Recs for a dreary fucking Thursday
So I was realizing the other day that it's been nearly two years since I did a new installment of my comfort fic recs series and since today is pretty much FIRED, I'm going to take the time to do another set. Y'all are OK with that, right?
American Idol
Wind Up the Moon by
molly (Adam/Kris, AU)
He likes his church group, though, and he really likes his family, so for the next decade or so he keeps his agnosticism to himself. He goes off to be a missionary for a while and he sings the hymns and the gospel music and eventually the rock songs that are put in front of him, and for the most part he doesn't think much about God or Jesus, except as a kind of universal code for get over yourself and don't be a dick.
So, the angel in the alleyway comes as kind of a surprise.
Summer Boys by ruby_fruit (Adam/Kris, AU)
“So, how’s my favorite Oz wannabe?”
Kris rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.
“Still better looking than you. Have you managed to lift anything heavier than a soda with your weak-ass brain?”
Adam’s smile goes wild and triumphant and he uses his grip on Kris’ shoulders to spin him around.
“What-”
“Shhh. Watch and learn, puppy.”
Apples are not the only Fruit by bexless (Adam/Kris, AU)
The guy laughed, shaking his head. “There’s no cell reception out here at all! I thought I was going to die.”
“Maybe you still are,” said Kris, making his way over to the car. “You should probably check the bed of my truck for dead bodies before you decide you’re happy to see me.”
The guy laughed again. He had a nice laugh, sudden and genuine with a big smile, and when he slid his mirrored sunglasses down to the end of his nose and peered over them, Kris could see his eyes were all crinkled up at the corners. He looked Kris up and down in a way that made Kris shift his weight and wish he was wearing cleaner jeans, then said, “No way. You’re too cute to be a serial killer.”
And the World's a Little Brighter by likealocket (Allison Iraheta/David Archuleta)
just left and i'm already buggin you lol. sick of me yet?
David replies right away:
Nope. I guess you better keep trying. :)
False Starts and Man-to-Man Coverage by celtic_cookie (Cook/Archuleta, AU)
"No, no, I'm good," David says. "Besides, I'm not twenty-one yet."
"Okay, then, no beer for you." He smirks a little, like he knows something David doesn't. But not in a mean way, just, well, just like it's a different kind of smile. "How about I call you Archie, and you can call me Cook; that way, everybody's good."
"Cook?" David asks. "Are you a chef?" Cook laughs, loud and surprising with his head tipped back and his mouth wide. Really, 'Cook' suits him, or David thinks so, anyway.
"No, man, it's my name. My last name. I'm a graphic design major, actually."
DCU
Scions by winterlive (Tim/Kon, AU)
Tim drops his pen. "This can't be right," he breathes, reading the next mail, and the next. Familiar words come up - merger, press conference, Cadmus...
LuthorCorp.
"No," Tim whispers aloud, the plastic on the mouse gritting under his grip. "That's my lab! What the hell does Luthor want with my lab?" Tim connects to the computer towers seventy stories beneath him and feeds them keywords, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He chews his lip, his eyes glued to the pictures shimmering on the screen. "Come on, come on... you gotta have something, who's your guy? Rodriguez? Chambers? Seth Levy, God, don't let it be Seth, he's the only decent micro-engineer on the con... tinent..."
Adventures in Solitude by
riseupwithfists (Tim/Jaime)
“People!” Jaime waves his arms in the air. “Did I miss something? Did I get hit on the head? Are you all from Earth Twelve or something? Why are you all here? Where’s the old team?”
“Questions, questions,” Cassie tuts. “Two minutes, by the way.”
“I was just trying to cover every option!” Jaime feels exhausted and he hasn’t even zapped anyone today yet. “Cassie, please. Where IS everybody?”
If You're On Fire by
petra (Steph/Cass, AU)
She gets up and balances her way along the edge of the roof. "Gotham is safe. Blüdhaven isn't."
"But you live here."
Batgirl shrugs. "I can move. Come with me."
She can see it now -- Batgirl and Spoiler, taking down the hardened, nasty thugs of Blüdhaven, saving the city from itself, quick and fast and partners -- because Nightwing didn't have one, and it might make all the difference.
Slow Down by
Flamebyrd (Tim/Bart, AU)
The Garricks help him carry his baggage into his new dorm room, pat him awkwardly on the shoulder and tell him to be careful ("it'll be a lot easier if you just make a rule, 'no powers on campus'") and have fun. He hugs them both and promises to be good, and then he is blessedly, remarkably alone.
He unpacks his backpack first, trying to keep to 'normal speed'. Laptop, mouse, keyboard, iPod, speakers, phone, meal cards and in a way he can hardly believe that he is at college. The drawers in the desk are covered with graffiti, signatures dating from as far back as the 80s. Positively ancient.
