old comment drabbles + trope meme ficlets
-These first two are old old comment fics that I just never got around to archiving on my own journal, the delay somewhat explained by the fact that one is Halloween-themed and I figured I should crosspost it around Halloween but then kept forgetting...In short, I fail.
Title: Animation
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/Uhura
Rating: PG-13 (?)
Summary: "It's just the way it's always been: He starts going through the motions like somebody's interested and they'll start to realize that they are."
His way with the whole dance of it-picking up and hooking up-it's less based on arrogance, maybe, than a kind of persuasion in his nature that he couldn't drop if he tried to. It's just the way it's always been: He starts going through the motions like somebody's interested and they'll start to realize that they are. Like one look at those intuitive eyes and they realize they're the ones that didn't read the script.
Nyota would like to think she sees the ropes as they pull, that that's why she's always been able to resist them. And then she wonders after the first time he kisses her if that was all part of the plan up to this point, her mind mumbling something about fatalism versus determinism and how this has nothing to do with Jim Kirk, all cut off by the rising of a gasp as his hand makes its way over her skin like her clothes themselves invited him in.
Fact is, he has that smile and the words from him are real and it feels really good and she should own up, maybe; but she's not like this and it doesn't fit her, the heated asides in semi-public dark places, not even on shore leave, not even when she was a teenager did she do these things. She tells him so between kisses, and between more kisses.
And still, when he has her on a soft bed in a high-up hotel room and he's slowly slipping off her tights in the middle of the night, her stomach gnaws itself with nerves. She says, "I don't do this." She's talking to the ceiling, almost whispering. His face appears above her, kissing her once as his hands effortlessly position her body.
"So don't do anything," he mutters, sweet and quiet. "Don't move."
And she tries not to, but his mouth brushes at every one of her ribs and her hip and then her hip again and lower, and he so slowly tastes her till her voice buckles out like it's been tied down, her limbs weak like a doll just cut from the strings.
"I don't either," he admits later when he's falling asleep, his head nuzzling close into her neck. He almost sounds the way she feels, lost and winded and warm all at once. "Not like this."
Title: In the Room Where You Sleep
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairings: Kara, Lee, Zak; Kara/Lee
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Commentfic inspired by a Halloween-themed post over at no_takebacks (AU'd in our universe, naturally).
Generally speaking, Kara isn't really a fan of Lee and Zak's mom, and she can't put her finger on why. She is the only parent of any of her friends who doesn't look at her in a transparently disapproving way. She lets pretty much everything slide whenever their dad isn't around.
For one thing, she's fine with allowing sleepovers on weeknights.
More importantly, she's fine with allowing sleepovers with girls.
Zak is picking up a scribbled-on index card from a stack they made last Halloween, biting off the fringe edges of his Reese's before popping the center into his mouth. Lee eats his peanut butter cups little bite by bite; Kara shoves the whole thing in at once.
"Which of us is..." Zak squints at the fat magic marker handwriting. "Oh: Which of us would last the longest during a zombie attack."
A moment of brief contemplation, and then the brothers point at Kara at the same time. She raises her arms in smug victory, eyes shining behind her mother's aviator goggles. They're authentic vintage Air Force inherited from her grandfather, and she'll probably catch hell later for borrowing them without asking, but it was for a bitchin' costume, even if the corresponding bomber jacket is a little too big on her.
She declares this round Kit Kats, and everybody scrounges in the massive pile of the candy they all dumped out of their pillowcases onto the bed, finding one for everybody. Kara bites right in without even breaking off the pieces. Zak teethes off the wafer layers one by one. Lee eats one piece and tucks the rest into the wrapper and then into his front pajama pocket for later. He and Zak have both changed out of their costumes; Kara forgot to bring a change of clothes.
She wins the next choice too for Most Likely To Be Able To Properly Chop Wood, Lee snickering and marveling at how they ever came up with half of these cards. Zak offers, "I think Dad gave us some suggestions." Kara fondly remembers that previous year when Mr. Adama was home a little more often; he was never exactly nice, but he used to crack her up whenever he gave his occasional interjections.
She says, "Hershey kisses." They assume there are tons, but they can't find a third; Lee is already savoring his, and Zak has already unwrapped the other one. She yells, "Hey!" when he pops it into his mouth.
Then Zak leans in and smudges a kiss on her cheekbone, saying, "There." She grins and wipes him off with a lightly slapping motion.
"Punk," she grumbles.
"Why are we watching Sin City? I thought we were going to watch Halloween movies?"
"It's got gore. And cannibalism." Lee shrugs, and his smile travels into a smirk as he pays more attention to the TV than he has in many minutes. "Besides, Jessica Alba's hot in that cowgirl outfit."
Kara looks at Lee sidelong and gets an itchy feeling that makes her swallow and look away from him. She noticed him starting to notice girls (notably quite belatedly) about a couple months ago, seemingly the very moment it began.
That moment involved Anastasia Dualla and gym class, and Kara had tormented him by muttering, "Woah there, sparky," into his ear.
"Besides," Kara adds, "none of us really like scary movies anyway." It's no fun; none of them get scared. She knows she's had enough of the real monsters in life; she's not sure why it would be the same for Zak or Lee but she's never asked.
That night in their triangular tired sprawl on the queen-size when Kara's borrowed and changed into one of Lee's t-shirts, she pouts for Zak to put a pillow on her cold feet. Some hour after he's slapped it on her with a well-aimed toss, she's opening her eyes again for some reason. She's opening them to see Lee's eyes looking at her.
