alphabet ficlets, round one
For iluvroadrunner6:
Stella/Flack, J is for Jupiter
"Is that Jupiter?" Flack asks.
Stella follows his gaze up into the night sky. "I think it's just a plane," she says.
"Are you sure?"
"I don't think planets move that fast, Flack."
"Right. Yeah." He looks down at her. "Guess my astronomy badge from Cub Scouts is getting a little frayed around the edges."
"I'm not sure that midtown is the best place to go stargazing, anyway." Stella steps away from the edge of the roof and sits down. "I mean, really, when was the last time you got a good look at the stars from here in the city?"
"Pretty much never," Flack says. "To tell you the truth, I wouldn't know Mars from the Big Dipper."
"You should go out into the country sometime," Stella says. "The stars light up the sky like...well, like nothing we ever see here."
"The country?" Flack sits down next to her and pops the cap off a fresh bottle of beer. "No way. Country's just crawling with animals and bugs and, and serial killers."
Stella laughs. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Big tough cop like you, afraid of a little nature."
"Hey," he says. "Hey now, I'm not afraid. I just like to feel the concrete under my feet, that's all."
"And to know you can order sushi at three in the morning."
"That too."
She leans closer, as if she's going to tell him a secret. "Flack, you know that if you went out to the country and any bears tried to get you, I'd always shoot them for you."
"I know."
"And I'd show you how to find North without a compass, and I'd help you sterilize water by boiling it."
He looks at her without saying anything. She manages to hold the serious look for a few seconds more, then gives up and laughs until she has to set her beer down.
"Maybe we should just stick to the city."
"Maybe that's a good idea."
"Hey, is that the Big Dipper or the Little Dipper?"
"Flack..."
"I'm serious, which is it?"
"That's the Citicorp Building."
"I knew that."
For gin200168:
Mac/Abernathy, R is for Relax
Mac's body feels like a tripwire under Abernathy's hands, strung out with tension and nerves. His skin is hot and gives off little electric shocks everywhere Abernathy touches him, as if somehow or other they've wandered too close to a power station.
"You gotta relax," Abernathy says into his ear.
"I am relaxed." The tone in his voice gives the lie to the words so neatly that Abernathy doesn't even bother to comment on it.
"Are you, now? Hate to see you when you're anxious, then. Be like trying to talk down a spooked horse." He doesn't have much experience with horses, not really, but he's seen what happens when they get scared. One wrong move and a person could end up injured or dead. This isn't quite that, but the coiled, tense tightness in Mac's muscles reminds him of it even so, reminds him of how one single word can sometimes tip the balance of a situation. One word, one action, that can either fix everything or make it all go to hell, and it's so hard to tell what that might be.
"Just take it easy, Chicago," he says. "Let it go. It's over now." He raises one hand slowly and puts it on Mac's shoulder.
"That doesn't matter. Today was -- "
"It does." Abernathy starts to rub his shoulder in a slow circle, working his fingers in, digging into the muscle until he hears Mac let out a little involuntary hiss. "It's done with. Can't go back and change it, so you might as well just move on."
"I can't just move on," Mac says. "I was in charge, and -- "
"And it wasn't your fault. Everyone said that. No way was this your fault." He keeps going, digging in a little harder now, but slowing down the pace even more as he feels Mac ease lower on the bench, slumping now and leaning into him.
"I was in charge," Mac says again. "If anyone had gotten killed, it would have been my fault."
"But no one did. Besides, it's a group effort. You're not..." He takes a deep breath and wonders for a moment if he should just drop it, then goes on. "You're not in this alone, you know?"
Mac sighs. "I know." He still sounds stubborn, but he sounds weary now, too, and Abernathy stops his massage and presses into his back, wrapping one arm around his waist.
"Then act like it," he says.
Mac doesn't answer, but doesn't pull away, either. He puts one hand over Abernathy's, instead, and they sit like that for a long time, until it's pitch-dark in the little room.
For bedlamsbard:
Flack/Danny, U is for Underworld
"Things are different down here," Danny says. "That's the first thing you have to understand." He's lying on his back. Tendrils of smoke drift from the end of his cigarette, and Flack watches the tiny glow of embers that flares to life every time he inhales.
It's not enough to see his face by.
"Yeah, I figured that much out already," Flack says.
"The old rules don't apply. Don't try to tell yourself they do. I've seen a lot of people come in and figure, oh, it's not so different, but I can still use all the stuff I learned back at the Academy or at the precinct. No. Don't do that. That's a good way to get yourself taken out in a body bag. Or worse."
This isn't the kind of pillow talk Flack had in mind when he had decided to take Danny to bed. On the other hand, it could be valuable information, and it's the kind of thing no one else has been willing to talk to him about. "Bullshit," he says. "I get that things aren't the same here, but you can't tell me that every last thing I learned before
is of no use anymore."
"No, no, you're right." Danny takes another drag of his cigarette. "Some of it's still good. You'll figure out what is and what isn't as you go along. I'm just saying that you shouldn't think that this is...I don't know."
