Ahoy...

ST Omegle Party Shenanigans

2009-12-05T01:06:19Z

[8:00]
Stranger: hi f/m?
You: I have been and always shall be your friend.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:06]
Stranger: 16 male looking for girls or boys to send nudes
You: I may throw up on you.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:07]
Stranger: Hii
Stranger: asl?
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:10]
Stranger: hello
Stranger: asl?
You: James T. Kirk... How did you find me?
Stranger: do you know what omegle is? it connects with random people lol
You: I may throw up on you.
Stranger: why?
You: lol, nvm
You have disconnected.

[8:12]
Stranger: Hi im a guy on 15 need cam sex over skype?
You: I can do zat!
Stranger: f-m?
You: damnit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a sexbot.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:14]
Stranger: asl?
You: Hi, Christopher; I'm Nero.
Stranger: shit
Stranger: fuk u
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:15]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: show me your tits
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:18]
Stranger: hey
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: Not that ive checked
You: Kirk out.
You have disconnected.

[8:20]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: NO
Stranger: wbu?
You: please reiterate.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:26]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: hi
Stranger: m or f
You: Can I get a towel?
Stranger: m
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:40]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: No, I have not. Would you like me to insult you?
Stranger: |:
You: ...no, not really.
Stranger: Then don't ask, >_>
You: Well it was a test.
You: You failed.
You: But you failed politely.
You: So thanks for that.

[8:48]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: star tre
Stranger: star trek
Stranger: affirmative
You: \o/
Stranger: i loved that movie
You: well if you find anyone else quoting it tonight, tell them hi from me ;)

[9:26]
Stranger: hi
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: huh?
Stranger: i don't understand
You: Well, I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space...
Stranger: mm
Stranger: i still not understand
You: That's okay; no one's perfect.

[9:31]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: yeah, sure!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[9:32]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: yes
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[10:09]
Stranger: hey
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: i gotta take a shit
You: ...
You: Kirk out.
You have disconnected.

drabble: No action for Jimmy

2009-08-22T23:12:59Z

"What was that?" Jim demands as soon as Uhura has left the bridge.

"What was what, Captain?" Spock responds, obviously playing dumb. Jim can't decide if he likes or hates it when Spock does this.

"That little gang-hand-signal thing you guys just did." Jim holds out two fingers in a replication of what he thought he saw. "What does this mean?" He reaches for Spock's own hand which is quickly retracted behind Spock's back.

"Captain, please desist." He's turning a slight shade of green, eyes glancing down to Jim's fingers and back up to his face twice, which is just weird to see. Silently, Jim reviews the facts: something he did with Uhura, chaste enough to do on the bridge, not meant to draw attention and makes Spock blush when it does.

Probably not as harmless as a hand-shake, then.

"Right," Jim says and slowly curls his fingers back into a fist which he then jams into a pocket. "Sorry."

There is a somewhat awkward silence and then before Jim can stop himself: "So that's like a Vulcan version of a kiss?"

Spock looks uncomfortable. Jim can't decide if he likes or hates the fact that he can tell.

"This analogy is the closest I can think of, yes."

More awkward, and then, because he's on a roll, Jim starts to say, "So last week when I made you give me a high-five-"

"No," Spock cuts him off.

"No? Okay. Great." And because he can only take so much awkward, Jim turns and heads for the lift, grumbling about how he can't even get any accidental action on this ship.

fic: Welcome Home (Pinto)

2009-08-19T08:27:59Z

Title: Welcome Home
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: n/a
Disclaimer: I do not know or own Chris Pine nor Zachary Quinto. This is a work of fiction and therefore probably didn't happen.
Summary: just a short Pinto PWP.

He keeps his hands up behind his head because that way it looks like it's his choice that they're there, while simultaneously giving Zach what Chris knows he wants.

Propped up against the headboard, atop too many pillows, legs splayed, wrists crossed at the back of his neck: Chris is going for casual and unbothered. It's a difficult appearance to maintain, though, with Zach kneeling right next to him, pumping his cock in a slow, steady rhythm. He's talking about something... work probably, but Chris lost track of the words a few minutes ago. Zach probably knows this. It's probably why he's been smirking through his impromptu soliloquy; he's not usually so chatty when Chris is in his bed, naked.

Chris rocks his hips up into the next downward stroke, keeps Zach's eye contact and smirks back. He's not quite sure what game they're playing here, but he's sure as hell not going to lose.

"...so we're most likely going to have to shoot it again tomorrow, which means an extra hour or so in make-up putting all that blood on."

"Mmm," is Chris' contribution to the conversation. He hopes Zach can't see how his hands have clenched themselves around each other. Zach looks down to where Chris' hips are thrusting shallowly into the channel of his fist: gentle little pulses that Chris can't really help, not if he's going to keep from touching like this.

Zach runs a finger across the rise of one hipbone. "So how was your day?"

"Fine." He could probably bitch for an hour about the meeting he had with his agent today, but Chris kind of wants to get to the sex part of this sometime soon.

"Yeah? You seem a little tense."

Chris laughs, subtly shifting down and planting one foot onto the mattress. "Well that tension you sense could be because my boyfriend's a damn tease." Zach looks back down and smiles, pleased. Chris knows Zach likes it when he uses the 'b' word.

Zach 'hmm's once, and then replaces his hand with his mouth and Chris is arching off the pillows, hands flying back to grab the headboard as Zach takes him all the way in.

"Fuck, Zach, fuck," is the best he can do for encouragement, but it works. Zach swallows around him and then starts to bob up and down, one hand holding Chris' hip while the other slides slowly up his thigh.

Chris spreads his legs further as soon as he feels Zach's fingers behind his balls because he's already gasping for it (loud, shallow pants that he knows Zach thrives off of) so really there's no point in maintaining any illusion of control.

Zach pets him, gently runs a thumb over his opening, and Chris' hips stutter between shoving up into a hot mouth and down onto a smooth finger.

"Zach," Chris keens, and it's not a warning but it gets Zach's attention anyway. He pulls off and Chris can't see him looking up Chris' body because his eyes are screwed shut, but he can practically feel it.

Eventually Zach shifts and Chris opens his eyes, relaxing back into the pillows though his arms still strain against his grip on the headboard. Zach's kind of gaping at him, kind of devouring him with his eyes as they sweep from his cock (thick and shining from Zach's mouth) up his chest to his arms, his lips (Chris licks at them unconsciously and Zach huffs out a little laugh).

"You're just," Zach starts, but he's leaning forward and whatever else he might have said is lost to Chris' mouth. Chris tilts his head back as Zach kneels up and over him, hands splayed against his ribs. He inhales sharply as Zach settles on his lap and before he knows it his hand have relocated to Zach's hips. He keeps them there, though, as Zach grinds into him, pulling and pushing to help this along. Not that it isn't great, but fuck, Chris can feel it coming and he wants it now.

Zach's mouth is on his neck, biting and licking, their chests and dicks pressed flush together. "Come on," he breathes in Chris' ear.

"It's not- I need something," Chris groans back, wrapping his arms around Zach's waist and burying his face against his shoulder.

"Think of last weekend," Zach murmurs, gripping the headboard and shoving down with the new found leverage. "When I tied you up and stuck that vibrator in your ass. And you went down on me until I was begging to let me fuck you. You look so good on your knees."

Chris' head falls back as he remembers: Zach's broken praises, straining against the ties at his wrists, shoving back, telling Zach it was good, yeah good, but just harder, please, fuck...

"Zach," he gasps and freezes, pulling their hips as close as he can manage. It makes it difficult for Zach to keep moving, but it's not long before he's coming too with an aborted groan and a bite to Chris' shoulder.

They relax eventually but it's several moments before Zach shifts and Chris rolls them gently onto their sides. And then his hands are all over Zach: sweeping up his back, down his legs (between his legs to make Zach grunt and shove forward a bit).

Zach pulls back enough for a kiss and it's slow and sweet. Chris is beginning to drop off, but Zach's smiling gently so he kisses him some more, until his eyes can't stay open.

"We should shower," Zach mumbles. His voice sounds like he's been screaming, but Chris is almost positive he didn't. Maybe next time. For now he tightens his grip around Zach's waist and hopes it's a good enough deterrent to keep from moving at all.

Zach sighs and nudges Chris' arm. He immediately starts the soft, sweeping circles across Zach's back again. Chris knows it isn't a concession to stay in bed, but for the next fifteen minutes they're not going anywhere.

fic: Game Day (K/S)

2009-07-24T09:14:38Z

Title: Game Day
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: none/...excessive dialogue?
Disclaimer: Kirk and Spock belong to Roddenberry and Paramount; no money was made from this work of fiction.
Summary: Spock is not pleased with the latent homo-eroticism found in North American football.

The bridge is quiet, almost unusually so for the middle of Alpha shift. Today, however, is the sixth in a long stretch of days spent traveling towards Federation borders. The enormity of space has never seemed so relevant as when it takes eleven days at warp five to reach one's destination.

Spock supposes this monotony is what has the bridge crew behaving so demurely.

That is until several quick gasps sound from behind him and Spock turns just in time to see both the captain and Lt. Sulu react to something on their console view screens.

"Oh my god!"

"Did you see that?"

"Uhura, give us a replay," the captain demands and Spock follows his out-stretched hand to see that Lt. Uhura is also staring in shock at her console screen. She presses a few buttons and now all of the bridge crew seems to have congregated around the captain's chair, specifically the small screen on its armrest.

"Captain?" Spock asks, because if this is some sort of emergency, he needs to know.

Everyone is quiet, however, enraptured by whatever they are watching. After several breathless moments their expressions mirror each others' in amazement.

"Damn, did you see that vertical leap?" the captain exclaims over the low hum of chatter that the bridge crew has dissolved into.

The limited experience Spock has with such displays of human interaction lead him to tentatively conclude that an intra-ship recreational game is being played by off-duty crew members. When Dr. McCoy calls the bridge asking excitedly if Jim is watching the game, Spock's conclusions are confirmed.

"We're playing Cruz's team tomorrow night," Lt. Sulu says to the captain.

"Yeah, and we're definitely running a zone on him because awesome catches like that are embarrassing for my defense," the captain answers.

"Even if he's double-covered, you don't have anyone on your team that can out-jump Cruz," Lt. Uhura speaks up and the captain turns towards her, "Sir."

"Well then why don't you come play for us? If Jennings is allowed to play dirty then we're allowed to stick you on Cruz to distract him for awhile."

Lt. Uhura's eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to retort, but Dr. McCoy's voice beats her to the insult: "It's not 'playing dirty' if the ladies on Jennings' team just honestly look good in their uniforms. It's your own damn fault for ogling."

"Still..." the captain says, eyebrows raised suggestively at the lieutenant. She crosses her arms.

"I thought you said I throw like a girl."

"You do. But you'd still look hot with 'Team Kirk' across your chest."

Lt. Uhura smiles and shakes her head, "I will never play for Team Kirk." And with that she turns back to her station.

The captain glances at him finally and Spock raises an eyebrow.

"Women," he says with a commiserating shrug. Spock blinks and does not quite understand.

- - -

Twenty-six hours later, Jim is about to go off shift. Spock can tell because the captain frequently makes a point of coming to speak to him briefly before leaving the bridge, and his current presence behind Spock is impending.

"So are you coming to my game tonight?" Jim asks although Spock has yet to turn and give him his full attention.

"The probability of my attendance is low," Spock says to his console.

"You always say that."

"And yet you continue to ask."

"You know I read somewhere once that if a girl goes to her boyfriend's sporting events it means she supports his endeavors and cares about their relationship."

Spock looks up and glances over his shoulder. "Well as I am neither human nor female your research is not relevant to our relationship."

"That's okay, I made it up anyway," he concedes with a smirk. "Still, you should come watch me be athletic and manly. It's good for my ego."

Spock stares at Jim's teasing smile for a moment. "There are several comments I could make at this time about your ego. Please interpret the absence of such comments as my support concerning your endeavors and my attentive dedication to our relationship."

Jim grins at him, and the way it reaches to his eyes makes Spock turn back to his station.

"I'll see you later, then," Jim says, squeezing Spock's shoulder once. Spock nods and only when the captain has left the bridge does he attempt to go back to work.

- - -

Spock is not sure which line of thought lead him to believe that actually attending Jim's sporting event tonight was in any way a logical or productive idea. It is entirely possible that at the time he had neither logic nor productivity in mind.

Nyota spots him as soon as he enters the only recreational room large enough for intramural sports. She motions him over, so Spock climbs the temporary bleacher seats until he is able to sit next to her.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," she says, but from her smile it is obvious she is pleased.

"I will admit that attending this event was not in my original plans for the evening," Spock says as he scans the room. Jim's team is in gold, predictably enough, their sleeveless tops contrasting sharply with the long, loose black shorts they also wear. "What is the game being played?"

"North American Football," Nyota answers before frowning, "kind of. They're not wearing protective gear and there's only room enough for one end zone, but otherwise the rules are pretty much the same."

"And those are?"

She looks at him incredulously before smiling. "I wouldn't have time to explain them all to you right now, even if I could. I guess all you have to know is that if Jim throws the ball to anyone in gold and they catch it, that's good, and if they make it past that line at the end of the room, that's even better."

Spock raises an eyebrow and is about to comment on the questionable complexity of such a game when a sharp whistle-blow sounds. In the center of the room McCoy -- in gold, of course -- has an oblong-shaped, brown ball. He sets it on the ground and then crouches over it, weight settled on the hand that grips the ball. It is a strange position, made stranger when Jim walks up behind McCoy, resting the back of his hand on the Doctor's lower back.

Had the scenario ended there, Spock may have been able to overlook the slight flaring of ill-repressed emotion, and blame the experience solely on shock. But it does not end there, and as Jim bends behind McCoy his hand follows the curve of the Doctor's body until both forearms are between McCoy's legs. The nonsense Jim calls to his teammates before the players break into a frenzy of action is drowned out by the nonsense running through Spock's mind: flashes of emotion he has no idea how to classify or deal with except through quick and ruthless suppression. He misses whatever happens, but Nyota is clapping and Jim is beaming so he concludes that it was positive for his team, whatever it was.

Nyota glances over at him and must mistake whatever expression is on his face for confusion because she laughs and gently pats his knee. "You can read up about the rules before the next game; I promise it's not that hard to follow."

Spock is not certain, however, that he will be attending any subsequent games. He is not even certain if he will be able to sit through the current one as Jim forms his body to McCoy's again.

The disconcerting part, Spock supposes, is his inability to classify the emotion he is experiencing. For Spock, emotions are best conquered by knowing when to expect their appearance and preemptively disassociating the mind from the emotional reaction. If Spock can understand his emotions he can control them.

But this particular one... It is at once more than jealousy and less than it.

Approaching it as a scientific unknown does seem to help in the disassociation process, and Spock is able to push it aside as a query to be considered later.

The game has continued through his inattention and both teams and players have shifted positions. Jim now stands next to McCoy on the far side of the room, watching as Cruz's team takes control of the ball. When Spock looks at him, Jim is staring right back, a wide smile on his face. He waves and Spock raises a hand in return.

After this, the game continues quickly and Spock is able to work out the main objectives and rules: four attempts to reach the number 20, another four to reach the goal if they are needed; play ends if the ball carrier is touched by an opposing team member; Jim is not allowed to attempt "Quarterback Sneaks" no matter how loudly he protests.

When the final whistle sounds Spock is certain his evening could have been spent more productively, and with less emotional turmoil. His plan is to leave the recreational room as soon as possible, but Jim is bounding up the steps towards him before he has even said goodbye to Nyota.

"Hey," he greets Spock with a grin. He is flushed and covered in perspiration and Spock has no trouble repressing the lust because he expects it and knows how to tame it. The other, unnamed emotion, however, flares violently when McCoy approaches and stands shoulder to bare shoulder with Jim. Spock has seen them like this countless times: standing closer than mere acquaintances, sharing looks and friendly touches. It has never bothered him before.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Jim asks him directly, clearly trying to incorporate Spock into the conversation that has been going on around him.

Spock decides some time alone to analyze tonight's discovery is prudent. "I plan to return to my station on the bridge to continue preparing the mapping systems for when we reach our destination."

Jim narrows his eyes. "I thought you'd gotten that all worked out."

"The more self-sufficient the system, the quicker the actual process will be. It is what I would have been doing had I not attended your game."

"So it can wait, then?" Jim says with that particular smile that broadcasts when he thinks he's won. "If it was so important, you wouldn't have blown it off to come watch me play."

"I admit that the need for system adjustments is not imminent," Spock concedes after a pause.

"Well then. I guess we'll be seeing you two later," Jim says with a somewhat lecherous wink directed at Nyota and McCoy. The latter rolls his eyes but Nyota wishes them a good night with a smile.

Spock considers protesting as he follows Jim out of the recreational room. The strange emotion has not subsided even now that he is alone with Jim. If anything, Spock thinks, the intensity from earlier may have returned.

"Captain-" he begins, but Jim stops suddenly and whirls around.

"Whoa, hey, what?" he says, cutting Spock off. "What's going on?"

"Jim," Spock says pointedly, attempting to backtrack, "I do no understand the question."

"Bullshit; you just 'captain'ed me and don't think I didn't hear it. What's up?"

Spock pauses, attempting to collect his thoughts around the unwelcome haze of emotion. "May we continue to your quarters?"

Jim takes his own turn to pause, scrutinizing Spock for several beats before nodding.

"Yeah, alright."

The walk to Jim's quarters is silent even if the glances he continuously shoots Spock are not.