Next Halloween they will do nothing together because Zak will get beat up in a fight at school. She will realize what made him easy to set off when the rumors about the divorce boil up. Less than a month after the Adamas will move away and they will not write or call and she will miss them more than she thinks is really fair for her to have to feel. Karl Agathon's mother will scowl at her when she picks him up in her mother's truck a couple years later.
Several years and she will get a call from Zak Adama and meet him at a diner with their arms going around each other, and he will be in town to see his brother, which will make her say: "What?"
Some more months and she will see Lee and they will be all "What are the chances?" about him studying law in the same city where she's training to fly. She will be surprised when he starts calling her after that. They will be older and certain rather than pondering what the real monsters are, the ones they never talk about with each other, but she will wonder if she had a hibernating creature in her closet after all, if it could have crept out while she was sleeping and crawled between her ribs and into her chest, because it does this glorious terrible roaring every time she sees the man Lee is now.
There will come a year when she will call him and he'll say that his plans for Halloween are to stay in and cram for an exam. Just before he's about to step out for some coffee, Kara will appear on the doorstep of his condominium and open her jacket to reveal a studded bra and leather chaps and the most wonderful menacing smile on her face that says You better fucking appreciate this.
What she will say to his gaping expression is, "Woah there, sparky."
"Uh..." Lee will have trouble sorting through his breathlessness, and will stammer, "Trick or treat?..."
"That's my line," she'll say and step close just enough for him to absolutely have to kiss her.
Tonight, she opens her eyes in the middle of the night and sees Lee looking at her and knows none of this. She gives an almost demure, accusing look from under her sleepy lashes, smiles, and turns away to lay on her other side.
-Now, I'm normally a little scared of fic prompts (heh) and didn't expect to write actual fic for that meme, but apparently I'm in a mood. These are kinda written-on-the-fly but hopefully fun.
Title: A Very Short Engagement
Fandom: Dublin Murder Squad (In The Woods/The Likeness - AU)
Pairing: Cassie/Rob
Prompt: kdbleu wanted Rob/Cassie for "pretending to be married." It ended up going more pretend couple, but oh well.
He was in the same booth where Frank would have left him, by now over an hour ago, shortly before I started making my excuses to Vicky and her buddies about ditching the party. It was two in the morning and the pub was dim and only slowly churning with drinkers; it was the solitude of him that made him stand out, his eyes dotting right over me after I walked in before he looked back out the window.
I ordered myself a pint before I went to go meet him, checking him over peripherally. He was tall, a little too thin to be my type, not that it mattered, but there was something in the way his posture negotiated his size that might have caught my attention if I hadn’t already been looking for him. He had his arms crossed and resting on the table in front of an ashtray with a long wait’s worth of cigarettes already stubbed out, something strong and thoughtful keeping him away from a look of impatience.
“Rob Ryan?” I was sitting down across from him as soon as he turned at his name. “Sorry you had to wait so long, and by that I mean my sympathies, not that it’s my fault. Frank feels more loved or something when I’m willing to come out on short notice. Cassie Maddox, you might know, but it’ll be Lexie tomorrow so don’t get too friendly, right?”
“...I can remember to call you by the right name, I think,” he said, possibly a little insulted, and still stuck in the expression he’d had when I sat down that meant that I wasn’t what he’d expected. I was used to that look-even when people expect a woman to be undercover they expect something different from me; this is probably why Frank likes me so much-but there was something new about it with this guy. More curious.
I said, “It’s not your fault, I’m just feeling like he might as well have pulled somebody out of Central Casting. No offense.”
“You mean because I have no undercover experience,” he said, a rueful smile twisting up and his eyes turning expressively over my outfit just slowly enough for me to notice. “For the record, I was pretty surprised by the offer. I don’t buy that he couldn’t find anybody in the whole division who could do the accent.”
“He was having a hard time looking, he told me, but he didn’t go into details. And then apparently somebody just happened to mention, there’s this guy who picked up a London lip, he’s on DV but he can keep a straight face, no problem.”
“And that’s it,” Rob said, the smile turning mildly nervous.
“No, there’s something else, I guarantee it.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how long you talked to him-Frank probably doesn’t seem like the type to get caught up in the alchemy, but if he sees something work he’ll use it again without caring why. I think this is the biggest hint I’ve gotten that no one else on undercover wants to work with me. He didn’t think they would buy some guy who secretly resents me as my knight in shining armor.” I looked at him over a long sip of my beer. Frank also must have had a reason for wanting the two of us to meet when he wasn’t there, something about the intimate conspiring feel of it, but I would have felt more odd voicing that idea out loud.
Rob looked back at me, pondering. “Maybe there’s some jealousy there; you’re young and working a pretty serious job.”
I shrugged.
“Mackey,” he commented vaguely. “Do you like him?”
No one had asked me how I felt about my boss before; they had only given the most indirect of scowly implications about his reasons for hiring me. A lot of people don’t take well to Frank and I felt like I was supposed to say no. I shrugged again. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I’m not about to invite him over for Christmas or anything...”
Rob chuckled; I realized he didn’t exactly disagree. "He's very sure of himself."
"That's one way of putting it."
“So what’s the story with Lexie and Dominic?”
I gave him a tired look. “You’d think it could be explained away so easily, right? The thing is, Lexie’s had a fiancé in London the entire time we’ve been doing the operation and it was never a big deal; it gave me an excuse to be away for a weekend if I needed off for something, nobody questioned it, they had no reason to. Then this girl Rachel starts asking about why he never visits, and gosh but when is the wedding anyway, and somehow manages to ask enough questions that it’s this whole ordeal that people are half-suspicious about. And I wasn’t worried about it, but Frank thinks people are starting to suspect I pulled this Dommy out of my arse, and because of this awkward conversation I got into about it a couple nights ago he calls me up yesterday morning about how we’ve got to produce the lover-boy and Lexie’s birthday would be a perfect reason for him to show up and surprise her.”
