BTR Secret Santa
Title ♪ Worth It
Rating ♪ PG. Tops.
Created for ♪ technicallysane
Warnings ♪ Though I guess it touches on the more mature themes inherent in the Tentatively Yours canon: AU, slave!fic, mentions of past abuse, could be construed as RPS
Description/Summary ♪ A fluffy little drabble set in technicallysane 's wonderful Tentatively Yours 'verse. I was so excited when I learned I was going to be writing for you; I can only hope I did it justice. We don't talk as much as I'd like, but I hope this at least shows a little how cool and awesome I think you are. :x
"You don't... You've never had ice cream?"
Carlos shakes his head mutely, shrinking a little, and James feels his stomach roil, almost as much at Carlos' shame as the injustice itself. That Carlos thinks he has to be apologetic for being deprived of-- James doesn't often feel the need to hit things, but every time he finds something like this, some silly triviality that he and hundreds take for granted, he can't decide between throwing up and flaying the living tar out of whoever is unlucky to fall into his grasp first.
Since neither of those are particularly viable options right now, however, he wrenches the lid off with perhaps an unwonted amount of venom, and spoons out a mound. He holds it out to Carlos and demands "Try it."
Carlos instinctively does as he's told, and the grin that spreads across his face is bright enough to power several cities. "S'cold," he sputters, obviously enjoying it. "And really sweet."
"Have as much as you want," James urges him, and it doesn't take much wheedling before Carlos digs in again, smiling his million-watt smile as he sloppily devours it. James watches with satisfaction, more satisfaction than he would have gotten from eating the ice cream himself.
It's not long before the little cup is empty and Carlos is smiling at him widely, vanilla streaking the left corner of his mouth. "Thank you."
James grins back. "No problem," he says. "You got a little -- " he leans forward " -- right there," he adds, kissing the smudge clean softly. He feels Carlos stiffen, then relax, and finally the corner of his mouth inch upward in a tiny smile.
"Thank you," Carlos repeats after James pulls back.
James gathers the container and spoon, and bumps his forehead against Carlos' before he leaves. He laughs before turning to wash them. "Just leave me some next time, yeah? Then I won't have to get mine off of you."
And maybe he imagines it, but when he hears Carlos quietly say, "It's not that bad," James smiles to himself; the confession alone was worth all the ice cream in the world.
Title ♪ James: 1 -- Carlos' self-control: 0
Rating ♪ T for kissings and swearings
Created for ♪ katierazzle
Warnings ♪ swearing, slash, RPS
Description/Summary ♪ Carlos is really too easy. Inspired by an old interview where James spent the whole damn time smouldering at Carlos with his clavicles trying to reach across the room and seduce his pants clean off. It happened, I swear.
"Stop it."
James cocks his head at Carlos innocently. "Stop what?"
"That shirt." Carlos is glaring at it, like maybe he can burn it clean off of him.
"Stop... my shirt?"
"You know what I mean. During that whole fucking interview."
"I really don't..." James shrugs, then very accidentally tugs the collar down in a bout mock confusion. "What do you -- ?"
"Clavicles," Carlos interrupts impatiently, apparently not quite keen on stringing together full sentences, but it's all water under the bridge now, because he's launched himself at James, mouth pressing furious kisses against his collar bone.
James' flawless victory grin doesn't go off quite as smoothly as anticipated -- it's rather hard to smile smugly around a whimper -- but it doesn't stop him thinking to himself, just as planned.
Title ♪ In Which Mercedes Griffin Has Had Enough Bullshit
Rating ♪ T, for mentions of sexual activity
Created for ♪ sleighttrick
Warnings ♪ hinges on Jo/Camille, mentions of girl on girl and gay boyfriends
Description/Summary ♪ Miss Mercedes Griffin is sick and tired of being an accidental third wheel.
Mercedes is royally pissed off.
Not that this is some dramatic change from usual events. Mercedes can find at least 16 different, very viable reasons to be royally -- though not at the expense of being fabulously -- pissed at any given moment, but this is really just getting silly.
"No no NO," she spits angrily, glaring daggers at Jo. The blonde girl looks taken aback and opens her mouth to say something, but Mercedes pays her no heed. "I will not come to another sleepover with you two just to spend the night stewing in your unresolved sexual tension -- no, shut up," she waves her hand to stop Jo saying anything, because she's making moves to try and do that very thing, which Mercedes just hates, people interrupting her. It's really very inconsiderate. "If I have to get in the way of your inevitable proclamation of love one more time, I will hang myself."