He pauses, and this time Flack waits out the pause without saying anything. "You shouldn't think that this is easy, or that it's not dangerous. You can't think it's the same thing as still being a cop."
"I am still a cop," Flack says.
"I know," Danny says. "That's why we need you. Just watch yourself as you go along."
"I'm not stupid."
"No, you're not." Danny lowers the cigarette. "But it's going to change you. Be ready for that."
"I don't...it's not going to change me." He wants to get out of bed, wants to find his pants and his jacket so he can show Danny his badge and his gun. He wants to show Danny -- and himself -- that nothing is any different, that nothing is going to be any different. He can change the job he does without changing who he is underneath. He's sure
of it.
Danny lets out a harsh little sound that might be a laugh. "That's what they all say." He holds out his cigarette. Finally, Flack takes it.
For scarletts_awry:
Martha/Ten, Y is for Yesterday
Flower petals are falling from the sky, making Martha cry out in surprise. She reaches out and tries to catch them, but they're already turning to water and running down her skin by the time she does. The Doctor watches her. "How -- " She doesn't finish the sentence; in all her medical training, there's nothing she's learned that hints at the
answer, or even the right question to ask.
"Common in this galaxy," he says. "And right now it's the rainy season."
"But it's just water now." She holds up her arms, showing him where the water has soaked into the sleeves of her jacket, where there's not a petal in sight. "That can't be."
"Of course it can. It's both at once." He reaches up, reaches into the sky, and petals are falling all around him; she sees them silhouetted against the stars and catching for an instant on his skin: English bluebells and peonies and other flowers she thinks she should know the names of; and as he touches them, they turn to water, shiver and break
apart and fall into glistening drops of dew as if they were never there to begin with.
"I've seen stranger in my day," he tells her, and he has to raise his voice now, because the wind has begun to pick up. "Stranger than this by leagues. Funny things fall from the sky. Frogs and blood and rocks, all over. On your world they call it Fortean rain. Here...here it's just normal."
"Rain falling as flowers is normal," she says, and he nods.
"Normal as normal," he says.
"And yet you've seen stranger."
"All kinds." He reaches down and brushes her wet hair away from her eyes. It doesn't do much good, and he's as soaked as she is.
"You should tell me about some of those, then," and she thinks that she can almost see the unspoken word Gallifrey hanging in the air between them, shuddering between the petals that are drops of rain and the drops of rain that are petals.
"Maybe I should," he says, and reaches to take her hand. She lets him, and for a moment, before it dissolves into water, they're holding a hyacinth petal between their cupped palms.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Stella/Flack, J is for Jupiter
"Is that Jupiter?" Flack asks.
Stella follows his gaze up into the night sky. "I think it's just a plane," she says.
"Are you sure?"
"I don't think planets move that fast, Flack."
"Right. Yeah." He looks down at her. "Guess my astronomy badge from Cub Scouts is getting a little frayed around the edges."
"I'm not sure that midtown is the best place to go stargazing, anyway." Stella steps away from the edge of the roof and sits down. "I mean, really, when was the last time you got a good look at the stars from here in the city?"
"Pretty much never," Flack says. "To tell you the truth, I wouldn't know Mars from the Big Dipper."
"You should go out into the country sometime," Stella says. "The stars light up the sky like...well, like nothing we ever see here."
"The country?" Flack sits down next to her and pops the cap off a fresh bottle of beer. "No way. Country's just crawling with animals and bugs and, and serial killers."
Stella laughs. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Big tough cop like you, afraid of a little nature."
"Hey," he says. "Hey now, I'm not afraid. I just like to feel the concrete under my feet, that's all."
"And to know you can order sushi at three in the morning."
"That too."
She leans closer, as if she's going to tell him a secret. "Flack, you know that if you went out to the country and any bears tried to get you, I'd always shoot them for you."
"I know."
"And I'd show you how to find North without a compass, and I'd help you sterilize water by boiling it."
He looks at her without saying anything. She manages to hold the serious look for a few seconds more, then gives up and laughs until she has to set her beer down.
"Maybe we should just stick to the city."
"Maybe that's a good idea."
"Hey, is that the Big Dipper or the Little Dipper?"
"Flack..."
"I'm serious, which is it?"
"That's the Citicorp Building."
"I knew that."
For gin200168:
Mac/Abernathy, R is for Relax
Mac's body feels like a tripwire under Abernathy's hands, strung out with tension and nerves. His skin is hot and gives off little electric shocks everywhere Abernathy touches him, as if somehow or other they've wandered too close to a power station.
"You gotta relax," Abernathy says into his ear.
"I am relaxed." The tone in his voice gives the lie to the words so neatly that Abernathy doesn't even bother to comment on it.
"Are you, now? Hate to see you when you're anxious, then. Be like trying to talk down a spooked horse." He doesn't have much experience with horses, not really, but he's seen what happens when they get scared. One wrong move and a person could end up injured or dead. This isn't quite that, but the coiled, tense tightness in Mac's muscles reminds him of it even so, reminds him of how one single word can sometimes tip the balance of a situation. One word, one action, that can either fix everything or make it all go to hell, and it's so hard to tell what that might be.