“Not my area...” Rob was putting a hand on the table, hesitant to say, “But might they just assume you’re making up a boyfriend without it being a problem?”
“It’s a characterization thing. Lexie’s supposed to be true blue, full-on honest all the time to the point that it’s over-sharing. Frank has this idea that even if they thought I was capable of some little white lie, it would hardly burn me, but unconsciously they might be capable of accusing me of something else later on.”
Rob nodded after a second, trying to get his weak lighter to stay sparked. “That makes enough sense.”
I got out my book of matches and tossed it across the table. “I’ll admit it does, but don’t tell Frank I said. Anyway, if you’re doubtful yourself, why do the job? He said you don’t want to be on undercover officially; I just wondered.”
“I don’t want to stay in DV forever and I haven’t gotten many chances for a leg-up.”
“So you want on Murder, maybe?”
“Murder,” he said, “not maybe.”
“Fair enough,” I said, feeling kind of warmed in the presence of that certainty and no longer worried this guy was secretly doubting he could ever pull this off. I liked him.
“Though we’ll see whether or not I’d get any help from this. I think your Mackey’s half expecting me to blow it.”
I shook my head. “I don't pretend to understand most of what goes on in his head, but he wouldn’t have sent me along if he hadn’t made up his mind about you. He told me the first order of business is convincing people you’d actually want to marry me, and I agree it’s a tough one.”
He blinked. “Why?” After a second I realized it wasn’t reflexive flattery, just confused.
“Keep in mind, Lexie’s not a total simpleton but still she’s just barely academic, and we’re having a drink with the type of kids who will see the Londoner and find some way to accept that you’re pursuing literary criticism even if you tell them you’re a pipefitter.”
“Pipefitter.” Rob considered while I signaled to the bartender to bring him a pint. After a few seconds he said, “We could go for repressed homosexual.”
I laughed, startled.
“Or they could just assume what they assume.”
“And they might assume...” I gestured vaguely at him, not sure of what I was about to say. “If you show up like that, the clothes are a little too nice for a heterosexual civil servant, I’m just saying, but we could always make you show up in a tracksuit.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment; and don’t even joke about it. Anyway, even if I show up in a three-piece suit and go home with the bartender they’ll still be satisfied that Dominic exists.”
“That’s what I tried to tell Frank and it’s good enough for me.” I half-smiled at the server who put down the drink. “But we’ve still got a two-year relationship to get straight. Did he tell you how we met?”
Everything went fine. We worked some aloofness into Dominic so if Rob was ever wrong-footed at the tavern it came across more standoffish, but Lexie’s uni mates were too drunk to be very bothered by this and everyone was chatting loudly and throwing darts a couple hours in.
Rob and I coincided in the halls that led off to the bathrooms, and had our first out-of-character small talk that night while everyone else who looked around the corner would assume we were having some candid snuggle.
“A very happy unbirthday to you,” he said, lighting my cigarette for me from my matches he’d absently gotten home with the night before, then tucked them into my pocket instead of handing them to me.
I grinned. “You’ve still got a couple hours to fuck up and blow my cover if you were hoping for something more exciting.”
He scoffed, something almost like a blush creeping across his smile.
“Come on, I’m sure you were hoping for a shoot-out or something.”
“If anything does happen I'll take the bullet for you if you don’t mind,” he said. “You never know, it could be my ticket to a quick transfer.”
“I’ll work on my ‘Oh no, please don’t die on me baby, no!’”
“Just don’t cry on my jacket, alright. It’s brand new.”
I gave his arm a light shove, companionable and automatic.
Later when the night was winding down he did the “Need to pick up some things, I’ll see you later at the hotel,” his arm circling over my neck and pulling me in.
“Okay, love you,” I said, and I went in to kiss him at the same time he leaned down a little, but when our eyes met something fell away. He picked up from the hesitation so quickly I could have imagined it, pretending he’d been going for my temple all along and pressing a warm kiss there.
Only loud enough for me, his voice tickling into my ear, he muttered, “See you around.”
My arms had somehow gotten squeezed around him. I said, “Yeah,” and he pulled away and left.
Later when I met up with Frank he would brightly ask, “Did you kiss him goodbye?”, half teasing and half interested.
I would roll my eyes and only say, “They bought it.”
Title: Because You Asked So Nicely
Fandom: Dublin Murder Squad (In the Woods)
Characters: Cassie, Rob
Prompt: cosetteferaud wanted "truth or dare" for Cassie/Rob; context didn't really allow for actual shippiness but I guess that might have been expected.
“That tickles.”
“Stop fidgeting.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t color inside the lines.”
“I’m doing just fine,” Cassie said, biting a bottom lip as she re-dipped the brush and started to paint Rob’s fourth finger. “Be nice to me or I’ll make you wear curlers to the corner shop.”
“God, this stuff smells. What are we on?”
“You again.”
“Truth.”
Cassie considered lazily, then leaned forward with a showy widening of eyes. She whispered, “Are you a virgin?”
“I’m not doing another dare, Cass.”
“Ugh, I just can’t think of anything.” But she thought for half a moment, then her eyes sparkled deviously. “Okay. Say hypothetically, if you had to, what male member of the squad would you sleep with?”
Rob’s eyes crinkled in a cringing laugh. “Quigley, obviously.”
“Watch it, don't get that stuff on the blanket. And no, you have to answer seriously.”
“Alright, to be clear, I’m entirely basing my decision on who would probably make me breakfast in the morning. Costello’s easily the nicest but he’s too old...Who else can I stand? O’Donnell’s a real gentleman but I don’t get the impression he’d know how to turn on a stove. Which really leaves...oh, I’d take O’Neill. Yeah, O’Neill.”
