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Ficlets written for fandom stocking
I'd sort of forgotten these. Short, some silly, some not.
NCIS/Leverage: Team vs Team, plus some bonding. And. Stuff.
"My people," Sophie said, leaning against the desk and smiling cheerfully at the marine behind it. Marines were a hard lot to con, so she wasn't trying. Mostly. "Are entirely professional."
They just needed a little help. Sophie rather wished that involving this Navy service in their current sting hadn't ended up being required. Though she did have to admit that the very stone-faced Gibbs was the sort of mark she liked to crack. He would take effort, and she hadn't expended a good deal of effort in a long time.
Gibbs grunted, then gave her a look that warned her he would see through any lie she tried. "Why don't you start with the truth?"
The truth was such a novel concept. Sophie frowned a little, but nodded.
-=-
"Like this, right?" Abby let the little bit of wire shift left, right, then twisted it. The lock popped open, and she beamed at her companion.
Parker nodded, then pulled out a stop-watch, "My best is three seconds."
Three seconds. Abby grinned. Three seconds? This wasn't exactly part of her ouvre, but it wasn't that different from typing to keep up with a hacker. It was all in the wrist, and Abby had always been good with her hands.
After all, there was nothing else to do, in their tiny little cell. Parker assured her she had a plan to escape, but Abby was waiting for Gibbs. Maybe Tony. Definitely Ziva.
-=-
Eliot was supposed to be rescuing Parker, or at least rescuing whoever she was with. Instead, he was trading moves with Ziva David, letting her back him (ok, maybe not letting) up against the wall. It was actually sort of fun, pitting himself against the Mossad agent (although she'd identified herself as NCIS).
Back and forth they battled, until she'd obviously had enough. Pinning him, she murmured, "We have a job to do."
Shifting, he broke her hold, and pinned her. "So we do."
Maybe later, they could return to this.
-=-
"Hurry." Jenny was trying her best not to be impatient. There were several sets of alarms to disable, and McGee was still unconscious. Hardison claimed he was the best person for this job, but Jenny wasn't certain. She didn't know the young man, after all. And his glib tongue was reminding her a bit of an inspector she'd known while working with Scotland Yard.
Raising his hands, Hardison performed a few finger wiggles, then got down to his work.
Jenny was pleased to see the alarm indicators go dead shortly thereafter.
-=-
Tony wasn't used to small blonde women sitting on his back, but then again, he wasn't used to seeing Abby pick locks. "Can I get up now?" he asked, his tone hopeful.
"Not until she gets back," Parker informed him, firmly keeping her knee in his back. Eliot would be proud of her for knocking her assailant over and pinning him. The joint-locks he'd shown her made it painful for the man under her knee to move. She'd had surprise on her side, but he was bigger and taller than her.
Feeling proud, she wiggled, pressing her knee down into him harder.
"Ow. Ow. Please don't move."
"Be quiet," she suggested, feeling imperious.
The sound of the piece of wire in the lock told her Abby was back.
-=-
"That could have gone better."
"It could have been worse," Sophie contradicted. She gave a slight nod to Gibbs as he passed them, heading for his people. Eliot was still exchanging dangerous looks with Ziva, Tony was complaining about his back while Parker bounced along with Abby, the two obviously enjoying themselves. Jenny Shepard was watching over all of them in much the same way as Sophie, though Sophie doubted that Madame Director had precisely conned her way to the top.
Possibly more maneuvered, and Sophie could admire the woman for that, taking a job ear-marked as a man's.
Nate grunted, "We should go before they start asking questions."
"I'll get Parker and Hardison, you pry Eliot from his new playmate."
Which was easier in theory than in practice.
-f-
NCIS: Ziva David vs. the supernatural
When Ziva had gotten up for her morning jog, she hadn't expected to find herself chasing a creature out of one of McGee's online games. The thing had broken through the underbrush in front of her, mauling the man she'd been using as her pace-setter and leaving him bleeding on the sidewalk.