Jo is alarmed enough at this that she merely closes her mouth and swallows, trying to avoid looking like a beached fish.
Mercedes sighs. "Maybe not hang myself, that's sort of gross." She wrinkles her nose in distaste; what a foul way to go, and especially when blue isn't even in season. "I'll just end up having Lolo nuke most of Africa off the map, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"
Jo shakes her head mutely, giving a half-hearted shrug. "I guess -- "
"No, no, we don't," Mercedes affirms, patting her on the cheek. "So why don't you skip off and you and Cami can talk about, God, I don't know what you guys talk about, having gay boyfriends or scissoring or the most recent season of House or your mutual feelings for each other. ...Oh, scissoring, nasty." She really needs to stop grossing herself out like this. "Besides, I'd really like to give seducing Kendall back onto the path of heterosexuality one last shot, so you chickies need to start a romantic two-girl friendship pronto."
With that, she's off, turning perfectly on a pointed heel, and flouncing off with just the right mix of sass and disdain. Honestly, she doesn't know how people get along without her; they're like infants. Now to bum Kendall's phone number off of Gustavo...
Title ♪ All Turns Out
Rating ♪ very light T. there's one swear word and mild nipple!discussions. that's about it, I think.
Created for ♪ disorient_me
Warnings ♪ it almost got gen-y, there's so little to warn about. slash, I guess.
Description/Summary ♪ A few vignettes of the boys' childhood/teenagehood. Kames and Cargan slanted -- you ask, I give, though it took me a while to adjust to writing it. @_@
the first day of second grade
The first time Logan sees Carlos, he is scornful.
The short boy, short even back then, had a Digimon lunchbox, a gleaming, black helmet, and his two front teeth missing, which just didn't make sense; what was the point of wearing a helmet if you were going to go around with missing teeth? Why not wear a mouth guard instead? That was far more logical.
But the boy is sitting next to Kendall, and they are avidly discussing hockey, so there's not much Logan can do.
"Those aren't real," is the only thing he blurts out, pointing at Carlos' lunchbox.
He looks at him blankly. "Course they are," he says.
"No, they're not."
Carlos heaves a sigh, then says patiently, as if explaining to a very dull toddler that two and two did indeed equal four, thank you very much, "Yeah, they are."
"But," Logan eyes the brightly colored creatures critically. "The anatomy's not right."
"Duh. They're in the digital world."
He points at one of them. "But his wings are all wrong."
"Well," Carlos sputters indignantly, "you're all wrong."
The lunch monitors have to pull them apart.
mid-summer, after seventh grade
"Kendall, your hair looks totally jank."
"It looks -- what?" Kendall raises alarmed eyebrow at James, who is studiously picking at his head in what appears to be great disappointment. "Is that even a word?"
James gives a weary sigh. "Jank. Short for janky. Short for get that shit cut. Hopefully soon."
"I just got it cut two weeks ago -- "
"By a monkey?"
"And I'm not going to get it cut again, that's ridiculous," Kendall finishes firmly, rolling his eyes.
"You need to do something," James whispers despairingly. "Bad haircuts are dangerous." Something about his warm breath whistling into Kendall's ear makes his spine tingle, though he manages to ignore it in favor of his Gameboy Advance, where he watches his opponent's Metapod use Harden with disinterest (not that he didn't see the Freudian in it; somewhere God is laughing at him).
But he keeps his cool. "You know, I was just thinking of growing out the back into a mullet. I actually asked to have it cut specifically like this."
James doesn't speak to him for a week.
late fall, ninth grade
"Logan?"
"Yeah?"
And, even as long as he's been hanging out with Carlos, he's still taken aback by the question. He feels the need to dash off to the bathroom or stick his head in the sand, almost more than when Mr. Antolini asked him if he was feeling okay and started touching his forehead. (He had been feeling okay, but then that had happened and it was a wonder he had managed to cobble together some inane story about Kendall's science project baby-sitting his little sister's front lawn mower. Whoever said he wasn't good under pressure?)
But this is too much.
"Why do guys have nipples?"
Logan hems and haws and coughs and checks his watch -- the bus was really late, of course -- and finally says, "Why would I know?" Masterful evasion.
"Because you want to be a doctor and you know everything?"
Drat. "Well, it's because... you see... fetuses -- or I guess feti? -- ahah, well, funny thing is. Pffffff. Braffdbnt. Bleep blap bloop." Use of finger guns to try and distract Carlos from the original train of thought? Double check.
"What -- "
"Oh, look, the bus!" Thank God.