Cassie’s mouth slowly dropped into an open grin, like she should have realized it was the most weirdly right answer. “Oh my god.”
After he caught her laughter it took them another minute to put themselves together. Finally Rob said, through abating sniggers, “I have to make you answer the question too, about the women I mean. Even though there are only a few.”
“Oh, but.” Cassie banged an eager hand down next to her drink. “Can I take from the floater pool? Because, MacGrath. I’ve always wanted to know what that whole tattoo looks like, and you know, if I did swing that way I bet she’s totally mad in the sack.”
Rob tried, badly, to tamper down his crooked smile.
“No,” Cassie said, seizing it. “You slag.”
“I’m not explaining this unless it’s another turn.”
“Seriously, you bagged MacGrath?”
“It wasn’t recently. We met at a party back when she was entering Templemore.”
“Oh. Did I pick a good one, though?”
He made an uneasy expression. “I'm pretty sure she was good, but most of what I remember is that the next morning she got some bad news. A call about her cousin getting hit by a car or something, and I hardly knew her so I didn’t know what to say; the awkwardness kind of eclipses everything else...And she didn’t have the tattoo then, unfortunately. I’ve always wondered about it too.”
“Damn,” Cassie said, then, “I mean, that’s too bad about her cousin.”
Rob snorted. “It’s definitely your turn.”
“Dare.”
“Say something to O’Neill tomorrow about my designs after his virtue.”
She fell back against the futon laughing. “But it’s Sam, he’ll know that it’s just us playing around...”
“That’s why it’s good. He’s kind of adorable when he knows he’s out of the loop.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.”
“...Alright, I’ve got to know what you’ve been wanting to dare me for the past ten minutes. Let’s have it.”
“Yes.” She pointed at his hands. “Keep that on all through work tomorrow.”
He let out a slight yelp of a laugh. “No.”
“Yes.”
“We said nothing that compromises our professionalism.”
“Fuck professionalism, if I get to put up with O’Kelly glaring at my shoes every day you can-”
“I don’t dare you to wear trash gear to work every day, that’s your own problem.”
“Please?” Then she sat up, realizing. “You know what, that nail color is just something Lena left here; I don’t think I even have remover.”
“Maddox,” Rob said in a groan. “I hate you so much.”
She got up to refill her drink, giggling.
Title: In Which The Doctor Believes That Penicillin Was a Far More Useful Accidental Discovery
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairings: Kirk, McCoy, Starbuck, Spock (Kara/McCoy barely referenced)
Prompt: jolinar-rosha asked for bodyswap for Trek or BSG; it ended up Rising Sign-'verse, oops.
McCoy kept checking his hand to make sure it was his again, and he noticed Jim doing the same thing as he turned to him with a sigh. “Once they get that thing working again, who’s next?”
“Scotty and Uhura still need to switch back...”
“Scott and Uhura? I’m almost sorry I missed that.”
“And then whoever else is in line. I can’t even keep track.”
“In the meantime I think I have to notify you as ship’s doctor that I cannot recommend Scott’s telepathically controlled transporter technology as a safe alternative to usual use,” McCoy said with heavy sarcasm, “you know, not just yet.”
“I don’t know if it will be all that necessary to inform him of that,” Jim said, before his attention was caught off to the side. “There’s Spock. Hey, where have you been?”
Kara was walking pertly at Spock’s side, and she said, “Captain, I will assume the question is rhetorical, as my assistance was needed in the calibrations for the reversal process.”
“Oh my double god dammit,” McCoy said, then slowly looked to the half-slouching, cross-armed form of Spock.
In a sardonic expression that was ten kinds of bizarre on Spock’s face, Kara ruefully said, “Hey, babe.”
“Okay, this is not real,” McCoy said, gesturing emphatically at Kara and Spock. “This is obviously a dream, it has to be, because this is literally my worst nightmare.”
“What the hell, man, you could have told me you got switched!” Jim said to Spock, who raised Kara’s eyebrow at the captain’s bad attempt to hide how entertaining this was to him.
“I should have left you in that quicksand on Asnil Beta Nine,” Kara said, scowling at Jim and pitching Spock’s usually clear-cut voice to a scratchy mumble. For this comment she got a mix of stern and curious written on her own face.
“Are you under the impression these circumstances are somehow the captain’s fault?”
“No. He’s just enjoying it way too much.”
Caught out, Jim tried to suppress a laugh, his eyes going between the two of them. “I’m sorry. It’s just...it is kind of hot.”
McCoy said, somewhere up to the ceiling, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“At least we know how to fix this issue,” Jim reasoned. When Kara rolled Spock’s eyes, he said, “Come on, Starbuck, did I not warn you about a hundred times that we get into some really weird shit out here?”
“Weird shit like the hallucinogenic vegetables on Beron, which you also got a kick out of?” Kara remembered. “While I was having a severe allergic reaction?”
McCoy added, “Or the nudist Karett ritual...”
“Hey, now, I participated in that for the mere sake of diplomacy and did not enjoy it,” Jim said, trying for a stern expression. “...Much.”
Scotty’s voice came over the central comm. “Aye, so we’ve got the reversal process in full order, if everyone could please, uh, find the people currently inhabiting their anatomy and line up outside the transporter room, we’re trying to get this all taken care of in a timely fashion. And eh, for the sake of privacy please do not use the bathroom or undress for any reason, if it’s at all possible, for the next hour or so. Um.”
“...He came so highly recommended,” McCoy muttered.
“What are you talking about?” Jim said. “It’s genius. It’s just not...convenient at the moment.”
