HIMYM fic: Sometimes a Fantasy
Title: Sometimes a Fantasy
Authors: snogged and magpieinthesky
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. We don’t. Please don’t sue.
Ratings: FRT-13/PG-13
Pairing: Wendy/Carl
Word Count: 1564
Summary: What if Marshall’s theory about Carl (from "The Pineapple Incident") was right?
Beta: None. We claim responsibility for all errors.
A/N: This was originally intended to be a fun story to do for the HIMYM RPG community until we both realized that this fic had the potential to fit into the canon HIMYM timeline. Big thanks to snogged for being absolutely amazing. ::hugs::
Wendy pushes the door to the break room open, eyeing the clock and covering a yawn. These hours at the bar and her rehearsal schedule are rough, but she's not going to give up either. She rummages through her purse, pulls out a book, and plops down on a chair. She knows she only has fifteen minutes, so she'll just decompress by reading for a while. Holding the book out in front of her with one hand and resting her cheek on her other, she focuses on the book, not noticing the door swing open again.
Carl slides into the break room, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the whole of his body against the wall. He wasn't expecting the level of aggression in the bar crowd tonight and he's pretty sure that between him and Doug, fifteen frat boys had to be put down for bad behavior...by getting a swift kick out the front door.
He looks up to see Wendy, stress lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Hey..."
Wendy starts at the sound of Carl's voice, sitting up straight, only now realizing she had been steadily slouching further down her seat. "Huh?" She blinks blearily. "Oh, hi Carl."
"How's the book reading going?"
"Oh! Um," she pulls the careworn book toward herself, attempting to hide the cover from him. She crosses her arms on the table. "It's good. You know, interesting plotline and stuff, I guess."
He arches an eyebrow and slowly saunters over to her. A subtle game of cat and mouse. "I bet it's interesting." In a flash, he reaches down and pries the book from her fingers, chuckling at the front cover and smirking as his eyes gloss over the book's summary. "Vampires, huh? This have anything to do with Marshall's theory?"
She gapes at him in surprise at his taking advantage of her slow reflexes. Stretching her arm out to where he holds the book aloft, just out of her reach, she retorts, "Chyeah, like I'd read a vampire novel because Marshall thinks you're one? Because that makes sense. At all." She grimaces inwardly, embarrassed, but schools her face into an expression of annoyance.
Carl lets a grin curl the corners of his lips. "Oh come on, Wendy. You gotta admit that it's pretty funny." After a minute, he hands the book back to her. "I'll leave you be, pumpkin. You've only got a few minutes left anyways." And with a twinkle in his dark eye, he walks out the break room door, leaving Wendy alone with her book and her brain.
Wendy slumps in her chair again, continuing to watch the door absentmindedly. She shakes herself and rolls her eyes. "Whatever you say, Carl," she mutters, returning to open the paperback, running her fingers along the bumps where the paper has been folded and finding her place again. A sigh escapes her as she glances once more at the door and back toward the text. Her mind wanders for a moment, wondering whether Vincent would tease her if he found her reading a romance novel. Thinking back to how considerate he's been to her, and to everyone that she could tell, she concludes that he wouldn't. Huffing again at Carl's perverse need to needle her, she concentrates on the book before her again.
After a few minutes, the door to the break room opens again and a wispy, dark fog fills the room. Standing in the middle of these shadows is a man she knows far too well. Carl's eyes glitter dangerously in the darkness and he smiles down at her. "Hey beautiful..."
Wendy puts the book down, her lips thinning into a line and her eyebrows furrowing. "Carl, can't you leave me in peace on my break? I've been trying to read, and you're interrupting me again!" Though her tone is reprimanding, she feels suddenly unsure as she registers that he called her 'beautiful.'
Carl laughs, flashing her a set of perfect white teeth before closing the distance between them. "You have a beautiful throat. Pale and perfect and slender. And...mmm...beautiful lips as well. I apologize for not noticing them sooner."