"Okay, talk," Jim says before the door has even shut behind them. Spock walks calmly to Jim's desk and sits, pulling up the reports log. There is a new one waiting for him and he opens it, all the while aware of Jim's glare aimed towards him.

"Would you not rather shower first?" he asks, glancing up.

"Spock," Jim says, and Spock knows he has very little time to preemptively end this conversation.

"Jim," he begins calmly, "the word-choice was an attempt to distance myself from you and the situation I find myself currently in. If you would allow me an hour alone I will meditate on the problem and solve it."

"Problem?" Jim echoes, concern clear on his face, "What problem? Spock if I did something you need to talk to me about it; we've been over this."

"Jim, it is nothing to worry yourself over. The problem is an emotional one I found myself experiencing during your sports game."

"What? Football makes you angry?" Jim smiles briefly before a thoughtful look replaces it. "Well actually, we did lose. I guess anger could be a logical response."

Spock can feel his face soften at Jim's musings. "The emotional response was not due to the outcome of the game."

"Then what? Come on, Spock, talk to me." He laughs a little, like he always does when he's trying to get Spock to communicate. Like he can't quite believe he actually just said what he did.

Spock folds his hands in his lap and glances down at them briefly before saying, "I merely was taken aback by certain aspects of the game."

"'Taken aback'? When? Were you upset?"

"No. I am unsure of the exact nature of the emotion I experienced, but it was not anger. As I said before, I will take an hour to examine it on my own."

"Spock quit trying to push me out-"

"I am not-"

"I'm part of the problem that made you feel this way, I should be part of the solution. Now tell me what happened."

Spock debates for a moment simply leaving to meditate in his own quarters. Further analysis will solve this emotional problem and the process will go much quicker if he is alone and meditating. But Jim is standing in front of the desk, hands on his hips, and he looks resolute.

They have been struggling to reach a compromise over what they will and what they will not discuss concerning Spock's emotions, repressed or otherwise. It is a concession in and of itself that Spock has agreed to acknowledge the presence of said emotions, but of course Jim is not satisfied. The silence stretches for long enough that Jim begins to speak again.

"If you try to shut me out of this I swear I will not leave you alone long enough for you to try and figure it out on your own. I'll follow you into the bathroom, schedule all our shifts together, I'll lock you out of your own damn quarters so you have to sleep in here every night." He's clearly trying not to smile by the end of his proclamation, and Spock is hit by such a sudden swell of affection for this man and his illogical, selfish desires that he has to work not to return the gesture.

Spock mentally steels himself and says, "Earth recreational sports played primarily by men are well known for their emphasis on male masculinity, correct?"

"...Yeah," Jim says slowly, clearly not following the line of thought.

"Given my knowledge on human hegemonic masculinity, then, I find it difficult to believe that openly intimate touching between men would be a key part in such displays of Earth-masculinity."

Jim blinks in confusion for a moment and then his face clears in apparent understanding.

"Well there are certainly those who would argue that male-dominated sports are just a thinly veiled cover for socially acceptable displays of homo-erotic urges, but honestly, I don't think that's the issue you're having here." Jim pauses, inhales through an insufferable smirk and asks, "Are you jealous?"

Spock considers answering 'no' for all of two seconds. "It is highly probably that the emotional response I am having trouble repressing is partially that of jealousy. I did note the presence of said discomforting emotion whenever you placed your hands near Doctor McCoy's genital area."

Jim makes a face before bursting into laughter. "Spock, that's just how you play the game."

"Your opponent's ball-handler did not stand as close to, nor touch his teammate as much as you did."

"Maybe he wasn't as comfortable with the situation. It's not like I'd stick my hands between any guy's legs, but Bones and I have known each other forever! We're comfortable."

Spock returns his gaze to the computer terminal and nods sharply, hoping distantly that Jim will simply allow the conversation to end.

"Hey," Jim's voice is much closer now, but Spock keeps his eyes on the report. If only he could find the place where he had left off... "You trust me, right?" Spock turns his head so quickly he is caught a little off-guard by Jim's proximity to him. His eyes are wide and earnest and so very blue. The color never fails to fascinate Spock.

"I trust you." Jim smiles, but the faint tension around his eyes does not decrease. Spock resists the urge to sigh at the thought of having to explain himself further. "I can find no logical reason for the bothersome emotion I experienced earlier without private introspection, which you have made clear is not allowed. To request that you discontinue playing this sport would be unfair. As I cannot remove you from the situation, I will remove myself and we will no longer have to face this issue."

"You're not gonna come watch me play anymore?" Jim's smile is light and possibly teasing, but Spock does not pretend to miss the slight disappointment in his tone.

"Until I have determined the exact nature of the emotion, to continue being a spectator to these, as you say, 'socially acceptable displays of homo-erotic urges' is to invite this emotion to return on a regular basis. I do not believe this to be mentally or... emotionally beneficial to either of us."

"Well then we can either talk about it, or just kiss and make-up after every game," Jim teases, tweaking Spock's ear gently. Spock shakes his head, resisting the impulse to cover the attacked ear.

"I do not believe this would be a wise solution. My mental state is suffering currently from emotional strain. I would not trust myself to behave appropriately toward you in a sexual setting."

Jim gapes at him for a moment. "Are you serious?"

"Quite."

"You don't want to fuck right now because you think all that repressed jealousy is gonna make you... what? Crazy in the sack? Because I gotta tell you: that sounds pretty awesome."

"I am aware of your enjoyment of rough sexual intercourse. I am not aware of or willing to discover the consequences of attempting to participate in such intercourse with myself in this present state."

Jim is quiet for several beats before a cool finger trails up Spock's ear, tweaking it again at the tip. Spock does not react outwardly, aside from the faint flush down said ear. "Don't I get a say in this?" he asks, voice pitched low.

"You may say whatever you deem necessary," Spock answers, willingly giving Jim the opening he's looking for. Jim smirks down at him and moves to sit on the desk directly in front of Spock, feet propped up on either side of Spock's thighs.

"You won't hurt me," Jim murmurs, running his fingers through the hair just above Spock's ears. "If my intentions were to be with anyone but you, I wouldn't be here right now. Logically, you know this. There's no reason to be jealous."

Spock favors Jim with a small smile for the effort. "You are, however, underestimating the depth of my emotional attachment to you and the effect intercourse has on my ability to contain these emotions. Additionally, I believe there to be more than jealousy present and while I can contain whatever this is perfectly well at the moment, intimacy with you will undoubtedly weaken my control over the emotion."

Jim is silent for several moments before saying, slowly, "So to recap: you're either not coming to anymore of my games, or we don't get to have sex on game days, both of which include you repressing the hell out of yourself, all because I want to be a part of the solution and you want to do this on your own?"

Spock stares up at Jim and nods once, "Essentially, yes."

Jim rolls his eyes. "Well I don't like either of those options. Here's a thought: you either let me help, or you get over worrying about me and let me decide whether I can take it or not."

Spock knows that Jim will take potentially dangerous intercourse over conversations about emotion any day, no matter his new-found belief in the latter. The choice is so simple, it almost feels like exploitation. He meets Jim's even stare for several moments before placing his hands on either side of Jim's hips, pressed flat to the desk. "I would like to go on record as having proclaimed this a bad idea."

"Duly noted, commander," Jim says, his voice rich with suppressed laughter, as he cups Spock's neck and leans down for a kiss.

For all that it starts playful and chaste, soon enough Spock is standing and bending Jim back over his own desk. Their hips come together, and Spock can feel the emotion stuck in his chest begin to well up. He palms Jim's thigh, hiking one leg higher up on his waist as he ruts against his lover.

It is not until he has Jim naked and pinned to the bed with three fingers shoved inside of him that Spock acknowledges the litany that has been running through his head:

Mine, mine, mine, mine... it goes with every hitched breath he forces from Jim's lips.

Spock freezes and Jim tolerates it for all of two seconds.

"Spock," he groans, arching up in an attempt to get him to move again.

"Possession," Spock answers. Jim looks at him like maybe he's a bit crazy and Spock thinks that maybe he is for not having realized it earlier. "It was not mere jealousy I was experiencing, but also an element of possession in the face of another man touching what I perceived to be mine."

Jim blinks at him, and maybe it's the intimacy of the situation or the slight wonder of discovery in Spock's voice, but he does not try to make a joke or go on and on about how much Spock loooooves him, as he sometimes does to defuse an emotionally charged situation. Instead he curls a leg around Spock's back, fitting their hips together despite Spock's hand in the way, and says, "You know that I am."

"Yes," Spock agrees because it is not often Jim will tolerate reminders of his monogamy.

Jim grins and says, "Alright then," pulling in again with his leg.

"Jim, despite my identification of the emotion it is still inadvisable-"

"Spock," Jim interrupts him with an impatient squirm. "You know who I belong to, and I know who I belong to, but remind me anyway." He clenches around Spock's still-captive fingers which does nothing to help his resolve. "Go ahead and remind me."

And Spock will keep this in mind for later when Jim is complaining of not being able to walk for a week. But for now he nods and meets Jim's lips half way as he starts to work his fingers again.

Spock could easily do this for hours. The way Jim clenches and pushes against his hand is nearly as pleasurable as intercourse, but it is barely another thirty seconds before Jim is panting, "Come on. I'm good, just fuck me. Come on, Spock."

Spock frees his hand and holds still as Jim grabs the lubricant and applies a liberal amount to his cock. He leads Spock back down between his legs, hips canted up helpfully and Spock slides an arm around his waist, holding Jim up as he pushes in slowly.

Jim's fingers trail along Spock's length as it disappears inside his body until they can only circle the base. Spock focuses on those few points of contact until the urge to slam into his lover repeatedly and unrelentingly passes. The need to possess and claim and ensure that Jim never forgets to whom he belongs is bewildering. Spock wonders briefly if his experiences and reactions are specifically Human or Vulcan. It will take some meditation and perhaps research, but he has a vague suspicion that the answer is 'both'.

"Fuck, Spock, goddammit if you don't start moving right now I'm gonna-"

Jim chokes on his own words as Spock shoves forward, back and then in again in quick succession. His head falls back, his eyes slam shut, his mouth drops open, and if Spock were to look at only one thing for the rest of his life, he might want the picture Jim makes now to be it.

It's an illogical thought, but then again there is nothing particularly logical about his relationship with the captain. Certainly not when said relationship results in emotional outbursts such as the one he is currently expressing. Jim hasn't had the chance to breathe let alone speak since Spock began his onslaught, and if Spock weren't able to sense his pleasure through their contact he might think Jim was in pain.

The emotion has not quieted despite Jim's earlier words and Spock sees his hand reach for Jim's face with a kind of detachment that should perhaps be worrying. But Jim's mind welcomes him effortlessly, wrapping around him and complimenting the mantra in Spock's mind with one of his own: yours, yours, yours, yours...

Spock leans forward as far as possible without breaking his lover, covering as much of Jim's body with his own as he can. Using the last shreds of his control Spock holds them at the edge of orgasm until they are panting together: fast and shallow and desperate.

When they come it is both beautiful and vaguely terrifying. The wholes of their minds merge and bond and break and it takes several minutes after the fact for Spock to untangle their selves.

Once they are two separate beings again, Spock pulls back slowly. Jim groans as his body relaxes and Spock is slightly satisfied to hear it because he did mention that this was probably an unwise idea.

"Fuck," Jim rasps eventually, "I think you broke my... everything."

Spock's satisfaction grows just a little.

"Whatever," Jim scoffs gently, a smile on his face. "Was still a good idea."

There is an awkward pause for several beats before Jim opens his eyes and shoots Spock a confused look.

"Wait..." Spock can feel Jim's confusion as they both look down. He is kneeling between Jim's legs still, but there is no skin-to-skin contact between them. "Um?"

"It appears that we have accidentally created a tentative bond between our two minds," Spock says, feeling as calm as he sounds.

"Oh," Jim answers, but there is no sudden spike of anxiety on his part either. "Okay."

Spock considers apologizing for not thinking of such a possibility before initiating the meld, but Jim cuts him off with a silent reprimand before he can even think of how to phrase it.

There is contented silence between them for several seconds before Jim grabs Spock's arm and hauls him down to lay beside him.

"So this means you'll be at my next game, right?" Jim asks.

"Perhaps," he answers.

Spock can feel Jim smile without looking at him and though it is a new experience, for some reason it is not an unfamiliar one.

"You should make me a sign. Maybe something about how the quarterback is so good it's illogical."

Spock does turn his head this time to watch Jim grin at him. "Perhaps," he says again. Even without the bond, they are both fully aware that Spock will do no such thing.

Jim shifts towards Spock and then freezes, letting out a low and pained groan.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna be able to walk for a week."

Spock moves to cover the remaining distance between them and does not even attempt to shield the faint smugness that colors his silent 'Good night, Jim'.

fic: Maybe We'll Look Back and Laugh (K/S)

2009-07-16T21:50:41Z

Title: Maybe We'll Look Back and Laugh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Warnings/Spoilers: none/parts of ST XI
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or the characters portrayed herein
Summary: Jim and Spock wake up as nine-year-olds. Antics ensue.

Jim woke slowly, trying uselessly to hold onto the dream he'd been having. He kept his eyes closed and tried to remember but all he could see were flashes of blue and gold; strange plants and space. He'd had a ship in his dream. He'd been in Starfleet and he'd had a ship and the thought made him smile faintly. When he was old enough he was going to join the 'fleet, ship out with his mom and never come back to Earth.

Jim opened his eyes and froze. He wasn't in his room. It kind of looked like a hospital, but not any hospital he'd ever been to and Jim had been to quite a few. It was weirdly spacious but then he wasn't exactly in a separate room. In fact another boy lay in the bed right next to his. He looked about Jim's age, but definitely not human -- not with those ears.

Suspicion started to set in when Jim looked down and there was no IV in his hand, no casts on his appendages or bandages around his head. He wasn't even wearing a stupid hospital gown or a patient's ident bracelet.

Maybe he'd caught something at school that made him pass out? But if he was sick then why wasn't he in his own room? Maybe the other boy had it too? He wondered if they'd contacted his mom yet. If he was sick, she should know. Maybe she'd come home if it was really bad.

When he turned around to get a look at his vitals, though, everything was normal. He didn't feel sick and his vitals weren't weird and he wasn't even sure this was a hospital at all.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said behind him and Jim whipped around, startled. The man was already scanning him with a tricorder, brows drawn together over whatever he was reading.

“Where am I?” Jim asked, his voice high despite his efforts to stay calm.

The man looked him in the eye and hesitated. Like he'd just changed his mind about what he was going to say. Like he'd decided to lie instead. Jim bristled.

“Look, Jim, I don’t-”

“How do you know my name?” Jim demanded, not caring that his voice was climbing in pitch.

The man sighed and took a step forward. “It’s complicated and I’ll try to explain, but I need you to calm down.”

“Explain?” Jim scooted up on the bed away from the stranger, eyes quickly scanning the room. The only other person was the alien boy who was awake now and looking at him. “What’s there to explain? Just tell me where I-” Jim froze, a sudden rush of panic making his breathing stutter. “He actually did it.”

The man looked confused. “What?” He took another step closer and Jim shot up, standing on the bed so he was a few inches taller than the stranger.

“You’re not gonna get away with this!” Jim said, hands curling into fists. “When my mom gets back planet side she’s gonna call the police; they’ll find me.”

“Jim, you need to calm down. No one’s calling the police, we can explain everything.” He moved forward again and Jim almost fell off the bed trying to move away from his out-stretched hand.

“Don’t touch me!” Jim yelled, and for a moment the man looked exasperated before a strange look crossed his face and he crumpled to the ground.

Jim gaped at the boy standing on the biobed across from his. He retracted his hand slowly and looked up to meet Jim’s stare.

“He will regain his motor functions shortly. As I am not a fully grown Vulcan I do not yet posses the strength and precision needed to render an adult unconscious.”

Jim stared for awhile longer and then asked, “Vulcan?”

“Indeed,” the boy replied. “I am Spock.”

“I’m Jim,” he said, offering a hand which Spock pointedly did not take. Jim pulled it back and wiped his palm on his jeans before asking, “Did they kidnap you too?”

“Kidnap?”

“Yeah,” Jim looked down at the man who was now wheezing on the floor. He climbed down from the other side of the bed and Spock did the same without hesitation. “I pissed my step-dad off and he said he was gonna sell me instead.”

“Instead?”

Jim glanced at the other boy and said, “Never mind.”

Spock raised an eyebrow but did not ask again.

“We gotta get out of here before he wakes up.”

“He is not unconscious. It is likely he can hear everything we are saying,” Spock said far too calmly for Jim’s liking.

“What? Fuck, let’s go then!” He grabbed the sleeve of Spock’s weird robe and pulled him through the sliding doors.

The hall on the other side could have belonged to a space port, Jim thought. If they were forced onto a ship and into space, how would anyone ever find them?

A man in red rounded the corner and Jim skidded to a halt, Spock running into his side. The man stopped too and they stared at each other briefly. “Where are you going?” he asked, casually blocking their way.

Before Jim could even begin to think of an answer, a woman behind them yelled, "Captain, come back here!" and the man in red looked up and then back down at them, obviously confused.

Jim didn't know what was going on either, but he wasn't about to stick around and find out. “Come on,” he whispered to Spock, giving his sleeve a violent tug as he took off down the hall.