And sometimes disconcerted by
teland and weirdnessmagnet (Tim/Bart/Kon)
And while he doesn't exactly have *rank*, he figures that if he gets a permanent mark on his body it ought to at least have personal significance.
It's irrelevant, anyway; his immune system instantly attacks anything it identifies as "foreign." No tattoo, scar, or piercing will last on him.
Generation Kill
The Easy Part's Over Now by
romantical (Brad/Nate)
“Yeah. I mean…” He looks down at the little girl and then at his mom. “I can’t have a kid. I’m a Marine, Mom.”
“Marines have kids.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Whatever you mean, Brad, it’s not this little girl’s fault.”
“That doesn’t make her my responsibility, Mom.”
Après moi le deluge by beyond_belief (Brad/Nate)
Nate looks at the scarf for longer than he wants to admit. Then he tucks the note into his wallet, wondering. He loops the scarf around his neck, inhaling the faded scent. The reprieve is immediate, better than any painkiller he's tried in the interim between finding the sweatshirt and now. It feels so good he has to fight the urge to moan in relief.
He wears the scarf for more than a month, long after the effect is gone. On the next postcard, he writes, Time hasn't healed this. and sends it all two-day mail. He wonders if he's being too oblique, but on the morning of the third day, there's an email from Brad. You've stated the obvious, it reads, I'm sending a whole set this time, and it dawns on Nate that this problem might not only be him.
Get Some by hackthis (Brad/Nate, AU)
Brad Colbert is bored.
Nate knows this because he can feel Brad staring at him from his desk one aisle over and two chairs back. On the other side of the classroom, Ray Person's making obscene hand signals in Nate's general direction, ostensibly to get Brad's attention. At least it better be to get Brad's attention, or somebody's going to have an accident in the weight room before practice.
Regardless of whatever inanity Ray's performing for the viewing public and Marissa Henderson's amusement, Nate's pretty sure it won't work on Brad. Mostly because he can feel Brad's eyes drilling holes into the back of his head. He is not going to turn around, though; that's just what Brad wants him to do.
Noblesse Oblige by alethialia (Brad/Nate, AU)
Brad could play nice. Some days. If he was feeling particularly generous. The Corps certainly trained him in how to take shit without betraying that he really just wanted to haul off and deck his superior officers. If he could maintain the façade with those douches then he could certainly handle The Washington Post's Assistant Managing Editor for Investigations.
Yes, Brad most assuredly could play nice. And yet, here he was, covering the 2008 Democratic National Convention. AKA hell on Earth.
He really hoped Steve was having a good laugh because it would be his last.
Five Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ Without Being a Girl About It by grim-lupine (Nate/Ray)
Nate pops the top off his beer. Pauses, then says dryly, “You look like you got into a hit-and-run with the primary color wheel.” He takes a swig from the bottle and watches Ray’s face dissolve into exaggerated indignation, and can’t keep the grin off his own face.
“Wow, I feel really loved,” Ray says, pouting. “Here I am, waiting for you to come home like a good little housewife and the first thing you do is mock me? I guess I’ll go change into something more appropriate.” He turns around and throws a sly look over his shoulder, and yeah, an invitation doesn’t really get more blatant than that.
You Who Are My Home by shoshannagold (Brad/Ray)
Fuck, he was being ridiculous. Ray was sitting around with his buddies, drinking beer and shooting the shit. He'd call Brad tomorrow and laugh at him for acting like the little woman, Brad would tell him what a complete fucking douche he was for not calling sooner, they'd bitch each other out and then have make-up phone sex.
At one a.m. he gave up on the idea of sleep altogether, turned on his laptop, and booked a flight to Kansas City from San Diego, with an hour-long layover in Dallas. He booked a rental to pick up at the airport in Kansas, and pulled out his road atlas to plot the drive from Kansas City to Nevada. By 5 a.m. he was on the road to the airport.
Carrying Dangerous Goods by novembersmith (Brad/Ray, AU WITH DRAGONS)
"Bradley Colbert," the boy says stiffly, nodding. He forebears to comment on how many jiffs it will actually take Ray to get down, or what a jiff is, even, so Ray likes him already. "I just got in from London."
"Huh, London. Wow." Ray remembers what it was like when he'd first got to Dover, seven years old, a sniveling little runt. Miserable, that's what it'd been. He's never been to London, but he figures leaving has to be hard no matter where you're leaving from. Maybe it's even harder when you're older, getting dumped out of a life of luxury into a pack of bumblers like McGraw and Sixta, everybody knowing each other and no one knowing you. Plus, Ray barely remembers a life without dragons in it, and this Bradley kid's probably never even seen them before, not in London.
Merlin
Drastically Redefining Protocol by
rageprufrock (Merlin/Arthur, AU)
"I really sorry about the wank comments," Merlin hurried to say. "And the implication you might enjoy touching little children in a sexual manner."
