Blah blah blah.
Mmmm. It’s Monday. That makes it drabble day. Are you jumping for joy? Me neither. Internet formatting these things is a sodding bitch. I always forget to put “” in the lj cuts and then it all smushes together. Anyway. Feedback is shiny.
I’m not responsible for the quality or whether these things make sense; I’ve been under a lot of stress recently and that isn’t good for my muses.
House/Chase/Wilson drabbles for drabbles100 (These are the last of the set; which means I will no longer be dropping handfuls of these guys on you. drabbles100 H/C/W is finished.)
053. Earth (100)
(Set during “No Reason”)
The day House gets shot, Chase actually has his letter of resignation all typed up neatly in an envelope and he’s trying to work out whether to hand it over before or after Wilson catches his wrist and kisses him at the start of their lunch break (because if he waits he just might lose his nerve).
The letter is obvious and calls House a bastard in seven or eight different thinly-veiled ways, culminating in the line there is nothing on earth that could make me stay here.
But he’s wrong, because all it takes is a bullet (or two).
055. Spirit (100)
(Contains major character death)
House is dead.
Actually dead, the kind of dead you don’t reverse or inject adrenaline into to stop. House is the proper kind of dead that results in morgue drawers and pallid skin.
He’s been dead for at least six months when Wilson kisses Chase for the first time, soft fingers tangling hard in his hair.
He’s been dead eight months when Wilson finally gets Chase into bed. Chase doesn’t want to be so reluctant; they both need this, but he can still feel House there, the person neither of them can ever be, no matter how hard they try.
062. Spring (110)
Over a truly unhealthy number of years of friendship, House has learned that Wilson’s anger is more like a coiled spring than anything else, compressed and hidden somewhere under his diaphragm. He’s not weak, he’s not a pushover; he’s just passive to a fault. It’s driven off three wives and given him a reputation as someone who is somewhat sluttish but painfully vague.
But on the balcony in the dark, Wilson’s eyes are blazing with something along the lines of fury, and he’s whispering:
“Touch Chase again, and I’ll kill you.”
And in spite of everything, House looks in his eyes, sees the raw anger poking through, and believes him.
063. Summer (105)
Chase takes a week’s vacation and comes back with sunburn and his hair even blonder from exposure to find Cameron and Foreman drinking iced coffee and pretending not to listen to House and Wilson yelling at each other in the office next door.
“Have a good time?” Cameron actually sounds like she cares, which is unsettling. Chase nods, pours himself some coffee and sits down at the table.
“What are they arguing about?” he asks. Foreman shrugs. Whatever it is that means House and Wilson tick and spark and break and heal is a mystery that none of them will ever be able to understand.
067. Snow (111)
I don’t like you. You don’t like me.
We do this because we both need him.
Maybe you’re jealous. Maybe you’re not. Maybe it’s because you know you’ll always have him and I never will. I’ll never be more than that boy on the edge trying to get closer and getting his hands slapped back.
Snowed under by your disappointment and your eyes and the level of dislike that frightens and depresses me.
You don’t want me to be here and I’d give my right arm to get him alone, but we drown and scream together because we’d rather be eclipsed than face the possibility of not having him at all.
069. Thunder (117)
“Chase is dying!” Cameron is yelling, pretty face so twisted up with panic and anger that she looks uncharacteristically unattractive.
House knows. Fuck, does he know.
“Really?” he snaps, “I just thought he was taking a nap, you know, too much work and all that.”
Cameron’s face flushes and he notes with detached interest that she’s actually really pissed. Who knew?
“Fine,” she hisses, “I’ll just go and tell Cuddy that you’d rather sit here and play your gameboy than help your dying colleague.”
It sounds like the sort of thing he would do, but House can see Wilson outside the glass of the office, pale and anxious, and it’s impossible to keep pretending to be neutral.
073. Light (105)
Chase is an unbelievable lightweight, due to the fact he doesn’t drink very often. House and Wilson ply him with alcohol at every available opportunity (“who doesn’t sleep with a drugged out colleague when they get the chance?”) because of this fact. He’s an amusing drunk, not nearly as maudlin as they’d have expected from a guy whose mother contentedly drank herself to death. He’s also amusingly suggestible, and it’s simple to persuade him that getting into bed with the two of them is exactly what he wants to do.