And as they clamber on, Logan resolves never to let Carlos ask him questions again and redirect them to Kendall, who might not know, but won't melt under the curious stare of his giant brown eyes.
late spring, ninth grade
Everything is sort of blurry, as James spews words at him; Logan only really registers "Carlos" and "hurt" and "just messing around" and "I'm so sorry" before he's racing down to the ditch, heart pounding a tremulous tattoo into his throat.
And there's Carlos, looking smaller than ever, so much smaller than he ever should. He's shaking, shuddering, curling into himself, while Kendall hunches over him, teeth clenched. He glances up when he hears Logan pounding in, and his nostrils flare just slightly, but enough for Logan to see he's relieved.
"What do we do?" Kendall asks simply, while James nods behind him, panting from their sprint here.
"We -- we -- " visions of Carlos flash before him " -- I don't know -- if we -- " Digimon " -- what -- "
"Logan." Kendall's voice cuts through Logan's haze of panic. "For Carlos. Please."
Logan swallows, but his head is remarkably clear. "Okay, we need to stop him laying on that leg, he might have broken it -- " he notices, as if from a distance, that he's trembling, too " -- or probably fractured it. And someone needs to get help, James--?" James is off like a rocket, before Logan can even finish.
"Okay, come on." Kendall's voice is taut and his stare is terrifyingly bright, but Logan doesn't think he's ever been this happy to have someone with him. "Let's move him."
"Be careful," Logan mutters as they shift him. It's sort of a dumb warning, considering the fact that it would take an idiot to realize that they should be careful, but Kendall merely grunts his assent as they shift their friend.
"Logan?" Carlos' eyelids flutter, and his voice is weak and cracked, but a wave of relief crashes through Logan nonetheless, because at least he's talking, he's going to be alright.
"Yeah? I'm here."
This is apparently all the answer Carlos needs, because his eyes droop shut again. "Okay."
And it's such a simple word, but Logan felt he could finally breathe again. Okay. Everything is going to be okay. James is back, babbling something about the neighbor's phone and her cats' evil ways but he called 911 and Kendall's laughing like he hasn't laughed in years and Logan is just swallowing, trying to swallow the giant lump in his throat. Everything's going to be okay.
There's one more fic-ish-thing still waiting to be posted, so I'll add that later. :x Hope everyone enjoyed their gifts!
Rating ♪ PG. Tops.
Created for ♪ technicallysane
Warnings ♪ Though I guess it touches on the more mature themes inherent in the Tentatively Yours canon: AU, slave!fic, mentions of past abuse, could be construed as RPS
Description/Summary ♪ A fluffy little drabble set in technicallysane 's wonderful Tentatively Yours 'verse. I was so excited when I learned I was going to be writing for you; I can only hope I did it justice. We don't talk as much as I'd like, but I hope this at least shows a little how cool and awesome I think you are. :x
"You don't... You've never had ice cream?"
Carlos shakes his head mutely, shrinking a little, and James feels his stomach roil, almost as much at Carlos' shame as the injustice itself. That Carlos thinks he has to be apologetic for being deprived of-- James doesn't often feel the need to hit things, but every time he finds something like this, some silly triviality that he and hundreds take for granted, he can't decide between throwing up and flaying the living tar out of whoever is unlucky to fall into his grasp first.
Since neither of those are particularly viable options right now, however, he wrenches the lid off with perhaps an unwonted amount of venom, and spoons out a mound. He holds it out to Carlos and demands "Try it."
Carlos instinctively does as he's told, and the grin that spreads across his face is bright enough to power several cities. "S'cold," he sputters, obviously enjoying it. "And really sweet."
"Have as much as you want," James urges him, and it doesn't take much wheedling before Carlos digs in again, smiling his million-watt smile as he sloppily devours it. James watches with satisfaction, more satisfaction than he would have gotten from eating the ice cream himself.
It's not long before the little cup is empty and Carlos is smiling at him widely, vanilla streaking the left corner of his mouth. "Thank you."
James grins back. "No problem," he says. "You got a little -- " he leans forward " -- right there," he adds, kissing the smudge clean softly. He feels Carlos stiffen, then relax, and finally the corner of his mouth inch upward in a tiny smile.
"Thank you," Carlos repeats after James pulls back.
James gathers the container and spoon, and bumps his forehead against Carlos' before he leaves. He laughs before turning to wash them. "Just leave me some next time, yeah? Then I won't have to get mine off of you."
And maybe he imagines it, but when he hears Carlos quietly say, "It's not that bad," James smiles to himself; the confession alone was worth all the ice cream in the world.