She didn't have anything but a tiny .22, but giving chase seemed the thing to do at the time. If asked, Ziva would have admitted to believing in the supernatural. Once, as a small child, she'd been certain there were things under her bed. Ari had investigated with a knife and a torch, bursting out the other side and causing her to shriek, waking half the household. They'd both been punished for the disruption, her father very disappointed in her.
That didn't mean she assumed the thing she was chasing was a monster. It was more likely to be a human in costume of some sort. During Hallowe'en, Ziva had seen any number of creatures that didn't exist in reality.
A car honked at her as she swerved between the parked vehicles, cutting diagonally across the street, gaining ground on the thing as it blundered across at the light.
It wasn't an orc, or an elf-lord, or a dinosaur, and as she tackled it, shoving it to the ground, she realized it wasn't made of plastic, leather and PVC, either. The material of its skin cut into her fingertips and she swore, whipping her gun out and pressing it against the base of the thing's skull.
"Don't move! NCIS!"
Impossibly strong, the creature reared up, unseating her and breaking free. Ziva rolled as she hit the ground and sprang back onto her feet.
The chase was on again. Another two blocks and it dodged into an alley, just barely ahead of her. Ziva grabbed the corner and rolled around it, ducking almost too late to avoid the giant claws that scraped against the bricks. The creature had stopped, apparently deciding that fighting was more appropriate now.
Ziva fired from a crouch, her bullets slamming into the creature's chest. It roared, but collapsed onto the bricks.
Standing, Ziva stepped closer, dodging around the creature, watching to see if it would rise again. It didn't, and Ziva relaxed slightly, kicking it in the upper arm and receiving no response. She pulled out her phone.
"Gibbs? I have something that Ducky might be very interested in."
She gave him her location, and also had him send an ambulance for the man who'd been attacked before she settled down to wait. The thing didn't disappear, but she wasn't expecting it to.
Cowboy Bebop: Faye, character study
One of the problems with being a bounty hunter was that everyone seemed to know your face after a while. Faye found it especially difficult when she was trying to sweet-talk a bartender into just one more round. Usually, even bending over, giving him a nice view didn't help if he knew what she was. Most didn't care about the 'who', but the 'what' made them wary, unless she had extra spending money to do a little spreading around with.
Faye liked her money, though, and spreading it around just to earn some good-will went against the grain.
Instead, she prefered the holding the bartender hostage for his most expensive bottles option. That usually worked in one way or another--if she managed to be quick enough, she and the bottles would be back in her ship in no time. If she wasn't quick about it, the locals might take it into their heads that the bottles were worth more than not getting shot.
Once those were stashed in her private ship, she'd return to the chase, bringing in her collar with a flair and finesse that no one could match.
Spending the money all in one place tended to be too attractive, too easy, and more often than not, Faye finished up her dirt-side jaunts by losing everything at a casino.
On her return to the Bebop, she would avoid the boys (Ed was hard to avoid, Ed seemed to be everywhere you didn't want her to be), Ed would warble a greeting, Ein would yip at her. After some sort of conversation, Faye would disappear to hide her ill-gotten booze (though she was suspicious that Spike and/or Jet had found her stashes more than once, she couldn't always remember where she'd put things). Eventually, she'd return, they'd poke around for someone to chase, someone worth the money, and the process would start all over again. There were variations, of course. Sometimes, she let Spike catch up to her when tracking a bounty.
Doctor Who: Rose(/Nine/Jack), fluff
It was the snow falling, dusting the landscape, that gave Rose the sense they were inside of a fairy tale. Or perhaps that was Jack's over-done smile, the littlest smirk in his eyes as he whirled her around, letting her fly free when she demanded it. The Doctor was there to catch her then, his smile more genuine (or less; Jack's being human, and the Doctor's... not something Rose determined to think about right then).
"We should make snow angels!"
"You are an angel," Jack suggested, waggling his brows before he took Rose's hand and pulled her after him. They ran, the Doctor behind them, for an empty bank, the snow ankle-deep, at most, though it drifted higher on the edges of the forest at their backs.