"Jesus Christ," Arthur muttered, glancing left and right to ascertain there weren't any salivating photographers bearing tape recorders within hearing before turning back to Merlin, still cowering and wronged-looking but not at all aware of what he'd almost just done. And that was enough to make Arthur step forward until Merlin was backed up against the wall, eyes wide, and Arthur could put his hand on the wall next to Merlin's cheek, growing still-darker in embarrassment. "Merlin, you are a grade-A idiot."
"I'm going to be a doctor," Merlin protested, voice suspiciously high, and before Arthur could make a comment about what that said about the national health system in general, the royal physician, Dr. Binghamton, burst into the room, furious. "Oh fuck," Merlin said, "no I'm not-I'll be dead."
Next Time, I Will Remember This And I Will Say 'No' by paperclipbitch (Merlin/Arthur)
“It’s a sensationally awful idea,” Gwen says the next morning.
“That’s what I said,” Merlin replies, amused to find just how similar their minds are. “I said I’d do it, though.”
Gwen stops walking abruptly, arms full of linen, and stares at him. “Let me get this straight,” she says, “Arthur wants you to pretend to be him so that he doesn’t have to get married to Princess Helena?”
Merlin tries to find a better way of putting it, but can’t find one. “Well, yes.”
The Crown of the Summer Court by
astolat (Merlin/Arthur)
Eldren looked up at Uther and swept out a hand and said, "You asked why your kingdom: it is here alone the final candidate may be called before the Throne. I call the natural-born son of King Taranis-" and there was a roar of noise and protest among the elves, but Eldren's voice rose above it all, "-the natural-born son of King Taranis, named Emrys by the Summer Throne-"
A clatter and a smash behind him like two jousters coming together made Arthur jump. He turned to glare furiously at a stricken, white-faced Merlin, who'd just dropped a tray covered with goblets and a jug now spilling red wine everywhere across the floor, and so Arthur was looking right at him when Eldren finished, "- called among mortal men Merlin son of Hunith, to stand before the Throne."
The Student Prince by
fayjay (Merlin/Arthur, AU)
Most students didn't have to worry about matriculating for several days yet, but Merlin Emrys was not most students, so once he'd finished hyperventilating and flailing, and had unpacked some of his things, and changed into a clean t-shirt, he set out in search of Professor Gaius.
The St Andrews Prospectus listed a fairly wide array of different schools, but The School of Sorcery was not one of them. Nevertheless, for those in the know, it was no secret that when St Andrews University had been founded back in 1411, one of its primary goals was the preservation of magical learning.
Star Trek Reboot
So Wise We Grow Old by
Deastar (Kirk/Spock)
"Captain," Spock says, looking as shaken as he ever does, "may I submit a request to be dismissed from my shift? It appears there are arrangements to be made that require my immediate attention."
Jim's internal Vulcan-to-Human translator figures that works out roughly to: "My personal business just got splattered all over the bridge and I'm so mortified that I wish the science console would swallow me up and spit out my bones. Failing that, I need to go hide in my quarters."
Graudate Vulcan for Fun and Profit by lazulisong (gen)
"I will allow you to stay in Basic Principles of Vulcan, and I will even teach you to simulate a Terran accent --" this was a huge favor, Jim knows, because Sakel hates Terran accents with as much venom as any vegan pacifist could hate anything, "-- and in return, you will agree to do all the work assigned, as assigned."
"And if I don't?" says Jim, deeply wary.
"Then I will go to the department head and tell them, I believe the term is, 'a touching story' about the bond among us all, the last of the Kelvin crew, and your language sets." Sakel doesn't even have the grace to look smug about cornering Jim like this.
These Kids, They Lost Their Graces by affectingly (Kirk/McCoy)
"In Standard it is Niv'te."
"And why's the answer also no, Niv'te?" he asks, waiting for the cool touch of glass to his finger tips.
"You have not found what you are looking for."
Jim feels his posture go a little rigid, but he ignores it, pops his knuckles as he says, "You wanna clue me in on what I'm looking for?"
She regards him quietly, but for once her eyes do not move. "I wouldn't know. I just know you haven't found it yet."
The Social Network Related
The Giraffe Notes by jeyhawk (Jesse/Andrew, AU)
Andrew is a giraffe. He has long skinny legs and a long skinny neck and the other kids pick on him constantly. He's British - well, half - and they make fun of his accent, his neck, his hair (huge and wild like a lion's mane) and everything else about him. He's a late transfer, three months before graduation, and he lives with his aunt and uncle.
Andrew is a giraffe. He is tall, subdued and British, and there's always a storm brewing in his eyes.