“Stop them!” the woman yelled and as the man's hand landed on his shoulder, Jim was pleased to note that Spock could run in that robe. He twisted out of the man’s grasp, pulling him off balance, and then kicked him in the shin before sprinting after the Vulcan boy.

Two boys racing down the halls of the port was obviously an unusual sight as people stared after them, their pursuant having to dodge between those who stopped to gawk.

The interference gained them a considerable lead, so when they finally entered an empty hall, Jim reached out and dragged Spock through the closest doors that opened for them. They stopped just inside, straining to hear any sign that they were still being chased. After a minute of tense silence, Jim released his grip on Spock’s sleeve, taking a few steps back from the other boy.

Spock was barely breathing hard, but his eyes took in their surroundings in a way that was anything but calm and collected.

“Please explain your actions,” Spock said eventually, the hushed tone not masking the accusation in his voice. “The man in the medical bay was wearing a Starfleet uniform. Additionally I have no reason to believe that I was sold to off-world slave traffickers as you seem to believe you were.”

Jim crossed his arms. “Well maybe they just took you from Vulcan, huh? Maybe the trade operators got their hands on some Starfleet uniforms to put up a legitimate front. Because who’s gonna question a guy in science blues, huh?” He didn't bother trying to keep his voice from sounding snide, and Spock’s brow furrowed in response.

“Please refrain from allowing your emotions to impair your judgment over the severity of the situation. It is possible there has simply been a misunderstanding.”

Jim scoffed. “Then why’d you take that guy down and run with me, if it’s not as bad as I think it is?”

Spock looked at him for a beat before answering, “I admit to getting caught up in the moment. However, when one is being chased by an older and potentially stronger party with perceptively malicious intentions, the logical response is flight.”

Jim had to laugh a little at that. “You were scared; I get it.”

“Vulcans do not perceive emotions the way humans do. It is illogical to-”

“Okay, whatever, you don’t get scared; that’s not the point. The point is if you’re gonna go back, leave now so I can find a new hiding spot and hopefully a computer terminal.”

They stared at each other for several moments. Jim tried to ignore the part of himself that hoped Spock would stay. He could do this on his own if he needed to. He did everything on his own and it was better that way, with no one else to worry about.

“Locating the nearest computer terminal with intersolar communication capabilities does appear to be the most logical course of action. We can establish contact with our parents and thus confirm from reliable sources the reasons for our location on this port.”

Jim grinned despite himself and hit Spock on the shoulder playfully. Spock glanced down to where he had been hit and then back up at Jim. He offered no explanation, however, simply stepped closer and grabbed Spock's sleeve again.

"Okay, then. Let's see if the coast is clear."

Spock's brow furrowed minutely at the idiom, but Jim was already stepping towards the door. It slid open silently and he peeked out into the deserted hall.

"Alright, let's go," he whispered, forcing Spock to follow closely behind thanks to his captive sleeve.

"Jim," Spock whispered after a few steps, tugging against Jim's handful. "I am capable of following on my own."

"I know," Jim said back, but didn't let go. Instead he briefly considered humming his own secret agent theme music as he hugged the wall and glanced around a corner.

"There is no one coming," Spock said, still whispering despite his assurance.

"How do you know?"

"I would be able to hear them."

Jim turned and Spock took a quick step back. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then you lead. No use finding a computer if we get caught before we can use it."

Spock nodded and moved in front of Jim to round the corner. Jim relinquished his hold on Spock's sleeve but walked close enough reach out and grab it if he needed to. Just in case.

Two hallways and three brief but panic-ridden stops later, they came upon an intra-ship communications terminal.

They both stopped and seemed to come to the same conclusion when Spock said, "We can use this to find a calling-computer--" and Jim finished with, "--But the port security will know once we touch it." They shared a look.

"We'll just have to be quick," Jim said with a grin. "Cover me."

Spock's eyebrows shot up and Jim amended with, "I mean, watch my back."

This time his eyebrows came together in obvious confusion.

"Just- nevermind," Jim sighed and stood on his toes to reach the screen.

The system was easy enough to navigate and it only took two minutes, but it seemed like so much longer with Spock breathing steadily at his shoulder.

As soon as the screen came up with the room number for the calling stations they were off. There was one directly beneath them but they both passed the lift, silently agreeing that using it would be too much of an invitation for entrapment.

Jim followed the gently curving hallway wall with one hand, counting off doorways as his eyes scanned for personnel. When Spock grabbed his arm and practically yanked him through the door he was passing, Jim nearly laughed out loud.

"I'm capable of following on my own," he teased and felt like laughing again when something that could maybe be amusement flashed across Spock's face.

He turned to take in the room full of calling stations, all ready to bring them help.

"Alright," Jim said, sliding onto the chair of the nearest one. "Let's call your parents first. I don't even know if I'll be able to reach my mom right now."

Jim typed in the planetary calling code for Vulcan and frowned. He typed it again and then turned to Spock. "Is that wrong?"

Spock shook his head, a small crease forming between his brows. "Perhaps they have disabled calling capabilities?"

Jim typed in the code for Earth and a picture of the globe appeared with instructions to choose from the list of 300 countries currently found on Terra.

They both stared at the screen as Jim retyped the code for Vulcan. When nothing came up again, Jim couldn't help the shiver that ran up his back.

"It's like it's just..."

"Dead," Spock said quietly.

"What?" Jim demanded. That was quite a conclusion to jump to and Spock looked like he had jumped right to the mental break-down. "Why would you say that?"

"I can feel the void. I did not wish to acknowledge its presence, but it is all-encompassing. It swallowed my mother."

Jim stared at Spock, who was staring at nothing, and considered shaking the other boy. "Spock you're not making any sense. What does this have to do with your mom?"

"She is dead. She must be dead; I cannot feel her and she is Human, she has no psychic shields. She would never be able to block our bond like this. She is dead."

Spock was falling apart before his eyes and even Jim could hear the voices carrying down the hall on the other side of the door. For the first time in his life, Jim couldn't think of a way out.

"Spock," he said softly, hands raised as he stepped towards the boy who was now crouched on the floor, shaking. "Spock, you don't know that she's dead. Maybe your psychic bond thing doesn't work as well over long distances. You know, maybe we're just really far away from her and Vulcan. So far the intersolars can't even call it!" Spock swallowed audibly and closed his eyes. "Or maybe they've got some crazy anti-psy device that blocks all psychic activity. And they didn't bother blocking calls to Earth because they know that I don't have anyone there I can call. And..." Jim paused, his breathing matched with Spock's. He felt so damn helpless and scared and any second someone was going to come through that door--

It slid open like some sort of sick betrayal and Jim spun to face the woman who entered, blocking Spock with his body. She pulled up short when she saw him and the door slid shut behind her.

"What did you do to him?" she asked, and Jim scowled.

When she took a step towards them Jim spread his arms and yelled, "Stay away from him."

"I just want to help him," she said, sounding just as angry, though not nearly as loud.

Jim was about to say something particularly rude when a small hand came to rest on his shoulder and Jim had a horrifying moment to think, 'Oh god, he's gonna knock me out too and leave with this bitch.' But the hand tightened only enough to shove Jim forward and then they were pushing past the woman who seemed so stunned she could only yell, "Spock!" before the door closed behind them.

Jim pulled them through the next nearest doorway -- into a conference room of some sort -- and hit the locks to override the auto-open. It wouldn't last, he knew, but it would buy them some time to screw with the controls. Climbing onto a chair, Jim popped open the maintenance hatch and started pulling wires. The lights went out first, something powered down in the back corner and then finally with a few more yanks the door made a sad hissing sound, but remained closed.

Jim listened, heart in his throat, as several voices tried their command override codes. Nothing opened the door. Someone called for a 'Scotty' to get to deck G as soon as possible. Jim pulled out a few more parts just to be safe.

Then he jumped down and turned to the boy who was seated on the floor, eyes closed, seemingly at rest.

"Spock?" Jim asked quietly as the voices in the corridor faded. Spock made no response to indicate he had heard. Jim reached out a hand to shake him but Spock caught it before he could make contact.

"Please refrain," was all he said before dropping Jim's hand. He hadn't even opened his eyes. Jim couldn't begin to understand, but he didn't try to rouse the other boy again. Instead he sat next to Spock on the floor and waited.

More voices had come and gone and returned again by the time Spock snapped out of it.

"They're cutting their way in," Jim blurted as soon as Spock's eyes opened. He didn't like being the only one to have to deal with this shit. "It'll probably take awhile because they're gonna try to fix the door controls before they just cut the whole thing off, but we're trapped either way."

"It does not matter," Spock said, cool and neutral.

"Are you kidding?" Jim balked. "Of course it matters, they fucking kidnapped us!"

"Your deduction is illogical. As is your outrage."

"My outrage? What's illogical is your fucking indifference all of a sudden! We need to get out of here!"

"There is no point. Vulcan is gone."

Jim gripped at his hair. He'd sat here for an hour waiting for Spock, just to find out he'd already decided to give up? Well fuck that. And fuck Spock too.

"So what if it is?" he snapped, not missing the way Spock flinched a little. "You're half human; why does everything have to be about Vulcan? That's a great way to show your mom you love her." Spock's brows flew together but it was better than a blank look of apathy. Plus he'd be able to vent is panic better if Spock fought back.

But he didn't fight back. Spock stared at him, his features softening slowly, and then he broke eye contact to stare at the floor instead. Jim watched him for a beat before turning and stalking off to the other side of the room. He didn't need Spock's help to find a way out.

Half an hour later he was questioning this conclusion. Maybe he should ask for Spock's help. Or at least a boost up towards the air vent. The chair on the chair on the table hadn't been a good idea.

Jim crossed the room back to where Spock had yet to move. He opened his mouth and Spock looked up, pinning him with a gaze that was so emotional Jim forgot what he'd been about to say. Spock looked sad and lost and confused, and Jim didn't know what to do besides sit back down next to him.

"I am half human," Spock said, his voice low and steady. "Even if Vulcan is still in existence, I am half human."

Jim didn't know what to say when Spock paused, so he clenched his hands together and waited.

Eventually Spock continued. "I acted out against those who spoke ill of my mother because I... love her," he said, as though to speak of 'love' was somehow physically difficult for him. Hell, Jim thought, it very well might be.

"But on Earth, love is commonplace. And I am part Earth just as I am part Vulcan."

Spock turned to Jim finally and said, "Do you love, Jim?"

'No,' he wanted to say, 'I don't love anyone because no one loves me.'

Instead he replied, "Everyone loves. They just might not realize it." It sounded like something his mother might have said once upon a time, and it made Jim almost as sad as it did happy to hear it come out of his own mouth.

"Yes. Love is not logical, but my mother loves Earth. Perhaps I will too."

Jim smiled and Spock's eyes relaxed in return. There were still sounds of people and equipment out in the hall, but for a moment Jim was content to sit and smile.

Until Spock started to fade. Jim reached out without thinking, but Spock's face was solid under his touch.

"Spock?" Jim asked, worried. Spock looked down at his own hands in his lap.

"Jim," he answered, grabbing the blonde's forearm. Jim could see through Spock now, to the wall behind him and he grabbed the other boy's hand.

"Stop; what's going on?"

"I do not know. There is a weightless sensation."

"Don't," Jim said, panic creeping into his voice, his eyes darting all over Spock's body. "Spock, don't leave me."

"I cannot control this." The grip on Jim's arm was almost painful until the pressure was gone suddenly, Spock's arms stopping at his shoulders as his face faded to a bare outline.

"Don't leave me!" Jim's voice cracked as he shouted, pleaded with his eyes and hands that could no longer grasp at Spock's sleeves.

There was a breathless pause as the two boys locked gazes, and then Spock was gone.

Jim fell forward into the space Spock had been sitting, the carpet still warm under his hands, and tried not to cry.

- - -

Spock woke suddenly, Jim's name on his lips. There was a weight against his chest: a cool body with blonde hair and a gold command shirt. Spock relaxed with relief for a moment, taking in their surroundings. He and Jim were laying beneath vaguely familiar thick, green foliage.

"Captain," Spock said, sitting up enough to roll Jim onto his back. He did not wake, though, even when Spock shook his shoulder.

"Jim."

Nothing.

Spock did not panic. He crawled from under the flora, recognizing it as the plant he and Jim had stopped to inspect during their collection mission. Their equipment was gone, but his communicator was still strapped to his waist. Spock dragged Jim out behind him and hailed the Enterprise.

"Spock?" came Nyota's voice almost immediately. Spock could easily recognize the surprise and hope in her tone.

"Correct," Spock answered, kneeling to check Jim's pulse. It was slow but strong.

"Is the captain with you?" she asked before Spock could continue.

"Yes, though he is unconscious and refusing to wake. We need to be beamed up immediately."

"I'll call down to Engineering now," she said and the transmission ended.

Spock pulled Jim into a sitting position and then hauled him up, easily supporting his dead weight. Jim's head lolled onto his shoulder and Spock held on tightly, counting Jim's shallow breaths against his neck until the tiny golden lights began to swarm around them.

McCoy was waiting in the transporter room when they arrived, with two nurses and a gurney. Spock answered all his questions as they hurried to sick bay: No, he did not know what was wrong, nor did he know how long Jim had been in this condition, Yes, he too had been sleeping and had woken on his own, No, he had not attempted to meld with the captain to ascertain his condition.

They lifted Jim onto a biobed and Spock thought of how he had just dreamed about Jim in this very same position, only much younger.

"Alright," McCoy said, pulling Spock from his thoughts. "You hail the bridge and get Sulu down here. Tell him Jim's still out of it."

"Doctor?" Spock asked, "Do you know what is going on?"

"Vaguely, but Sulu will be able to explain it better. I'm a doctor, not a botanist."

Spock lifted an eyebrow, but hailed the bridge without another word. Within minutes, Lt. Sulu was walking into the sick bay, armed with a padd and several data drives. Also he was smiling which, in this situation, Spock took to mean he should not worry unduly over the captain's condition.

"Commander," Sulu nodded politely. Spock nodded back and Sulu smiled again before admitting, "I'm not quite sure where to start with this, but here are the facts: You and the captain beamed down to the North East bio-dome on Flora Colony IV at approximately 0900 yesterday. We don't know if you were able to find and successfully collect the kumara hybrid we were sent here to collect, but we did find your equipment which appeared to be unused. And near the tools we found... well, we found you both, only... younger. Dr. McCoy was in the search party and confirmed the identities of both boys as yourself and Captain Kirk so we brought them both aboard. Both were unconscious just as the Captain is now. They woke this afternoon at approximately 1300 and to make a long story short, they've locked themselves in a conference room on G deck."

Sulu paused, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. Spock thought he perhaps knew what he was supposed to say now.

"I do not need to hear the longer version of the story as I remember experiencing everything that happened to this younger version of myself."

Sulu beamed like that was exactly what he wanted to hear and handed Spock the padd.

"This is the plant we found your younger selves and tools next to." Spock could remember Jim pointing out the vivid purple flowers as they walked along the bio-dome's path. "It's known as the malmorpheus on its native planet. It took some research of all the flora we found in the area to realize the malmorpheus was probably responsible, but once I saw the effective qualities I knew this was it." Sulu gestured to the padd in Spock's hands. He looked down to read, but the Lieutenant began paraphrasing for him.

"Basically the morpheus flora are revered on their native planet for their psychological healing or rejuvenating properties. The plants are considered nearly-sentient by many but regardless of anyone's opinion on the matter, they certainly possess psychologically altering capabilities. The flora harnesses its target's own energies to create an astral projection of a former version of their self. The malmorpheus will send the target back to a traumatic point in their life and its symbiotic counterpart, the benmorpheus, will send them back to an exhilarating or joyous point in their life. You and the captain must have been hit by the same flower because both of you were sent back to approximately the same age and, based on your reactions, to a most likely traumatic point in your lives. There are have always been ongoing debates concerning people's opinions over the "intentions" of the morpheus plants, but I personally believe it has more to do with-"

"Lieutenant," Spock intertupted, having finished reading the file. "It says here the astral projection will be terminated upon peaceful conclusion of inner turmoil for the malmorpheus and successful recreation of contentment for the benmorpheus."

"Yes," Sulu confirmed. "Clearly something happened to release you from the astral projection, but not the captain since he's still out of it."

Spock's eye shot up from the padd. "Jim is still locked in the conference room?"

"Most likely," Sulu began but Spock was already through the doors of the sick bay.

He reached the conference room where Scotty was carefully cutting through the wall.

"Mister Scott," Spock said as soon as he had lowered the tool.

"Commander?" he returned, clearly shocked. "But I thought-"

"How close are you to being able to open these doors?" Spock interrupted.

"Well I just finished cutting through so as soon as I can pry this off, rewire the controls, or if need be re-route some auxiliary power to the door command to at least get inside and see what the little guy mucked up so spectacularly... well then you'll be able to get inside."

Spock did not scowl. Instead he asked, "How long will this take?"

Scott turned, carefully pried the wall apart and removed and reconnected a few wires. The doors whirred pathetically and remained closed. He turned back and shrugged apologetically. "It'll take a while."

'A while' turned out to be half an hour, Scott softly cursing the doors into compliance the whole time. Spock used the thirty minutes to consider what would happen when the doors opened. If Jim was still inside, he would most likely be upset. He had never enjoyed entrapment, self-imposed or otherwise.

If Jim was upset then he would most likely be further away from resolving the issues the malmorpheus had recalled through the astral projection. And Spock did not know enough about Jim at this point in his life to be able to make an educated guess as to what he would need for resolution.