If it was ridiculous to be playing in the snow for them all, Rose didn't bother to care. Her time with the Doctor had shown her there was so much magic in life, that even this seemed perfect. The air had that bite that made her think of cocoa with marshmallows, feet propped near the gas fire. Her mother would be rattling on about some gossip or other, and Rose would probably have been thinking of Mickey or the store. Dreary things, now she had the whole universe to contemplate.
Jack fell first, backwards and spread-eagled as he wriggled into place, looking suggestive even covered in powdery snow.
Laughing at him, Rose turned and shoved the Doctor down on her other side before she dropped herself. She fit neatly between them, her fingertips brushing theirs as she churned and shifted, pushing the snow with enthusiasm.
This was what traveling with the Doctor should always be about: the stars and the eerie double moon above, and the two men below, both at her side. There was a kind of magic in the air, in the very fabric of the universe itself, and Rose scrambled up out of her angel, turning to look at it while Jack made another ribald comment and the Doctor caught her round the waist.
"I'm so glad you suggested this," she started, before Jack interrupted her by tackling them both into a snow drift.
The Doctor hit Jack with a nicely-rounded snowball, and they were off, tumbling and chasing each other like puppies in a field (puppies which groped as often as grappled) until they collapsed in exhaustion, not far from the still-open TARDIS door. Rose pushed up enough to grin wildly at the Doctor, then flopped back down, pleased to find that Jack made a comfortable pillow.
Torchwood: Gwen/Owen, porn
The back of his car. Gwen repeats that to herself as Owen's fingers find their way inside her pants. The back of his fucking car. Shit, it's like being in school again, shoving her boyfriend into a row of lockers and making out before someone jerks them apart with huffy words about school strictures.
Except, of course, they're outside in the daylight and Owen's mumbling things none of her boyfriends ever dared say, and--Gwen sort of hates that it turns her on like this.
"Hurry, hurry," she growls, nails digging into the back of his neck, foot braced against the door, body straining up.
Their clothing is a problem, but they manage, and Gwen almost rips buttons off his shirt in her zealousness. Owen laughs a little, short little sniggers that make her claw at him in retaliation.
It's sex, mindless and awkward, almost uncomfortable before she's biting down on his shoulder, and he says some rather filthy things as she pants, coming down and still feeling him moving. He's frantic an instant later, possibly at her, possibly at something else.
Gwen tells herself this is it, this moment of connection, that makes her do this with him. This heat that burns her skin and makes her twitch and worry about him. Her looks, her hair, her blouse--whether she's got lettuce between her teeth or ate too many onions the night before.
Afterwards, they rearrange and button, zip and shift, cramped in the too-small space.
She almost kisses him again, just to see what would happen.
Supernatural/Twilight: Jo vs. Edward.
Shotgun vs. vampire. Shotgun: nil, vampire: one.
Jo Harvelle dropped backwards, rolling and scrambling as the vampire came for her. Getting to her knees, she blocked a blow that still sent her reeling sideways, the force behind it more than she'd bargained for. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.
"Go," the vampire snarled. He'd been mostly silent up until now.
Most demons, vampires, monsters, liked to banter, liked to flirt and cajole until an unwary hunter found themselves tied up in knots and lost in their minds. Jo had seen more than a few kill easily after that, feeding on their still-confused prey. She'd only fallen under that sort of spell once, and it wasn't one of her better memories.
She shoved back up to her feet, pulling out a vial of holy water.
It splashed the vampire's hands and he shrieked, though he didn't say anything more.
That was the weird thing, the silence. As he grappled with her, eyes dark and almost dull, Jo tried to think up some witty repartee to drown out the sound of the wind in the trees.
But all she had were gasps and pants as they fought, Jo dodging more than hitting. She got in a few good hits before managing to side-step his lunge, tripping him up. Following him down was a mistake: he flipped them, pinning her and glaring.
"I told you to go."
