
The ability to play Tony or Maria in West Side Story...
When Mutant Equality catches on in showbusiness, Kurt's career will soar.
[end.]
Title: A Very Distinctive Method (To This Madness)
Fandom(s): Leverage/Inception
Details: Eliot/Quinn, Arthur/Eames, rated PG-13.
Eliot makes him about two blocks away from the restaurant. It's an easy decision to veer off towards a secluded alley, to face the problem there. Eliot doesn't know what the tall, slender man in the suit wants - or who he works for - but in Eliot's experience, nobody tails a guy across this city for anything good. And there are a lot of people in the world with reason to send someone to do bad to Eliot.
Eliot turns a corner and thinks, 'Quinn's going to be pissed.' If Eliot walks away from this, Quinn's going to be pissed about Eliot being late to dinner. If Eliot doesn't... Quinn's going to be pissed that Eliot didn't lead his tail to the restaurant, where they could have taken care of him together. And Eliot knows his man can take care of himself, but Quinn's baby brother and the brother's boyfriend are supposed to be having dinner with them tonight. There's no way Eliot's leading an unknown straight to them. If either of them got caught in the crossfire-
Eliot chooses a doorway, about a quarter of the way into the alley, that'll allow him to watch for the guy who followed him here and waits.
And waits.
He's got the door at his side picked open and ready in case he needs to duck through, and he can't help but glance - again and again - at his wrist-watch. He's going to be really late for dinner. And then he hears a door clank open a little further in down the alley. What are the odds...
Eliot almost smiles. His guy can't tail for shit, but he's got some skills to speak of.
"I don't suppose you'd want to put our weapons aside and talk about this like smart men?" he calls out to the assassin hiding out there somewhere.
"Does a smart man put aside his weapons when a guy's just followed him five blocks across the city?"
The assassin's voice is young - strangely familiar in a way that Eliot can't place - and young. Eliot's heart sinks. He hates fighting kids. What do they know about what they're killing or they're dying for? Then Eliot realizes-
"Yeah, that's right... I've been following you since you left your apartment. You only made me on West Grand because I wanted you to. I got bored."
Cocky little shit... "Is that right, Junior? Well, why don't you step out where I can see you and I'll try to spice things up for ya."
"Still want me to disarm, old man?" the assassin asks, sounding almost cheerful.
Okay... now Eliot is pissed off. "Naw, keep 'em," he calls. "You might need 'em."
Eliot senses movement down the alley before he hears or sees it... so he's ready. And it's a good thing, because once he and his assassin engage-
Eliot is impressed. He is grudgingly impressed. This kid is good. Really good... He's wiry and he's strong. And Eliot's getting angrier by the second. As soon as this is done - he's gonna hunt whoever sent this kid after him and do things he hasn't done in nearly a decade. All this training and potential- And if Eliot has to kill this kid (he's close enough to being a kid... he looks even younger than he sounds) all that will have been wasted... for what? Eliot would just knock the kid out and be done with it, but the kid is that good. Eliot has to struggle to get the upperhand with him. And the kid knows where Eliot lives. Eliot has to know if he knows about Quinn...
"You gotta gun, old man...," the kid taunts at one point. "Why don't you try to use it? You could be on a date with your boyfriend ten minutes from now."
Eliot curses. That's the confirmation he's been waiting for. And he wants it even less now that he realizes this kid is some kind of suicidal-
"Of course... shooting his brother wouldn't exactly do wonders for your relationship. But-"
"What?"
The kid's dark eyes lighten somehow. His whole face lightens, like the cold purpose in his expression just a moment ago was just a mask. And he actually smiles at Eliot.
Well, he smirks. It's a very distinctive smirk...
"Hello, Eliot. I'm Arthur. I think Quinnie told you we'd be meeting tonight."
"What?" Eliot thinks about it. Then it hits him. "Son of a bitch!" He tosses Arthur so fast, the kid hits the alley wall beside them hard enough to throw brick dust into the air.
Arthur only smirks harder. "Maybe...," he says, trying to dust off his now battle-worn suit. "But I wouldn't bring it up with Quinn. He takes that shit seriously."
They catch a lot of stares as they walk into the four-star establishment Eliot chose for their introductory meal. If they were anyone else, they probably would have gotten escorted out as soon as they walked in. But Eliot's known here... Which only makes him angrier.
For the sake of domestic harmony, Eliot's hoping Quinn will take one look at him and Junior and say, "What the hell?"
But no dice. Eliot can see Quinn smirking - the same smirk Arthur wore in the alley, earlier - as soon as he and Arthur come within visual range of their table.
There's already another man sitting at the table. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a sharp, scruff-lined jaw, in a suit as nice as Arthur's was before he and Eliot fought. This must be the boyfriend.