Shelter by
harriet_vane (Andrew/Jesse, AU)
"Hello," said Andrew, and yes, that was the same British accent. His hair had gotten a lot swoopier than Jesse remembered, and he was wearing a plaid shirt and tight jeans and a leather jacket that meant he could clearly afford to eat somewhere a lot nicer than this.
"Hi," said Jesse, and then, to Hallie, "What if an ax-murderer said he knew me in high school? What if I went to high school with an actual ax-murderer? Then what? There's a rule for a reason, Hallie Kate."
"But he's not," said Hallie, shrugging. "I don't think he is. Are you?"
here comes the sun by oflights (Mark/Eduardo)
“Mark, Sean,” Eduardo says, nodding at them both. He’s a little red in the face but he looks perfectly put-together as always, hair slicked back the way he’s taken to wearing it these days. Mark sometimes wishes they were still friends so he could tell Eduardo that it makes him look like someone in Ponyboy’s gang without getting punched.
“Eduardo,” Mark says, and Sean frowns, his lower lip wobbling a little.
“Eduardo Saverin,” Sean says slowly, and he points at him with a slightly shaking finger. Eduardo had come over tensed, as if spoiling for a fight, but he softens a little as he takes in Sean’s clearly inebriated state. “You will make a wonderful mother someday, Eduardo Saverin."
Sweet on You by moogle62 (Mark/Eduardo, AU)
"I went to Eduardo's," he says, in the futile hope that this will finally make Dustin leave him alone, but, alas, the opposite happens.
"Eduardo's?" screeches Dustin, like Mark had said the White House. "Mark, tell me you were well-behaved."
"I'm not a fucking puppy, Dustin, it's not like I'm going to start chewing the furniture or anything."
Dustin eyes him warily. "We can't have you out scaring the populace. Especially not the populace at Eduardo’s, because if we stopped being served there I think we might all die of sugar-withdrawal."
Grab-Bag Fandoms
Rugby 'verse by
sunsetmog (panbandom, Spencer/Brendon, Ryan/Jon, girl!Pete/Ashlee, AU)
Spencer's mom still complains every time Spencer comes home with a bag full of muddy rugby shirts and shorts, or when he comes home from a game or from practice with a black eye and covered in bruises and scrapes. Spencer just rolls his eyes and says that she shouldn't have sent him to some weird-ass private school if she hadn't wanted him to play some weird-ass private school sport. At least it wasn't croquet or lacrosse.
"Imagine that," Spencer says, "if you had to tell people that I was your son, the croquet player."
"That would be embarrassing," his mom says, mock-seriously. "I'd have to pretend we weren't related. There's not any chance you want to switch to croquet, is there?"
Lieutenant Bennet by
Beatrice_Otter (Pride and Prejudice/Temeraire, gen)
Elizabeth Bennet sighed as she stared out the carriage window. She did not care for riding anything but dragons; the rattle and jouncing of even the best-sprung carriage was quite enough to give her a headache, and an occasional touch of queasiness; dragons (even in the heat of battle) were far more graceful. As for horses, she did not trust them, whether they drew carriages or were ridden upon. They were too dumb for such a large and powerful creature. Relying upon a beast with which one could not speak unnerved her.
Lorelai Gilmore, Nursemaid Extraordinaire (or: Florence Nightingale Wishes She Had These Moves) by dollsome (Gilmore Girls, gen)
Lorelai steps into her parents' room with a bowl of recently microwaved, totally kickass chicken noodle soup from Sookie. Luke sent some over too, but that went straight into the fridge, with all its vegetables and nutritional value. Bah! She is so not gonna help to further along this creepy, unnatural Mom And Luke Are Buds thing.
Emily is in bed, looking unfairly queenly even in pj's with her hair all messy and a mountain of tissues next to her. Or maybe they're handkerchiefs embroidered by blind nuns in convents. Lorelai doesn't get the chance to ponder this for very long, though, because Emily is also reading--
"Is that a romance novel?"
'What are they going to call you?' 2008 MIT Commencement Address by
atrata (Iron Man, gen)
Because here I am, on this beautiful day, in front of you, a few thousand of the world's greatest up-and-coming minds, on this of all days, and I'm supposed to give you some inspiring speech. Something that's going to set your soul on fire, make you want to leave here and change the world now, today, no partying beforehand. I'm supposed to dig deep, tell you some illustrative stories about myself, maybe hold up some of my better character traits for you to emulate as you tilt at the world's windmills.
Really? Is that what you want? Is that what this is about? Emulating a mass murderer?
A Summer Day So Late in Coming by
helens78 (X-Men, Charles/Erik)
At the mansion, Charles encounters no one. Which is good, as he doesn't have a story planned. My lover has asked me to fetch my passport and go away with him. I don't know where. He says we won't leave the country. Yes, this is the same man who tried to bring down your plane, crumple a building on top of you, unseat the President. I am going with him anyway.
