two ficlets
#1. Logan/Dak, written awhile ago for mizzmarvel.
Years and years ago, Dak had done a guest spot on a TV hospital drama, playing a kid with a mysterious illness that the angsty protagonist doctor had to diagnose. It hadn't made much of an impression on him, really, but something in the subplot, where another of the main doctors was sick, had stuck.
"Doctors make the worst patients," the cliché dialogue had claimed.
He hadn't realized he remembered that until the first time he saw Logan really, truly, wretchedly sick.
"I can go to work," Logan wheezed.
It would have been more convincing if it hadn't been followed by a coughing fit that led to Logan collapsing back down on to the bed, the shirt he'd been attempting to pull on dropped on the floor. Finally he managed to recover, and reached for the glass of water Dak was already holding out.
"Yeahhh, you can go to the hospital, but not to work," Dak said firmly.
"No, but, I'm fine. It was just a bug. I'm all better."
"Uh huh." Dak crossed his arms, leaning against Logan's dresser casually. "You should really leave the acting to me, though. That wasn't the most convincing thing I've heard."
Logan coughed again, then moaned, sounding pretty pathetic. It didn't do much to prop up his case. "But people at work are counting on me."
Dak sympathized, he really did. He'd once shot for two days when he had bronchitis, and another time had done an action scene three times in a row with a broken ankle. So he got the workaholic thing. But.
"If you go to work like this, aren't you just going to get your patients more sick?" Dak asked. "Aren't they counting on you to make them better?"
Logan let out an unattractive whine. "We're understaffed."
"If you infect all of your coworkers, you'll be more understaffed."
"I hate being out sick." Logan's resolve had settled into a pout, and now that he wasn't trying, he looked miserable, sweaty and wheezing and exhausted, his hair flopping sadly in his face.
"You were one of those kids with a perfect attendance record, weren't you?" Dak asked.
Logan gave him a half-hearted smile as he nodded, then groaned. "Gimme my phone, I'll call."
Dak handed over Logan's phone, though Logan had to wait to dial until he finished coughing. Again. Dak stooped to pick up the shirt Logan had dropped on the floor, folded and put it away as Logan coughed his way through an apology to one of his coworkers. When he finished, he dropped the phone on to the bedspread with a thud.
Dak looked over at him. "Soup? Tea?"
"Both? But..." Logan paused. "Just, do me one favor?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't make the soup yourself, okay? I'm too tired to put out a kitchen fire."
"You're very funny." Dak tugged a blanket up over Logan.
"Come to think of it, you probably shouldn't make the tea, either..."
"Laugh it up, sicky."
"Just saying. You set the toaster on fire on three times."
"Don't make me drug your tea."
"I mean," he paused to cough, "I like the hot firemen, too, but it was a little excessive."
"Go to sleep, Logan."
"Dak?"
Dak paused in the doorway and glanced back at Logan, now huddled under an enormous bedspread.
"Thanks," Logan said.
Dak smiled at him and just repeated, "Go to sleep, babe."
#2. Lucy/Camille for thilia at the btrfuntime microfic meme.
Camille had always been the sort of girl who was just too cool to get starstruck. She'd been in Hollywood for ages, she was friends with plenty of bands, and she'd met her fair share of celebrities. So she was never the girl who cried, or the girl who screamed, or, god forbid, the girl who was totally desperate to get backstage and into some musician's pants.
At least, not until Lucy invited her to come watch her first big show in LA. Camille wanted to go support her friend, but something about seeing Lucy on stage... wow. Lucy was wearing giant boots and a leather jacket, her red hair practically glowed under the stage lights. Maybe it was how intense she got on her guitar solos, or maybe it was her voice as she sang, or maybe it was just something about Lucy in general, but Camille's heartbeat sped up, she couldn't take her eyes off the girl on stage, and when she screamed it was with all the power her lungs could muster.
She pushed her way to the front of the crowd as soon as the concert ended, and shrieked and clapped when Lucy stepped out to head to her car. There was a whole crowd, fangirls who wanted Lucy's autograph and boys who wanted a lot more than that. But Camille was the one who Lucy stopped and noticed, who Lucy pulled past the security line to throw her arms around.
"You were amazing!" Camille half-yelled above the din.
"Thank you for coming!" Lucy yelled back, hugging her.
And maybe Camille flushed a little, and felt a little bit dizzy and over excited. And maybe when Lucy led her towards the car, talking a mile a minute about how excited she was, Camille's breathless responses weren't just her being a supportive friend. Maybe Lucy Stone on stage was the most amazing, entrancing, fantastic thing she'd ever seen.