He looks about like Eliot feels.
"How'd he do?" Quinn asks, barely restraining himself from laughing.
Eliot's learned a few things about being with Quinn. One: he can table shit like this and go back to it later. Quinn won't have forgotten. And fighting with Quinn is a lot more... satisfying in private. (At least the aftermath always is.) And, two: Quinn recognizes Eliot's 'You'll pay for this later' look.
So Eliot throws one his way and simply says, before Arthur can manage, "Not so great. I made him."
"I let you," Arthur counters, as he and Eliot take their seats next to their respective boyfriends. "Oh, and he didn't even try to shoot me," Arthur reports, with a roll of his eyes that startles a huff of laughter out of Eliot despite himself.
"He better have not," Arthur's man - Eames - growls. There's the hint of an accent in his low voice. "So, are you as batshit looney as this one's brother, then?" he asks Eliot.
"God, I hope not," Eliot says as he samples the wine waiting by his setting. For fuck's sake... he thinks he may actually find this little... whatever- vetting session of Quinn's and Junior's (god help him) cute.
"I don't know what you're complaining about..." Quinn says casually. "We just talked."
"Talking, was it?" Eames startles Eliot himself by slapping Arthur's hand away when Arthur reaches for his own wine glass. "Oh, no. We're ordering you a fresh setting."
Now Quinn rolls his eyes. Really, the family resemblance is uncanny. Eliot takes another, longer sip of his wine (a swig, really) as he considers the ramifications of there being another force of nature like his man out in the world.
"He's my brother, Eames. I would never hurt my brother. That's the point of all this."
"I'm not taking my chances with you, Barbie. Hold on, darling, I'll find us the sommelier."
Eliot is relatively certain he does not want to know.
[End.]
Title: Give Me Another Half a Century
Fandom(s): Sherlock Holmes/Highlander
Details: 100 words, John + Sherlock
He learned himself on a battlefield in his home country... waking in blood-stained, shrapnel-torn clothing amidst a pile of dead men. His reaction, then, was as it is now whenever he meets a singular mind or a most remarkable personality:
'Why me?'
Out of all the men who met with death that day, why did the condition not stick with him?
John's asked himself that question many times over the course of his existence. He asked it almost daily during his acquaintance with a certain detective of whose genius John has yet to meet the equal.
'Why not Sherlock?' John asked, again and again. 'Why only me?'
It was on his death bed that John's greatest friend - of any lifetime - provided the most acceptable answer.
"Why, my dear Watson," Holmes quipped, eyes as keen and tongue as sharp at seventy as they'd been forty years prior. "Give me another half a century, and I will have eradicated crime from our dear Mother Country altogether... And then where will all the British Capitalists go?"
[End.]
Title: The Predilections of Octupi
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: background Klaine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Blaine's options are to sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house, in his maybe ex-boyfriend's bed... or to sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house... in another's guy's bed.
It's maybe the most awkward situation Blaine has been in recently, and that includes his audition for the Dungeons & Dragons club; the Heroes & Sidekicks Club's 'Damsel in Distress Day'; and the conversation in which Blaine possibly ended his relationship with the love of his life.
They'd been practicing their parts in the glee club production of Grease all day... when Sam and Finn invited some of the guys over to the Hudson-Hummel household, and they kept practicing all night. Finn is really throwing himself into his part as Mr. Schue's Assistant Director. Blaine can relate. He's been trying to keep himself busy, too.
Unfortunately, in this instance, drowning his sorrows in drama seems to have reared around and bit Blaine on the ass. Because now he's yawning... He has a long drive home in front of him which none of the guys will agree to let him make.
"Dude, no. You're dead on your feet. No way you're driving right now. If something happened to you, I'd feel responsible," Finn says.
"Yeah. Just crash here," Sam insists. And Puck and Mike join in, as well. Mike has already claimed the couch downstairs in the den; Puck is going to sleep in Finn's room with Finn. That leaves Blaine with two choices if he stays over...
To sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house, in his maybe ex-boyfriend's bed.
Or to sleep in his maybe ex-boyfriend's house... in another's guy's bed.
"I... don't think Mr. Hummel would go for that," Blaine says simply, trying not to let the sadness of that statement seep through in his voice. It's not only Kurt who Blaine will miss if Kurt does finally call Blaine only to break up with him. It's the warm sense of rightness Blaine's always felt while being welcomed in by Kurt's family. A rightness Blaine felt he would be wrong in seeking out now, considering the circumstances. He went straight to the family room when he arrived at the Hudson-Hummel's, bypassing the kitchen where he heard Burt and Carole talking to Puck and Mike.
"It's Burt, Blaine," Finn says, looking as sad as Blaine feels. And Blaine can hardly believe he's so lucky, when Finn continues, "I know you and Kurt are- Whatever. But you're still our friend. And even if you weren't, Burt and my mom- We'd all want you to be safe."