"Yeah? Never liked doing what I was told." She shifted, inching her hand to the stake at the small of her back. Last resort: usually, rock salt and silver-tipped bullets did a better, safer job.
He growled, face shifting, the lines stark and drawn. Almost as though her were fighting something.
"Edward? Edward, I know you're there." A girl's voice.
It distracted him, his head coming up, and Jo could swear he sniffed at the wind and got--well, she wasn't going to dwell on the look that appeared on his face. The moment was all she needed. Stake in hand, she plunged it up and into his chest, feeling it grate on his ribs before sliding home.
Edward the vampire gave a strange gurgle and slumped forward, pinning her with dead-weight. Jo shoved and rolled, leaving the now-dead vampire sprawled awkwardly.
Getting to her feet told her she was bruised and battered and needed a hot shower.
"Edward!" A brunette young woman burst into the clearing, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. She looked at Jo, shocked. "What have you done?"
"Vampire." Jo made a cutting motion across her throat. "What else?"
The younger woman drew herself up, something vaguely like relief mingled with the grief on her face, "I'm Bella Swan, and you shouldn't be here."
Jo shrugged and turned to begin packing up. For some reason, she felt compelled to introduce herself, though. "I'm Jo Harvelle. And no one asks me to go anywhere."
"Oh."
With a sigh, Jo hefted her pack over her shoulder and tucked her shotgun in the crook of her arm. She was going to have to buy a new one, the vampire had bent this one. "Look. You want some advice? Don't hang out with vampires."
"Edward would never eat me," Bella declared hotly. Then she slumped. "What am I going to do now? I thought..."
Jo raised her eyebrows, then rolled her eyes, "C'mon, I should probably walk you home." The girl might let the shadows eat her or something, and she was making Jo feel protective, which was sort of hilarious (to someone who wasn't Jo).
"My truck's at the edge of the forest," said Bella. She brightened a little, "Can you show me how to use that?" she pointed at the shotgun.
"No. It's bent."
"Oh."
Coffee would help. Coffee would really help. Jo rubbed her free hand over her face. "Look, Bella, do you want to learn to hunt vampires?"
"Oh, no! They're so peaceful, here in Forks." Bella's eyes were wide, "Why would I want to?"
"Just a thought." So peaceful, Jo had heard about this Edward Cullen on the grapevine. Something about stalking little girls. "How about you show me to the nearest diner, all right?"
"That, I can do. As long as you don't stake me."
"Not planning on it." Unless she sprouted fangs.
Battlestar Galactica: Boomer/Caprica, character study, PG
There were mornings when Boomer wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, curled with Caprica. The warmth of the sheets spilling around them, coccooning them, protecting them from the world outside seemed more important than the politics that came with being the dissenters amongst the Cylon. The Six was so different, still so much more human than her counterparts, that Boomer sometimes wondered if they were both programmed to change. It was a sobering thought, one she pondered more and more as the months slowly dragged on, with no sign of Earth.
A fairy tale, Cavil often accused, when she bothered to confront him at all. Cylons weren't meant to be individuals, with feelings and fancies, he claimed. There was no soul to life, simply life itself.
Boomer couldn't understand that. There was soul, there was connection. It was there, in the way Caprica smiled at her at odd moments. The way Boomer thought of things she should say, memories to share (memories that were fake). At night, when there was nothing but the projection of forest and starlight around them, Boomer sometimes considered asking her if this was for nothing.
Will we find Earth before the humans do? A question she thought of more frequently, as no trace of the human fleet appeared on their dradis.
There should have been something, somewhere. Unless both fleets were drifting further and further apart: it was possible that there were calculations, star charts the humans had that the Cylon did not.
Earth was a hope, a promise of life that they could share with themselves. Something that was more real than projection, more real than eons of stardust and empty space. It was how she and Caprica had won the vote, all those months ago. We should leave this planet, this system. Earth is out there, we just have to find it.
It was something to chase. As was the flickering signal one of the Twos picked up in a nearby dust cloud. Nuclear emissions could mean civilization. Perhaps they had found Earth.