Maybe Camille was that sort of girl after all, she'd just never been to the right concert before.
Years and years ago, Dak had done a guest spot on a TV hospital drama, playing a kid with a mysterious illness that the angsty protagonist doctor had to diagnose. It hadn't made much of an impression on him, really, but something in the subplot, where another of the main doctors was sick, had stuck.
"Doctors make the worst patients," the cliché dialogue had claimed.
He hadn't realized he remembered that until the first time he saw Logan really, truly, wretchedly sick.
"I can go to work," Logan wheezed.
It would have been more convincing if it hadn't been followed by a coughing fit that led to Logan collapsing back down on to the bed, the shirt he'd been attempting to pull on dropped on the floor. Finally he managed to recover, and reached for the glass of water Dak was already holding out.
"Yeahhh, you can go to the hospital, but not to work," Dak said firmly.
"No, but, I'm fine. It was just a bug. I'm all better."
"Uh huh." Dak crossed his arms, leaning against Logan's dresser casually. "You should really leave the acting to me, though. That wasn't the most convincing thing I've heard."
Logan coughed again, then moaned, sounding pretty pathetic. It didn't do much to prop up his case. "But people at work are counting on me."
Dak sympathized, he really did. He'd once shot for two days when he had bronchitis, and another time had done an action scene three times in a row with a broken ankle. So he got the workaholic thing. But.
"If you go to work like this, aren't you just going to get your patients more sick?" Dak asked. "Aren't they counting on you to make them better?"
Logan let out an unattractive whine. "We're understaffed."
"If you infect all of your coworkers, you'll be more understaffed."
"I hate being out sick." Logan's resolve had settled into a pout, and now that he wasn't trying, he looked miserable, sweaty and wheezing and exhausted, his hair flopping sadly in his face.
"You were one of those kids with a perfect attendance record, weren't you?" Dak asked.
Logan gave him a half-hearted smile as he nodded, then groaned. "Gimme my phone, I'll call."
Dak handed over Logan's phone, though Logan had to wait to dial until he finished coughing. Again. Dak stooped to pick up the shirt Logan had dropped on the floor, folded and put it away as Logan coughed his way through an apology to one of his coworkers. When he finished, he dropped the phone on to the bedspread with a thud.
Dak looked over at him. "Soup? Tea?"
"Both? But..." Logan paused. "Just, do me one favor?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't make the soup yourself, okay? I'm too tired to put out a kitchen fire."
"You're very funny." Dak tugged a blanket up over Logan.
"Come to think of it, you probably shouldn't make the tea, either..."
"Laugh it up, sicky."
"Just saying. You set the toaster on fire on three times."
"Don't make me drug your tea."
"I mean," he paused to cough, "I like the hot firemen, too, but it was a little excessive."
"Go to sleep, Logan."
"Dak?"
Dak paused in the doorway and glanced back at Logan, now huddled under an enormous bedspread.
"Thanks," Logan said.
Dak smiled at him and just repeated, "Go to sleep, babe."
#2. Lucy/Camille for thilia at the btrfuntime microfic meme.
Camille had always been the sort of girl who was just too cool to get starstruck. She'd been in Hollywood for ages, she was friends with plenty of bands, and she'd met her fair share of celebrities. So she was never the girl who cried, or the girl who screamed, or, god forbid, the girl who was totally desperate to get backstage and into some musician's pants.
At least, not until Lucy invited her to come watch her first big show in LA. Camille wanted to go support her friend, but something about seeing Lucy on stage... wow. Lucy was wearing giant boots and a leather jacket, her red hair practically glowed under the stage lights. Maybe it was how intense she got on her guitar solos, or maybe it was her voice as she sang, or maybe it was just something about Lucy in general, but Camille's heartbeat sped up, she couldn't take her eyes off the girl on stage, and when she screamed it was with all the power her lungs could muster.
She pushed her way to the front of the crowd as soon as the concert ended, and shrieked and clapped when Lucy stepped out to head to her car. There was a whole crowd, fangirls who wanted Lucy's autograph and boys who wanted a lot more than that. But Camille was the one who Lucy stopped and noticed, who Lucy pulled past the security line to throw her arms around.
"You were amazing!" Camille half-yelled above the din.
"Thank you for coming!" Lucy yelled back, hugging her.
And maybe Camille flushed a little, and felt a little bit dizzy and over excited. And maybe when Lucy led her towards the car, talking a mile a minute about how excited she was, Camille's breathless responses weren't just her being a supportive friend. Maybe Lucy Stone on stage was the most amazing, entrancing, fantastic thing she'd ever seen.
Maybe Camille was that sort of girl after all, she'd just never been to the right concert before.