A strange sound from the doors and Scott's triumphant proclamation pulled Spock from his thoughts. "Alright, give her a try," he said.

Spock stepped forward, breaking the sensors for the doors and as they slid open he had a moment to feel relief that Jim was still in the room before a small but solid body impacted with his own.

"What did you do with Spock?" Jim demanded, kicking and punching until Spock wrapped his hands around the boy's wrists and held him still. Through the contact of their skin Spock could feel Jim's anger, strong and unchecked, and his resolve, and under the boiling rage and determination a steady flow of fear and doubt.

"Please desist your struggling," Spock said, attempting to project calm.

"You took him!" Jim shouted still fighting uselessly against Spock's grip.

Spock shot a look at Scott and he took off, most likely headed for sick bay.

"I did not," Spock said. Jim glared up at him, finally really looking at who he was attacking and went still.

"You're Vulcan," he said softly. "Are you Spock's dad?"

"No," Spock said. He held Jim's gaze and answered, "I am Spock."

Jim glared and tugged at his wrists again. "Fuck off. I'll kill you if you've hurt him." Spock resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. He should have guessed that Jim had been an angry child.

"We woke in sick bay and I stunned the doctor when he frightened you. We found the intersolar calling stations but were unable to reach Vulcan. We hid in this conference room until I disappeared."

"You could have seen any of that from a vid feed," Jim argued, but Spock could feel his anger ebbing.

"When I attempted to meditate in the conference room you tried to touch me and I stopped you with my hand. In that moment you felt fear and worry for me, but under that you felt worry that I would stop and leave you to deal on your own; that I would abandon you." Spock paused to kneel in front of Jim. He could only hope that this was what the boy needed to hear: "I will never abandon you."

Jim stared at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, and the tirade of emotions swarming through the boy almost forced Spock to break their contact. He opened his mouth and Spock was prepared for any argument but the one that came out, hushed and painful. "You can't promise that."

They stared at each other and Jim did not begin to fade away. When Mr. Scott returned with Dr. McCoy, Jim's defenses snapped back up and he pulled at Spock's grasp.

"Jim, please be calm. The doctor means you no harm." McCoy scowled but stopped in his tracks, hands presented as if in surrender.

"Then why don't you let me go?" Jim demanded. He was not prepared when Spock released his wrists, and stumbled backwards slightly.

"If you would please allow doctor McCoy to scan you, we can answer any questions you have." Jim glanced between the three men and then down the hall as if weighing his chances of getting away.

"Alright," he said eventually, turning towards McCoy but taking a step back towards Spock. McCoy ran the tricorder over Jim's body from as far away as possible and then nodded to Spock.

"Where am I?" Jim asked without preamble.

"You are on board the USS Enterprise," Spock explained, continuing before Jim could express any outrage. "There has been an accident and you find yourself presently much younger than your actually age. You are the captain of this Starship and I am your first officer."

"Spock," McCoy hissed, obviously displeased with the amount of information being disclosed. Spock ignored him; he had already made up his mind to lie to this boy as little as possible. Spock needed Jim to trust him.

Jim held Spock's gaze for several long moments before saying, "I want to talk to my mom."

"Very well," Spock agreed and stood.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" McCoy hissed at him as he passed, heading for the calling stations.

"I am simply allowing the captain to contact his mother," Spock answered without lowering his voice. Jim glanced between them and then pushed his way into the room he and Spock had been in earlier, hopping up onto the same consul chair as before.

Spock watched as he typed in the calling codes for Earth, North America, the United States, Iowa and finally his mother's home. Jim glanced at him again and Spock realized that this was a test. If his mother was not home, Jim would most likely deduce that she was still in space and thus Spock's explanation had been a lie.

Thankfully, Winona answered after only five rings, her face falling from pleasantly polite to shocked as soon as she turned on the view screen.

"Mom?" Jim said, sounding unsure and wary.

"Jimmy?" her eyes shot to Spock, standing in the background. "Spock what is going on?"

"You know this guy?" Jim demanded, glancing between Spock and the screen.

"Mrs. Kirk, there has been an accident, but your son is in good health. He merely wished to speak with you to ascertain the validity of my explanation."

"Which was?" she asked, clearly trying not to seem too upset. Spock appreciated her efforts.

"Jim and I were both placed under the influences of a flora known as the 'malmorpheus.' While the effects have terminated for me, Jim is still experiencing them," Spock left his explanation vague, hoping Jim's mother would get the hint and look up said effects on her own. He did not want to have to show Jim his own body laying in sick bay.

"And it's turned him into an eight-year-old?"

"Nine," Jim interjected grabbing his mother's attention again. She smiled at him and it was both fond and infinitely sad.

"Nine, huh?" Something passed between their gazes and Spock looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"So it's true then?" Jim asked eventually. "I'm really a Starship captain?"

Winona smiled and nodded. "Lord help us all."

Jim laughed and then smiled at his mother for the first time. She smiled back with her eyes though her mouth wavered. "I've gotta go, Jimmy, but you call me as soon as everything is back to normal, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

"And you keep looking after him, Commander," she added, looking at Spock.

"Understood," he answered. Jim signed off and Spock was not surprised that he did not give his mother the traditional parting of love of well-wishes.

Jim stared at the blank screen for several beats before he turned and asked, "Now what?"

Spock thought for a moment. "Are you in need of nourishment?"

Jim smiled suddenly, his brows lowering as he looked at Spock strangely. "You mean am I hungry?"

Spock nodded once.

"Yeah, I am." He slid down from the chair and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Spock led the way down to the mess which was fortunately relatively empty. By now the entire ship had undoubtedly heard about what had happened to the Captain. The few people who were in attendance turned to stare and Jim glared back, taking a discreet step closer to Spock as they headed towards the replicators.

Spock doubted the nutritious benefits of the meal Jim selected for himself, but found he had difficulty forcing Jim to choose something different.

Jim grinned at him around a mouthful of Earth pizza and it was so very familiar that Spock found himself smiling back gently.

"Spock." He turned to find Nyota standing next to their table.

"Hello," Spock said, pleasantly surprised. "Would you care to join us?"

"I can't. I'm just taking a short break, but I wanted to make sure you were well."

Spock nodded and watched Nyota's attention shift to Jim.

"Captain," she nodded, smiling softly and a bit ironically. Jim took another bite of his food and mumbled 'hey'. Nyota raised an eyebrow at Spock who mirrored the gesture.

"Okay, I'm done," Jim said suddenly, standing. Spock eyed Jim's plate; his meal was only half finished.

"You will be hungry again later if you do not eat now," Spock pointed out. Jim glared and picked up his plate before stomping out of the mess.

Spock shared a look with Nyota before standing as well and following after the boy.

Jim stopped finally in a deserted hallway, sliding down the wall and picking at his food.

"You are upset," Spock observed, though he did not understand why.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Jim asked. He didn't sound angry or upset, but he also refused to meet Spock's eyes.

"Why is that relevant?" Spock asked.

"You shouldn't have promised that stuff if you have a girlfriend. You can't be there for someone else if you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend or anything else. Because people do stupid stuff for people they're fucking and they don't even care that they're hurting the people they said they always loved most."

Spock could not pretend to understand what was going on in Jim's mind. He wished suddenly and illogically for this to be over so that he could talk to a Jim who trusted him and confided in him without speaking in riddles. Spock stared down at the boy as he made a mess of what remained of his meal and realized that logic was not going to help Jim the way it had helped him work through the trauma recreated by the malmorpheus. Jim would need action and emotion, and Spock did not know how to give him either of these things.

Still, Spock did not believe he was incorrect concerning his earlier conclusions about the traumatic emotions Jim needed to come to terms with.

And though Spock would never claim to be an expert on the motivations behind human words and actions, as he looked down at the boy sulking stubbornly in the halls of his own Starship he thought that perhaps he knew what to do.

"Jim," Spock said, undeterred when Jim did not look up to meet his gaze. "Will you please accompany me to my quarters?"

Jim did look at him then, and Spock recognized it as a look of suspicious disbelief.

"There is something I wish to show you."

He took his time about it, but eventually Jim was standing next to Spock, his dinner forgotten on the floor. Spock resisted the urge to clean it up before turning and making his way towards the lifts.

They walked in silence, Jim's hands shoved into his pants' pockets as he attempted to surreptitiously take in their surroundings.

"The temperature will most likely not be pleasing to you at first. I will adjust the controls," Spock said, and they went inside.

Jim did voice his displeasure and drop his coat to the ground as soon as the doors were closed, just as Spock had predicted. He lowered the temperature by several degrees, more so than he would have had Jim entered his rooms under normal circumstances.

"Please come here," Spock said, sitting down at his desk and starting up his computer. He opened a drawer as Jim made himself comfortable and pulled out the data drive Jim had given him earlier this year. He inserted it and opened one of the many files that he had only ever look through once, and then only at Jim's stubborn insistence.

"This is the first away mission you and I went on together," Spock said before clicking on an image file.

The picture that popped up had always made Jim laugh, but the young boy sitting next to him now merely pointed at himself and said, "That looks like my dad."

"That is you, at 25 years of age," Spock explained. Jim's eyes grew wide.

"Really?" Spock nodded. "And that's the doctor you knocked out?" Again, Spock nodded. "Why do you guys look so pissed off?"

Spock looked at the picture. He and Dr. McCoy did indeed look upset compared to Jim who stood between them, beaming at the camera.

"You were the one who insisted on the picture being taken. The Doctor and I were not eager to comply."

Jim grunted and crossed his arms. "Bet you guys get along great."

Spock could not tell if Jim was employing sarcasm at the moment but, just to be safe, he assured him, "Not at all," and clicked on a video file.

The screen changed to a view of similar scenery as the background of the previous picture. Jim's gold-clad arm reached into the frame and gently touched the vibrantly red foliage that the camera had been trained on. The leaves and blossoms quickly but gently folded up and away from his touch. He repeated the process with several other branches before swinging the camera around.

"Spock!" Jim's voice called from off-screen. Spock, who was now within the field of vision of the camera turned, tricorder held delicately in front of him. "C'mere!"

Spock watched himself approach Jim and the camera, which swung around again back to the flora.

"Watch," Jim's voice said, softly excited, and he reached out again to gently brush a finger down the stem of plant. The leaves immediately folded in upon each other.

"Interesting," Spock could hear his own voice say behind the camera. "The phenomenon is most likely a defense mechanism." The soft sounds from his tricorder could be heard and then the camera's view lowered as Jim's attention shifted away from what he was recording. The clip ended shortly after, cutting off the rest of Jim and Spock's conversation.

Spock glanced over at Jim who was still watching the computer screen. He clicked on several other picture files, letting Jim study them for several moments before moving to the next. They had gone through the first several away missions Jim and Spock had been on together before they reached the picture files Jim's mother had taken during Spock's first visit to the Kirk homestead in Iowa. Spock clicked more quickly through these pictures as many of them were vaguely embarrassing, even for Spock. The boy next to him laughed out loud at the picture of Spock on a tractor and Spock lingered a little longer on the photo.

Once they had viewed all the files, Spock removed the drive and Jim looked down at his hands.

When it didn't appear that he was going to comment, Spock said, "You gifted this drive to me on the anniversary of my birth several months ago. At the time you had said, jokingly, that pictures of myself in your presence were the best gift you could think to give. I did not disagree then, nor do I disagree now."

"So we're friends," Jim said; it was not a question, Spock was please to notice.

"We are."

"We're best friends."

"You are the closest friend I have ever had. I have served on the Enterprise for the past two years because of you, and I will continue to serve on the Enterprise so long as you are her Captain."

Jim kept his gaze averted. Spock noted that his breathing was slightly labored: a harsh inhale and exhale despite him not having exerted any energy recently.

"So you go where I go. And I get to go where you go?" Jim lifted his head and watched for Spock's answer with slightly moist eyes.

"That is correct," Spock said and did not dare even to blink as Jim assessed the honestly of his response. They stared at each other for several long moments until Jim blinked rapidly and looked down at his hands in confusion. They were beginning to fade.

"Spock?" Jim said, reaching for the half-Vulcan.

"Do not worry; the effects of the malmorpheus are simply terminating."

"I won't forget?" Jim asked as his grip vanished from Spock's hands.

Spock answered, "I did not forget. But if you do, I will remind you," and watched Jim disappear.

- - -

Leonard was alerted to Jim's change in status by the padd sitting on his desk. It flashed at him and he was out of his office before the message had finished scrolling across the screen.

Jim looked up as soon as he opened his office door and they stared at each other for several moments before the Captain grinned at him unabashedly.

"Sorry about earlier," he said, sounding completely unrepentant.

"Yeah, well," Leonard said as he ran a quick scan, not quite sure what to say. "You can make it up to me later."

Jim waited just long enough to get the go-ahead nod from him before bounding off the bio-bed.

"Sure, later," he agreed with a clap to the exact place mini-Spock had squeezed to take him down earlier. He growled and swatted at Jim as he hurried from the sick bay, laughing.

Leonard watched him go and then shook his head with a sigh. One of these days that man was going to kill him and then the whole ship would be in trouble. He sighed again and headed back to his office for a glass of medicinal relaxation.

- - -

Jim was pressing the buzzer to Spock's room before he realized that he had no idea what he was going to say.

Sitting in Spock's quarters one second and waking up in sick bay the next had been strange and more than a little disorienting, but he hadn't hesitated in making his way back here. To see Spock.

And let him know that he was okay, obviously.

The door opened and Jim smiled hesitantly.

"Hey."

Spock nodded in greeting as his eyes ran up and down Jim. "You are well?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little tired, but... yeah."

So maybe he should have thought about how awkward this could have been before he'd come running. Now that he thought about it, things had gotten pretty heavy today. Maybe that's why he was here? Because there was something new between him and Spock now?

Jim thought about it as they stood awkwardly, staring at each other, but nothing felt significantly changed within his feelings for Spock. He just felt... enlightened, maybe. And thankful. Yes. That had to be why he was here.

"I just wanted to say thanks. For everything. I really appreciate everything you said and that you didn't treat me like a kid. I used to hate that," he added with a short laugh.

Spock's eyes softened. "Everything I told your astral projection is true," he said, softly and solemnly. Jim could have sworn he actually felt something release in his chest at Spock's words. He wanted to say 'I know,' but honestly he hadn't known that Spock was here because of him, and not just his sense of duty to Starfleet or the Enterprise herself. He hadn't known that where he went Spock might want to follow or that wherever Spock went Jim was welcome to go too.

It was a strange feeling that this knowledge sparked inside him: like his chest was too tight and his veins hurt with whatever was passing through them.

The urge he sometimes got to do something crazy around Spock was back, but he reigned it in and smiled shakily instead.

"Thank you," he said again, stronger than he thought it might come out. Spock was looking at him intently, like maybe he could read Jim's mind without having to touch him and that was a scary thought because Spock could do anything if he really wanted to. "Well I guess I'm gonna go take a nap or something. Projecting an astral depiction of myself as a nine-year-old is pretty tiring."

"Indeed," Spock agreed after a beat, his expression softening again. "I will see you later this evening."

"Yeah, see ya."

Jim turned and walked away, and only after he heard the swoosh of Spock's door closing did he exhale loudly.

So he and Spock were closer friends than he'd ever imagined. That was good. That was great, and it only hurt a little that he was the only one feeling anything more than friendship. Because Spock would let him know if he wanted anything more. It was logical to be straightforward and blunt. It was logical to go for what you wanted.

Jim stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at his door, only a few feet away. It was too bad he wasn't a logical being. He thought of their day, of Spock's sleeve clutched in his hand and Spock young gaze locked with his and Spock leaving but coming back back for him, and made up his mind. Friendship was all he could ask for and friendship was all he would ask for.

"Jim," came Spock's voice from down the hall. Jim turned, saw Spock approaching and thought, 'fuck that.'

He met Spock half-way, wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed his First Officer for all he was worth. Spock's hands came up to rest on his hips almost immediately and Jim sighed, smiled, and pressed closer.

Eventually they pulled away from each other, but Jim stayed close enough so that he could lean in and kiss Spock again if he needed to. Just in case.

"I would explain myself," Spock said, "but I believe we are 'on the same page,' as you might say."

"You're probably right, but I never get tired of people telling me they want me."

Spock lifted an eyebrow delicately and Jim could only grin. His mind seemed to be racing -- what now? want to kiss him again. do half-Vulcans jump into bed before the first date? what does this mean? -- but his hands were steady as one ran up Spock's side, paused it his heart, and then ran back down to wrap around his waist. He brought the other down from where it had tangled in Spock's hair and held it between them. In all honesty he knew what to do, but he wanted Spock to show him. He wanted this to be new and not based on information he had learned from being a voyeur, if one could be considered a voyeur on his own damn bridge.

Spock, whether he knew what might be going on in Jim's mind or not, lifted a hand as well and slowly curled all but two fingers into his palm. Jim mimicked the move and then smiled when Spock gently touched the pads of their fingers together.

Jim immediately felt a sense of calm contentment wash over him and though he couldn't tell if it was his own or being pressed into him by Spock, he was content to believe that it came from both of them.

With the calm came a devastating wave of tiredness.

"You need sleep," Spock said softly and Jim nodded before he could stop himself. So to prove sleep was not the only thing he needed, Jim tightened his embrace and grazed the pads of his fingers down Spock's own.

Spock's other hand clenched briefly at his hip, but he remained otherwise unswayed. Jim decided to try another tactic.

"Come with me?" When Spock raised a speculative eyebrow at him, Jim added, "I swear I'm too tired to try anything."