NCIS/Leverage: Team vs Team, plus some bonding. And. Stuff.
"My people," Sophie said, leaning against the desk and smiling cheerfully at the marine behind it. Marines were a hard lot to con, so she wasn't trying. Mostly. "Are entirely professional."
They just needed a little help. Sophie rather wished that involving this Navy service in their current sting hadn't ended up being required. Though she did have to admit that the very stone-faced Gibbs was the sort of mark she liked to crack. He would take effort, and she hadn't expended a good deal of effort in a long time.
Gibbs grunted, then gave her a look that warned her he would see through any lie she tried. "Why don't you start with the truth?"
The truth was such a novel concept. Sophie frowned a little, but nodded.
-=-
"Like this, right?" Abby let the little bit of wire shift left, right, then twisted it. The lock popped open, and she beamed at her companion.
Parker nodded, then pulled out a stop-watch, "My best is three seconds."
Three seconds. Abby grinned. Three seconds? This wasn't exactly part of her ouvre, but it wasn't that different from typing to keep up with a hacker. It was all in the wrist, and Abby had always been good with her hands.
After all, there was nothing else to do, in their tiny little cell. Parker assured her she had a plan to escape, but Abby was waiting for Gibbs. Maybe Tony. Definitely Ziva.
-=-
Eliot was supposed to be rescuing Parker, or at least rescuing whoever she was with. Instead, he was trading moves with Ziva David, letting her back him (ok, maybe not letting) up against the wall. It was actually sort of fun, pitting himself against the Mossad agent (although she'd identified herself as NCIS).
Back and forth they battled, until she'd obviously had enough. Pinning him, she murmured, "We have a job to do."
Shifting, he broke her hold, and pinned her. "So we do."
Maybe later, they could return to this.
-=-
"Hurry." Jenny was trying her best not to be impatient. There were several sets of alarms to disable, and McGee was still unconscious. Hardison claimed he was the best person for this job, but Jenny wasn't certain. She didn't know the young man, after all. And his glib tongue was reminding her a bit of an inspector she'd known while working with Scotland Yard.
Raising his hands, Hardison performed a few finger wiggles, then got down to his work.
Jenny was pleased to see the alarm indicators go dead shortly thereafter.
-=-
Tony wasn't used to small blonde women sitting on his back, but then again, he wasn't used to seeing Abby pick locks. "Can I get up now?" he asked, his tone hopeful.
"Not until she gets back," Parker informed him, firmly keeping her knee in his back. Eliot would be proud of her for knocking her assailant over and pinning him. The joint-locks he'd shown her made it painful for the man under her knee to move. She'd had surprise on her side, but he was bigger and taller than her.
Feeling proud, she wiggled, pressing her knee down into him harder.
"Ow. Ow. Please don't move."
"Be quiet," she suggested, feeling imperious.
The sound of the piece of wire in the lock told her Abby was back.
-=-
"That could have gone better."
"It could have been worse," Sophie contradicted. She gave a slight nod to Gibbs as he passed them, heading for his people. Eliot was still exchanging dangerous looks with Ziva, Tony was complaining about his back while Parker bounced along with Abby, the two obviously enjoying themselves. Jenny Shepard was watching over all of them in much the same way as Sophie, though Sophie doubted that Madame Director had precisely conned her way to the top.
Possibly more maneuvered, and Sophie could admire the woman for that, taking a job ear-marked as a man's.
Nate grunted, "We should go before they start asking questions."
"I'll get Parker and Hardison, you pry Eliot from his new playmate."
Which was easier in theory than in practice.
-f-
NCIS: Ziva David vs. the supernatural
When Ziva had gotten up for her morning jog, she hadn't expected to find herself chasing a creature out of one of McGee's online games. The thing had broken through the underbrush in front of her, mauling the man she'd been using as her pace-setter and leaving him bleeding on the sidewalk.