When sober, if Chase ever remembers this or minds at all, he doesn’t mention it.
076. Rebirth (115)
There’s something to be said for walking away from your boss and his best friend and the tight, suffocating webs they tried to trap you into, if only because although you’re beginning to think you might need it, need them and their lies and twisted logic, it’s somewhat soul-destroying.
So quitting, telling them both it was really, really over, and watching them try to hide their faintly stunned facial expressions behind their normal impassive masks as they realised that maybe he wasn’t as much of a puppet as they previously thought, was more liberating than you could have imagined.
As you walk out of the hospital for the last time, it finally feels like freedom.
082. Deaf (114)
“This is highly unethical,” Cuddy tells him. She doesn’t look as angry as usual, but there’s an edge in her tone of you might actually be fired for this.
“Gee, I had no idea.” House leans back in the chair.
“Sleeping with your employees is-” Cuddy begins angrily.
“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” House cuts in with a little smirk. “Besides, why isn’t Wilson getting this speech? He’s just as responsible as I am.”
“Chase isn’t Wilson’s employee,” Cuddy points out, taking this news without reacting.
There’s no way this meeting can end well; House gets up and makes his way out, becoming mysteriously deaf and unable to hear Cuddy demanding he come back.
094. Solstice (104)
(It took every shred of self-control I had not to turn the first sentences of this into the prologue to Days Of Our Lives- which I used to watch years ago but never again.)
It is the longest day of the year and Chase can feel every second of it trickling like sand. Like he’s shut in the unbearably hot bottom bulb of an hourglass, banging on the glass and suffocating a little more as time ticks by. Maybe the heat’s just driving him insane. Maybe he’ll never really know.
Foreman is looking at him in a faintly bored fashion, fanning himself with a medical journal, while Chase shifts against the bruises under his shirt and watches House and Wilson lying around in the latter’s office looking generally disinterested and making it painfully clear that he isn’t enough.
098. Writer’s Choice [Lies] (105)
Cameron is on the phone to her mother, twirling the cord around her finger and Chase suppresses a smirk at the innocent expression she’s adopting, even though her mother can’t see her.
“Do you ever get the feeling you’re just lying to everyone around you?” she asks when she’s finished saying I’m fine, honestly mom, and put the phone down without once mentioning her HIV scare.
Chase looks at her and thinks about House and what he demands with the lights off and Wilson and the fact he’s married but he doesn’t let a little thing like that bother him, and shrugs.
“No,” he lies.
099. Writer’s Choice [Futile] (100)
They are not enough for him.
Not any of them.
Cameron has bled for him, given everything and been rebuked for her sacrifice.
Cuddy nearly lost her hospital trying to keep his job.
Wilson has given up wives and lovers and jobs and money to make him smile.
{Foreman hasn’t given anything up, but he’s still here, isn’t he?}
Chase gives up the last shreds of his dignity, eyes shut, on his knees, in an attempt to repair a relationship that was never a relationship to begin with.
{Shards of white-pilled insanity.}
But it still isn’t enough to save him.
100. Writer’s Choice [Equilibrium] (100)
(This was the last one I wrote. I feel that after all this, it’s got to end on some form of hope.)
Their eyes meet over Chase’s sleeping form. It’s half-dark and Robert looks beautiful in slumber, blonde hair fluttering with every breath. He seems perfectly at ease with situation. It’s Wilson who’s panicking, eyes wide, probably worrying belatedly about his wife.
“House-” he begins, voice cracking around the edges.
House isn’t an optimist, but the pills are kicking in wonderfully, he just had fairly damn good sex, and maybe it isn’t all doom and gloom. Not all the time. Perhaps it’ll start out badly, but-
“We’re going to be all right,” he says.
For a minute, they both almost believe it.
Owen/Ianto drabbles for alphabetdrabble
014. Nefarious (100)
(Written when I was smothered in mint chocolate; can you tell?)
