Three Being Human Ficlets (Daisy/Ivan, Mitchell/Lucy, Mitchell/George)
Title: this life will be forgotten
Pairing: Daisy/Ivan
Rating: PG-13
Words:160
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: We all have to turn sometime.
A/N: This was actually written for the Doomed Ship meme way back when, but I’m just now getting around to reposting---with a few modifications.
She lets him pull her along through the rubble, cold hand in cold hand. Around them the bombs drop and she barely flinches. He takes this as a good sign.
They pause outside a shop with shattered windows and Daisy peers in at the remnants of a display of baby carriages. They lie upturned and scattered, some of them blown to bits---shreds of lace are strewn among the rocks like confetti. Daisy leans into him and takes a long, deep breath.
“Make it a good one, darling,” Ivan whispers in her ear.
She turns to him, her red lips set in a look of grim resolve.
“Do it.”
Ivan runs a thumb down her neck, finds her pulse. Her heart is hammering in her chest.
“We’ll have a wonderful life, my Daisy,” he says. “I promise you that.”
He sinks his teeth into her neck and tastes the first rush of blood---so sweet.
Daisy barely makes a sound.
Title: sinners in the hands of an angry god
Pairing: Lucy/Mitchell
Rating: Hard R
Words: 388
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: She can have sex with Mitchell against her kitchen counter tonight and kill him tomorrow. She can. She has to.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for joyyjpg who asked for angst.
He tastes like a man. Sweet, with an edge of something sharp, metallic---she reminds herself that’s someone else’s blood. She pushes this fact away, choosing instead to focus on the way his hands are tugging at her trousers, the way his skin feels as she digs her nails into his back.
Lucy has always been good at compartmentalizing. Her life is a series of drawers: scientist, woman, daughter (horrible, awful daughter according to her mum), goldfish owner, believer---no one thing has to bleed into the other. She can have sex with Mitchell against her kitchen counter tonight and kill him tomorrow. She can. She has to.
He shoves into her without warning and she has to wrap her legs around his back to keep from falling. He holds her up, whispers something gentle and comforting that she can’t understand because all she can hear is the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears.
She practices her penance in her head.
Forgive me Lord, I fucked a vampire and I liked it.
Best not to invoke Katy Perry in her prayers. She closes her eyes and rolls her hips against Mitchell, feels the warm press of flesh and bone grinding back.
He is a vampire. But he’s alive. He shops, he has mates, he fucks---
She bites down on his shoulder as she comes and he hisses in pain.
“Sorry, sorry…” Lucy murmurs, trying to catch her breath.
“It’s okay,” Mitchell says and he kisses her to emphasize his point, tongue darting out sheepishly to catch the drop of blood dripping down her bottom lip. “It’s fine.”
Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned and I want to sin again and again. Forgive me because I don’t know what your will is. Forgive me because I can’t kill him. Forgive me because I will.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks.
Lucy disentangles her legs from his waist, shuddering as her bare feet meet the cool linoleum floor. She forces a smile, her hands still lingering at his hips. He smiles back, bright and trusting.
“Nothing a few Hail Marys won’t fix,” she says and he laughs as if she’s just told him a remarkably funny joke. She leans into him, holds him tight against her chest.
Forgive me, for I know not what I do.
Title: intervention
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Words: 573
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Mitchell has to understand, he has to know that George can’t let him go on this way.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for galaxy_song who asked for marks/marking.
George isn’t good at this.
But Carl’s on another continent and Annie’s…well, she’s gone (for now at least) and he’s all Mitchell has left, so George ties Mitchell to a chair and locks the door.
Mitchell’s begging now, sweat dripping down his brow.
“I don’t want this,” Mitchell says, voice cracking around the edges. “I changed my mind, George. Are you listening to me? I changed my fucking mind.”
George sits with his back against the door, head buried in his hands. When he was still lucid, Mitchell said this part could last days, maybe even months. Unfortunately, they don’t have that kind of time. Not if they’re going to bring Annie back.
“Yes, well, that’s…that’s just tough,” George says. He hopes he sounds firm.
Mitchell glares at George; his eyes have gone completely black and he’s straining against the ropes.
“Let me go.”