"I find that difficult to believe," Spock answered, but his eyes smiled fondly at Jim who, encouraged despite Spock's words, took a step back. Spock followed and they shuffled towards Jim's door with improbable grace. It occurred to Jim that he would probably have a difficult time believing this had actually happened when they woke but damn, some day it was going to make one hell of a story.

drabble: She's Only Human (but that's not the point) (vague K/S)

2009-07-16T21:50:07Z

Title: She's Only Human (but that's not the point)
Rating: PG
Pairing: vague Kirk/Spock
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek; no profit is being made from this fan-made fiction
Summary: Nyota Uhura has never hated Jim Kirk

Nyota Uhura has never hated Jim Kirk.

At first she was vaguely flattered by this attention and pleasantly surprised by his intellect and, she’ll admit, his audacity.

Then she was annoyed when he sat next to her in her honors xenolinguistics class (a course he shouldn’t have been able to get into, let alone perform well enough to be second in the class).

She was indignant when he managed to complete the officer’s track in 3 years, but was placated by the thought that Spock had finished the graduate science program in less than that.

Throughout his three years at the academy she experienced different degrees of amusement and exasperation thanks to the man and his never ending come-ons. (“Hey!” he’d yell across the quad because she’d never given him anything else to call at her, and heads would turn to see whose attention Jim Kirk was trying to get this time.)

She wanted to hate him after he provoked Spock to violence on the Enterprise bridge but the situation was frantic and frightening enough that she did as she was told, regardless of her feelings for the new Acting-Captain.

Later she was grateful for his intuition and decisiveness, but only after Spock assured her that the (now) Captain’s actions were logical and somewhat appreciated. (“You can’t be serious!” she’d exclaimed, not understanding at all. “I am indeed. The interaction was cathartic in a way and I was thus able to acknowledge and manage the emotions I was repressing,” Spock had said. At the time she shook her head, said, “Well if punching the Captain is that therapeutic, maybe I should try it,” and let the subject drop.)

When Jim Kirk steals her boyfriend, she’s mad and she doesn’t try to hide it. She tells herself that she was right all along: Kirk is nothing but a self-absorbed jerk who’s too used to getting what he wants to back off and let other people be happy. She knows that type and she tells herself she won’t stand for it. This may be the 23rd century, but men still get to wear the Starfleet regulation pants and for a day Jim Kirk is the embodiment of every sexist stereotype she’s ever hated. But when she sees them together – when she sees the way Jim teases Spock and how Spock smiles softly in response – it makes sense and objectively she can understand why. She’s never treated Spock the way Jim does, at first because he was her superior at the academy, and then because she thought him so fragile and needing so much care. Jim isn’t careless, but he’s rough and brash and doesn’t embarrass easily which she doesn’t think ever described Spock until she walks in on them kissing in the transporter room, Scotty fiddling with the controls just a few feet away. She leaves before they can see her and she wants to hate Jim Kirk, she really does, but it’s hard feeling hate over something so sweet.

So she doesn’t hate him… not even now as she sits chained to the floor, bloody and bruised. It’s not his fault they only had one broken communicator between them. It was strong enough to send out a signal, but unable to tell the Enterprise that there were two to beam up and not just one. It’s not his fault their jailer took the disappearance of the Captain out on her.

She runs her tongue over a split in her lip and tries to ignore the way her joints are cramping. It’s been awhile but he said he’d be back; promised her as the tiny gold lights had swarmed and taken him away to safety. She knows he’ll try his hardest to honor that promise but she won’t hold her breath, just in case.

It’s another six hours before they find her. She’s startled awake by the sound of the cell door slamming against the wall (it was ancient enough to actually have hinges and she thinks that probably satisfied the Captain a bit because he is obviously the one who kicked it open). Leonard pushes past Spock and Sulu who are standing just behind Jim and she smiles at him wearily as he takes her chin in his fingers and angles her face to get a better look at the bruise on her cheek.

“I think I’m okay,” she rasps and then Sulu is there, firing short phaser blasts at the chains until they break. When Leonard’s done scanning her, satisfied that she’s in no immediate danger, Spock lifts her gently and the Captain calls for five to beam up.

Pavel is waiting in the transporter room with Scotty when they materialize and she tries to smile for him because he looks so worried, but her eyes are already closing again.

“She’ll be fine,” she hears Jim say softly, probably placing a gentle hand on the ensign’s shoulder. Silently she agrees with him as Spock carries her to sick bay. She will be fine; she is fine. She loves her job and her crew and even her Captain. Though if anyone asks she’ll just roll her eyes and say, “Jim Kirk? He’s alright, I guess.”

drabble: That One Time With The Stoner Pollen... (K/S)

2009-07-16T21:49:45Z

Title: That One Time With The Stoner Pollen
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kirk & Spock gen
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or the characters being portrayed herein
Summary: Jim and Spock get high. Accidentally.

Jim stared up at the observation deck’s window. From his position on the floor, if he angled his head back far enough, his entire field of vision was filled with a view of the space on the other side of the glass. So many layers of glass and yet it was all that was between them and certain death.

He turned his head to comment to Bones about how he was right: space was scary, but then he remembered that Bones wasn’t in the room with him; remembered that he was actually hiding from the man who wanted to jab him with a hypo and take away his high.

Most the crew was probably cured by now, he mused distantly. Sucks for them. He wasn’t going to let a few Starfleet rules stand in the way of the best high he’d ever experienced.

“What’s that one?” he asked, pointing and hitting the window with a rather loud smack.

“I do not know,” Spock answered from the floor next to him, as he had been answering for the past half hour. Jim turned his head and copied the soft smile that graced Spock’s face. He wasn’t even looking at where Jim was pointing.

“You’re not very good at this.”

“Indeed. Perhaps once the mentally debilitating effects of the pollen wear off I will prove more proficient in answering your questions about star systems you undoubtedly know as well as I do.”

Jim grinned. He liked that Spock was even more long-winded when high.

“Bones is gonna be so mad at us.”

“It is likely that the doctor’s anger was not tempered by your unwillingness to cooperate and subsequent overriding of the observation deck’s command controls.”

“Well what’s the point of being captain if you can’t lock people out of observation decks?”

Spock was silent for a few moments.

“I can think of none at the present moment.”

Jim smiled and closed his eyes.

“Hey Spock?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“You’re my favorite first officer.”

“I am your only first officer.”

“I know. But you’re still my favorite.”

There was a pause, and then Spock said, “Were it logical for Vulcans to distinguish favorites within categories, you would undoubtedly be my favorite captain.”

Jim’s smile stretched a little bit wider and he nudged Spock’s side with his elbow.

“Thanks.”

“You are welcome.”

Happy Birthday...

2009-04-25T02:49:16Z

TO ME!!!

happy singing boys and a cupcake just for me. XD

fic: The Art of Deception (You're Doing It Wrong) (B/C)

2009-03-30T07:31:27Z

Title: The Art of Deception (You're Doing It Wrong)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Bradley and Colin have some April Fool's Day fun.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. i don't know any of the people mentioned below. this probably didn't happen.
A/N: Yay for actually posting this one on the right day! Er, well, it’s still April 1st in California, anyway... ¬_¬ ~~also, this is an RPS AU, i guess, because i don't think they've started shooting season two yet. anyway...~~ never mind! this apparently did have a chance of happening. so yay for potential but most likely improbable RPS fun~! anyway...

on to the fic!

Colin was engaging in some guerilla sunbathing when he heard Bradley call his name. He knew that tone of voice by now: Bradley had something exciting and possibly idiotic to tell him.

Bradley fell onto the grass next to him, stretching out and then sitting up to face Colin.

“So I was looking at the shooting schedule, which happens to also be a calendar, and I discovered something brilliant. Do you know what Wednesday is?”

“Besides the day after tomorrow?” Colin asked, leaning back into the shade he was sitting at the edge of. If Bradley had found him, who knew how many reprimanding DAs would follow in his wake.

“Besides that,” Bradley agreed.

Colin gave it some thought. "Is it a holiday?"

"Not really."

“Is it arbor day?”

“What? No,” Bradley laughed.

“Good… Is it ground hog’s day?”

“That was ages ago!”

“Is it bring you kid to work day?”

“No; it’s April first.”

“Oh,” Colin said, feigning ignorance. Then he slowly turned his head towards Bradley and smiled. “Oh.”

Bradley grinned back mischievously. “Oh, yes.”

- - -

Bradley insisted they get an early start on planning their April Fool’s pranks, so they spent that night writing love letters to the “Prime Minister” to be left with the mail on Wednesday for Anthony.

“You can’t write that!” Bradley exclaimed, looking at Colin’s third letter in shock.

“You do know he’s not actually the Prime Minister, don’t you Bradley?”

“Yes, Colin, I do. It’s just… unnecessary!”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll love your romantic prose just as much as my pornographic ones.”

“You are a twisted man, Morgan,” Bradley laughed. He looked down at his fourth letter and asked, “What’s another word for hazel?”

“I've told you: his eyes aren’t hazel.”

“Fine, then what color are they?”

“They’re like… sea-foam green.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Bradley grinned and said, “That- is brilliant.”

- - -

By Tuesday evening they had a stack of inexplicable pictures they’d printed out with the words, ‘I don’t believe it!’ at the bottom for Richard and a facebook page made for Katie’s poorly hidden and newly suicidal stuffed animal.

Their only obstacle left was thinking of something for Angel.

“This is what we get for having wasted all our best prank ideas on her last year,” Colin said, sprawled across the foot of his bed. Bradley grunted his agreement from where he sat against the headboard.

“We could try to get everyone to speak to her in French only.”

“You can’t speak French.”

“Alright, we’ll get everyone to pretend like they can’t hear her so she thinks she’s going crazy.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Colin laughed, rolling towards Bradley. He affected a breathy falsetto and said, “Bradley? Bradley, quit fooling around! I know you can hear me! Is this your idea of some kind of joke?”

Bradley tried to keep a straight face; he didn’t last long. “Fine. Bad idea.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Colin said, rolling onto his back and nudging at Bradley’s leg in a poor attempt to kick him off the bed.

“Is it bedtime for Colin?” Bradley teased. He crawled off the bed and stretched. “Alright, you get some beauty sleep and I’ll come up with a prank for Angel so magnificent that you all will bathe in my… magnificence.”

“'Kay,” Colin agreed around a yawn. “Get the lights on your way out, will you?”

Bradley shook his head and kicked at one of Colin’s feet before leaving and pointedly not turning out the lights. After a measured pause, however, he opened the door and hit at the light switch until it turned off, then retreated again.

- - -

Bradley woke up extra early to drop off the love letters in the hotel mail room, email Katie the link to the facebook page, and find a ride to the castle so he could post up the hilariously improbable photos everywhere he thought Richard might be that day.

By the time Colin arrived, Bradley had finished and was feeling quite proud of himself.

“Nice job,” Colin said as he leaned against the make-up trailer next to Bradley. “That was smart work putting the Repo! picture by the tea and coffee.”

“Yeah, thought I’d get two birds with that one.”

“Think of anything for Angel?”

“Well here’s the thing,” Bradley glanced around himself and turned towards Colin as though he were about to reveal a great secret. “I wanted to stick with the theme of making her think she’s going crazy, even after you brutally shot down my first two ideas. Anyway, we’d have to do something that only she could see so that when she asks other people about it, they can legitimately say they have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Then I thought, well alright, but we can’t really trust anyone else to not bollocks up whatever we decide is the thing that’s going to make her crazy. So it’d have to be just you and me. And there’s not much you and I can do today without attracting outside observers, except be ourselves. Except not. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Colin wanted to say yes just so Bradley wouldn’t try to explain again, but the look on his face must have given him away.

“Look, it’s easy. We just have to do something totally outrageous when only Angel can see us but then act normal around everyone else so that Angel thinks she’s seeing something that no one else is. Which she will be.”

“Alright,” Colin said slowly. “And what will this something be?”

“Well I had a few ideas, but I think the thing that would get the best reaction from her would be for us to pretend we’re dating.”

Colin blinked. He didn’t quite know what to say to that, except… “You mean, like, holding hands and stuff?”

“Yeah! But only when Angel can see. And it’d have to look like we didn’t know she was watching so she'll tell Katie to look for it too, but it won’t be there when she does.”

Colin thought about it for a moment. “It’d be like acting.”

“Exactly! Not only would we being pranking Angel, we’d also be proving our superior acting skills once we tell her the truth and laugh in her face.”

Bradley was grinning like a loon and for the life of him Colin couldn’t think of why this could possibly be a bad idea.

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed. Bradley laughed and clapped him on the shoulder and it was then Colin saw he’d been hiding one hand behind his back. “What’s that?”

Bradley looked down at the bunch of wild flowers in his hand and grinned some more. “It’s my prop.”

- - -

Angel was having a good day so far. Granted it was still early, but she’d been dreading today for the last half of March. Last year they hadn’t known each other well enough for Bradley to try and pull any April Fool’s jokes on her, but this year…

She’d made it through her morning and down to the van without incident, where she found Katie and got to hear all about what Colin and Bradley had done to her still-missing stuffed animal.

“There’s a picture of him standing at a window threatening to jump,” Katie had recounted, sounding bemused.

Angel had been wary once they’d arrived on set, but she didn’t think the photos of two-headed baby chicks and well endowed dolphins exclaiming, ‘I don’t believe it!’ were meant for her. As she rounded a corner, heading for the make-up trailer, she saw Colin and Bradley standing right outside it. Colin hit Bradley on the arm and Angel hurried back around the corner, hoping they hadn’t seen her.

She waited several seconds before peeking carefully at the boys. Neither of them were looking at her. In fact… Angel’s mouth fell open a little.

Bradley, in full battle-ready costume, was holding out a handful of flowers. Colin smiled, shyly if she were saying so, and accepted them, his hand covering Bradley’s for a moment. Bradley returned the smile and then glanced around, probably looking for witnesses. Angel ducked back, her cheeks heating a little. By the time she looked again, however, the boys were gone. She took a deep breath and made her way to the trailer. Katie was not going to believe this.

- - -

When the director finally called an end to the day, Angel found that she was more than a little frustrated.

She’d caught Colin and Bradley holding hands twice and whispering to each other once, their thighs pressed flush together as they leaned towards one another on the bench.

Katie, however, had yet to see a thing.

“They’re acting like they always do,” she'd said with a reluctant shrug. She had wanted to see the proof as badly as Angel had wanted to show her. “Just be glad they decided to give you a break for once.” Angel looked at her friend sympathetically. Apparently threatening Bradley hadn’t worked for getting her stuffed animal back.

“Yeah, you’re right. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s something horrible waiting for me when we get back to the hotel.”

“Well if there is we’ll just think of something brilliant to retaliate with,” Katie assured her before being called away by wardrobe.

Angel considered following and asking if she could change now too, but Gwen’s dress was comfortable and the sun was just beginning to set so she waved to the AD and pointed towards the castle courtyard.

Her plans changed, however, when she reached the drawbridge and saw Bradley and Colin, already out of costume, hurrying up the castle steps. There was no one else around, so she followed, the soft soles of Gwen’s shoes making almost no noise as she ran.

- - -

“Did she follow us?” Bradley breathed into Colin’s ear, his mirth barely restrained.

“Not sure…” Colin strained his eyes to the left, looking for movement at the hall entrance in his peripheral vision. He leaned against the cold stone of the wall and tried to look natural while Bradley laughed into his shoulder, braced in front of him. “Shut up. This is supposed to be clandestine, not humorous.”

Bradley pulled back enough to tease Colin on his word choice – “Clandestine, Colin? Didn’t know you were such a romantic.” – but got an elbow to the side for his trouble.

“Quiet! I think I see her.” Bradley sobered somewhat and Colin could tell he was dying to turn and check for himself. There was a shadow being cast into the hall that definitely wasn’t there a minute ago. “Okay, okay that’s her.”

“How do you know?”

“The shadow’s hair looks like hers.”

Bradley stifled another laugh with his hand and Colin laughed with him so it would look like they’d shared a private joke and not like Bradley had finally cracked.

“Oh god, this is too good,” Bradley whispered in that way he had where he hardly made any sound, but the words were quite distinguishable. Bradley, Colin thought, was a very good whisperer.

“If you don’t stop laughing she’s going to know something’s up. Quick: think of something horrible.”

Bradley paused for only a moment.

“Katie said that if we don’t give back Mr. Snuggles she’s going to harm us in unimaginable ways.”

“Huh,” Colin said. “Is that really its name?”

“No, probably not.” Bradley shifted his forearm where it was braced against the wall. “Is she still there?”

Colin checked for the shadow. “Yeah.”

“What a little voyeur! I’m going to tease her mercilessly over this.” Bradley waited about thirty seconds before, “Is she still there?”

“Yes, Bradley. I, uh… I have the feeling she’s waiting for something to happen.”

“Oh.”

“We could just come clean now. Catch her in the act.”

“Do you know how to stage kiss?”

“What?” Colin asked, though he had heard perfectly well. “Yes. Of course.”

“Alright,” Bradley said, sounding as though he were agreeing to something, and leaned in to touch his chin to Colin’s.

Colin played along after a startled second, fisting one hand in Bradley’s t-shirt. It occurred to him, however, that this wasn’t necessarily the picture he wanted Angel carrying around with her and sharing with Katie.

He stepped forward and grabbed Bradley’s hips, spinning them until the blonde’s back hit the wall. And if their lips happened to come together in the switch, well it wasn’t like they could pull away. Not until they heard a muffled, surprisingly girly squeak and the soft patter of retreating feet, anyway.