There’s something about having Captain Jack Harkness as a boss that fucks up your head. Ianto has always suspected this, but he doesn’t really figure out how screwed his view of the world has become until he’s carrying mugs of tea around and can’t take his eyes off the fact that Owen’s got the tiniest smear of chocolate on his lower lip. He doesn’t even notice the Dairy Milk wrapper left on the floor, just the chocolate on Owen’s mouth and the way his jeans tighten across his arse when he bends over.
He’s going to kill Jack for this.
018. Riposte (100)
Owen becomes the boss after Jack disappears because no one else wants the job.
Ianto brings him coffee every night and after a month or so it becomes a blowjob Owen never intended to ask for and Ianto never intended to give. Perhaps it’s just the fact Ianto needs a trace of the life he used to live, or he’s lonely without Jack.
“You know, Ianto,” Owen mumbles thoughtfully with one hand tangled in Ianto’s hair, “You really need to aspire to be more than the boss’ part time shag.”
“Don’t make me have to shoot you again,” Ianto mutters.
Drabbles for femslash100 challenge #105 “Accent” (suggested by me! *shines*)
NCIS: Abby/Ziva (150)
Ziva is so different to Kate that everything she does hurts, and Abby comes to resent Tony and Tim and hell, even Gibbs, for the way that they accept her. Abby can’t accept her because she isn’t Kate, but it’s more than that. Every little thing she does gets her back up, and Abby’s beginning to suspect that Ziva does it on purpose.
It doesn’t help that her voice is like molten sex pouring itself through Abby’s body, all liquid and hot and filling up every inch of her with dizziness. That accent twists every word, every turn of phrase, and although Ziva drives Abby crazy, her voice drives her a completely different kind of crazy and it isn’t fair.
In the end, there’s only one thing Abby can think of and it makes things even more complicated; still, with her mouth glued to Abby’s, at least Ziva can’t talk.
CSI:NY Lindsay/Peyton (170)
(Is it bad to admit that I only suggested “accent” to femslash100 in the first place because I wanted an excuse to write L/P? I won’t admit it then.)
It’s the accent that makes Lindsay change her mind from I shouldn’t be doing this to the complete opposite. Peyton Driscoll hasn’t exactly endeared herself to Lindsay any, making eyes at Mac at every available opportunity and being incapable of pronouncing words like “vitamin” properly, although she’s been living in the states for years.
Still, things with Danny are complicated (read: train wreck) and Stella’s vague and distracted, and Flack is still living off his near-death experience and collecting telephone numbers like other people collect stamps, and Mac is so detached and unavailable and Sheldon is sweet but bland, so Lindsay doesn’t have a lot of choice.
Peyton wants the contact and so does Lindsay, and maybe she’d still have said no but there’s something about that voice and the way it pronounces words and it’s distracting to a fault when Lindsay’s trying obediently to listen to causes of death and all she can imagine is making Peyton scream.
And when she finally gets around to it, she isn’t disappointed.
Lost: Sun/Claire (120)
(For rivers_bend, because I write a Lost one every week for her.)
They don’t sound like the others.
It’s not like they’re all from the same place, but the majority of the voices of those left from flight 815 are American [they belong].
Sun sounds different.
Claire supposes that she does too.
Charlie’s British; she listens to him talking to Sawyer sometimes and a Manchester accent does twist well with a Southern one, better than it does with an Australian one, and wonders if they’ll figure this out.
She imagines that words taste different when she kisses them from Sun’s lips, imagines that because they sound different they mean more, and maybe it’s just the heat or the isolation that being a mother and being Australian inevitably provide, but maybe it isn’t.
Drabble for me:
Ok, after watching 3x05 “Oedipus Hex”, I spent the last minutes of the episode going “Danny, go out with the Suicide Girls! You know you want to!” and then I wrote this.
Curiosity (110)
Once you know where to look, it isn’t difficult to find out where the Suicide Girls plan to be next. There are all sorts of locations all over the city, but Danny perseveres and it doesn’t take him all that long to find out where Nixon plans to be next.
She’s smeared with all sorts of substances that Danny doesn’t even want to pick apart, eyeliner smudged down her face, but she clearly recognises him and her dark-painted lips curve into a smile.
“What is this, Detective?” she asks, eyes narrowed with amusement. Danny shrugs.