“Let's see how convenient it's about to be for you that I have Vulcan strength at the moment, Kirk.”
“Yeah, I’m just gonna shut up now.”
---
Title: Animation
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/Uhura
Rating: PG-13 (?)
Summary: "It's just the way it's always been: He starts going through the motions like somebody's interested and they'll start to realize that they are."
His way with the whole dance of it-picking up and hooking up-it's less based on arrogance, maybe, than a kind of persuasion in his nature that he couldn't drop if he tried to. It's just the way it's always been: He starts going through the motions like somebody's interested and they'll start to realize that they are. Like one look at those intuitive eyes and they realize they're the ones that didn't read the script.
Nyota would like to think she sees the ropes as they pull, that that's why she's always been able to resist them. And then she wonders after the first time he kisses her if that was all part of the plan up to this point, her mind mumbling something about fatalism versus determinism and how this has nothing to do with Jim Kirk, all cut off by the rising of a gasp as his hand makes its way over her skin like her clothes themselves invited him in.
Fact is, he has that smile and the words from him are real and it feels really good and she should own up, maybe; but she's not like this and it doesn't fit her, the heated asides in semi-public dark places, not even on shore leave, not even when she was a teenager did she do these things. She tells him so between kisses, and between more kisses.
And still, when he has her on a soft bed in a high-up hotel room and he's slowly slipping off her tights in the middle of the night, her stomach gnaws itself with nerves. She says, "I don't do this." She's talking to the ceiling, almost whispering. His face appears above her, kissing her once as his hands effortlessly position her body.
"So don't do anything," he mutters, sweet and quiet. "Don't move."
And she tries not to, but his mouth brushes at every one of her ribs and her hip and then her hip again and lower, and he so slowly tastes her till her voice buckles out like it's been tied down, her limbs weak like a doll just cut from the strings.
"I don't either," he admits later when he's falling asleep, his head nuzzling close into her neck. He almost sounds the way she feels, lost and winded and warm all at once. "Not like this."
Title: In the Room Where You Sleep
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairings: Kara, Lee, Zak; Kara/Lee
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Commentfic inspired by a Halloween-themed post over at no_takebacks (AU'd in our universe, naturally).
Generally speaking, Kara isn't really a fan of Lee and Zak's mom, and she can't put her finger on why. She is the only parent of any of her friends who doesn't look at her in a transparently disapproving way. She lets pretty much everything slide whenever their dad isn't around.
For one thing, she's fine with allowing sleepovers on weeknights.
More importantly, she's fine with allowing sleepovers with girls.
Zak is picking up a scribbled-on index card from a stack they made last Halloween, biting off the fringe edges of his Reese's before popping the center into his mouth. Lee eats his peanut butter cups little bite by bite; Kara shoves the whole thing in at once.
"Which of us is..." Zak squints at the fat magic marker handwriting. "Oh: Which of us would last the longest during a zombie attack."
A moment of brief contemplation, and then the brothers point at Kara at the same time. She raises her arms in smug victory, eyes shining behind her mother's aviator goggles. They're authentic vintage Air Force inherited from her grandfather, and she'll probably catch hell later for borrowing them without asking, but it was for a bitchin' costume, even if the corresponding bomber jacket is a little too big on her.
She declares this round Kit Kats, and everybody scrounges in the massive pile of the candy they all dumped out of their pillowcases onto the bed, finding one for everybody. Kara bites right in without even breaking off the pieces. Zak teethes off the wafer layers one by one. Lee eats one piece and tucks the rest into the wrapper and then into his front pajama pocket for later. He and Zak have both changed out of their costumes; Kara forgot to bring a change of clothes.
She wins the next choice too for Most Likely To Be Able To Properly Chop Wood, Lee snickering and marveling at how they ever came up with half of these cards. Zak offers, "I think Dad gave us some suggestions." Kara fondly remembers that previous year when Mr. Adama was home a little more often; he was never exactly nice, but he used to crack her up whenever he gave his occasional interjections.
She says, "Hershey kisses." They assume there are tons, but they can't find a third; Lee is already savoring his, and Zak has already unwrapped the other one. She yells, "Hey!" when he pops it into his mouth.
Then Zak leans in and smudges a kiss on her cheekbone, saying, "There." She grins and wipes him off with a lightly slapping motion.
"Punk," she grumbles.
"Why are we watching Sin City? I thought we were going to watch Halloween movies?"
"It's got gore. And cannibalism." Lee shrugs, and his smile travels into a smirk as he pays more attention to the TV than he has in many minutes. "Besides, Jessica Alba's hot in that cowgirl outfit."
Kara looks at Lee sidelong and gets an itchy feeling that makes her swallow and look away from him. She noticed him starting to notice girls (notably quite belatedly) about a couple months ago, seemingly the very moment it began.
That moment involved Anastasia Dualla and gym class, and Kara had tormented him by muttering, "Woah there, sparky," into his ear.
"Besides," Kara adds, "none of us really like scary movies anyway." It's no fun; none of them get scared. She knows she's had enough of the real monsters in life; she's not sure why it would be the same for Zak or Lee but she's never asked.
That night in their triangular tired sprawl on the queen-size when Kara's borrowed and changed into one of Lee's t-shirts, she pouts for Zak to put a pillow on her cold feet. Some hour after he's slapped it on her with a well-aimed toss, she's opening her eyes again for some reason. She's opening them to see Lee's eyes looking at her.
Next Halloween they will do nothing together because Zak will get beat up in a fight at school. She will realize what made him easy to set off when the rumors about the divorce boil up. Less than a month after the Adamas will move away and they will not write or call and she will miss them more than she thinks is really fair for her to have to feel. Karl Agathon's mother will scowl at her when she picks him up in her mother's truck a couple years later.