Bradley broke the kiss immediately, sneaking to the entrance to make sure Angel had left. When he started laughing like a maniac, Colin assumed that meant she was indeed gone.

“She’s probably gone to get Katie, come on!” he urged, picking up the video camera from its hiding place down the corridor.

- - -

Angel didn’t think she had ever run so fast in her life.

“It’s true!” she gasped when she finally reached Katie. “It’s all true! Come look!”

By the time they reached the castle, they were both out of breath. They hurried up the stairs, but the closer they got, the louder the voices became.

“—where Colin managed to slip on a perfectly dry floor and sprain his ankle.”

“That’s not what happened!”

“But never fear, Merlin fans. We’ve since had his ankle insured so that if it happens again, Colin owes every single person in the cast and crew 74 Swiss francs, just because we like to piss off the French with foreign currency.”

“What the hell?” Angel demanded, coming out from her hiding place.

Bradley turned and was utterly unconvincingly surprised when he exclaimed, “Angel! Katie! What on earth are you two doing here?”

“The real question, Bradley, is what are you two doing here?” She cringed a little when she saw that Colin was still recording, the camera trained on her now.

“What ever do you mean?”

“Angel says she saw you two kissing,” Katie spoke up, looking both confused and amused.

“Did she?” Bradley turned to look at Colin who grinned back at him. “Well I’d have to say she’s right.” His mouth twitched and then, with one last glance at Colin, he grinned and shouted: “April Fool’s!”

Angel was mostly perturbed that Colin seemed to be getting both her and Katie’s reactions on tape.

“What?” she demanded.

“We’ve been pretending that we’re dating all day,” Bradley explained, obviously very proud for some reason.

“You’ve been pretending you’re dating?” Katie clarified.

“Only in front of Angel,” Colin answered.

“Only in front of Angel so that she’d think…?”

“She was going crazy,” Bradley finished happily.

There was a loaded silence for several beats before Angel spoke up.

“You two pretended to be dating as an April Fool’s joke on me?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty much.”

She glanced at Katie and they shared a knowing look.

“Well thanks, boys,” she said with a smile before turning and walking away.

“If anything, I’d say you two are the ones joking yourselves,” Katie supplied before making her own exit.

“Huh,” Bradley said, turning towards the camera. “She was a lot less indignant than I thought she’d be.”

“Well,” Colin said, still filming Bradley, “at least now she’ll feel stupid for having stalked us all day knowing we knew she was there all along.”

Bradley grinned and Colin turned the camera off for now.

- - -

It was later, after Bradley had passed Richard and Anthony trading photos and letters, and returned Mr. Snuggles to Katie – “that’s not his name,” she’d insisted – when it occurred to Bradley that no one had tried to play any pranks on him or Colin, even after all the shit they’d put people through last year.

“You’re not planning anything particularly awful, are you?” Bradley asked when he ran into Angel on his way back from Katie’s room.

“Bradley, it’s almost midnight. If you haven’t been pranked yet, you’re probably safe.”

“Hm,” Bradley considered. “Probably. Still. Better hide in Colin’s room for the next half hour just to be sure.”

Angel had given him a funny look, but he couldn’t place the meaning behind it and he wasn’t about to ask, so he turned towards Colin’s door instead.

“Hey,” Colin greeted him with a smile, stepping back from the door.

“So I’m a little bit disappointed,” Bradley said, crossing to the bed and making himself comfortable. “No one even tried to pull any pranks on us today. I mean, is it just that the entire cast and crew are not as clever as we are?”

“Probably they were discouraged by the idea of what we’d do in return.” They shared a smile and then Colin said, in his most serious actor voice, “Bradley, I think we should keep pretending to be dating.”

“What?”

Before Bradley could be anything but startled, Colin said, “April Fool’s!” in a sing-song way that reminded Bradley strangely of himself.

“Ha, Good one.” Bradley said, trying for nonchalantly put-out. “Hey Colin, I want you to kiss me again like you did in the castle. April Fool’s.”

Colin looked at him strangely: like Bradley hadn’t been mocking him, but was instead serious and a bit deranged.

“What?” Bradley asked when Colin’s strange smile didn’t go away.

“Nothing,” Colin lied, which was obviously a lie because his smile was growing and Bradley just knew he was being laughed at.

“It was a joke!”

“Sure it was. But just so you know, I would if you wanted me to.”

Yes, Bradley was officially being laughed at. He didn’t quite appreciate it.

“Well, trust me, I don’t.”

“April Fool’s?”

“No! Not-April-Fool’s. April-For-Bloody-Serious.”

“No need to get defensive. I know you liked holding my hand today.”

“Oh please, you nearly cried like a girl when I gave you those flowers. Which, by the way, I saw in your bathroom as I came in.” Bradley smirked in triumph until Colin laughed and moved to sit at the other corner of the bed.

“Well they are lovely,” Colin said, leaning back on an elbow and still smiling infuriatingly. “I think I’ll keep them by my bed so that I think of you at night.”

Bradley rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. “April Fool’s?” he asked trying to convey that the joke was tiresome already.

“No. April-For-Bloody-Serious.”

Bradley fell back onto the bed with a huffed laugh. “You are so strange.”

Colin chuckled and Bradley waited a moment before saying, “I didn’t plan the prank on Angel like that just because you’re gay.”

“I know,” Colin assured him. “It was a good prank, even if the girls didn’t think so.”

“Yeah. You think they would have, though, the way they go on about Arthur and Merlin.”

“Well Merlin and Arthur… that’s a bit more obvious don’t you think? Always running after each other.”

“I guess. But they’re not, like… best friends. They don’t run around the castle pulling awesome pranks on people.”

Colin, who was laying down on the bed now too, rolled towards Bradley with a grin. “Am I your best friend, Bradley?”

Bradley eyed him and said, “God, I hope not.” Colin laughed, but then his smile slipped to mischievous again.

“So you think we make a better couple and Merlin and Arthur?”

“Dunno,” Bradley hedged, not sure he was ready for where this conversation seemed to be heading. “I mean, I certainly wouldn’t drink poison just to save your scrawny arse.”

“You’re right,” Colin agreed. “Arthur’s much more chivalrous than you.”

“And he has cooler clothes.”

“And better sword fighter skills.”

“And he’s royalty.”

“Yeah, I think I’d be much better off with Arthur than you.”

“Wait, what? I thought we agreed Arthur and Merlin are the superior couple. You can’t just run off with Arthur, what would Merlin think?”

Colin stared at him for a bit before smiling. “You’re right. It’s best to just let them be together. Which leaves me with you,” he added after a beat.

“How unfortunate for you,” Bradley deadpanned, eyeing Colin who was now propped up on one elbow.

“I’ll survive.”

And then Colin was leaning towards him, just a little, but certainly enough for it to be a definite lean. Towards Bradley. It was all very clear and yet Bradley’s mind seemed to be running in circles. But then Colin bit his lip, waiting for Bradley to decide, and it suddenly felt as though he’d made up his mind ages ago.

Bradley surged up, catching the side of Colin’s mouth, what soon became his smile. Colin tilted his head, aligning their lips before licking along Bradley’s. When he pulled away, Bradley’s eyes narrowed.

“If you say 'April Fool’s' I will punch you in the face.”

“Nah,” Colin said after his surprised laugh. “It’s already the second, anyway.”

Bradley glanced at the clock; it was indeed past midnight. “Excellent,” he said and moved back in for another kiss.

Some time later, Colin asked, “So is the prank we did on Angel still a prank if the thing we were aiming to making her believe turned out to be not exactly untrue?”

Bradley thought about it for a moment, running his hand up and down Colin’s back, under his shirt. “Is that your way of asking me whether we’re dating now?”

“Maybe.”

“Well as long as you’re not just using me because I look like Arthur, then I would say yes. If you want.”

Colin laughed into his shoulder and squeezed Bradley’s hand where it lay between their bodies.

“I want.”

fic: With His Love (M/A)

2009-03-28T05:22:09Z

Title: With His Love
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. i don't own any of the characters being portrayed here.
Summary: Arthur puts his life back together. Merlin helps.
A/N: This is a sequel to Building a Bridge, and is dedicated to everyone who asked for it. ♥

The drive back to Arthur’s new flat was silent but for the rain beating against the car. Arthur glanced at the man sitting next to him. He’d reclined the seat back and was sprawled in it artfully, his head resting against the window, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Arthur turned his eyes back to the road. It was nearly empty at this time of night. The rain clouds were illuminated strangely by the moon they blocked and in all, it made for an eerie scene.

It fit the sort of night he was having, though. By the time they reached his flat, Arthur felt as though a soft dream-like state had settled over him. His thoughts were muted, only the basic ones made sense any more: he was home; it was raining; there was a man getting out of his car, opening his door for him. The rain felt good when he got out. It felt normal; like he had always been covered in it.

He lead the way into his flat and they stood in the entrance hall in silence until Emrys caught his gaze and smiled, stepping forward to kiss him. The fog in his mind seemed to clear as Emrys’ lips moved against his and Arthur could feel the numbness being replaced with warm anticipation.

He tugged at Emrys’ clothes as he walked backwards, forcing the other man to follow. Wet clothing formed a trail across the flat and into the bedroom. Arthur pushed Emrys onto the bed gently and then followed, climbing over him and running a hand up his side. Their skin was clammy and cold, and Arthur shivered at the feel of Emrys’ fingers on the small of his back.

Arthur was about to get up to turn on the heating when Emrys murmured a few strange words into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Instantly, Arthur felt warmed, like a fire had been started somewhere and was quickly heating the room. He lifted his head and asked, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Emrys asked, kissing Arthur’s shoulder again.

“Those words. You spoke like that earlier too. What does it mean?”

Emrys stilled and then gently pushed Arthur away enough so that he could sit up. He was looking at Arthur strangely as he said, “You can hear them?”

Arthur nodded. It occurred to him that this was a strange conversation, but the general strangeness of his evening still had him in a bit of a daze, so he asked again, “What do they mean?”

“It’s… it’s complicated,” Emrys answered eventually. He was looking at Arthur now like he was some sort of fascinating specimen. Gently he took Arthur’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “Can you feel this?” he asked before whispering against Arthur’s palm rough, exotic-sounding words.

A tingling rush accompanied the thin silver lines that intricately danced their way up his arm. Arthur touched his forearm gently and his fingers came away with a soft silver dusting on the tips.

“What-” he started, but stopped as soon as he saw Emrys’ eyes. They were gold. “Who are you,” he asked instead.

Emrys smiled, releasing Arthur’s hand with a shrug. “Depends. These days we’re mostly called ‘freaks.’”

“We?”

“Well I’m certainly not the only one.” Arthur watched the silver disappear, almost as though it were seeping into his skin.

“What do you mean, ‘these days’?”

“Just that people used to be more creative with the names they gave people like me: sorcerer, warlock, magician… devil.” Emrys’ lips quirked upwards with the last name.

Arthur found himself smirking in return. This night could not get any stranger and for the life of him, he couldn’t care less. He reached for Emrys’ hand, entwining their fingers. “Devil, huh? My mother warned me about boys like you.”

Emrys grinned, his eyes folding into pretty little crescents. “Did she?”

“Yes.” Arthur moved their joined hands to Emrys’ groin. He was soft, but his cock gave a promising twitch when Arthur moved to kneel between his legs. “She always said to watch out for the devilish ones because they may be easy on the eyes, but they won’t be easy on your heart.”

Emrys let himself be pushed back until Arthur was braced over him on one arm. “She sounds like a smart woman, your mother.”

Arthur smiled sadly. “She is. She was. She’s dead,” he said softly.

As soon as he said it, Arthur wished he could take it back. There were reasons he never talked about his mother, and that it made people feel awkward was just one of them. But Emrys didn’t say anything; didn’t apologize or try to change the subject. He lifted a hand to Arthur’s face and traced across a cheekbone.

“I’ll bet she was beautiful.” Arthur could only nod his head. Emrys smiled and said, “You look like her.”

Arthur met his gaze and Emrys leaned up to touch their lips together. He followed Emrys as he relaxed back down to the bed, settling himself on top of the other man.

Emrys rubbed himself against Arthur's hip and Arthur smoothed a hand down between them to hold both their lengths. The kiss had turned lazy and intimate by the time Arthur broke it to lick his way down Emrys’ chest. His legs fell open as Arthur settled between them and it was all the encouragement Arthur needed to take the other man’s cock into his mouth.

He wasn’t terribly skilled at this, Arthur knew, but he did know what felt good, so he licked and sucked and twisted relentlessly until Emrys’ hands were on his shoulders, in his hair.

“Wait,” Emrys panted, even as he thrust against Arthur’s grip on his hips. “Oh God, stop.”

Arthur tried to pull off, but the fingers in his hair kept him in place and he laughed around his mouthful at all the mixed signals.

“Oh,” Emrys said, seeming to come to himself, and removed his hands.

“I can keep-” Arthur offered, smiling, but Emrys cut him off.

“No, no I want… Here, sit up.”

Arthur sat up, moving back to lean against the pillows at the head of the bed at Emrys' direction.

Emrys gave him a moment to get comfortable before climbing onto Arthur’s lap, as close as possible. “Do you want to fuck me?” He asked, sitting long and wiry and strong on top of him, and Arthur gripped his hips and said, ‘yes.’

“I don’t um… I don’t have anything, though,” Arthur said, but Emrys only smiled and took Arthur’s cock into a loose grip. He whispered a few words Arthur thought he recognized and then his dick was covered in something… something almost warm and slightly tingling.

Emrys swiped a finger through the stuff and then raised himself onto his knees and reached back.

“Are you…?” Arthur trailed off, eyes wide.

“Yeah, hang on,” Emrys panted, his breath ghosting across Arthur’s forehead. It wasn’t long before he retracted his hand and said, “Fuck it, just go slow, alright?”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed, watching in fascination as Emrys positioned himself over Arthur’s dick and then slowly, slowly allowed it into his body.

“Oh God,” Emrys breathed once he was seated on Arthur’s lap again. Arthur could only gasp, but he nodded in agreement, threading one hand through Emrys’ hair to bring him into a kiss that was more shared breath than actual kissing.

“Okay?” Arthur asked and when Emrys wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck and said, ‘yes,’ Arthur finally let his hips roll forward. Emrys moved himself up and down, riding Arthur slowly, and Arthur met him half-way, thrusting up into incredible tightness and then pulling back only to force himself in again, harder, for longer.

Arthur had lost track of everything but their steady rhythm when Emrys kissed the side of his mouth and asked, “Ready?”

He had no idea what else he could possibly be ready for, but Arthur nodded anyway. Emrys whispered his words, words that sounded so much filthier when they were groaned out between deep thrusts. There was a breathless pause and then he felt it. He’d only ever felt it once before, once earlier tonight in fact, but Arthur would never forget this feeling. This sensation of being filled so completely.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, shoving down onto the mattress to try and get whatever was suddenly inside of him deeper. Emrys raised himself up and when Arthur lifted his hips to drive back in, the thing inside him thrust deeper too. Arthur’s head whipped back against the pillows behind him and Emrys groaned, hands braced at Arthur’s ribs, mouth biting at Arthur’s neck.

Arthur didn’t last much longer under the sudden onslaught of sensations. Trying to fuck and get fucked at the same time was throwing off his rhythm but that didn’t seem to matter because soon enough Emrys was gasping and coming, clenching around Arthur so hard his orgasm was nearly painful in its intensity.

Arthur felt Emrys collapse against him, head resting on his shoulder, and they stayed like that for several minutes, catching their breath. Eventually Emrys sat up and slowly lifted himself off of Arthur’s lap. As his dick slipped from Emrys’ body, Arthur felt himself emptied of the penetrating force Emrys seemed to have conjured.

“That’s a nice trick,” he said, sliding to one side until he was resting on the mattress. Emrys grinned at him and lay down too. Arthur thought about trying to get under the duvet, but the room was pleasantly warm and comfortable, so instead he draped an arm across Emrys’ hip and said, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Emrys said and Arthur could feel a kiss pressed to his forehead before drifting off into sleep.

- - -

Arthur woke to the cold silence of his bedroom; the rain had stopped and Emrys was gone.

He was disappointed, but for the first time that month Arthur felt awake. His mind was clear and focused, like all the angry and self-pitying thoughts he had been carrying around with him had been swept away. It wasn’t a feeling of being carefree, exactly, but there was a definite sense of caring less. Arthur was struck with the sudden thought that he had finally moved on.

With a small smile, he got out of bed and made his way to the shower. Having finished his morning ritual an hour later, Arthur took a taxi to work and rode the elevator all the way up to his father’s office.

Uther glanced up from his desk as be bid Arthur to enter and then again, openly staring at his son as he walked into the room.

“Is everything alright?” he asked cautiously. Arthur smiled, though it only seemed to make his father more wary.

“Yes. Everything is perfectly fine.”

Uther gazed at him for several long moments before his face softened minutely and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Very well. I’ll see you in twenty minutes, then, for the board meeting.”

Arthur nodded, returning the tentative smile before exiting the office.

When he reached his own office, Arthur picked up the phone and ordered a bouquet of flowers to be sent to Morgana. She probably wouldn’t keep them, but then at least Gwen would have something nice to take home.

Arthur’s thought drifted to Emrys and he wondered briefly if Morgana would tell him how he could get in touch with the man, but he knew better than to ask.

Lifting his fingers from where they rested on the phone, Arthur turned to sit at his desk and begin preparing for the day.

