[chicago fire + grey's anatomy + orphan black] comment fics | "Nobody said it was easy..."
These three fics were written for stainofmylove's comment ficathon thing [I'm pretty sure that's the Official Title!]. My thread is right here if anyone else is interested in leaving me prompts.
Title | A Place Where Words Are Spoken
Fandom | Chicago Fire
Characters | Andy + Matt + Kelly
Word Count | 350
Rating | PG
Summary | Pre-series. Set in the immediate aftermath of Kelly finding out that Renee has cheated on him.
Written For | beethemonster
Matt calls Andy.
This comes after Renee has already called Shay and Shay has in turn called Matt. Hysterical.
Andy calls Kelly.
No answer.
Shit.
Heather gets that look, the one that says, oh ffs… He doesn’t need the bedroom light on to see it.
His jeans are cold where he’d discarded them on the floor hours earlier, and he fumbles twice with the button at the waist. Not awake and wide awake at the very same time.
Matt’s on his door-step, fingers tucked beneath his armpits and breath billowing in the below freezing that’s finally arrived. Two weeks behind schedule.
It feels like mocking laughter right in his face.
They don’t speak.
They don’t need to.
The radio hums, low enough that he can’t hear the words. Too loud nonetheless.
Andy’s knee taps out an incongruous rhythm against the dash.
Five, six, seven, eight. Five, six, seven, eight.
Matt silences him with a pointed sideways glance and he shrugs, stops, goes back to peering through the windscreen.
Starts again.
Doesn’t even notice…. Five, six, seven, eight.
Andy calculates, absurdly, that they’ve been scouring the streets for days on end, but the iridescent numbers on the truck’s radio tell him it’s been less than forty minutes when Matt jumps on the brakes and slides them to a sudden stop against the curb.
Fuck.
Though he might have said that part out loud.
Matt proffers a follow up sideways glance.
You ready? it says. Andy knows it’s Matt claiming the backseat for himself in this mess; leaving him in charge of whatever happens next.
Not for the first time.
Probably not for the last.
“Hey, Kelly?” he says.
The words get swallowed up in the snow drift at his ankles but it doesn’t matter.
Andy covers the distance between them easily. Matt at his shoulder; moral support.
Strength in numbers. Some shit like that.
Kelly lifts his chin. Andy thinks he’ll always remember this next part; wild eyes in the too-bright streetlight, hands loose at his sides.
“Hey,” he says, shrugs out of his coat quickly, without need for considered thought.
“Need a ride, buddy?”
Title | Running In Circles, Coming Up Tails
Fandom | Grey's Anatomy
Characters | Alex/Izzie
Word Count | 330
Rating | PG
Summary | The (omg so perfect) prompt was, oh, let's go back to the start... That's all you really need to know ♥
Written For | My bb girl, lisal825
He feels his face twist into a well-worn smirk, the slip and slide of muscle memory that needs no conscious control.
At odds, for once, with the sudden dip in his gut, because…
“Isobel Stevens.”
White teeth, white, white, white, and a smile that doesn’t falter.
“Izzie,” she says, “You can call me Izzie.”
He settled on Seattle for one reason. It was the only offer he got that wasn’t within the bounds of his home state.
Tells himself it’s not really running away when he packs his car up; points it west.
It’s closer to LA, he rationalises. To boob jobs and nose jobs and cleft palate surgeries on babies too tiny to appreciate the shit-storm they’ve been dealt.
You can call me Izzie, she says, and he smirks because it’s his default setting, but the ground shifts inches to the left beneath his feet and his insides don’t match his outsides for one split, shaking second.
He runs to work most days, hidden in clouds of his own billowing breath, so that he doesn’t punch things. Walls, patients, other surgeons.
A tactic he learned before he’d hit double digits and it’s served him well over the years.
For the most part.
You can call me Izzie, she says, and the smirk his lips fall into feels false for the first time in years.
Like maybe the skin around his teeth no longer belongs to just him.
He screws up more than he gets right. They roll their eyes at him, whisper behind his back.
But he’s always screwed up more than he’s ever gotten right; this is no different.
He’d never expected anything else.
He listens; they think that he doesn’t. He learns; they don’t notice that he never makes the same mistake twice.
You can call me Izzie, she says. Lets the syllables roll around his cavernous insides; fill him up.
Full.
Overflowing.
“Okay,” he says. “Izzie.”
It feels like a dare.
“I’m Alex.”
Title | I Keep Your Fingerprints
Fandom | Orphan Black
Characters | Paul Dierdan/Sarah Manning
Word Count | 570
Rating | PG
Summary | This is a missing scene from S01E07, Parts Developed in an Unusual Manner
Written For | stainofmylove
Paul’s most of the way to convinced his head is about to explode by the time Sarah’s pressing her face to the car window and screaming at Felix to unlock the doors. The alley they’re in is damp and dark and his fingers are still twisted, tight, tight, through hers. He can’t gather together the memories needed to illustrate the point in time they became the type of people that held hands, but it seems so achingly right at this moment that he can’t begin to imagine what letting go will feel like.