Several years and she will get a call from Zak Adama and meet him at a diner with their arms going around each other, and he will be in town to see his brother, which will make her say: "What?"
Some more months and she will see Lee and they will be all "What are the chances?" about him studying law in the same city where she's training to fly. She will be surprised when he starts calling her after that. They will be older and certain rather than pondering what the real monsters are, the ones they never talk about with each other, but she will wonder if she had a hibernating creature in her closet after all, if it could have crept out while she was sleeping and crawled between her ribs and into her chest, because it does this glorious terrible roaring every time she sees the man Lee is now.
There will come a year when she will call him and he'll say that his plans for Halloween are to stay in and cram for an exam. Just before he's about to step out for some coffee, Kara will appear on the doorstep of his condominium and open her jacket to reveal a studded bra and leather chaps and the most wonderful menacing smile on her face that says You better fucking appreciate this.
What she will say to his gaping expression is, "Woah there, sparky."
"Uh..." Lee will have trouble sorting through his breathlessness, and will stammer, "Trick or treat?..."
"That's my line," she'll say and step close just enough for him to absolutely have to kiss her.
Tonight, she opens her eyes in the middle of the night and sees Lee looking at her and knows none of this. She gives an almost demure, accusing look from under her sleepy lashes, smiles, and turns away to lay on her other side.
-Now, I'm normally a little scared of fic prompts (heh) and didn't expect to write actual fic for that meme, but apparently I'm in a mood. These are kinda written-on-the-fly but hopefully fun.
Title: A Very Short Engagement
Fandom: Dublin Murder Squad (In The Woods/The Likeness - AU)
Pairing: Cassie/Rob
Prompt: kdbleu wanted Rob/Cassie for "pretending to be married." It ended up going more pretend couple, but oh well.
He was in the same booth where Frank would have left him, by now over an hour ago, shortly before I started making my excuses to Vicky and her buddies about ditching the party. It was two in the morning and the pub was dim and only slowly churning with drinkers; it was the solitude of him that made him stand out, his eyes dotting right over me after I walked in before he looked back out the window.
I ordered myself a pint before I went to go meet him, checking him over peripherally. He was tall, a little too thin to be my type, not that it mattered, but there was something in the way his posture negotiated his size that might have caught my attention if I hadn’t already been looking for him. He had his arms crossed and resting on the table in front of an ashtray with a long wait’s worth of cigarettes already stubbed out, something strong and thoughtful keeping him away from a look of impatience.
“Rob Ryan?” I was sitting down across from him as soon as he turned at his name. “Sorry you had to wait so long, and by that I mean my sympathies, not that it’s my fault. Frank feels more loved or something when I’m willing to come out on short notice. Cassie Maddox, you might know, but it’ll be Lexie tomorrow so don’t get too friendly, right?”
“...I can remember to call you by the right name, I think,” he said, possibly a little insulted, and still stuck in the expression he’d had when I sat down that meant that I wasn’t what he’d expected. I was used to that look-even when people expect a woman to be undercover they expect something different from me; this is probably why Frank likes me so much-but there was something new about it with this guy. More curious.
I said, “It’s not your fault, I’m just feeling like he might as well have pulled somebody out of Central Casting. No offense.”
“You mean because I have no undercover experience,” he said, a rueful smile twisting up and his eyes turning expressively over my outfit just slowly enough for me to notice. “For the record, I was pretty surprised by the offer. I don’t buy that he couldn’t find anybody in the whole division who could do the accent.”
“He was having a hard time looking, he told me, but he didn’t go into details. And then apparently somebody just happened to mention, there’s this guy who picked up a London lip, he’s on DV but he can keep a straight face, no problem.”
“And that’s it,” Rob said, the smile turning mildly nervous.
“No, there’s something else, I guarantee it.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how long you talked to him-Frank probably doesn’t seem like the type to get caught up in the alchemy, but if he sees something work he’ll use it again without caring why. I think this is the biggest hint I’ve gotten that no one else on undercover wants to work with me. He didn’t think they would buy some guy who secretly resents me as my knight in shining armor.” I looked at him over a long sip of my beer. Frank also must have had a reason for wanting the two of us to meet when he wasn’t there, something about the intimate conspiring feel of it, but I would have felt more odd voicing that idea out loud.
Rob looked back at me, pondering. “Maybe there’s some jealousy there; you’re young and working a pretty serious job.”
I shrugged.
“Mackey,” he commented vaguely. “Do you like him?”
No one had asked me how I felt about my boss before; they had only given the most indirect of scowly implications about his reasons for hiring me. A lot of people don’t take well to Frank and I felt like I was supposed to say no. I shrugged again. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I’m not about to invite him over for Christmas or anything...”
Rob chuckled; I realized he didn’t exactly disagree. "He's very sure of himself."
"That's one way of putting it."
“So what’s the story with Lexie and Dominic?”
I gave him a tired look. “You’d think it could be explained away so easily, right? The thing is, Lexie’s had a fiancé in London the entire time we’ve been doing the operation and it was never a big deal; it gave me an excuse to be away for a weekend if I needed off for something, nobody questioned it, they had no reason to. Then this girl Rachel starts asking about why he never visits, and gosh but when is the wedding anyway, and somehow manages to ask enough questions that it’s this whole ordeal that people are half-suspicious about. And I wasn’t worried about it, but Frank thinks people are starting to suspect I pulled this Dommy out of my arse, and because of this awkward conversation I got into about it a couple nights ago he calls me up yesterday morning about how we’ve got to produce the lover-boy and Lexie’s birthday would be a perfect reason for him to show up and surprise her.”