Title ♪ James: 1 -- Carlos' self-control: 0
Rating ♪ T for kissings and swearings
Created for ♪ katierazzle
Warnings ♪ swearing, slash, RPS
Description/Summary ♪ Carlos is really too easy. Inspired by an old interview where James spent the whole damn time smouldering at Carlos with his clavicles trying to reach across the room and seduce his pants clean off. It happened, I swear.
"Stop it."
James cocks his head at Carlos innocently. "Stop what?"
"That shirt." Carlos is glaring at it, like maybe he can burn it clean off of him.
"Stop... my shirt?"
"You know what I mean. During that whole fucking interview."
"I really don't..." James shrugs, then very accidentally tugs the collar down in a bout mock confusion. "What do you -- ?"
"Clavicles," Carlos interrupts impatiently, apparently not quite keen on stringing together full sentences, but it's all water under the bridge now, because he's launched himself at James, mouth pressing furious kisses against his collar bone.
James' flawless victory grin doesn't go off quite as smoothly as anticipated -- it's rather hard to smile smugly around a whimper -- but it doesn't stop him thinking to himself, just as planned.
Title ♪ In Which Mercedes Griffin Has Had Enough Bullshit
Rating ♪ T, for mentions of sexual activity
Created for ♪ sleighttrick
Warnings ♪ hinges on Jo/Camille, mentions of girl on girl and gay boyfriends
Description/Summary ♪ Miss Mercedes Griffin is sick and tired of being an accidental third wheel.
Mercedes is royally pissed off.
Not that this is some dramatic change from usual events. Mercedes can find at least 16 different, very viable reasons to be royally -- though not at the expense of being fabulously -- pissed at any given moment, but this is really just getting silly.
"No no NO," she spits angrily, glaring daggers at Jo. The blonde girl looks taken aback and opens her mouth to say something, but Mercedes pays her no heed. "I will not come to another sleepover with you two just to spend the night stewing in your unresolved sexual tension -- no, shut up," she waves her hand to stop Jo saying anything, because she's making moves to try and do that very thing, which Mercedes just hates, people interrupting her. It's really very inconsiderate. "If I have to get in the way of your inevitable proclamation of love one more time, I will hang myself."
Jo is alarmed enough at this that she merely closes her mouth and swallows, trying to avoid looking like a beached fish.
Mercedes sighs. "Maybe not hang myself, that's sort of gross." She wrinkles her nose in distaste; what a foul way to go, and especially when blue isn't even in season. "I'll just end up having Lolo nuke most of Africa off the map, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"
Jo shakes her head mutely, giving a half-hearted shrug. "I guess -- "
"No, no, we don't," Mercedes affirms, patting her on the cheek. "So why don't you skip off and you and Cami can talk about, God, I don't know what you guys talk about, having gay boyfriends or scissoring or the most recent season of House or your mutual feelings for each other. ...Oh, scissoring, nasty." She really needs to stop grossing herself out like this. "Besides, I'd really like to give seducing Kendall back onto the path of heterosexuality one last shot, so you chickies need to start a romantic two-girl friendship pronto."
With that, she's off, turning perfectly on a pointed heel, and flouncing off with just the right mix of sass and disdain. Honestly, she doesn't know how people get along without her; they're like infants. Now to bum Kendall's phone number off of Gustavo...
Title ♪ All Turns Out
Rating ♪ very light T. there's one swear word and mild nipple!discussions. that's about it, I think.
Created for ♪ disorient_me
Warnings ♪ it almost got gen-y, there's so little to warn about. slash, I guess.
Description/Summary ♪ A few vignettes of the boys' childhood/teenagehood. Kames and Cargan slanted -- you ask, I give, though it took me a while to adjust to writing it. @_@
the first day of second grade
The first time Logan sees Carlos, he is scornful.
The short boy, short even back then, had a Digimon lunchbox, a gleaming, black helmet, and his two front teeth missing, which just didn't make sense; what was the point of wearing a helmet if you were going to go around with missing teeth? Why not wear a mouth guard instead? That was far more logical.
But the boy is sitting next to Kendall, and they are avidly discussing hockey, so there's not much Logan can do.
"Those aren't real," is the only thing he blurts out, pointing at Carlos' lunchbox.
He looks at him blankly. "Course they are," he says.
"No, they're not."
Carlos heaves a sigh, then says patiently, as if explaining to a very dull toddler that two and two did indeed equal four, thank you very much, "Yeah, they are."
"But," Logan eyes the brightly colored creatures critically. "The anatomy's not right."