Morgana called that evening to say thank you for the flowers – which had gone home with her personal assistant, Gwen, as he thought they would – and invite him to a ‘small get-together’ this coming weekend at her flat. But Arthur knew what Morgana’s ‘small’ parties were like and politely declined. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be around that many beautiful, drunk, and flirtatious people.

“Maybe next month,” Arthur said appeasably, as he packed his briefcase to head home.

“What makes you think there’ll be another party next month?” she asked, not wanting to take ‘no’ for an answer.

“I know you, Morgana. There’ll be another party next month.” She laughed and thankfully changed the topic.

By the time Arthur hung up with Morgana, most of the office building was empty. Arthur took the elevator down to the main floor and thought about dinner. There wouldn’t be any ready for him at his flat, but there never had been before, either. The difference was that now he wouldn’t have to share the silence with anyone. He spared a thought to think that he might not mind sharing the silence with Emrys; he wondered if the man could cook, pictured him in Arthur’s kitchen, and smiled.

Arthur hailed a taxi and as he sat in the backseat, thinking about last night, a welcomed blanket of calm settled over him, one that would return every time he thought of Emrys over the next week.

- - -

True to form, Morgana called three weeks later to invite him to a ‘small get-together’ on the upcoming Saturday. Arthur hesitated in answering just long enough for Morgana to call him out on his bluff, telling him he was dying to go, but too proud to say yes right away.

Arthur laughed, “Yes, Morgana, I live to attend your parties. Tell me, will there be another round of ‘spin the bottle’ and this get-together?”

“Don’t get testy. You’re just mad you didn’t get to play last time,” Morgana teased gently. Arthur laughed, not so much out of humor but to let her know it was okay for her to start making jokes about his last relationship. He knew she had a whole arsenal of hateful things to say about Sophia, but she’d been hedging around the subject these past few weeks.

“Alright, then,” he agreed finally, “I’ll make an appearance.”

The rest of the week passed in what had become a normal routine for Arthur, a routine that had felt like going back to a time before complications. He didn’t feel as excited for life or his work as he had back then, but at least the stress and strain of constantly trying to please someone else was gone.

Arthur closed his laptop and stretched out on his living room couch. Morgana’s party would have started about an hour ago. If he got ready now and drove over, he could say hello, stand around for a bit and then leave early without his step-sister complaining that he had barely been there at all.

An hour later, Arthur left his keys with the valet and rode the elevator up to the penthouse Morgana was staying in at the moment. She’d been threatening to move into his new flat with him any day now, but judging by the decadence of the place she was staying, they were probably empty threats.

He had been standing in the foyer for less than a minute when Arthur felt a hand wrap around his arm.

“You came,” Morgana said with a smile, handing him a glass of something. “I’m glad.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t want you to go on about broken promises and all that,” he said, only a little uncomfortable in the face of her obvious happiness and approval.

She said, “I understand,” and slipped her arm around his. “Come say hi to Gwen.”

They were stopped only twice on their way to the oversized balcony, which had to be a record at parties like these. Half these people were probably only here by word-of-mouth and schmoozing with the hostess and her brother was surely a must for many of them.

Gwen beamed at him once they reached her, obviously approving of his first steps back into the social world.

They talked about nothing in particular in the cool summer-night breeze until something over Arthur’s shoulder caught Gwen’s eye; she smiled suddenly and a pretty blush spread across her cheeks.

Both Morgana and Arthur turned to see two men making their way towards the balcony from the foyer. Arthur didn’t recognize the handsome man with longish, wavy brown hair but then he stepped aside, revealing the second person. Arthur gasped involuntarily, but thankfully not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

When Emrys caught his gaze, he stopped and stared back, a smile spreading across his face. His companion kept walking, eyes trained somewhere behind Arthur and they passed one another as Arthur began to walk towards the dark-haired man he hadn’t quite been able to stop thinking about for the past month or so.

“Hi,” he said, once he had reached Emrys.

“Hi,” Emrys answered, still smiling. Arthur realized that he was smiling too. He also realized that he’d never given this man his name.

“I’m Arthur.” He held out his free hand and the other man took it immediately.

“Arthur Pendragon?” Emrys asked, but didn’t let go.

“Yes.” He raised his eyebrows a little, waiting for a reciprocal introduction.

“I’m Merlin.”

“Merlin,” Arthur repeated. It was nearly as strange a name as the one he’d given Arthur when they’d met. He let go of Emrys- Merlin’s hand reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all– well,” Arthur cut himself off and Merlin’s lips twitched playfully. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you too.”

Arthur tried to think of something to say, some small-talk to start up, but there was no awkwardness to cover up. In fact, he personally felt quite comfortable just standing near Emrys and soak up the sight of him. A thought, however, occurred to him suddenly.

“Are you here with…” Arthur glanced behind them to where the long-haired man was laughing with Gwen and Morgana.

“Lance? No, no, we’re just friends. I mean, we shared a cab, but we’re not here together... You?”

“Ah, no, I’m here alone as well. Morgana was twisting my arm to come, so I agreed to pop in for a bit.”

“Yeah, she mentioned you might be here; I’m glad you decided to come.”

Arthur smiled and said, “Me too.”

At the sound of Morgana calling their names, Arthur let himself be dragged back out onto the balcony. It turned out that he had quite a lot in common with Lance and the five of them chatted quite amicably, but without direction, for about an hour. It was pleasant, and not just because he’d been avoiding company for a couple months. Every time Arthur caught Emrys’ eye, he smiled, which left him smiling quite a lot over the course of the conversation.

Arthur watched Emrys speak, listened to him laugh, watched him interact with the others, and though he couldn’t quite stop referring to him as ‘Emrys’ in his head, there was definitely something different about the man standing next to him tonight: something more normal and everyday than the sensual creature who had spent the night with Arthur. But then Emrys would cut his eyes to Arthur, give him a slow, knowing smile and Arthur couldn’t help but respond, his body flashing back to rain, heat, magic.

The party was just starting to get going when Arthur decided he wanted to take his leave of the balcony. Gwen and Morgana were making their way to where the dancing had started, pulling Lance along, so Arthur turned to Emrys.

“Do you want something to drink?” Arthur asked, gesturing towards the flat.

“Actually,” Merlin said – because he was ‘Merlin’ when he spoke, that much Arthur could distinguish – frowning a little, “I have to leave pretty soon.”

Arthur tried not to let his disappointment show. “Better offer?”

Merlin smiled gently, coy, and said, “No. Just a client.”

Arthur felt his face fall before he could stop himself. He hadn’t even stopped to think that... “Oh, right, sorry, I didn’t realize...”

Merlin was looking at him strangely, like perhaps Arthur was speaking another language suddenly. “Realize what?”

“That you... I mean, I think it’s fine, of course, obviously, I just forgot that you- Not that I would judge you based on occupation, I only-” Arthur cut himself off when he saw understanding dawn on Merlin’s face.

He laughed and said, “Arthur, I work with Morgana, not for Morgana. That night with you: it was a favor, not a job.”

Arthur nodded, trying to think if he’d ever met any of Morgana’s other ‘associates’.

“A favor,” Merlin went on, perhaps feeling the need to clarify, “that I willingly and eagerly agreed to.”

Arthur nodded again, but this time he smiled too, wanting to let him know he understood, that he felt the same, that he was glad, that he hoped it could happen again some time. That Merlin got all that from a single smile was unlikely, but still, he smiled back and said, “Maybe we could exchange numbers and meet up some time.”

“I’d like that,” Arthur said, and saved the phone number under ‘Merlin.’

Arthur decided that he would leave now too, so they made their way through dancing bodies to say their goodbyes. Arthur feared that Morgana would never stop smirking at him, but as he and Merlin hailed a cab and sat next to each other in the dark, he really couldn’t be bothered to care.

- - -

Arthur was on his way home when he got the text: ‘I made dinner. When will you be here?’

He smiled, and wrote back: ‘Soon.’

In the evening traffic, however, this was not an accurate approximation. Arthur opened his front door forty-five minutes later to the sight of Merlin sitting on the living room floor. All the furniture had been pushed to one side of the room and Chinese take-away was spread around him on a black blanket. Merlin smiled, looking improbably elegant in grey sweats and a white t-shirt.

“I thought you said you cooked,” Arthur said, setting down his brief case and untying his shoes.

“Well you took so long that I had to reheat everything. The microwave counts as cooking.”

Arthur laughed. “Only to you.”

“Right, because you’re the master of the kitchen around here.”

“Well it is my kitchen...”

“You wouldn’t know it for how often you’re not in it.”

“Well you’d just kick me out anyway because you’re a pushy bastard who needs his space.” Arthur knelt next to Merlin and kissed his up-turned lips.

“This is true,” Merlin said against his mouth.

They managed to eat with minimal mess despite Merlin’s insistence on using chop-sticks. After everything was cleared away, Merlin dragged Arthur back to the blanket and pulled him down onto it.

“Roll over,” he said and straddled Arthur’s lower back once he was settled. Merlin’s weight pushed his hips down into the lush carpet, and a jolt ran down Arthur’s body to settle pleasantly between his legs. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply as Merlin’s hands began to massage his work-tense shoulders and back.

It felt wonderful, but still Arthur tried to focus on his breathing, on the calm, soothing feel of the massage and not the sexy, rolling motion of Merlin’s movements on top of him. He didn’t do very well.

“How does it feel?” Merlin asked, his mouth close to Arthur’s ear. Arthur moaned from low in his throat and could have sworn his felt Merlin grind down against his back briefly. He was about to excuse himself to the bathroom when Merlin licked his ear and began to speak, his voice low and promising, “Arthur, I know that you’ve been avoiding me intimately because you’ve got some noble and deranged idea about proving this relationship is not built on sex, but if you don’t fuck me or go down on me or at least let me get myself off in front of you tonight, I’m going to tie you up and make you come so hard that you’d wish this relationship was built on sex only, okay?”

Arthur swallowed audibly and pushed up off the floor. Merlin toppled to the side gracelessly and Arthur was immediately braced above him.

“Tie me up, huh? You think you could manage that?” he teased.

Merlin smirked and said, “I’d find a way.”

Arthur leaned down and licked into Merlin’s mouth. He pulled away, however, to look down at Merlin, who sighed dramatically.

“I’m not kidding about tying you up. You know I’m more than a match for you.”

“I know,” Arthur said quickly. “I just…” He looked down and then back up, biting his tongue like there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to start.

Merlin smiled gently and reached up to run a finger across Arthur’s cheekbone.

“I know,” he whispered, dragging his fingers up into Arthur’s hair. “Me too.”

_

fic: um, St. Patrick's Day, yay! (B/C, K/A)

2009-03-18T02:32:35Z

Title: The Persuasive Power of T-Shirts
Rating: PG-13
Warning/Spoilers: none
Summary: Just a St. Patrick's Day ficlet i forgot to post on the actual day. >_> that's what happens when finals eat your brain.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, i don't know any of the people mentioned. this probably didn't happen.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Come on, Colin! It’s St. Patrick’s Day!”

“So?”

“...Please?”

“No.”

Bradley sighed and dropped his arms. “Fine. I’ll give it to Katie.”

“Fine.”

So he did.

At first she’d looked at him like he was crazy, immature and delusional but then Angel had laughed and said she liked it with a smile Bradley knew was going to be more persuasive than his, ‘It’s St. Patrick’s Day!’ argument.

“Yeah, alright,” she said, still looking at Angel, and took the t-shirt.

When they left the hotel a few hours later, Colin made a point of stopping to gape at Katie for a bit. She put her hands on her hips and stood proudly, her green t-shit exclaiming ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish!’ in bubbly white font.

“I can’t believe you let him talk you into that,” Colin lamented. Katie opened her mouth to retort but closed it again quickly when Angel leaned over and kissed her cheek. She shrugged instead, a pretty blush starting by her ears. It vanished quickly, however, when Bradley leaned in and kissed her other cheek.

“What?” he asked with a grin as she glared at him. “Your shirt told me to.”

“Alright,” Colin said loudly, grabbing Bradley’s arm. “Let’s go.”

The club was fairly crowded for a Tuesday, and far too green, but before long Katie and Angel were dancing like they’d been there all night. Colin watched from the bar in amusement as yet another person tried to chat up Katie with an opening line that had something to do with her shirt, if the gestures were anything to go by. She nodded with a knowing smile and the stranger leaned down, kissing her gently. This particular charmer pulled away after a moment, so Katie danced with him until Bradley -- who had gone out onto the floor after the second guy hadn’t wanted to stop kissing -- cut in smoothly and brought her back to where he and Angel had been dancing.

Bradley seemed to joke around more than he danced, mocking whatever Angel did until they were doing an exaggerated version of the macarena together, laughing and shoving each other as Katie shook her head in amusement.

Before long there was another man at Katie’s side and Angel had apparently spotted him too because she stopped dancing. Just before his hand would have landed on Katie’s shoulder, Angel grabbed her and pulled, kissing her with a bit of force from the momentum.

Both Bradley and the stranger froze, watching in open-mouthed awe as Katie tilted her head and kissed back.

Colin watched them break apart slowly and when Angel started to say something, he saw Bradley turn and march back towards the bar. When he spotted Colin a manic grin broke out on his face.

“Did you see that?” he asked, squeezing in next to Colin as he turned back to the dance floor.

“I did,” Colin grinned back.

Bradley laughed and shook his head slowly, eyes trained on the girls. “Well, that certainly wasn’t part of the plan.”

“The plan?” Colin asked, arching an eyebrow at Bradley.

“What?”

“What plan?”

“No plan. I mean, what? How much have you had to drink?”

Colin eyed the side of Bradley’s carefully averted face.

“You guys ready to go?” Angel asked, slightly out of breath. She and Katie were holding hands and Colin had to try very hard not to stare.

“Yeah, you ready?” he asked, nudging Bradley a bit. Bradley looked at him then, blue eyes playful, and nudged back

“Sure. Time for you ladies to get a room, is it?”

“It is,” Katie smirked, brushing past Bradley, and he looked slightly dazed until Colin laughed and dragged him along to their car.

Bradley rapped on the door to Katie’s room loudly.

“Katie, I want my shirt back!” he yelled when no one answered.

He raised his fist to knock again when the door flew open and Katie was there. Topless. No shirt, just her bra and jeans, and Bradley looked away as soon as he realized what he was seeing.

“Um. Can I have my shirt back?” he asked the door.

“I don’t have it,” she answered and he could hear Angel giggle from inside.

“I can see that,” Bradley said, calmly, still to the door.

“Colin has it,” she said before closing the door in his face.

Bradley blinked and then turned back towards the other end of the hall.

“Colin, do you have-” he stopped though, once the door was closed behind him, because there was his shirt.

“Alright?” Colin asked, crossing his arms over the green t-shirt, but not high enough so that Bradley couldn’t read the print.

“Yeah,” Bradley said, and smiled. He walked over to Colin and cupped the back of his neck with one hand. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Colin’s ever so gently. So gently and so quickly, in fact, that it could hardly be called a kiss except for the fact that the intent was there, bright as daylight. Bradley took a step back and laughed shortly, a bit nervously if Colin was saying so. “You’re shirt told me to.”

Colin’s answering laugh was more exhaled breath than anything and, without letting himself think about it, he stripped off the t-shirt in one go. “How ‘bout now?”

Bradley hesitated for a moment, looking from Colin’s eyes to his lips to his chest then back up. He leaned back in slowly, as if he was ready to turn and bolt at the first sign that Colin was joking.

But he wasn’t joking, he really really wasn’t, so Colin leaned in too and tentatively their lips met. When neither of them pulled away after a beat, Colin took half a step closer and put his hands on Bradley’s hips. Which was apparently hilarious, because Bradley started laughing, dropped his face to Colin’s neck and wrapped his arms around Colin's shoulders.

Colin moved his hands to Bradley’s back and tried not to laugh with him. He didn’t manage for very long and soon they were laughing together, at only Bradley knows what.

“Best St. Patrick’s Day ever,” Bradley said into his shoulder.

“Even better than last year?”

“What, last year when you tried to give me alcohol poisoning?”

“You mean last year when you thought you could out-drink a person you barely knew.”

“You weigh like twelve pounds, how was I supposed to know you’d drink me under the table?”

“Bradley, I’m Irish.”

Bradley laughed, pulled back far enough to give Colin a dazzling smile and said, “I know.”

And kissed him.

fic: Building a Bridge (M/A)

2009-03-16T07:54:59Z

Title: Building a Bridge
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. i don't own any of the characters being portrayed here.
Summary: Arthur exacts his revenge. Merlin helps.
A/N:This is what happened when I should have been studying for finals, but instead let Youtube recommendations take me where they would so that I ended up watching old Justin Timberlake videos and writing weird crossovers. Inspired by this video.

It’s possible his logic was flawed. He hadn’t been thinking straight since he’d found out, and he could admit that now.

He could admit it as he shattered one of the ceiling-to-floor windows of their flat with a stone. The keys were still in his pocket, but this was so much more satisfying. Arthur grinned and stepped out of the rain onto broken glass.

He could admit that she probably wouldn’t see this as him proving himself as a man. Still, it was one piece of himself he’d never given her. One piece she hadn’t torn from him before he’d realized what she was doing. How she was breaking him.