He looks at his desk drawer, the things he's collected over the years that he's always meant for Erik. A book. A small metallic chess set. A photograph. A ring.
You can come and talk to me at Dreamwidth too! (
comments)
American Idol
Wind Up the Moon by
molly (Adam/Kris, AU)
He likes his church group, though, and he really likes his family, so for the next decade or so he keeps his agnosticism to himself. He goes off to be a missionary for a while and he sings the hymns and the gospel music and eventually the rock songs that are put in front of him, and for the most part he doesn't think much about God or Jesus, except as a kind of universal code for get over yourself and don't be a dick.
So, the angel in the alleyway comes as kind of a surprise.
Summer Boys by ruby_fruit (Adam/Kris, AU)
“So, how’s my favorite Oz wannabe?”
Kris rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.
“Still better looking than you. Have you managed to lift anything heavier than a soda with your weak-ass brain?”
Adam’s smile goes wild and triumphant and he uses his grip on Kris’ shoulders to spin him around.
“What-”
“Shhh. Watch and learn, puppy.”
Apples are not the only Fruit by bexless (Adam/Kris, AU)
The guy laughed, shaking his head. “There’s no cell reception out here at all! I thought I was going to die.”
“Maybe you still are,” said Kris, making his way over to the car. “You should probably check the bed of my truck for dead bodies before you decide you’re happy to see me.”
The guy laughed again. He had a nice laugh, sudden and genuine with a big smile, and when he slid his mirrored sunglasses down to the end of his nose and peered over them, Kris could see his eyes were all crinkled up at the corners. He looked Kris up and down in a way that made Kris shift his weight and wish he was wearing cleaner jeans, then said, “No way. You’re too cute to be a serial killer.”
And the World's a Little Brighter by likealocket (Allison Iraheta/David Archuleta)
just left and i'm already buggin you lol. sick of me yet?
David replies right away:
Nope. I guess you better keep trying. :)
False Starts and Man-to-Man Coverage by celtic_cookie (Cook/Archuleta, AU)
"No, no, I'm good," David says. "Besides, I'm not twenty-one yet."
"Okay, then, no beer for you." He smirks a little, like he knows something David doesn't. But not in a mean way, just, well, just like it's a different kind of smile. "How about I call you Archie, and you can call me Cook; that way, everybody's good."
"Cook?" David asks. "Are you a chef?" Cook laughs, loud and surprising with his head tipped back and his mouth wide. Really, 'Cook' suits him, or David thinks so, anyway.
"No, man, it's my name. My last name. I'm a graphic design major, actually."
DCU
Scions by winterlive (Tim/Kon, AU)
Tim drops his pen. "This can't be right," he breathes, reading the next mail, and the next. Familiar words come up - merger, press conference, Cadmus...
LuthorCorp.
"No," Tim whispers aloud, the plastic on the mouse gritting under his grip. "That's my lab! What the hell does Luthor want with my lab?" Tim connects to the computer towers seventy stories beneath him and feeds them keywords, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He chews his lip, his eyes glued to the pictures shimmering on the screen. "Come on, come on... you gotta have something, who's your guy? Rodriguez? Chambers? Seth Levy, God, don't let it be Seth, he's the only decent micro-engineer on the con... tinent..."
Adventures in Solitude by
riseupwithfists (Tim/Jaime)
“People!” Jaime waves his arms in the air. “Did I miss something? Did I get hit on the head? Are you all from Earth Twelve or something? Why are you all here? Where’s the old team?”
“Questions, questions,” Cassie tuts. “Two minutes, by the way.”
“I was just trying to cover every option!” Jaime feels exhausted and he hasn’t even zapped anyone today yet. “Cassie, please. Where IS everybody?”
If You're On Fire by
petra (Steph/Cass, AU)
She gets up and balances her way along the edge of the roof. "Gotham is safe. Blüdhaven isn't."
"But you live here."
Batgirl shrugs. "I can move. Come with me."
She can see it now -- Batgirl and Spoiler, taking down the hardened, nasty thugs of Blüdhaven, saving the city from itself, quick and fast and partners -- because Nightwing didn't have one, and it might make all the difference.
Slow Down by
Flamebyrd (Tim/Bart, AU)
The Garricks help him carry his baggage into his new dorm room, pat him awkwardly on the shoulder and tell him to be careful ("it'll be a lot easier if you just make a rule, 'no powers on campus'") and have fun. He hugs them both and promises to be good, and then he is blessedly, remarkably alone.
He unpacks his backpack first, trying to keep to 'normal speed'. Laptop, mouse, keyboard, iPod, speakers, phone, meal cards and in a way he can hardly believe that he is at college. The drawers in the desk are covered with graffiti, signatures dating from as far back as the 80s. Positively ancient.