She looks up at him helplessly, stunned by his words. She wants to get up, to move away from him. Feeling a sense of danger in his advance, she wills herself to spring from the chair, but her muscles will not obey. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in shock at her body's betrayal.
Carl leans in, plucking the book from her fingers and letting her feel the brush of skin against hers. He throws the book over his shoulder, ignoring her tiny meep of protest. "Stand up, beautiful. So I can admire you better."
Wendy gasps at the electricity she feels from the contact of their fingers. Attempting to locate the book with her eyes, she unwillingly brings them to rest on the man standing at her side. At his command, she slowly rises to her feet, still watching him steadily yet warily.
Carl's hand reaches out to settle on her hip and he steps in closer to her, feeling the heat radiating off her flesh, seeing the nervous tremble of her lips, smelling the notes of raspberries wafting off her hair. "I know you want this, beautiful. No use fighting me because I can smell it on you. Your desire runs hot all the way to your core."
A sigh shudders out of her as he rests his hand on her hip, and she finds the courage to look into Carl's face. Wendy bites her lip, and for the first time since he entered the room, speaks. "What makes you so sure?" Her voice comes out soft but defiant, belying her capitulation as she moves closer to him.
Carl's eyes burn with primal, animal instinct and he grins at her, toothy and knowing. "Because otherwise I wouldn't be here, beautiful." His hand slides over her cheek and he feels her shiver from the coolness of his touch. Then, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bends his head down to kiss the hollow of her throat, lips gently grazing over silk soft skin.
At the warm touch of his lips to her sensitized skin, Wendy's eyes roll upwards, and she tilts her head to the side, encouraging him to explore the column of her neck further. As she becomes further entranced by Carl's caresses, her arms fly upward, and her hands grasp his shoulders as she feels jolts of pleasure shoot through her.
He smiles against her skin, deepening the pressure of his kisses before trailing his tongue up her throat. The pulse of her blood makes him heady, thirsty, and he wants to consume her. Wants to make her just like him. "You'll be a perfect mistress of the night," he whispers as his teeth brush against her vein.
Wendy's eyes drift closed, and she feels the strength leave her body as her knees go weak. As if he knew every response of her body before it would happen, Carl immediately hoists her closer to him, holding her against him with one strong arm while continuing to enjoy her more fully exposed neck. She reaches up to drag her fingers through his hair, and sighs, no longer caring who has control.
"Make me yours, then."
Carl growls deep in his throat and tightens his hold on her body. Without another second's hesitation, his teeth extend and lengthen, turning into fangs. As they slide into her flesh, he can hear her gasp for breath, can feel her struggle for the air and oxygen he's stealing from her. Her blood is rich, thick and coppery as it flows down his throat and fills his stomach. Before she takes her final breath, he releases her and slices open his wrist. Ruby red droplets of immortality form on the cut and he's quick to press her lips to it.
"Drink, my beautiful mistress."
Like a child, helpless but to do his bidding, she obediently suckles on his wrist, savoring the sweet red liquid as she tastes it then swallows it down. Her eyelids heavy, she awaits her master's orders.
"Wendy...pumpkin...break time is over..."
Wendy jerks awake, sitting bolt upright. "Wha?" She blinks, attempting to take stock of her surroundings. Her eyes catch on the paperback romance, and in a knee-jerk reaction grabs it and tosses it to the other side of the room.
Carl just beams at her, his mood clearly on a different level since he left her alone with her book ten minutes earlier. "I'm gonna bet it was a good dream..." He laughs lightly. "But the customers have been begging for that charming smile of yours and I promised that I would deliver."
Wendy jumps out of her chair, avoiding Carl's eyes. "Sorry, Carl. I'll be right out there." She walks over to the hooks on the wall, reaching for an apron before she realizes that she never took hers off.
Blushing furiously, she pushes past Carl out of the break room, still looking anywhere but at him. She shakes her head, wondering whether brain bleach actually exists, and where can she get some?
He follows her out the door, wondering whether or not he'll ever see that heated blush in his waitress's cheeks again because...that's the kinda thing that doesn't come cheap.