George moves just close enough to place his hands on Mitchell’s knees. It’s dangerous and stupid, but he doesn’t care. Mitchell has to understand, he has to know that George can’t let him go on this way.
“No,” George says softly.
*
By the end of the week, Mitchell is coherent again. He’s a shaking, stinking mess, but George can see glimpses of his friend in him again. He still keeps the door bolted.
“I’m alright,” Mitchell promises.
“I hope that’s true. For all our sakes.”
He goes near enough to press a warm cup of coffee in Mitchell’s hands and for a split second their fingers meet. Mitchell looks up at George and smiles, dark and slow. He doesn’t have time to think, let alone move before Mitchell shoves him against the wall, his hands pushing George’s collar aside desperately.
He should have been smarter. (Don’t trust me, Mitchell had warned. No matter what I say.)
“Mitchell!” George screams, but Mitchell ignores him, lets his teeth sink into the pulsing vein in George’s neck.
George lets out a yowl of pain, struggling to push Mitchell away, but there’s no need to fight. Mitchell lets him go.
“What…”Mitchell says. “What did I do?”
“You bit me,” George says rubbing at the puncture wounds.
Mitchell’s face crumples as he sinks to the floor. Hesitantly, George settles down beside him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”Mitchell chokes out.
George wraps his arms around Mitchell’s shivering frame and presses a fleeting kiss to his friend’s matted black curls. He’s missed being near him like this. It’s brutal to sit across a room from Mitchell and watch him suffer.
“It’s okay. What’s a quick nip between mates, right?” George jokes.
Mitchell half laughs as he straightens up. George looks him straight in the eye this time, searchingly; trying to make sure the man across from him is really his Mitchell. They’re too close for this to work. Mitchell needs someone stronger, someone who cares less.
Mitchell reaches out to trace the marks with the tips of his fingers and George shivers, but doesn’t pull away from his touch.
“This is going to scar,” Mitchell says.
“Won’t be my first.”
Mitchell scoots closer, lets his lips graze the wound.
“It’ll be the last one you get from me.”
George takes a deep breath. He’ll see Mitchell through this. No matter what. He owes him that much.
“I think we should put you back in the chair, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mitchell agrees.
*
One month later, Mitchell is clean.
The mark on George’s neck doesn’t fade.
Pairing: Daisy/Ivan
Rating: PG-13
Words:160
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: We all have to turn sometime.
A/N: This was actually written for the Doomed Ship meme way back when, but I’m just now getting around to reposting---with a few modifications.
She lets him pull her along through the rubble, cold hand in cold hand. Around them the bombs drop and she barely flinches. He takes this as a good sign.
They pause outside a shop with shattered windows and Daisy peers in at the remnants of a display of baby carriages. They lie upturned and scattered, some of them blown to bits---shreds of lace are strewn among the rocks like confetti. Daisy leans into him and takes a long, deep breath.
“Make it a good one, darling,” Ivan whispers in her ear.
She turns to him, her red lips set in a look of grim resolve.
“Do it.”
Ivan runs a thumb down her neck, finds her pulse. Her heart is hammering in her chest.
“We’ll have a wonderful life, my Daisy,” he says. “I promise you that.”
He sinks his teeth into her neck and tastes the first rush of blood---so sweet.
Daisy barely makes a sound.
Title: sinners in the hands of an angry god
Pairing: Lucy/Mitchell
Rating: Hard R
Words: 388
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: She can have sex with Mitchell against her kitchen counter tonight and kill him tomorrow. She can. She has to.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for joyyjpg who asked for angst.
He tastes like a man. Sweet, with an edge of something sharp, metallic---she reminds herself that’s someone else’s blood. She pushes this fact away, choosing instead to focus on the way his hands are tugging at her trousers, the way his skin feels as she digs her nails into his back.
Lucy has always been good at compartmentalizing. Her life is a series of drawers: scientist, woman, daughter (horrible, awful daughter according to her mum), goldfish owner, believer---no one thing has to bleed into the other. She can have sex with Mitchell against her kitchen counter tonight and kill him tomorrow. She can. She has to.
He shoves into her without warning and she has to wrap her legs around his back to keep from falling. He holds her up, whispers something gentle and comforting that she can’t understand because all she can hear is the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears.
She practices her penance in her head.
Forgive me Lord, I fucked a vampire and I liked it.