“Morbid curiosity?” he suggests. Nixon laughs but he doesn’t resist when she takes his hand.
I’m not responsible for the quality or whether these things make sense; I’ve been under a lot of stress recently and that isn’t good for my muses.
House/Chase/Wilson drabbles for drabbles100 (These are the last of the set; which means I will no longer be dropping handfuls of these guys on you. drabbles100 H/C/W is finished.)
053. Earth (100)
(Set during “No Reason”)
The day House gets shot, Chase actually has his letter of resignation all typed up neatly in an envelope and he’s trying to work out whether to hand it over before or after Wilson catches his wrist and kisses him at the start of their lunch break (because if he waits he just might lose his nerve).
The letter is obvious and calls House a bastard in seven or eight different thinly-veiled ways, culminating in the line there is nothing on earth that could make me stay here.
But he’s wrong, because all it takes is a bullet (or two).
055. Spirit (100)
(Contains major character death)
House is dead.
Actually dead, the kind of dead you don’t reverse or inject adrenaline into to stop. House is the proper kind of dead that results in morgue drawers and pallid skin.
He’s been dead for at least six months when Wilson kisses Chase for the first time, soft fingers tangling hard in his hair.
He’s been dead eight months when Wilson finally gets Chase into bed. Chase doesn’t want to be so reluctant; they both need this, but he can still feel House there, the person neither of them can ever be, no matter how hard they try.
062. Spring (110)
Over a truly unhealthy number of years of friendship, House has learned that Wilson’s anger is more like a coiled spring than anything else, compressed and hidden somewhere under his diaphragm. He’s not weak, he’s not a pushover; he’s just passive to a fault. It’s driven off three wives and given him a reputation as someone who is somewhat sluttish but painfully vague.
But on the balcony in the dark, Wilson’s eyes are blazing with something along the lines of fury, and he’s whispering:
“Touch Chase again, and I’ll kill you.”
And in spite of everything, House looks in his eyes, sees the raw anger poking through, and believes him.
063. Summer (105)
Chase takes a week’s vacation and comes back with sunburn and his hair even blonder from exposure to find Cameron and Foreman drinking iced coffee and pretending not to listen to House and Wilson yelling at each other in the office next door.
“Have a good time?” Cameron actually sounds like she cares, which is unsettling. Chase nods, pours himself some coffee and sits down at the table.
“What are they arguing about?” he asks. Foreman shrugs. Whatever it is that means House and Wilson tick and spark and break and heal is a mystery that none of them will ever be able to understand.
067. Snow (111)
I don’t like you. You don’t like me.
We do this because we both need him.
Maybe you’re jealous. Maybe you’re not. Maybe it’s because you know you’ll always have him and I never will. I’ll never be more than that boy on the edge trying to get closer and getting his hands slapped back.
Snowed under by your disappointment and your eyes and the level of dislike that frightens and depresses me.
You don’t want me to be here and I’d give my right arm to get him alone, but we drown and scream together because we’d rather be eclipsed than face the possibility of not having him at all.
069. Thunder (117)
“Chase is dying!” Cameron is yelling, pretty face so twisted up with panic and anger that she looks uncharacteristically unattractive.
House knows. Fuck, does he know.
“Really?” he snaps, “I just thought he was taking a nap, you know, too much work and all that.”
Cameron’s face flushes and he notes with detached interest that she’s actually really pissed. Who knew?
“Fine,” she hisses, “I’ll just go and tell Cuddy that you’d rather sit here and play your gameboy than help your dying colleague.”
It sounds like the sort of thing he would do, but House can see Wilson outside the glass of the office, pale and anxious, and it’s impossible to keep pretending to be neutral.
073. Light (105)
Chase is an unbelievable lightweight, due to the fact he doesn’t drink very often. House and Wilson ply him with alcohol at every available opportunity (“who doesn’t sleep with a drugged out colleague when they get the chance?”) because of this fact. He’s an amusing drunk, not nearly as maudlin as they’d have expected from a guy whose mother contentedly drank herself to death. He’s also amusingly suggestible, and it’s simple to persuade him that getting into bed with the two of them is exactly what he wants to do.