Authors: snogged and magpieinthesky
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. We don’t. Please don’t sue.
Ratings: FRT-13/PG-13
Pairing: Wendy/Carl
Word Count: 1564
Summary: What if Marshall’s theory about Carl (from "The Pineapple Incident") was right?
Beta: None. We claim responsibility for all errors.
A/N: This was originally intended to be a fun story to do for the HIMYM RPG community until we both realized that this fic had the potential to fit into the canon HIMYM timeline. Big thanks to snogged for being absolutely amazing. ::hugs::
Wendy pushes the door to the break room open, eyeing the clock and covering a yawn. These hours at the bar and her rehearsal schedule are rough, but she's not going to give up either. She rummages through her purse, pulls out a book, and plops down on a chair. She knows she only has fifteen minutes, so she'll just decompress by reading for a while. Holding the book out in front of her with one hand and resting her cheek on her other, she focuses on the book, not noticing the door swing open again.
Carl slides into the break room, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the whole of his body against the wall. He wasn't expecting the level of aggression in the bar crowd tonight and he's pretty sure that between him and Doug, fifteen frat boys had to be put down for bad behavior...by getting a swift kick out the front door.
He looks up to see Wendy, stress lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Hey..."
Wendy starts at the sound of Carl's voice, sitting up straight, only now realizing she had been steadily slouching further down her seat. "Huh?" She blinks blearily. "Oh, hi Carl."
"How's the book reading going?"
"Oh! Um," she pulls the careworn book toward herself, attempting to hide the cover from him. She crosses her arms on the table. "It's good. You know, interesting plotline and stuff, I guess."
He arches an eyebrow and slowly saunters over to her. A subtle game of cat and mouse. "I bet it's interesting." In a flash, he reaches down and pries the book from her fingers, chuckling at the front cover and smirking as his eyes gloss over the book's summary. "Vampires, huh? This have anything to do with Marshall's theory?"
She gapes at him in surprise at his taking advantage of her slow reflexes. Stretching her arm out to where he holds the book aloft, just out of her reach, she retorts, "Chyeah, like I'd read a vampire novel because Marshall thinks you're one? Because that makes sense. At all." She grimaces inwardly, embarrassed, but schools her face into an expression of annoyance.
Carl lets a grin curl the corners of his lips. "Oh come on, Wendy. You gotta admit that it's pretty funny." After a minute, he hands the book back to her. "I'll leave you be, pumpkin. You've only got a few minutes left anyways." And with a twinkle in his dark eye, he walks out the break room door, leaving Wendy alone with her book and her brain.
Wendy slumps in her chair again, continuing to watch the door absentmindedly. She shakes herself and rolls her eyes. "Whatever you say, Carl," she mutters, returning to open the paperback, running her fingers along the bumps where the paper has been folded and finding her place again. A sigh escapes her as she glances once more at the door and back toward the text. Her mind wanders for a moment, wondering whether Vincent would tease her if he found her reading a romance novel. Thinking back to how considerate he's been to her, and to everyone that she could tell, she concludes that he wouldn't. Huffing again at Carl's perverse need to needle her, she concentrates on the book before her again.
After a few minutes, the door to the break room opens again and a wispy, dark fog fills the room. Standing in the middle of these shadows is a man she knows far too well. Carl's eyes glitter dangerously in the darkness and he smiles down at her. "Hey beautiful..."
Wendy puts the book down, her lips thinning into a line and her eyebrows furrowing. "Carl, can't you leave me in peace on my break? I've been trying to read, and you're interrupting me again!" Though her tone is reprimanding, she feels suddenly unsure as she registers that he called her 'beautiful.'
Carl laughs, flashing her a set of perfect white teeth before closing the distance between them. "You have a beautiful throat. Pale and perfect and slender. And...mmm...beautiful lips as well. I apologize for not noticing them sooner."