Blaine still isn't convinced, and his heart beats a mile a minute as Finn and Sam drag him off to Burt to ask.
Burt stares at him a moment. He doesn't stare him down exactly, which is probably what Blaine deserves. Burt's eyes don't bore laser-hot holes through Blaine's chest, which is about what he expected. But then he says, "Yeah. No, yeah, of course he can stay. You're welcome here anytime, Blaine, you should know that. Unless Kurt's here and he says you're not, you're welcome. I've got no problem with anybody, so long as they're respecting my family."
Burt doesn't say, 'So long as they aren't banging other guys while dating my son,' for which Blaine is grateful, but it's what Blaine hears, so his face burns. It's also really nice, Blaine thinks, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to choke up in the middle of anything he might say to Kurt's father and embarrass them both.
There's embarrassment aplenty to come, in any case, Blaine learns as everyone is settling down to sleep.
Blaine is going to 'bunk' with Sam, it's been determined. He took one look at Kurt's empty (save for all its memories) bed and went running in the opposite direction - and then Sam said, "Blaine, obviously you'll bunk with me. You think I'd make you sleep in your sorta ex's bed? That'd be cold, man. And weird. And we're bros! Bros don't do that to one another."
Blaine takes Sam's word for it. Never having had someone claim to be his 'bro' before (besides Cooper, Blaine's actual bro) Blaine is still learning the ins and outs of bro-dom.
So, as it would seem, is Mr. Hummel.
He sticks his head in the door, apparently making rounds to tell every one of his guest's goodnight, and when he sees Sam and Blaine lying in bed together (a perfectly normal amount of space between them) he freezes.
"G'night, Sam, Blaine... Remember what I said about respect," Burt says, and Blaine immediately fills with a new wash of humiliation and shame.
Burt glances at him, as if just seeing him and startles at how Blaine's face must look. "Oh, Blaine. I didn't mean-"
Sam reaches over to poke Blaine in the side. "He's talking about me, dude."
Blaine almost laughs, scathingly, at the very obvious attempt to cover a slip and spare Blaine's feelings... But Burt is looking straight at Sam, not a trace of guile on his face - or in his voice - as he says, "Now, you know I don't mind what you do and who you do it with, so long as no one's getting hurt." Blaine's struggling to keep up with what Burt is talking about (Sam is straight... isn't he?) Until Burt continues, "But seeing as this is my kid's boyfriend..." (Blaine appreciates, also, that Burt doesn't say "for now.")
"I will keep my hands to myself, Mr. H," Sam promises. Blaine feels like he's fallen into the twilight zone. But Sam turns to him and explains, "I'm sort of embarrassingly cuddly when I sleep. It's nothing personal, man. So don't worry... I can control it."
Burt finishes saying his goodnights and Sam clicks off the lamp on his bedside table. The entire exchange that just happened still feels surreal, and Blaine only realizes that he's been holding his breath, waiting for the awkwardness to evaporate - or the next crazy thing to happen, whatever comes next - when Sam says, into the darkness, "Blaine?"
"Yeah?"
"Uh... Actually, I kind of can't control it. You know... The cuddliness. So if I'm, like, octupus-arming you in the middle of the night-"
Blaine's laughter bursts out of him, dispelling as much tension as silence.
"Nothing personal?"
"Right."
"I won't report you to Burt."
"Cool, man. Thanks."
Awkward... But as Blaine thinks of Burt's 'Oh, Blaine' and Sam's '...we're bros!', Finn's concern and Mike's and Puck's treating him as if nothing's changed... Blaine is glad he came to the Hudson-Hummels' tonight, and glad he stayed. He sleeps better than he has since his fateful trip to New York.
[end.]
Title: Selective Memory
Fandom: Looper
Pairing: Sarah/Joe
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's a choice... To see the corn stalks that sway gently in the summer breeze, lit by moonlight... Not the graves that Sarah and Joe dug and hid underneath.
Memory is a funny thing.
Sitting out on this porch, next to Joe... Running her fingers through his hair (he's growing it out now, a little; not so city-slick) Joe's hand resting atop her knee, a thought away from rising up her skirt-
It's hard to remember that this man's hand took a lot of lives before it came into hers...
Just like it's hard to remember, when she holds her baby, that there's a terrible thing that lurks inside of him. Inside his anger. That her boy could become that thing, again, if she lets him - though, of course, Sarah can't ever forget.
It's a choice, Sarah figures. To see the corn stalks that sway gently in the summer breeze, lit by moonlight... Not the graves that Sarah and Joe dug and hid underneath. To see the man who hugged her child to his leg, all covered in blood - and loved him - not the junkie who went into withdrawal right here where they sit. The man who wandered onto Sarah's land with probably more than half a mind to kill her and her boy both once he was done with his older self.