“Not my area...” Rob was putting a hand on the table, hesitant to say, “But might they just assume you’re making up a boyfriend without it being a problem?”
“It’s a characterization thing. Lexie’s supposed to be true blue, full-on honest all the time to the point that it’s over-sharing. Frank has this idea that even if they thought I was capable of some little white lie, it would hardly burn me, but unconsciously they might be capable of accusing me of something else later on.”
Rob nodded after a second, trying to get his weak lighter to stay sparked. “That makes enough sense.”
I got out my book of matches and tossed it across the table. “I’ll admit it does, but don’t tell Frank I said. Anyway, if you’re doubtful yourself, why do the job? He said you don’t want to be on undercover officially; I just wondered.”
“I don’t want to stay in DV forever and I haven’t gotten many chances for a leg-up.”
“So you want on Murder, maybe?”
“Murder,” he said, “not maybe.”
“Fair enough,” I said, feeling kind of warmed in the presence of that certainty and no longer worried this guy was secretly doubting he could ever pull this off. I liked him.
“Though we’ll see whether or not I’d get any help from this. I think your Mackey’s half expecting me to blow it.”
I shook my head. “I don't pretend to understand most of what goes on in his head, but he wouldn’t have sent me along if he hadn’t made up his mind about you. He told me the first order of business is convincing people you’d actually want to marry me, and I agree it’s a tough one.”
He blinked. “Why?” After a second I realized it wasn’t reflexive flattery, just confused.
“Keep in mind, Lexie’s not a total simpleton but still she’s just barely academic, and we’re having a drink with the type of kids who will see the Londoner and find some way to accept that you’re pursuing literary criticism even if you tell them you’re a pipefitter.”
“Pipefitter.” Rob considered while I signaled to the bartender to bring him a pint. After a few seconds he said, “We could go for repressed homosexual.”
I laughed, startled.
“Or they could just assume what they assume.”
“And they might assume...” I gestured vaguely at him, not sure of what I was about to say. “If you show up like that, the clothes are a little too nice for a heterosexual civil servant, I’m just saying, but we could always make you show up in a tracksuit.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment; and don’t even joke about it. Anyway, even if I show up in a three-piece suit and go home with the bartender they’ll still be satisfied that Dominic exists.”
“That’s what I tried to tell Frank and it’s good enough for me.” I half-smiled at the server who put down the drink. “But we’ve still got a two-year relationship to get straight. Did he tell you how we met?”
Everything went fine. We worked some aloofness into Dominic so if Rob was ever wrong-footed at the tavern it came across more standoffish, but Lexie’s uni mates were too drunk to be very bothered by this and everyone was chatting loudly and throwing darts a couple hours in.
Rob and I coincided in the halls that led off to the bathrooms, and had our first out-of-character small talk that night while everyone else who looked around the corner would assume we were having some candid snuggle.
“A very happy unbirthday to you,” he said, lighting my cigarette for me from my matches he’d absently gotten home with the night before, then tucked them into my pocket instead of handing them to me.
I grinned. “You’ve still got a couple hours to fuck up and blow my cover if you were hoping for something more exciting.”
He scoffed, something almost like a blush creeping across his smile.
“Come on, I’m sure you were hoping for a shoot-out or something.”
“If anything does happen I'll take the bullet for you if you don’t mind,” he said. “You never know, it could be my ticket to a quick transfer.”
“I’ll work on my ‘Oh no, please don’t die on me baby, no!’”
“Just don’t cry on my jacket, alright. It’s brand new.”
I gave his arm a light shove, companionable and automatic.
Later when the night was winding down he did the “Need to pick up some things, I’ll see you later at the hotel,” his arm circling over my neck and pulling me in.
“Okay, love you,” I said, and I went in to kiss him at the same time he leaned down a little, but when our eyes met something fell away. He picked up from the hesitation so quickly I could have imagined it, pretending he’d been going for my temple all along and pressing a warm kiss there.
Only loud enough for me, his voice tickling into my ear, he muttered, “See you around.”
My arms had somehow gotten squeezed around him. I said, “Yeah,” and he pulled away and left.
Later when I met up with Frank he would brightly ask, “Did you kiss him goodbye?”, half teasing and half interested.
I would roll my eyes and only say, “They bought it.”
Title: Because You Asked So Nicely
Fandom: Dublin Murder Squad (In the Woods)
Characters: Cassie, Rob
Prompt: cosetteferaud wanted "truth or dare" for Cassie/Rob; context didn't really allow for actual shippiness but I guess that might have been expected.
“That tickles.”
“Stop fidgeting.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t color inside the lines.”
“I’m doing just fine,” Cassie said, biting a bottom lip as she re-dipped the brush and started to paint Rob’s fourth finger. “Be nice to me or I’ll make you wear curlers to the corner shop.”
“God, this stuff smells. What are we on?”
“You again.”
“Truth.”
Cassie considered lazily, then leaned forward with a showy widening of eyes. She whispered, “Are you a virgin?”
“I’m not doing another dare, Cass.”
“Ugh, I just can’t think of anything.” But she thought for half a moment, then her eyes sparkled deviously. “Okay. Say hypothetically, if you had to, what male member of the squad would you sleep with?”
Rob’s eyes crinkled in a cringing laugh. “Quigley, obviously.”
“Watch it, don't get that stuff on the blanket. And no, you have to answer seriously.”
“Alright, to be clear, I’m entirely basing my decision on who would probably make me breakfast in the morning. Costello’s easily the nicest but he’s too old...Who else can I stand? O’Donnell’s a real gentleman but I don’t get the impression he’d know how to turn on a stove. Which really leaves...oh, I’d take O’Neill. Yeah, O’Neill.”