She looks up at him helplessly, stunned by his words. She wants to get up, to move away from him. Feeling a sense of danger in his advance, she wills herself to spring from the chair, but her muscles will not obey. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in shock at her body's betrayal.
Carl leans in, plucking the book from her fingers and letting her feel the brush of skin against hers. He throws the book over his shoulder, ignoring her tiny meep of protest. "Stand up, beautiful. So I can admire you better."
Wendy gasps at the electricity she feels from the contact of their fingers. Attempting to locate the book with her eyes, she unwillingly brings them to rest on the man standing at her side. At his command, she slowly rises to her feet, still watching him steadily yet warily.
Carl's hand reaches out to settle on her hip and he steps in closer to her, feeling the heat radiating off her flesh, seeing the nervous tremble of her lips, smelling the notes of raspberries wafting off her hair. "I know you want this, beautiful. No use fighting me because I can smell it on you. Your desire runs hot all the way to your core."
A sigh shudders out of her as he rests his hand on her hip, and she finds the courage to look into Carl's face. Wendy bites her lip, and for the first time since he entered the room, speaks. "What makes you so sure?" Her voice comes out soft but defiant, belying her capitulation as she moves closer to him.
Carl's eyes burn with primal, animal instinct and he grins at her, toothy and knowing. "Because otherwise I wouldn't be here, beautiful." His hand slides over her cheek and he feels her shiver from the coolness of his touch. Then, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bends his head down to kiss the hollow of her throat, lips gently grazing over silk soft skin.
At the warm touch of his lips to her sensitized skin, Wendy's eyes roll upwards, and she tilts her head to the side, encouraging him to explore the column of her neck further. As she becomes further entranced by Carl's caresses, her arms fly upward, and her hands grasp his shoulders as she feels jolts of pleasure shoot through her.
He smiles against her skin, deepening the pressure of his kisses before trailing his tongue up her throat. The pulse of her blood makes him heady, thirsty, and he wants to consume her. Wants to make her just like him. "You'll be a perfect mistress of the night," he whispers as his teeth brush against her vein.
Wendy's eyes drift closed, and she feels the strength leave her body as her knees go weak. As if he knew every response of her body before it would happen, Carl immediately hoists her closer to him, holding her against him with one strong arm while continuing to enjoy her more fully exposed neck. She reaches up to drag her fingers through his hair, and sighs, no longer caring who has control.
"Make me yours, then."
Carl growls deep in his throat and tightens his hold on her body. Without another second's hesitation, his teeth extend and lengthen, turning into fangs. As they slide into her flesh, he can hear her gasp for breath, can feel her struggle for the air and oxygen he's stealing from her. Her blood is rich, thick and coppery as it flows down his throat and fills his stomach. Before she takes her final breath, he releases her and slices open his wrist. Ruby red droplets of immortality form on the cut and he's quick to press her lips to it.
"Drink, my beautiful mistress."
Like a child, helpless but to do his bidding, she obediently suckles on his wrist, savoring the sweet red liquid as she tastes it then swallows it down. Her eyelids heavy, she awaits her master's orders.
"Wendy...pumpkin...break time is over..."
Wendy jerks awake, sitting bolt upright. "Wha?" She blinks, attempting to take stock of her surroundings. Her eyes catch on the paperback romance, and in a knee-jerk reaction grabs it and tosses it to the other side of the room.
Carl just beams at her, his mood clearly on a different level since he left her alone with her book ten minutes earlier. "I'm gonna bet it was a good dream..." He laughs lightly. "But the customers have been begging for that charming smile of yours and I promised that I would deliver."
Wendy jumps out of her chair, avoiding Carl's eyes. "Sorry, Carl. I'll be right out there." She walks over to the hooks on the wall, reaching for an apron before she realizes that she never took hers off.
Blushing furiously, she pushes past Carl out of the break room, still looking anywhere but at him. She shakes her head, wondering whether brain bleach actually exists, and where can she get some?
He follows her out the door, wondering whether or not he'll ever see that heated blush in his waitress's cheeks again because...that's the kinda thing that doesn't come cheap.