“Paul-”
There are hands on his face now, and the release of limbs that he’d been so dreading appears to have come and gone by without him even realising.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Sarah.
“Is he conscious?”
Felix.
“Do you think he needs a hospital?”
Felix again. Panicked now. Panicking.
He struggles to upright; wraps his fingers back into place around Sarah’s wrist and uses her solid presence as a means to ground himself. Again.
“No.” He’s answering Felix, but his eyes are locked firmly on her. “No hospitals, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t move to protest either because they both know hospital’s not an option anyway. Not now. Not anymore.
No use pretending anything but.
Sarah’s got one arm out in front of her, fingers gripped tight around the headrest as she twists desperately in her seat; front, back, sideways, down to Paul where he’s semi-slumped in her lap. She’s not yet convinced they aren’t being followed, and she’s screaming at Felix to get them the hell out of there even as the road behind them remains resolutely empty.
“Where to, Sarah?”
Felix keeps asking her questions, slotting them into the myriad other vocalisations he keeps making, things like fuck and shit and oh my god, and she forces breath into her lungs steadily in a bid to calm down enough that she can think straight, organise her own thoughts into some semblance of a considered response.
“Paul-” she says, distracted as he shifts awkwardly.
She runs her free hand down the side of his face, he’s breathing and had mostly managed to stumble unaided from the club to the car, but she has no clue what they pumped into him or what the fall-out from that might be and-
And his eyes open, piercing, momentary terror schooled via confusion to feigned calm in an instant. He looks at her like she might know exactly what to do.
“Hey,” she says, stalling, “You okay?”
He blinks once, twice, more awake now as he inhales, gets ready to speak. It’s Felix who gets there first.
“Is he conscious? Do you think he needs a hospital?”
There’s movement then, sudden and disconcerting as Paul’s hand wraps around her wrist, a strangle-hold of sorts as he struggles to get himself upright.
“No,” he says, vehement, determined. “No hospitals, I’m fine.”
His pupils are pinpricks and in the low light his skin is ghost-grey.
“Take us back to your place, yeah?” she says to Felix finally, gets a nod of agreement from Paul as she lets herself sink slowly back into the seat, his hand still wrapped around her wrist. Staring at the point where his fingertips reach the top of his thumb, she tries to put silent words to the shift that has occurred between them.
Can’t.
Just knows that she’s different now.
Somehow.
*
Title | A Place Where Words Are Spoken
Fandom | Chicago Fire
Characters | Andy + Matt + Kelly
Word Count | 350
Rating | PG
Summary | Pre-series. Set in the immediate aftermath of Kelly finding out that Renee has cheated on him.
Written For | beethemonster
Matt calls Andy.
This comes after Renee has already called Shay and Shay has in turn called Matt. Hysterical.
Andy calls Kelly.
No answer.
Shit.
Heather gets that look, the one that says, oh ffs… He doesn’t need the bedroom light on to see it.
His jeans are cold where he’d discarded them on the floor hours earlier, and he fumbles twice with the button at the waist. Not awake and wide awake at the very same time.
Matt’s on his door-step, fingers tucked beneath his armpits and breath billowing in the below freezing that’s finally arrived. Two weeks behind schedule.
It feels like mocking laughter right in his face.
They don’t speak.
They don’t need to.
The radio hums, low enough that he can’t hear the words. Too loud nonetheless.
Andy’s knee taps out an incongruous rhythm against the dash.
Five, six, seven, eight. Five, six, seven, eight.
Matt silences him with a pointed sideways glance and he shrugs, stops, goes back to peering through the windscreen.
Starts again.
Doesn’t even notice…. Five, six, seven, eight.
Andy calculates, absurdly, that they’ve been scouring the streets for days on end, but the iridescent numbers on the truck’s radio tell him it’s been less than forty minutes when Matt jumps on the brakes and slides them to a sudden stop against the curb.
Fuck.
Though he might have said that part out loud.
Matt proffers a follow up sideways glance.
You ready? it says. Andy knows it’s Matt claiming the backseat for himself in this mess; leaving him in charge of whatever happens next.
Not for the first time.
Probably not for the last.
“Hey, Kelly?” he says.
The words get swallowed up in the snow drift at his ankles but it doesn’t matter.
Andy covers the distance between them easily. Matt at his shoulder; moral support.
Strength in numbers. Some shit like that.
Kelly lifts his chin. Andy thinks he’ll always remember this next part; wild eyes in the too-bright streetlight, hands loose at his sides.
“Hey,” he says, shrugs out of his coat quickly, without need for considered thought.
“Need a ride, buddy?”