Best not to invoke Katy Perry in her prayers. She closes her eyes and rolls her hips against Mitchell, feels the warm press of flesh and bone grinding back.
He is a vampire. But he’s alive. He shops, he has mates, he fucks---
She bites down on his shoulder as she comes and he hisses in pain.
“Sorry, sorry…” Lucy murmurs, trying to catch her breath.
“It’s okay,” Mitchell says and he kisses her to emphasize his point, tongue darting out sheepishly to catch the drop of blood dripping down her bottom lip. “It’s fine.”
Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned and I want to sin again and again. Forgive me because I don’t know what your will is. Forgive me because I can’t kill him. Forgive me because I will.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks.
Lucy disentangles her legs from his waist, shuddering as her bare feet meet the cool linoleum floor. She forces a smile, her hands still lingering at his hips. He smiles back, bright and trusting.
“Nothing a few Hail Marys won’t fix,” she says and he laughs as if she’s just told him a remarkably funny joke. She leans into him, holds him tight against her chest.
Forgive me, for I know not what I do.
Title: intervention
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Words: 573
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Mitchell has to understand, he has to know that George can’t let him go on this way.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for galaxy_song who asked for marks/marking.
George isn’t good at this.
But Carl’s on another continent and Annie’s…well, she’s gone (for now at least) and he’s all Mitchell has left, so George ties Mitchell to a chair and locks the door.
Mitchell’s begging now, sweat dripping down his brow.
“I don’t want this,” Mitchell says, voice cracking around the edges. “I changed my mind, George. Are you listening to me? I changed my fucking mind.”
George sits with his back against the door, head buried in his hands. When he was still lucid, Mitchell said this part could last days, maybe even months. Unfortunately, they don’t have that kind of time. Not if they’re going to bring Annie back.
“Yes, well, that’s…that’s just tough,” George says. He hopes he sounds firm.
Mitchell glares at George; his eyes have gone completely black and he’s straining against the ropes.
“Let me go.”
George moves just close enough to place his hands on Mitchell’s knees. It’s dangerous and stupid, but he doesn’t care. Mitchell has to understand, he has to know that George can’t let him go on this way.
“No,” George says softly.
*
By the end of the week, Mitchell is coherent again. He’s a shaking, stinking mess, but George can see glimpses of his friend in him again. He still keeps the door bolted.
“I’m alright,” Mitchell promises.
“I hope that’s true. For all our sakes.”
He goes near enough to press a warm cup of coffee in Mitchell’s hands and for a split second their fingers meet. Mitchell looks up at George and smiles, dark and slow. He doesn’t have time to think, let alone move before Mitchell shoves him against the wall, his hands pushing George’s collar aside desperately.
He should have been smarter. (Don’t trust me, Mitchell had warned. No matter what I say.)
“Mitchell!” George screams, but Mitchell ignores him, lets his teeth sink into the pulsing vein in George’s neck.
George lets out a yowl of pain, struggling to push Mitchell away, but there’s no need to fight. Mitchell lets him go.
“What…”Mitchell says. “What did I do?”
“You bit me,” George says rubbing at the puncture wounds.
Mitchell’s face crumples as he sinks to the floor. Hesitantly, George settles down beside him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”Mitchell chokes out.
George wraps his arms around Mitchell’s shivering frame and presses a fleeting kiss to his friend’s matted black curls. He’s missed being near him like this. It’s brutal to sit across a room from Mitchell and watch him suffer.
“It’s okay. What’s a quick nip between mates, right?” George jokes.
Mitchell half laughs as he straightens up. George looks him straight in the eye this time, searchingly; trying to make sure the man across from him is really his Mitchell. They’re too close for this to work. Mitchell needs someone stronger, someone who cares less.
Mitchell reaches out to trace the marks with the tips of his fingers and George shivers, but doesn’t pull away from his touch.
“This is going to scar,” Mitchell says.
“Won’t be my first.”
Mitchell scoots closer, lets his lips graze the wound.
“It’ll be the last one you get from me.”
George takes a deep breath. He’ll see Mitchell through this. No matter what. He owes him that much.
“I think we should put you back in the chair, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mitchell agrees.
*
One month later, Mitchell is clean.
The mark on George’s neck doesn’t fade.