"Just take it easy, Chicago," he says. "Let it go. It's over now." He raises one hand slowly and puts it on Mac's shoulder.
"That doesn't matter. Today was -- "
"It does." Abernathy starts to rub his shoulder in a slow circle, working his fingers in, digging into the muscle until he hears Mac let out a little involuntary hiss. "It's done with. Can't go back and change it, so you might as well just move on."
"I can't just move on," Mac says. "I was in charge, and -- "
"And it wasn't your fault. Everyone said that. No way was this your fault." He keeps going, digging in a little harder now, but slowing down the pace even more as he feels Mac ease lower on the bench, slumping now and leaning into him.
"I was in charge," Mac says again. "If anyone had gotten killed, it would have been my fault."
"But no one did. Besides, it's a group effort. You're not..." He takes a deep breath and wonders for a moment if he should just drop it, then goes on. "You're not in this alone, you know?"
Mac sighs. "I know." He still sounds stubborn, but he sounds weary now, too, and Abernathy stops his massage and presses into his back, wrapping one arm around his waist.
"Then act like it," he says.
Mac doesn't answer, but doesn't pull away, either. He puts one hand over Abernathy's, instead, and they sit like that for a long time, until it's pitch-dark in the little room.
For bedlamsbard:
Flack/Danny, U is for Underworld
"Things are different down here," Danny says. "That's the first thing you have to understand." He's lying on his back. Tendrils of smoke drift from the end of his cigarette, and Flack watches the tiny glow of embers that flares to life every time he inhales.
It's not enough to see his face by.
"Yeah, I figured that much out already," Flack says.
"The old rules don't apply. Don't try to tell yourself they do. I've seen a lot of people come in and figure, oh, it's not so different, but I can still use all the stuff I learned back at the Academy or at the precinct. No. Don't do that. That's a good way to get yourself taken out in a body bag. Or worse."
This isn't the kind of pillow talk Flack had in mind when he had decided to take Danny to bed. On the other hand, it could be valuable information, and it's the kind of thing no one else has been willing to talk to him about. "Bullshit," he says. "I get that things aren't the same here, but you can't tell me that every last thing I learned before
is of no use anymore."
"No, no, you're right." Danny takes another drag of his cigarette. "Some of it's still good. You'll figure out what is and what isn't as you go along. I'm just saying that you shouldn't think that this is...I don't know."
He pauses, and this time Flack waits out the pause without saying anything. "You shouldn't think that this is easy, or that it's not dangerous. You can't think it's the same thing as still being a cop."
"I am still a cop," Flack says.
"I know," Danny says. "That's why we need you. Just watch yourself as you go along."
"I'm not stupid."
"No, you're not." Danny lowers the cigarette. "But it's going to change you. Be ready for that."
"I don't...it's not going to change me." He wants to get out of bed, wants to find his pants and his jacket so he can show Danny his badge and his gun. He wants to show Danny -- and himself -- that nothing is any different, that nothing is going to be any different. He can change the job he does without changing who he is underneath. He's sure
of it.
Danny lets out a harsh little sound that might be a laugh. "That's what they all say." He holds out his cigarette. Finally, Flack takes it.
For scarletts_awry:
Martha/Ten, Y is for Yesterday
Flower petals are falling from the sky, making Martha cry out in surprise. She reaches out and tries to catch them, but they're already turning to water and running down her skin by the time she does. The Doctor watches her. "How -- " She doesn't finish the sentence; in all her medical training, there's nothing she's learned that hints at the
answer, or even the right question to ask.
"Common in this galaxy," he says. "And right now it's the rainy season."
"But it's just water now." She holds up her arms, showing him where the water has soaked into the sleeves of her jacket, where there's not a petal in sight. "That can't be."
"Of course it can. It's both at once." He reaches up, reaches into the sky, and petals are falling all around him; she sees them silhouetted against the stars and catching for an instant on his skin: English bluebells and peonies and other flowers she thinks she should know the names of; and as he touches them, they turn to water, shiver and break
apart and fall into glistening drops of dew as if they were never there to begin with.
"I've seen stranger in my day," he tells her, and he has to raise his voice now, because the wind has begun to pick up. "Stranger than this by leagues. Funny things fall from the sky. Frogs and blood and rocks, all over. On your world they call it Fortean rain. Here...here it's just normal."
"Rain falling as flowers is normal," she says, and he nods.
"Normal as normal," he says.
"And yet you've seen stranger."
"All kinds." He reaches down and brushes her wet hair away from her eyes. It doesn't do much good, and he's as soaked as she is.
"You should tell me about some of those, then," and she thinks that she can almost see the unspoken word Gallifrey hanging in the air between them, shuddering between the petals that are drops of rain and the drops of rain that are petals.
"Maybe I should," he says, and reaches to take her hand. She lets him, and for a moment, before it dissolves into water, they're holding a hyacinth petal between their cupped palms.
Feedback is always appreciated.