Title | Running In Circles, Coming Up Tails
Fandom | Grey's Anatomy
Characters | Alex/Izzie
Word Count | 330
Rating | PG
Summary | The (omg so perfect) prompt was, oh, let's go back to the start... That's all you really need to know ♥
Written For | My bb girl, lisal825
He feels his face twist into a well-worn smirk, the slip and slide of muscle memory that needs no conscious control.
At odds, for once, with the sudden dip in his gut, because…
“Isobel Stevens.”
White teeth, white, white, white, and a smile that doesn’t falter.
“Izzie,” she says, “You can call me Izzie.”
He settled on Seattle for one reason. It was the only offer he got that wasn’t within the bounds of his home state.
Tells himself it’s not really running away when he packs his car up; points it west.
It’s closer to LA, he rationalises. To boob jobs and nose jobs and cleft palate surgeries on babies too tiny to appreciate the shit-storm they’ve been dealt.
You can call me Izzie, she says, and he smirks because it’s his default setting, but the ground shifts inches to the left beneath his feet and his insides don’t match his outsides for one split, shaking second.
He runs to work most days, hidden in clouds of his own billowing breath, so that he doesn’t punch things. Walls, patients, other surgeons.
A tactic he learned before he’d hit double digits and it’s served him well over the years.
For the most part.
You can call me Izzie, she says, and the smirk his lips fall into feels false for the first time in years.
Like maybe the skin around his teeth no longer belongs to just him.
He screws up more than he gets right. They roll their eyes at him, whisper behind his back.
But he’s always screwed up more than he’s ever gotten right; this is no different.
He’d never expected anything else.
He listens; they think that he doesn’t. He learns; they don’t notice that he never makes the same mistake twice.
You can call me Izzie, she says. Lets the syllables roll around his cavernous insides; fill him up.
Full.
Overflowing.
“Okay,” he says. “Izzie.”
It feels like a dare.
“I’m Alex.”
Title | I Keep Your Fingerprints
Fandom | Orphan Black
Characters | Paul Dierdan/Sarah Manning
Word Count | 570
Rating | PG
Summary | This is a missing scene from S01E07, Parts Developed in an Unusual Manner
Written For | stainofmylove
Paul’s most of the way to convinced his head is about to explode by the time Sarah’s pressing her face to the car window and screaming at Felix to unlock the doors. The alley they’re in is damp and dark and his fingers are still twisted, tight, tight, through hers. He can’t gather together the memories needed to illustrate the point in time they became the type of people that held hands, but it seems so achingly right at this moment that he can’t begin to imagine what letting go will feel like.
“Paul-”
There are hands on his face now, and the release of limbs that he’d been so dreading appears to have come and gone by without him even realising.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Sarah.
“Is he conscious?”
Felix.
“Do you think he needs a hospital?”
Felix again. Panicked now. Panicking.
He struggles to upright; wraps his fingers back into place around Sarah’s wrist and uses her solid presence as a means to ground himself. Again.
“No.” He’s answering Felix, but his eyes are locked firmly on her. “No hospitals, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t move to protest either because they both know hospital’s not an option anyway. Not now. Not anymore.
No use pretending anything but.
Sarah’s got one arm out in front of her, fingers gripped tight around the headrest as she twists desperately in her seat; front, back, sideways, down to Paul where he’s semi-slumped in her lap. She’s not yet convinced they aren’t being followed, and she’s screaming at Felix to get them the hell out of there even as the road behind them remains resolutely empty.
“Where to, Sarah?”
Felix keeps asking her questions, slotting them into the myriad other vocalisations he keeps making, things like fuck and shit and oh my god, and she forces breath into her lungs steadily in a bid to calm down enough that she can think straight, organise her own thoughts into some semblance of a considered response.
“Paul-” she says, distracted as he shifts awkwardly.
She runs her free hand down the side of his face, he’s breathing and had mostly managed to stumble unaided from the club to the car, but she has no clue what they pumped into him or what the fall-out from that might be and-
And his eyes open, piercing, momentary terror schooled via confusion to feigned calm in an instant. He looks at her like she might know exactly what to do.
“Hey,” she says, stalling, “You okay?”
He blinks once, twice, more awake now as he inhales, gets ready to speak. It’s Felix who gets there first.
“Is he conscious? Do you think he needs a hospital?”
There’s movement then, sudden and disconcerting as Paul’s hand wraps around her wrist, a strangle-hold of sorts as he struggles to get himself upright.
“No,” he says, vehement, determined. “No hospitals, I’m fine.”
His pupils are pinpricks and in the low light his skin is ghost-grey.
“Take us back to your place, yeah?” she says to Felix finally, gets a nod of agreement from Paul as she lets herself sink slowly back into the seat, his hand still wrapped around her wrist. Staring at the point where his fingertips reach the top of his thumb, she tries to put silent words to the shift that has occurred between them.
Can’t.
Just knows that she’s different now.
Somehow.
*