"Duh. They're in the digital world."
He points at one of them. "But his wings are all wrong."
"Well," Carlos sputters indignantly, "you're all wrong."
The lunch monitors have to pull them apart.
mid-summer, after seventh grade
"Kendall, your hair looks totally jank."
"It looks -- what?" Kendall raises alarmed eyebrow at James, who is studiously picking at his head in what appears to be great disappointment. "Is that even a word?"
James gives a weary sigh. "Jank. Short for janky. Short for get that shit cut. Hopefully soon."
"I just got it cut two weeks ago -- "
"By a monkey?"
"And I'm not going to get it cut again, that's ridiculous," Kendall finishes firmly, rolling his eyes.
"You need to do something," James whispers despairingly. "Bad haircuts are dangerous." Something about his warm breath whistling into Kendall's ear makes his spine tingle, though he manages to ignore it in favor of his Gameboy Advance, where he watches his opponent's Metapod use Harden with disinterest (not that he didn't see the Freudian in it; somewhere God is laughing at him).
But he keeps his cool. "You know, I was just thinking of growing out the back into a mullet. I actually asked to have it cut specifically like this."
James doesn't speak to him for a week.
late fall, ninth grade
"Logan?"
"Yeah?"
And, even as long as he's been hanging out with Carlos, he's still taken aback by the question. He feels the need to dash off to the bathroom or stick his head in the sand, almost more than when Mr. Antolini asked him if he was feeling okay and started touching his forehead. (He had been feeling okay, but then that had happened and it was a wonder he had managed to cobble together some inane story about Kendall's science project baby-sitting his little sister's front lawn mower. Whoever said he wasn't good under pressure?)
But this is too much.
"Why do guys have nipples?"
Logan hems and haws and coughs and checks his watch -- the bus was really late, of course -- and finally says, "Why would I know?" Masterful evasion.
"Because you want to be a doctor and you know everything?"
Drat. "Well, it's because... you see... fetuses -- or I guess feti? -- ahah, well, funny thing is. Pffffff. Braffdbnt. Bleep blap bloop." Use of finger guns to try and distract Carlos from the original train of thought? Double check.
"What -- "
"Oh, look, the bus!" Thank God.
And as they clamber on, Logan resolves never to let Carlos ask him questions again and redirect them to Kendall, who might not know, but won't melt under the curious stare of his giant brown eyes.
late spring, ninth grade
Everything is sort of blurry, as James spews words at him; Logan only really registers "Carlos" and "hurt" and "just messing around" and "I'm so sorry" before he's racing down to the ditch, heart pounding a tremulous tattoo into his throat.
And there's Carlos, looking smaller than ever, so much smaller than he ever should. He's shaking, shuddering, curling into himself, while Kendall hunches over him, teeth clenched. He glances up when he hears Logan pounding in, and his nostrils flare just slightly, but enough for Logan to see he's relieved.
"What do we do?" Kendall asks simply, while James nods behind him, panting from their sprint here.
"We -- we -- " visions of Carlos flash before him " -- I don't know -- if we -- " Digimon " -- what -- "
"Logan." Kendall's voice cuts through Logan's haze of panic. "For Carlos. Please."
Logan swallows, but his head is remarkably clear. "Okay, we need to stop him laying on that leg, he might have broken it -- " he notices, as if from a distance, that he's trembling, too " -- or probably fractured it. And someone needs to get help, James--?" James is off like a rocket, before Logan can even finish.
"Okay, come on." Kendall's voice is taut and his stare is terrifyingly bright, but Logan doesn't think he's ever been this happy to have someone with him. "Let's move him."
"Be careful," Logan mutters as they shift him. It's sort of a dumb warning, considering the fact that it would take an idiot to realize that they should be careful, but Kendall merely grunts his assent as they shift their friend.
"Logan?" Carlos' eyelids flutter, and his voice is weak and cracked, but a wave of relief crashes through Logan nonetheless, because at least he's talking, he's going to be alright.
"Yeah? I'm here."
This is apparently all the answer Carlos needs, because his eyes droop shut again. "Okay."
And it's such a simple word, but Logan felt he could finally breathe again. Okay. Everything is going to be okay. James is back, babbling something about the neighbor's phone and her cats' evil ways but he called 911 and Kendall's laughing like he hasn't laughed in years and Logan is just swallowing, trying to swallow the giant lump in his throat. Everything's going to be okay.
There's one more fic-ish-thing still waiting to be posted, so I'll add that later. :x Hope everyone enjoyed their gifts!