She didn't have anything but a tiny .22, but giving chase seemed the thing to do at the time. If asked, Ziva would have admitted to believing in the supernatural. Once, as a small child, she'd been certain there were things under her bed. Ari had investigated with a knife and a torch, bursting out the other side and causing her to shriek, waking half the household. They'd both been punished for the disruption, her father very disappointed in her.
That didn't mean she assumed the thing she was chasing was a monster. It was more likely to be a human in costume of some sort. During Hallowe'en, Ziva had seen any number of creatures that didn't exist in reality.
A car honked at her as she swerved between the parked vehicles, cutting diagonally across the street, gaining ground on the thing as it blundered across at the light.
It wasn't an orc, or an elf-lord, or a dinosaur, and as she tackled it, shoving it to the ground, she realized it wasn't made of plastic, leather and PVC, either. The material of its skin cut into her fingertips and she swore, whipping her gun out and pressing it against the base of the thing's skull.
"Don't move! NCIS!"
Impossibly strong, the creature reared up, unseating her and breaking free. Ziva rolled as she hit the ground and sprang back onto her feet.
The chase was on again. Another two blocks and it dodged into an alley, just barely ahead of her. Ziva grabbed the corner and rolled around it, ducking almost too late to avoid the giant claws that scraped against the bricks. The creature had stopped, apparently deciding that fighting was more appropriate now.
Ziva fired from a crouch, her bullets slamming into the creature's chest. It roared, but collapsed onto the bricks.
Standing, Ziva stepped closer, dodging around the creature, watching to see if it would rise again. It didn't, and Ziva relaxed slightly, kicking it in the upper arm and receiving no response. She pulled out her phone.
"Gibbs? I have something that Ducky might be very interested in."
She gave him her location, and also had him send an ambulance for the man who'd been attacked before she settled down to wait. The thing didn't disappear, but she wasn't expecting it to.
Cowboy Bebop: Faye, character study
One of the problems with being a bounty hunter was that everyone seemed to know your face after a while. Faye found it especially difficult when she was trying to sweet-talk a bartender into just one more round. Usually, even bending over, giving him a nice view didn't help if he knew what she was. Most didn't care about the 'who', but the 'what' made them wary, unless she had extra spending money to do a little spreading around with.
Faye liked her money, though, and spreading it around just to earn some good-will went against the grain.
Instead, she prefered the holding the bartender hostage for his most expensive bottles option. That usually worked in one way or another--if she managed to be quick enough, she and the bottles would be back in her ship in no time. If she wasn't quick about it, the locals might take it into their heads that the bottles were worth more than not getting shot.
Once those were stashed in her private ship, she'd return to the chase, bringing in her collar with a flair and finesse that no one could match.
Spending the money all in one place tended to be too attractive, too easy, and more often than not, Faye finished up her dirt-side jaunts by losing everything at a casino.
On her return to the Bebop, she would avoid the boys (Ed was hard to avoid, Ed seemed to be everywhere you didn't want her to be), Ed would warble a greeting, Ein would yip at her. After some sort of conversation, Faye would disappear to hide her ill-gotten booze (though she was suspicious that Spike and/or Jet had found her stashes more than once, she couldn't always remember where she'd put things). Eventually, she'd return, they'd poke around for someone to chase, someone worth the money, and the process would start all over again. There were variations, of course. Sometimes, she let Spike catch up to her when tracking a bounty.
Doctor Who: Rose(/Nine/Jack), fluff
It was the snow falling, dusting the landscape, that gave Rose the sense they were inside of a fairy tale. Or perhaps that was Jack's over-done smile, the littlest smirk in his eyes as he whirled her around, letting her fly free when she demanded it. The Doctor was there to catch her then, his smile more genuine (or less; Jack's being human, and the Doctor's... not something Rose determined to think about right then).
"We should make snow angels!"
"You are an angel," Jack suggested, waggling his brows before he took Rose's hand and pulled her after him. They ran, the Doctor behind them, for an empty bank, the snow ankle-deep, at most, though it drifted higher on the edges of the forest at their backs.