And sometimes disconcerted by
teland and weirdnessmagnet (Tim/Bart/Kon)
And while he doesn't exactly have *rank*, he figures that if he gets a permanent mark on his body it ought to at least have personal significance.
It's irrelevant, anyway; his immune system instantly attacks anything it identifies as "foreign." No tattoo, scar, or piercing will last on him.
Generation Kill
The Easy Part's Over Now by
romantical (Brad/Nate)
“Yeah. I mean…” He looks down at the little girl and then at his mom. “I can’t have a kid. I’m a Marine, Mom.”
“Marines have kids.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Whatever you mean, Brad, it’s not this little girl’s fault.”
“That doesn’t make her my responsibility, Mom.”
Après moi le deluge by beyond_belief (Brad/Nate)
Nate looks at the scarf for longer than he wants to admit. Then he tucks the note into his wallet, wondering. He loops the scarf around his neck, inhaling the faded scent. The reprieve is immediate, better than any painkiller he's tried in the interim between finding the sweatshirt and now. It feels so good he has to fight the urge to moan in relief.
He wears the scarf for more than a month, long after the effect is gone. On the next postcard, he writes, Time hasn't healed this. and sends it all two-day mail. He wonders if he's being too oblique, but on the morning of the third day, there's an email from Brad. You've stated the obvious, it reads, I'm sending a whole set this time, and it dawns on Nate that this problem might not only be him.
Get Some by hackthis (Brad/Nate, AU)
Brad Colbert is bored.
Nate knows this because he can feel Brad staring at him from his desk one aisle over and two chairs back. On the other side of the classroom, Ray Person's making obscene hand signals in Nate's general direction, ostensibly to get Brad's attention. At least it better be to get Brad's attention, or somebody's going to have an accident in the weight room before practice.
Regardless of whatever inanity Ray's performing for the viewing public and Marissa Henderson's amusement, Nate's pretty sure it won't work on Brad. Mostly because he can feel Brad's eyes drilling holes into the back of his head. He is not going to turn around, though; that's just what Brad wants him to do.
Noblesse Oblige by alethialia (Brad/Nate, AU)
Brad could play nice. Some days. If he was feeling particularly generous. The Corps certainly trained him in how to take shit without betraying that he really just wanted to haul off and deck his superior officers. If he could maintain the façade with those douches then he could certainly handle The Washington Post's Assistant Managing Editor for Investigations.
Yes, Brad most assuredly could play nice. And yet, here he was, covering the 2008 Democratic National Convention. AKA hell on Earth.
He really hoped Steve was having a good laugh because it would be his last.
Five Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ Without Being a Girl About It by grim-lupine (Nate/Ray)
Nate pops the top off his beer. Pauses, then says dryly, “You look like you got into a hit-and-run with the primary color wheel.” He takes a swig from the bottle and watches Ray’s face dissolve into exaggerated indignation, and can’t keep the grin off his own face.
“Wow, I feel really loved,” Ray says, pouting. “Here I am, waiting for you to come home like a good little housewife and the first thing you do is mock me? I guess I’ll go change into something more appropriate.” He turns around and throws a sly look over his shoulder, and yeah, an invitation doesn’t really get more blatant than that.
You Who Are My Home by shoshannagold (Brad/Ray)
Fuck, he was being ridiculous. Ray was sitting around with his buddies, drinking beer and shooting the shit. He'd call Brad tomorrow and laugh at him for acting like the little woman, Brad would tell him what a complete fucking douche he was for not calling sooner, they'd bitch each other out and then have make-up phone sex.
At one a.m. he gave up on the idea of sleep altogether, turned on his laptop, and booked a flight to Kansas City from San Diego, with an hour-long layover in Dallas. He booked a rental to pick up at the airport in Kansas, and pulled out his road atlas to plot the drive from Kansas City to Nevada. By 5 a.m. he was on the road to the airport.
Carrying Dangerous Goods by novembersmith (Brad/Ray, AU WITH DRAGONS)
"Bradley Colbert," the boy says stiffly, nodding. He forebears to comment on how many jiffs it will actually take Ray to get down, or what a jiff is, even, so Ray likes him already. "I just got in from London."
"Huh, London. Wow." Ray remembers what it was like when he'd first got to Dover, seven years old, a sniveling little runt. Miserable, that's what it'd been. He's never been to London, but he figures leaving has to be hard no matter where you're leaving from. Maybe it's even harder when you're older, getting dumped out of a life of luxury into a pack of bumblers like McGraw and Sixta, everybody knowing each other and no one knowing you. Plus, Ray barely remembers a life without dragons in it, and this Bradley kid's probably never even seen them before, not in London.
Merlin
Drastically Redefining Protocol by
rageprufrock (Merlin/Arthur, AU)
"I really sorry about the wank comments," Merlin hurried to say. "And the implication you might enjoy touching little children in a sexual manner."