Cassie’s mouth slowly dropped into an open grin, like she should have realized it was the most weirdly right answer. “Oh my god.”
After he caught her laughter it took them another minute to put themselves together. Finally Rob said, through abating sniggers, “I have to make you answer the question too, about the women I mean. Even though there are only a few.”
“Oh, but.” Cassie banged an eager hand down next to her drink. “Can I take from the floater pool? Because, MacGrath. I’ve always wanted to know what that whole tattoo looks like, and you know, if I did swing that way I bet she’s totally mad in the sack.”
Rob tried, badly, to tamper down his crooked smile.
“No,” Cassie said, seizing it. “You slag.”
“I’m not explaining this unless it’s another turn.”
“Seriously, you bagged MacGrath?”
“It wasn’t recently. We met at a party back when she was entering Templemore.”
“Oh. Did I pick a good one, though?”
He made an uneasy expression. “I'm pretty sure she was good, but most of what I remember is that the next morning she got some bad news. A call about her cousin getting hit by a car or something, and I hardly knew her so I didn’t know what to say; the awkwardness kind of eclipses everything else...And she didn’t have the tattoo then, unfortunately. I’ve always wondered about it too.”
“Damn,” Cassie said, then, “I mean, that’s too bad about her cousin.”
Rob snorted. “It’s definitely your turn.”
“Dare.”
“Say something to O’Neill tomorrow about my designs after his virtue.”
She fell back against the futon laughing. “But it’s Sam, he’ll know that it’s just us playing around...”
“That’s why it’s good. He’s kind of adorable when he knows he’s out of the loop.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.”
“...Alright, I’ve got to know what you’ve been wanting to dare me for the past ten minutes. Let’s have it.”
“Yes.” She pointed at his hands. “Keep that on all through work tomorrow.”
He let out a slight yelp of a laugh. “No.”
“Yes.”
“We said nothing that compromises our professionalism.”
“Fuck professionalism, if I get to put up with O’Kelly glaring at my shoes every day you can-”
“I don’t dare you to wear trash gear to work every day, that’s your own problem.”
“Please?” Then she sat up, realizing. “You know what, that nail color is just something Lena left here; I don’t think I even have remover.”
“Maddox,” Rob said in a groan. “I hate you so much.”
She got up to refill her drink, giggling.
Title: In Which The Doctor Believes That Penicillin Was a Far More Useful Accidental Discovery
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairings: Kirk, McCoy, Starbuck, Spock (Kara/McCoy barely referenced)
Prompt: jolinar-rosha asked for bodyswap for Trek or BSG; it ended up Rising Sign-'verse, oops.
McCoy kept checking his hand to make sure it was his again, and he noticed Jim doing the same thing as he turned to him with a sigh. “Once they get that thing working again, who’s next?”
“Scotty and Uhura still need to switch back...”
“Scott and Uhura? I’m almost sorry I missed that.”
“And then whoever else is in line. I can’t even keep track.”
“In the meantime I think I have to notify you as ship’s doctor that I cannot recommend Scott’s telepathically controlled transporter technology as a safe alternative to usual use,” McCoy said with heavy sarcasm, “you know, not just yet.”
“I don’t know if it will be all that necessary to inform him of that,” Jim said, before his attention was caught off to the side. “There’s Spock. Hey, where have you been?”
Kara was walking pertly at Spock’s side, and she said, “Captain, I will assume the question is rhetorical, as my assistance was needed in the calibrations for the reversal process.”
“Oh my double god dammit,” McCoy said, then slowly looked to the half-slouching, cross-armed form of Spock.
In a sardonic expression that was ten kinds of bizarre on Spock’s face, Kara ruefully said, “Hey, babe.”
“Okay, this is not real,” McCoy said, gesturing emphatically at Kara and Spock. “This is obviously a dream, it has to be, because this is literally my worst nightmare.”
“What the hell, man, you could have told me you got switched!” Jim said to Spock, who raised Kara’s eyebrow at the captain’s bad attempt to hide how entertaining this was to him.
“I should have left you in that quicksand on Asnil Beta Nine,” Kara said, scowling at Jim and pitching Spock’s usually clear-cut voice to a scratchy mumble. For this comment she got a mix of stern and curious written on her own face.
“Are you under the impression these circumstances are somehow the captain’s fault?”
“No. He’s just enjoying it way too much.”
Caught out, Jim tried to suppress a laugh, his eyes going between the two of them. “I’m sorry. It’s just...it is kind of hot.”
McCoy said, somewhere up to the ceiling, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“At least we know how to fix this issue,” Jim reasoned. When Kara rolled Spock’s eyes, he said, “Come on, Starbuck, did I not warn you about a hundred times that we get into some really weird shit out here?”
“Weird shit like the hallucinogenic vegetables on Beron, which you also got a kick out of?” Kara remembered. “While I was having a severe allergic reaction?”
McCoy added, “Or the nudist Karett ritual...”
“Hey, now, I participated in that for the mere sake of diplomacy and did not enjoy it,” Jim said, trying for a stern expression. “...Much.”
Scotty’s voice came over the central comm. “Aye, so we’ve got the reversal process in full order, if everyone could please, uh, find the people currently inhabiting their anatomy and line up outside the transporter room, we’re trying to get this all taken care of in a timely fashion. And eh, for the sake of privacy please do not use the bathroom or undress for any reason, if it’s at all possible, for the next hour or so. Um.”
“...He came so highly recommended,” McCoy muttered.
“What are you talking about?” Jim said. “It’s genius. It’s just not...convenient at the moment.”
“Let's see how convenient it's about to be for you that I have Vulcan strength at the moment, Kirk.”
“Yeah, I’m just gonna shut up now.”
---