If it was ridiculous to be playing in the snow for them all, Rose didn't bother to care. Her time with the Doctor had shown her there was so much magic in life, that even this seemed perfect. The air had that bite that made her think of cocoa with marshmallows, feet propped near the gas fire. Her mother would be rattling on about some gossip or other, and Rose would probably have been thinking of Mickey or the store. Dreary things, now she had the whole universe to contemplate.
Jack fell first, backwards and spread-eagled as he wriggled into place, looking suggestive even covered in powdery snow.
Laughing at him, Rose turned and shoved the Doctor down on her other side before she dropped herself. She fit neatly between them, her fingertips brushing theirs as she churned and shifted, pushing the snow with enthusiasm.
This was what traveling with the Doctor should always be about: the stars and the eerie double moon above, and the two men below, both at her side. There was a kind of magic in the air, in the very fabric of the universe itself, and Rose scrambled up out of her angel, turning to look at it while Jack made another ribald comment and the Doctor caught her round the waist.
"I'm so glad you suggested this," she started, before Jack interrupted her by tackling them both into a snow drift.
The Doctor hit Jack with a nicely-rounded snowball, and they were off, tumbling and chasing each other like puppies in a field (puppies which groped as often as grappled) until they collapsed in exhaustion, not far from the still-open TARDIS door. Rose pushed up enough to grin wildly at the Doctor, then flopped back down, pleased to find that Jack made a comfortable pillow.
Torchwood: Gwen/Owen, porn
The back of his car. Gwen repeats that to herself as Owen's fingers find their way inside her pants. The back of his fucking car. Shit, it's like being in school again, shoving her boyfriend into a row of lockers and making out before someone jerks them apart with huffy words about school strictures.
Except, of course, they're outside in the daylight and Owen's mumbling things none of her boyfriends ever dared say, and--Gwen sort of hates that it turns her on like this.
"Hurry, hurry," she growls, nails digging into the back of his neck, foot braced against the door, body straining up.
Their clothing is a problem, but they manage, and Gwen almost rips buttons off his shirt in her zealousness. Owen laughs a little, short little sniggers that make her claw at him in retaliation.
It's sex, mindless and awkward, almost uncomfortable before she's biting down on his shoulder, and he says some rather filthy things as she pants, coming down and still feeling him moving. He's frantic an instant later, possibly at her, possibly at something else.
Gwen tells herself this is it, this moment of connection, that makes her do this with him. This heat that burns her skin and makes her twitch and worry about him. Her looks, her hair, her blouse--whether she's got lettuce between her teeth or ate too many onions the night before.
Afterwards, they rearrange and button, zip and shift, cramped in the too-small space.
She almost kisses him again, just to see what would happen.
Supernatural/Twilight: Jo vs. Edward.
Shotgun vs. vampire. Shotgun: nil, vampire: one.
Jo Harvelle dropped backwards, rolling and scrambling as the vampire came for her. Getting to her knees, she blocked a blow that still sent her reeling sideways, the force behind it more than she'd bargained for. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.
"Go," the vampire snarled. He'd been mostly silent up until now.
Most demons, vampires, monsters, liked to banter, liked to flirt and cajole until an unwary hunter found themselves tied up in knots and lost in their minds. Jo had seen more than a few kill easily after that, feeding on their still-confused prey. She'd only fallen under that sort of spell once, and it wasn't one of her better memories.
She shoved back up to her feet, pulling out a vial of holy water.
It splashed the vampire's hands and he shrieked, though he didn't say anything more.
That was the weird thing, the silence. As he grappled with her, eyes dark and almost dull, Jo tried to think up some witty repartee to drown out the sound of the wind in the trees.
But all she had were gasps and pants as they fought, Jo dodging more than hitting. She got in a few good hits before managing to side-step his lunge, tripping him up. Following him down was a mistake: he flipped them, pinning her and glaring.
"I told you to go."