When sober, if Chase ever remembers this or minds at all, he doesn’t mention it.
076. Rebirth (115)
There’s something to be said for walking away from your boss and his best friend and the tight, suffocating webs they tried to trap you into, if only because although you’re beginning to think you might need it, need them and their lies and twisted logic, it’s somewhat soul-destroying.
So quitting, telling them both it was really, really over, and watching them try to hide their faintly stunned facial expressions behind their normal impassive masks as they realised that maybe he wasn’t as much of a puppet as they previously thought, was more liberating than you could have imagined.
As you walk out of the hospital for the last time, it finally feels like freedom.
082. Deaf (114)
“This is highly unethical,” Cuddy tells him. She doesn’t look as angry as usual, but there’s an edge in her tone of you might actually be fired for this.
“Gee, I had no idea.” House leans back in the chair.
“Sleeping with your employees is-” Cuddy begins angrily.
“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” House cuts in with a little smirk. “Besides, why isn’t Wilson getting this speech? He’s just as responsible as I am.”
“Chase isn’t Wilson’s employee,” Cuddy points out, taking this news without reacting.
There’s no way this meeting can end well; House gets up and makes his way out, becoming mysteriously deaf and unable to hear Cuddy demanding he come back.
094. Solstice (104)
(It took every shred of self-control I had not to turn the first sentences of this into the prologue to Days Of Our Lives- which I used to watch years ago but never again.)
It is the longest day of the year and Chase can feel every second of it trickling like sand. Like he’s shut in the unbearably hot bottom bulb of an hourglass, banging on the glass and suffocating a little more as time ticks by. Maybe the heat’s just driving him insane. Maybe he’ll never really know.
Foreman is looking at him in a faintly bored fashion, fanning himself with a medical journal, while Chase shifts against the bruises under his shirt and watches House and Wilson lying around in the latter’s office looking generally disinterested and making it painfully clear that he isn’t enough.
098. Writer’s Choice [Lies] (105)
Cameron is on the phone to her mother, twirling the cord around her finger and Chase suppresses a smirk at the innocent expression she’s adopting, even though her mother can’t see her.
“Do you ever get the feeling you’re just lying to everyone around you?” she asks when she’s finished saying I’m fine, honestly mom, and put the phone down without once mentioning her HIV scare.
Chase looks at her and thinks about House and what he demands with the lights off and Wilson and the fact he’s married but he doesn’t let a little thing like that bother him, and shrugs.
“No,” he lies.
099. Writer’s Choice [Futile] (100)
They are not enough for him.
Not any of them.
Cameron has bled for him, given everything and been rebuked for her sacrifice.
Cuddy nearly lost her hospital trying to keep his job.
Wilson has given up wives and lovers and jobs and money to make him smile.
{Foreman hasn’t given anything up, but he’s still here, isn’t he?}
Chase gives up the last shreds of his dignity, eyes shut, on his knees, in an attempt to repair a relationship that was never a relationship to begin with.
{Shards of white-pilled insanity.}
But it still isn’t enough to save him.
100. Writer’s Choice [Equilibrium] (100)
(This was the last one I wrote. I feel that after all this, it’s got to end on some form of hope.)
Their eyes meet over Chase’s sleeping form. It’s half-dark and Robert looks beautiful in slumber, blonde hair fluttering with every breath. He seems perfectly at ease with situation. It’s Wilson who’s panicking, eyes wide, probably worrying belatedly about his wife.
“House-” he begins, voice cracking around the edges.
House isn’t an optimist, but the pills are kicking in wonderfully, he just had fairly damn good sex, and maybe it isn’t all doom and gloom. Not all the time. Perhaps it’ll start out badly, but-
“We’re going to be all right,” he says.
For a minute, they both almost believe it.
Owen/Ianto drabbles for alphabetdrabble
014. Nefarious (100)
(Written when I was smothered in mint chocolate; can you tell?)
There’s something about having Captain Jack Harkness as a boss that fucks up your head. Ianto has always suspected this, but he doesn’t really figure out how screwed his view of the world has become until he’s carrying mugs of tea around and can’t take his eyes off the fact that Owen’s got the tiniest smear of chocolate on his lower lip. He doesn’t even notice the Dairy Milk wrapper left on the floor, just the chocolate on Owen’s mouth and the way his jeans tighten across his arse when he bends over.