"Jesus Christ," Arthur muttered, glancing left and right to ascertain there weren't any salivating photographers bearing tape recorders within hearing before turning back to Merlin, still cowering and wronged-looking but not at all aware of what he'd almost just done. And that was enough to make Arthur step forward until Merlin was backed up against the wall, eyes wide, and Arthur could put his hand on the wall next to Merlin's cheek, growing still-darker in embarrassment. "Merlin, you are a grade-A idiot."
"I'm going to be a doctor," Merlin protested, voice suspiciously high, and before Arthur could make a comment about what that said about the national health system in general, the royal physician, Dr. Binghamton, burst into the room, furious. "Oh fuck," Merlin said, "no I'm not-I'll be dead."
Next Time, I Will Remember This And I Will Say 'No' by paperclipbitch (Merlin/Arthur)
“It’s a sensationally awful idea,” Gwen says the next morning.
“That’s what I said,” Merlin replies, amused to find just how similar their minds are. “I said I’d do it, though.”
Gwen stops walking abruptly, arms full of linen, and stares at him. “Let me get this straight,” she says, “Arthur wants you to pretend to be him so that he doesn’t have to get married to Princess Helena?”
Merlin tries to find a better way of putting it, but can’t find one. “Well, yes.”
The Crown of the Summer Court by
astolat (Merlin/Arthur)
Eldren looked up at Uther and swept out a hand and said, "You asked why your kingdom: it is here alone the final candidate may be called before the Throne. I call the natural-born son of King Taranis-" and there was a roar of noise and protest among the elves, but Eldren's voice rose above it all, "-the natural-born son of King Taranis, named Emrys by the Summer Throne-"
A clatter and a smash behind him like two jousters coming together made Arthur jump. He turned to glare furiously at a stricken, white-faced Merlin, who'd just dropped a tray covered with goblets and a jug now spilling red wine everywhere across the floor, and so Arthur was looking right at him when Eldren finished, "- called among mortal men Merlin son of Hunith, to stand before the Throne."
The Student Prince by
fayjay (Merlin/Arthur, AU)
Most students didn't have to worry about matriculating for several days yet, but Merlin Emrys was not most students, so once he'd finished hyperventilating and flailing, and had unpacked some of his things, and changed into a clean t-shirt, he set out in search of Professor Gaius.
The St Andrews Prospectus listed a fairly wide array of different schools, but The School of Sorcery was not one of them. Nevertheless, for those in the know, it was no secret that when St Andrews University had been founded back in 1411, one of its primary goals was the preservation of magical learning.
Star Trek Reboot
So Wise We Grow Old by
Deastar (Kirk/Spock)
"Captain," Spock says, looking as shaken as he ever does, "may I submit a request to be dismissed from my shift? It appears there are arrangements to be made that require my immediate attention."
Jim's internal Vulcan-to-Human translator figures that works out roughly to: "My personal business just got splattered all over the bridge and I'm so mortified that I wish the science console would swallow me up and spit out my bones. Failing that, I need to go hide in my quarters."
Graudate Vulcan for Fun and Profit by lazulisong (gen)
"I will allow you to stay in Basic Principles of Vulcan, and I will even teach you to simulate a Terran accent --" this was a huge favor, Jim knows, because Sakel hates Terran accents with as much venom as any vegan pacifist could hate anything, "-- and in return, you will agree to do all the work assigned, as assigned."
"And if I don't?" says Jim, deeply wary.
"Then I will go to the department head and tell them, I believe the term is, 'a touching story' about the bond among us all, the last of the Kelvin crew, and your language sets." Sakel doesn't even have the grace to look smug about cornering Jim like this.
These Kids, They Lost Their Graces by affectingly (Kirk/McCoy)
"In Standard it is Niv'te."
"And why's the answer also no, Niv'te?" he asks, waiting for the cool touch of glass to his finger tips.
"You have not found what you are looking for."
Jim feels his posture go a little rigid, but he ignores it, pops his knuckles as he says, "You wanna clue me in on what I'm looking for?"
She regards him quietly, but for once her eyes do not move. "I wouldn't know. I just know you haven't found it yet."
The Social Network Related
The Giraffe Notes by jeyhawk (Jesse/Andrew, AU)
Andrew is a giraffe. He has long skinny legs and a long skinny neck and the other kids pick on him constantly. He's British - well, half - and they make fun of his accent, his neck, his hair (huge and wild like a lion's mane) and everything else about him. He's a late transfer, three months before graduation, and he lives with his aunt and uncle.
Andrew is a giraffe. He is tall, subdued and British, and there's always a storm brewing in his eyes.
Shelter by
harriet_vane (Andrew/Jesse, AU)
"Hello," said Andrew, and yes, that was the same British accent. His hair had gotten a lot swoopier than Jesse remembered, and he was wearing a plaid shirt and tight jeans and a leather jacket that meant he could clearly afford to eat somewhere a lot nicer than this.