"Yeah? Never liked doing what I was told." She shifted, inching her hand to the stake at the small of her back. Last resort: usually, rock salt and silver-tipped bullets did a better, safer job.
He growled, face shifting, the lines stark and drawn. Almost as though her were fighting something.
"Edward? Edward, I know you're there." A girl's voice.
It distracted him, his head coming up, and Jo could swear he sniffed at the wind and got--well, she wasn't going to dwell on the look that appeared on his face. The moment was all she needed. Stake in hand, she plunged it up and into his chest, feeling it grate on his ribs before sliding home.
Edward the vampire gave a strange gurgle and slumped forward, pinning her with dead-weight. Jo shoved and rolled, leaving the now-dead vampire sprawled awkwardly.
Getting to her feet told her she was bruised and battered and needed a hot shower.
"Edward!" A brunette young woman burst into the clearing, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. She looked at Jo, shocked. "What have you done?"
"Vampire." Jo made a cutting motion across her throat. "What else?"
The younger woman drew herself up, something vaguely like relief mingled with the grief on her face, "I'm Bella Swan, and you shouldn't be here."
Jo shrugged and turned to begin packing up. For some reason, she felt compelled to introduce herself, though. "I'm Jo Harvelle. And no one asks me to go anywhere."
"Oh."
With a sigh, Jo hefted her pack over her shoulder and tucked her shotgun in the crook of her arm. She was going to have to buy a new one, the vampire had bent this one. "Look. You want some advice? Don't hang out with vampires."
"Edward would never eat me," Bella declared hotly. Then she slumped. "What am I going to do now? I thought..."
Jo raised her eyebrows, then rolled her eyes, "C'mon, I should probably walk you home." The girl might let the shadows eat her or something, and she was making Jo feel protective, which was sort of hilarious (to someone who wasn't Jo).
"My truck's at the edge of the forest," said Bella. She brightened a little, "Can you show me how to use that?" she pointed at the shotgun.
"No. It's bent."
"Oh."
Coffee would help. Coffee would really help. Jo rubbed her free hand over her face. "Look, Bella, do you want to learn to hunt vampires?"
"Oh, no! They're so peaceful, here in Forks." Bella's eyes were wide, "Why would I want to?"
"Just a thought." So peaceful, Jo had heard about this Edward Cullen on the grapevine. Something about stalking little girls. "How about you show me to the nearest diner, all right?"
"That, I can do. As long as you don't stake me."
"Not planning on it." Unless she sprouted fangs.
Battlestar Galactica: Boomer/Caprica, character study, PG
There were mornings when Boomer wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, curled with Caprica. The warmth of the sheets spilling around them, coccooning them, protecting them from the world outside seemed more important than the politics that came with being the dissenters amongst the Cylon. The Six was so different, still so much more human than her counterparts, that Boomer sometimes wondered if they were both programmed to change. It was a sobering thought, one she pondered more and more as the months slowly dragged on, with no sign of Earth.
A fairy tale, Cavil often accused, when she bothered to confront him at all. Cylons weren't meant to be individuals, with feelings and fancies, he claimed. There was no soul to life, simply life itself.
Boomer couldn't understand that. There was soul, there was connection. It was there, in the way Caprica smiled at her at odd moments. The way Boomer thought of things she should say, memories to share (memories that were fake). At night, when there was nothing but the projection of forest and starlight around them, Boomer sometimes considered asking her if this was for nothing.
Will we find Earth before the humans do? A question she thought of more frequently, as no trace of the human fleet appeared on their dradis.
There should have been something, somewhere. Unless both fleets were drifting further and further apart: it was possible that there were calculations, star charts the humans had that the Cylon did not.
Earth was a hope, a promise of life that they could share with themselves. Something that was more real than projection, more real than eons of stardust and empty space. It was how she and Caprica had won the vote, all those months ago. We should leave this planet, this system. Earth is out there, we just have to find it.
It was something to chase. As was the flickering signal one of the Twos picked up in a nearby dust cloud. Nuclear emissions could mean civilization. Perhaps they had found Earth.
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