He’s going to kill Jack for this.
018. Riposte (100)
Owen becomes the boss after Jack disappears because no one else wants the job.
Ianto brings him coffee every night and after a month or so it becomes a blowjob Owen never intended to ask for and Ianto never intended to give. Perhaps it’s just the fact Ianto needs a trace of the life he used to live, or he’s lonely without Jack.
“You know, Ianto,” Owen mumbles thoughtfully with one hand tangled in Ianto’s hair, “You really need to aspire to be more than the boss’ part time shag.”
“Don’t make me have to shoot you again,” Ianto mutters.
Drabbles for femslash100 challenge #105 “Accent” (suggested by me! *shines*)
NCIS: Abby/Ziva (150)
Ziva is so different to Kate that everything she does hurts, and Abby comes to resent Tony and Tim and hell, even Gibbs, for the way that they accept her. Abby can’t accept her because she isn’t Kate, but it’s more than that. Every little thing she does gets her back up, and Abby’s beginning to suspect that Ziva does it on purpose.
It doesn’t help that her voice is like molten sex pouring itself through Abby’s body, all liquid and hot and filling up every inch of her with dizziness. That accent twists every word, every turn of phrase, and although Ziva drives Abby crazy, her voice drives her a completely different kind of crazy and it isn’t fair.
In the end, there’s only one thing Abby can think of and it makes things even more complicated; still, with her mouth glued to Abby’s, at least Ziva can’t talk.
CSI:NY Lindsay/Peyton (170)
(Is it bad to admit that I only suggested “accent” to femslash100 in the first place because I wanted an excuse to write L/P? I won’t admit it then.)
It’s the accent that makes Lindsay change her mind from I shouldn’t be doing this to the complete opposite. Peyton Driscoll hasn’t exactly endeared herself to Lindsay any, making eyes at Mac at every available opportunity and being incapable of pronouncing words like “vitamin” properly, although she’s been living in the states for years.
Still, things with Danny are complicated (read: train wreck) and Stella’s vague and distracted, and Flack is still living off his near-death experience and collecting telephone numbers like other people collect stamps, and Mac is so detached and unavailable and Sheldon is sweet but bland, so Lindsay doesn’t have a lot of choice.
Peyton wants the contact and so does Lindsay, and maybe she’d still have said no but there’s something about that voice and the way it pronounces words and it’s distracting to a fault when Lindsay’s trying obediently to listen to causes of death and all she can imagine is making Peyton scream.
And when she finally gets around to it, she isn’t disappointed.
Lost: Sun/Claire (120)
(For rivers_bend, because I write a Lost one every week for her.)
They don’t sound like the others.
It’s not like they’re all from the same place, but the majority of the voices of those left from flight 815 are American [they belong].
Sun sounds different.
Claire supposes that she does too.
Charlie’s British; she listens to him talking to Sawyer sometimes and a Manchester accent does twist well with a Southern one, better than it does with an Australian one, and wonders if they’ll figure this out.
She imagines that words taste different when she kisses them from Sun’s lips, imagines that because they sound different they mean more, and maybe it’s just the heat or the isolation that being a mother and being Australian inevitably provide, but maybe it isn’t.
Drabble for me:
Ok, after watching 3x05 “Oedipus Hex”, I spent the last minutes of the episode going “Danny, go out with the Suicide Girls! You know you want to!” and then I wrote this.
Curiosity (110)
Once you know where to look, it isn’t difficult to find out where the Suicide Girls plan to be next. There are all sorts of locations all over the city, but Danny perseveres and it doesn’t take him all that long to find out where Nixon plans to be next.
She’s smeared with all sorts of substances that Danny doesn’t even want to pick apart, eyeliner smudged down her face, but she clearly recognises him and her dark-painted lips curve into a smile.
“What is this, Detective?” she asks, eyes narrowed with amusement. Danny shrugs.
“Morbid curiosity?” he suggests. Nixon laughs but he doesn’t resist when she takes his hand.