But that's what it's all about, aint it? Sarah chose to come and stand by her baby after what happened with her sister... Not to cast him out. She chose to make amends. Joe chose to stay with them, to fight for them, rather than play it safe and throw them both to time's dogs.
Sarah's felt, at times in her life, haunted by memory. Beat down. But now... in this life, in this time, she can't help but feel different. She and Joe made choices that changed the fate of her son; Sarah has to believe that. Together they've made the choice to change the fate of the world, and isn't that a wonder? That a person can choose such a thing? Whatever happens, whatever's happened or can, Sarah may never forget the bad things that lurk beneath just about everything... But now she has good things to remember, too, and - given a choice - she's choosing the good, every chance she gets.
[End.]
Title: There's No Monster At The End Of This Book
Fandom: Looper
Pairing: Gen, Joe + Cid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Joe doesn't know what to do with a kid... He doesn't know what to do with a lot of things that don't hurt somebody.
Joe doesn't know what to do with a kid. You can say not too many years have passed since Joe was one; he'd say that depends on what happened in those years.
Joe wouldn't wish what filled the first ten years of his life on a dog... Not even on the boy who will maybe, one-day (if they fuck up) become the Rainmaker.
But Joe does this now - walks Cid up to bed when he asks. Tucks him in. Even helps out with the bath, when Sarah's trying to whip up something special in the kitchen and wants "both her boys" out of the way. Reads to the kid. Like Joe's ever read anything for fun.
'Especially not this boy,' Joe realizes, about the fifth time he's done it. It's a little bit frightening - yeah, he let the kid live when future him would've put a bullet in Cid's scary little brain. But there's a difference between leaving someone be and being glad that he is.
"You're not reading it right! That's not how the story goes!" Cid argues with him, about a half hour later. Cid's beginning to scowl.
It's still weird... Facing Cid's anger. His power. Joe being torn between calling himself a pussy when his hair rises on end... and telling himself he's fucking nuts to risk his life to-
Joe always stops at the 'to' part. He could finish that statement one of three ways... To change the future? To save the world... To just belong to a real goddamned family for the first time in his life- Even Joe doesn't know which is his reason. But he knows that any of those things is probably worth it. Worth more than ten of the life he lived before coming onto Sarah's farm.
"Alright, alright..." Sarah has a way with calming Cid down. She coos at him and tells him she loves him... that's he's a good boy. It's the only way to go when Cid is seriously, dangerously pissed.
But Joe's way - for every day, normal tantrums... Is a little different.
"So I didn't read it right. Who says a story can't change?"
Cid opens his mouth, as if to yell. Joe's pulse picks up, a little. And then Cid blinks... like he's not sure how to yell about that one.
Joe doesn't smile... That'd piss him off, too, if he was Cid. He just keeps talking like the toy train sitting on Cid's bedside table didn't rattle a little, a moment ago. Nothing major - just a start.
That stops before it can even get going. "You want me to read it the other way, or what?"
"Why didn't you read it the other way in the first place?"
"What can I say, kid? I like mixing things up."
Obviously. And given time to think about it... What do you know? Cid runs up to Joe, the next morning, while Joe and Sarah sit at the kitchen table drinking coffee (like Joe's ever just sat with a pretty woman and drank coffee, offered to do the dishes and known he'd be eating off of them again later). And Cid says, "You're right!"
"Right about what, baby?"
"No! Joe! The story is better the way Joe tells it." Sarah smiles and shares a look with Joe. "Can you mix up another story for me tonight, Joe?"
It doesn't even occur to Joe that there's a weight to Cid's words as Joe considers them. Sarah can feel it - mirrors it, without meaning to, in her eyes. She tells herself that there's loving something that's come up on you because somehow you seem made to love it - and then there's wanting to be tied to that thing, loving for real. Pre-meditated.
Joe just wonders how the hell he's supposed to repeat whatever he did to impress Cid the night before. What does he know about children's stories? Luckily, Cid has too fucking many to choose between.
"Okay... On one condition," Joe tells Cid, leaning over in his chair to face the kid on eye level. He doesn't see Sarah tense.
"What's that?"
"We start reading stuff where no one tries eating any little kids in it. Seriously, dude. That sh- stuff creeps me out."
"Okay!" Happy (and therefore ready to find other amusements) Cid skips off.
Joe does notice Sarah smiling at him as Cid leaves. But he doesn't make an issue out of not knowing what's up. Joe doesn't what to do with a lot of things that don't hurt somebody, but as long as he isn't messing up those things that he's somehow been given, Joe figures he can pick up the 'how' as he goes along.
[End.]