"Hi," said Jesse, and then, to Hallie, "What if an ax-murderer said he knew me in high school? What if I went to high school with an actual ax-murderer? Then what? There's a rule for a reason, Hallie Kate."
"But he's not," said Hallie, shrugging. "I don't think he is. Are you?"
here comes the sun by oflights (Mark/Eduardo)
“Mark, Sean,” Eduardo says, nodding at them both. He’s a little red in the face but he looks perfectly put-together as always, hair slicked back the way he’s taken to wearing it these days. Mark sometimes wishes they were still friends so he could tell Eduardo that it makes him look like someone in Ponyboy’s gang without getting punched.
“Eduardo,” Mark says, and Sean frowns, his lower lip wobbling a little.
“Eduardo Saverin,” Sean says slowly, and he points at him with a slightly shaking finger. Eduardo had come over tensed, as if spoiling for a fight, but he softens a little as he takes in Sean’s clearly inebriated state. “You will make a wonderful mother someday, Eduardo Saverin."
Sweet on You by moogle62 (Mark/Eduardo, AU)
"I went to Eduardo's," he says, in the futile hope that this will finally make Dustin leave him alone, but, alas, the opposite happens.
"Eduardo's?" screeches Dustin, like Mark had said the White House. "Mark, tell me you were well-behaved."
"I'm not a fucking puppy, Dustin, it's not like I'm going to start chewing the furniture or anything."
Dustin eyes him warily. "We can't have you out scaring the populace. Especially not the populace at Eduardo’s, because if we stopped being served there I think we might all die of sugar-withdrawal."
Grab-Bag Fandoms
Rugby 'verse by
sunsetmog (panbandom, Spencer/Brendon, Ryan/Jon, girl!Pete/Ashlee, AU)
Spencer's mom still complains every time Spencer comes home with a bag full of muddy rugby shirts and shorts, or when he comes home from a game or from practice with a black eye and covered in bruises and scrapes. Spencer just rolls his eyes and says that she shouldn't have sent him to some weird-ass private school if she hadn't wanted him to play some weird-ass private school sport. At least it wasn't croquet or lacrosse.
"Imagine that," Spencer says, "if you had to tell people that I was your son, the croquet player."
"That would be embarrassing," his mom says, mock-seriously. "I'd have to pretend we weren't related. There's not any chance you want to switch to croquet, is there?"
Lieutenant Bennet by
Beatrice_Otter (Pride and Prejudice/Temeraire, gen)
Elizabeth Bennet sighed as she stared out the carriage window. She did not care for riding anything but dragons; the rattle and jouncing of even the best-sprung carriage was quite enough to give her a headache, and an occasional touch of queasiness; dragons (even in the heat of battle) were far more graceful. As for horses, she did not trust them, whether they drew carriages or were ridden upon. They were too dumb for such a large and powerful creature. Relying upon a beast with which one could not speak unnerved her.
Lorelai Gilmore, Nursemaid Extraordinaire (or: Florence Nightingale Wishes She Had These Moves) by dollsome (Gilmore Girls, gen)
Lorelai steps into her parents' room with a bowl of recently microwaved, totally kickass chicken noodle soup from Sookie. Luke sent some over too, but that went straight into the fridge, with all its vegetables and nutritional value. Bah! She is so not gonna help to further along this creepy, unnatural Mom And Luke Are Buds thing.
Emily is in bed, looking unfairly queenly even in pj's with her hair all messy and a mountain of tissues next to her. Or maybe they're handkerchiefs embroidered by blind nuns in convents. Lorelai doesn't get the chance to ponder this for very long, though, because Emily is also reading--
"Is that a romance novel?"
'What are they going to call you?' 2008 MIT Commencement Address by
atrata (Iron Man, gen)
Because here I am, on this beautiful day, in front of you, a few thousand of the world's greatest up-and-coming minds, on this of all days, and I'm supposed to give you some inspiring speech. Something that's going to set your soul on fire, make you want to leave here and change the world now, today, no partying beforehand. I'm supposed to dig deep, tell you some illustrative stories about myself, maybe hold up some of my better character traits for you to emulate as you tilt at the world's windmills.
Really? Is that what you want? Is that what this is about? Emulating a mass murderer?
A Summer Day So Late in Coming by
helens78 (X-Men, Charles/Erik)
At the mansion, Charles encounters no one. Which is good, as he doesn't have a story planned. My lover has asked me to fetch my passport and go away with him. I don't know where. He says we won't leave the country. Yes, this is the same man who tried to bring down your plane, crumple a building on top of you, unseat the President. I am going with him anyway.
He looks at his desk drawer, the things he's collected over the years that he's always meant for Erik. A book. A small metallic chess set. A photograph. A ring.
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