Arthur trailed his fingers across the furniture he hated in the living room. If they had time, he’d like to ruin it. He peeled off his sopping jacket and left it to soak the carpet in the hall. The camera was where they’d always kept it in the bedroom, their footage still on the tape. Recording over it was going to be perfect. He watched as his and Sofia’s faces played back at him and smiled mirthlessly. So fake. How hadn’t he seen it before? Pulling out his phone, Arthur sent a quick text and sat down on the bed.

In the driveway, Morgana closed her phone and nodded to the person in the backseat. He got out of the car into the rain and she waited long enough to make sure he was inside before driving away.

Arthur looked up as a figure appeared in the door way. The dark-haired man smiled at him, knowing and wicked, as Arthur placed the camera on the dresser, angled to capture the whole bed.

The man crossed the room to stand in front of Arthur, stripping his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one fluid movement. Arthur lifted a hand to pale skin and really, logic didn’t have anything to do with it.

“What’s your name?” he asked, palming a sharp hipbone.

“You can call me Emrys.”

Arthur turned his face into the cold hand that brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“Get the camera,” Emrys whispered and then climbed onto the bed as Arthur leaned back to reach the ‘record’ button. The red light appeared, but he didn’t sit up, letting the fingers at his belt do the work.

Blue eyes glanced up at him and Arthur could see his mouth quirk before it enveloped his cock. He groaned, carding his fingers through wet hair, encouraging the man with a roll of his hips. He pulled off too soon to shed Arthur’s and his own pants and Arthur’s shirt.

Arthur reached for him as he climbed back onto the bed, fisting Emrys' dick once he had settled. He let his eyes drift to the camera as a mouth bit and licked at his neck and Arthur could feel himself smiling, cruel and smug and all the things he had learned from Sophia. She should be so proud.

Hands on his hips turned Arthur and he went willingly onto his knees, shifting as the hands moved down his thighs and then back up to his dick, to his shoulders, pulling him back against the body behind him. There were words, strange words whispered against his back and then fingers inside him: warm and slick with god knows what. Arthur moaned and shifted back further.

Three fingers inside, stretching, questing when he felt it. “Yes,” he gasped and the fingers were gone, replaced by a bigger, more insistent force. No condom; he’d requested that, trusting whoever Morgana sent would be safe.

Emrys groaned as he slipped inside: one long, slow press that pushed Arthur forward and onto his elbows. He let his head hang as they stilled for a moment – the only sounds in the room their breathing and the incessant rain on the windows – and then Arthur arched his back and squeezed. Emrys gasped in his ear and rolled his hips forward, an arm around Arthur’s waist easing him down onto the mattress. Arthur grinned, eyes flashing to the camera as he braced his arms by his shoulders and shoved back until Emrys finally began to move, hips forcing Arthur’s into the bed over and over.

This was slower than he’d imagined it. He’d pictured a quick, dirty fuck, pictured reaching behind himself to fist a hand in the stranger’s hair, pictured getting bitten, maybe even spanked. But this. This is what he and Sophia had never had. What they would never have. This was perfect.

Arthur moaned as Emrys changed his rhythm to short, quick, powerful thrusts. He was muttering against Arthur’s shoulder, words he didn’t recognize again interspersed with curses and quiet praise. And then there was something surrounding his dick, which was ridiculous because it was trapped underneath him, but still there was something. Something warm and pulsing, something that vibrated gently every time Emrys groaned.

Arthur pressed his face to the mattress and thrashed helplessly, unable to ease the throbbing pleasure that was building, spreading through his body, relentless as the rain. The fingers at his hip griped painfully and the room flashing brightly with an improbable lightening strike. Thundered followed immediately, crashing all around them, and Arthur could feel Emrys coming inside him, could taste the ozone in the air and he froze as the orgasm seized him, made him blind for several glorious seconds.

When he could feel his body again, his back was cold and his arms aching, but there were fingers dancing along his sides. Arthur turned and looked up into Emrys’ blue, blue eyes. He smiled softly, just one side of his lips pulling up as his eyes darted down to Arthur’s own.

Arthur pushed himself up to meet the other man half way and they kissed, cold lips in a colder room. It was soft and chaste, even if Arthur’s tongue snuck out to lick at Emrys’ lips before he pulled back. Emrys kissed him again, twice quickly before turning and stopping the camera recording.

“Let’s get out of here,” he offered, voice low and promising. Arthur smiled softly, considering, and nodded.

They dressed and then Arthur connected the camera to the TV. He thought about leaving it playing as he watched the two men on the screen shift to laying fully on the bed, but then Emrys pressed pause and that was even better. The picture stuttered, but what is showed was clear: Arthur smirked at the camera, on his knees for a stranger who touched him like he’d always known Arthur’s body.

Arthur nodded again and they left the bedroom. He made sure to jump up and walk across the couches in the living room, the damage he left on the leather wet and irreparable and so fucking satisfying.

Emrys grinned at him and together they walked out into the rain.

A/N2: so i'm looking for a beta. but not just the kind of beta who proof reads for spelling and grammar mistakes. i'm looking for a beta to bounce ideas off of, a beta who would be willing to give advice/their opinion and have it taken into serious consideration. i'm looking for a beta-with-benifits. ;) so if anyone's interested in taking a look at some stuff, please let me know.

A/N3: continued here

fic: Experiment (M/A)

2009-03-08T07:23:19Z

Title: Experiment
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: slight abuse of pov, and a bit cracktastic / none
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin; this is a work of fiction, and not the kind one gets paid for.
Summary: "What," Arthur gasps, braced above Merlin, "was in that potion?"

Arthur sniffs the potion experimentally. It is suspiciously not-foul-smelling.

“It’s for your back,” Merlin supplies unnecessarily.

“I know what it’s for,” Arthur says, shooting the other man a glare. Merlin challenges him with an expectantly quirked eyebrow, so Arthur tips the contents of the jar down his throat without another word.

That he does not gag at the taste, Arthur will think later, should have been an indication that something was off. As it is, the shudder that rolls up his back and wracks his shoulders is understandably distracting. There’s a sudden warmth at his lower back that is unnatural, if not unpleasant. It soothes its way up to his neck and then down his arms.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks, stooping a bit to get a look at the blonde’s eyes. They’re a bit glazed over, the unfocused blue standing out sharply against the flush that has spread across Arthur’s cheeks. “Is it working?”

“I’m not sure,” Arthur says, his voice pitched lower than usual and Merlin is about to put a hand to the prince’s forehead when his eyes pop open dramatically.

Arthur gasps loudly in shock, his hands flying to Merlin’s arms for support. He braces himself against his servant as the warmth that had finished spreading to all points of his body suddenly flares and concentrates, it seems to the baffled prince, at his groin.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, half worry, half protestation as Arthur’s preoccupation forces more of his weight towards Merlin. He braces his own arms against Arthur’s, but they’re already tipping to the side and Arthur is doing nothing to stop their decent to the floor.

He lands on his back, arms stretched out to keep Arthur from crushing him, but of course the prince manages to catch himself, arms braced on either side of Merlin’s head.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asks eventually because Arthur’s head is hung and he appears to be struggling to breathe.

“No,” Arthur grits out between clenched teeth. Another shudder forces its way to his shoulders and Merlin puts his hands against Arthur’s chest in case the blonde should suddenly collapse.

“Arthur-” he starts to say, because through the thin material of his tunic, Merlin can feel an unnatural sort of heat emanating from the prince.

“What,” Arthur gasps, cutting him off, “was in that potion?”

“Nothing unusual! I followed Gaius’ instructions perfectly, I didn’t even-”

“You?” Arthur demands, lifting his head to glare at Merlin. His pupils are dilated, his bottom lip bright red where he’d been biting it, and Merlin finally begins to panic. “You-”

Arthur’s eyes go wide again and he chokes on his own words, turning his face away from Merlin again.

“Arthur?” Merlin grips the material of his tunic and the blonde lets out a shuddering breath. “Arthur let me up, I’ll go get Gaius. He’ll know what to do.”

Arthur just shakes his head and Merlin’s about to yell, about to start pushing and fighting his way to Gaius when he notices Arthur’s hips. They thrust forward with every rolling shudder that shakes Arthur’s body; tiny, sharp thrusts that are, now that he’s listening, timed with the shallow panting he can feel because his hands are still braced against Arthur’s chest. He retracts them quickly, palms up like Arthur’s about to get violent, and simply stares.

Arthur lets out a wretched sounding groan, his body shifting forward so blonde hair pokes Merlin in the eye, and Merlin can’t help but start laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Arthur practically growls lifting his head to glare at Merlin.

“Not funny?” Merlin laughs. “Arthur you’re humping air.”

Arthur drops his head to Merlin’s shoulder.

“This is all your fault,” he pants, the movement of his hips becoming more pronounced.

Merlin laughs again and puts his hands back on Arthur’s chest to try and shove the blonde away.

“Maybe you’re allergic to something that was in the potion,” Merlin says, trying to sound calm, making no progress with the shoving. “Arthur, get off!”

“I’m trying to!” Arthur groans, gasps for breath and shoves his hips so far forward that Merlin can feel the heat from Arthur’s body all along his own.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” and this time when Merlin laughs it sounds a little hysterical to his own ears. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Arthur makes a soft, keening noise, like something is breaking inside him and then he stills, one final violent shudder taking hold of his body. He falls onto his side, thankfully missing Merlin, though their legs are tangled now.

The room is silent for several uncomfortable moments and then Merlin begins laughing again, real and loud and wildly uncontrollable.

“Shut up,” Arthur yells, covering his face with one arm.

Merlin continues to giggle insolently so Arthur kicks at him.

“So…” Merlin says, moving out of Arthur’s kicking range. “How does your back feel?”

Arthur lifts his arm to glare so fiercely that he hopes Merlin can feel it, but the idiot only grins wider and then scrambles from the room when Arthur shifts to try and kick him again.

Arthur lies there for several minutes, trying to pretend that he did not just have an unintentional sexual experience while braced above his manservant. It doesn’t work of course, so as Arthur readies himself for bed – a task Merlin thankfully ran away from tonight – he can only hope that Merlin will be an adult about this and never speak of it again.

- - -

“Good morning,” Merlin says, setting down Arthur’s breakfast tray with a smirk that tells Arthur he doesn’t plan to ever stop teasing his prince over what happened last night.

Arthur feels himself flush and sends Merlin to the stocks for the better part of the day.

He feels better until Merlin arrives that night with the same smirk and a new vial of red liquid.

“This is from Gaius,” he says, grinning as Arthur balks at the sight of the potion. “But you probably won’t like it as much as you liked the one I made.”

“Liked it?” Arthur says, horrified. “You drugged me!”

“How was I supposed to know you’d react like that? Personally I think you should see Gaius. Maybe you have an imbalance of… something.”

“I am not imbalanced!” Arthur yells, wanting to hit the smirk from Merlin’s face.

“Alright, calm down,” Merlin says, attempting to sound placating but the effect is ruined by the unsettling gleam in his eyes, “You know how you get when you work yourself up.”

Arthur chases him out with a glare and a well aimed boot.

- - -

Arthur would keep Merlin in the stocks permanently if only his father wouldn’t ask what Merlin did to deserve such a punishment. It’s bad enough that Morgana seems to have picked up on the fact that something is going on.

“What happened between you and Merlin?” she asks during an evening meal, a week after the incident. A confused smile is tugging at her lips as she watches Merlin walk away with Arthur’s goblet. ‘Better not, sire,’ he had said when Arthur motioned for more wine. ‘We wouldn’t want you drinking what you can’t handle.’

“Nothing happened,” Arthur says too quickly. Morgana does smile then, and her eyes tell him she knows he’s lying but at least she knows when not to push. It’s not knowledge she takes into consideration often, but perhaps the past week’s infuriating and untimely flashes of embarrassment show on his face because she turns to the visiting noble woman sitting at her other side without another word.

Arthur excuses himself shortly thereafter and makes his way to his rooms slowly, trying to think of any possible way to get Merlin back for this week. He’s tried to act as though it was nothing, as though he’d already forgotten but one smirk or poorly veiled innuendo from his insubordinate servant and Arthur’s been blushing more this week than he has before in his life.

He used to be so good at subjecting others to public humiliation but now he can’t seem to come up with a single way to get Merlin back.

Arthur pushes open the doors to his chambers and sighs.

“What do you want?” he says knowing full well that it shouldn’t matter. He’s the prince here.

Merlin spins around, startled and something falls from the table to the floor, breaking loudly.

“What?” Merlin asks, his eyes turning playful and knowing. Arthur clenches his jaw and eyes the mess on the floor.

“What was that?”

“Your potion, sire,” Merlin answers with a grin, “I’m terribly sorry for dropping it, I know how much you were looking forward to drinking it.”

Arthur feels the heat flare across his cheeks. He has had enough of this.

Two quick strides and he has Merlin’s shirt bunched in his fists.

“Will you drop it already?” he seethes, shoving Merlin back towards the wall. “I am your Prince and you will show me some respect.”

“I have nothing but the highest respect for your highness,” Merlin replies, smirking as he leans back against the stone. “Even if self control is not something you’ve been trained for since birth.”

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you?”

“Well, not as much as you-”

Arthur snarls and cuts him off by slamming his hands to the wall on either side of Merlin’s head.

Merlin raises an eye brow at him. “Again, my lord?”

“Shut up!” Arthur yells, desperate to make him stop. Morgana may have teased him when they were younger, may still needled him endlessly to get her way, but nothing she did or said to him was ever this frustrating, this infuriating, this embarrassing. “For the love of Camelot. Shut. Up.”

When Merlin simply laughs at his outburst, Arthur snaps.

“We’ll see how you like it,” he says as his hands fall down to Merlin’s hips. The laughter dies in Merlin’s throat, replaced by a surprised curse as Arthur cups one hand between his legs.

“Arthur! What-” but the words end in a groan as Arthur presses the heel of his palm down the line of Merlin's cock. “Don’t,” Merlin gasps, but his hands are gripping Arthur’s clothing, not pushing him away, so Arthur doesn’t pay any attention.

Besides, Merlin needs to learn a lesson. As Arthur unlaces Merlin’s breeches and shoves his hand inside he’s not quite sure what that lesson is exactly, but Merlin’s certainly going to learn it, regardless.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, bringing one hand up to clutch at the back of Arthur’s neck, to tangle in the hairs there. Arthur swallows and watches Merlin’s eyelids flutter open and closed. It occurs to him that this wasn’t exactly the plan, but he twists his wrist anyway, pulling a low moan from Merlin and the fingers in his hair clench as Merlin comes all over Arthur’s waiting hand. He wipes the mess down Merlin’s leg because he deserves it, but that doesn’t quite stop Arthur from resting his head on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Merlin croaks eventually. Arthur raises his head and asks ‘What?’ with his eyes. Merlin shrugs. “It feels like I’ve been hard all week.”

Arthur gapes, trying for angry. “So what, you thought you’d take it out on me?” he demands.

“Well yeah,” Merlin grins.

“I should sack you for this.”

“You should have sacked me every day for the past year.”

Arthur thinks that this is probably true. Clearly there is something wrong with him.

“So, uh, do you want me to return the favor?”

“For not sacking you?” Arthur asks, confused.

“No,” Merlin laughs, bending his leg a bit so his thigh grazes up and down Arthur’s.

“Oh,” he says. And, “alright,” because really why should he say no? This is what servants are for. Merlin grins and then slides down the wall and Arthur is confused for all of two seconds before he groans loudly and braces his forearms against the cold stone.

- - -

It’s not that sex with Arthur has gotten boring…

Merlin watches surreptitiously as Arthur drains the liquid from his goblet. He’s still in sweaty underclothes but that can be remedied easier than the full armor he had arrived in. Merlin has time for only one deep, steadying breath before Arthur whips around, pinning him with a look from wide, accusing eyes.

“What the-” he’s cut off by an intense shudder. Merlin can’t help but grin as realization spreads across Arthur’s features and he braces himself against the table. “You’ll pay for this.”

“I certainly hope so,” Merlin replies and Arthur’s head snaps up. Within seconds he’s cleared the table and pushed Merlin through to the bedroom and onto the bed.

It’s not that sex with Arthur has gotten boring in the few weeks they’ve been sharing a bed, but Merlin had to know. Had to see Arthur like this again: panting and desperate, needing release so badly he’s practically incapacitated by it. He hinders more than helps with the undressing and they don’t get much further before Arthur is rutting against Merlin, one arm curled around his waist for better leverage.

Merlin bends his knees, forces his hips up into Arthur’s and doesn’t even care that the friction of just skin is a bit too much. Arthur’s face is pressed against his neck and all Merlin can hear are great shuddering sobs punctuated by soft, desperate noises. He presses his hands to his eyes to better concentrate on the sounds, to savor the unabashed need in Arthur’s voice as he chants Merlin’s name.

And when Arthur comes, warm and slick against Merlin’s own cock, it feels the same: the sudden stillness, the five points of near-pain as Arthur’s fingers press harder to his flesh, the way Arthur starts moving again, almost immediately, to pull Merlin over the edge with him. It’s all the same and Merlin sighs Arthur’s name as he comes.

He’s not sure what he was testing for, not sure until now that this was even for anything more than just fun. So when Arthur asks, after several minutes, ‘What was that for?’ Merlin laughs at himself.

Arthur lifts his head and Merlin presses a kiss to his lips before he can ask again.

“Just an experiment,” Merlin says softly into Arthur’s mouth.

“Hmm,” Arthur hums, biting at Merlin’s lower lip. “And were the results to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, yes,” Merlin whispers and they both smile into the next kiss.

fic: The Burdens of Dying (B/C)

2009-03-08T00:53:29Z

Title: The Burdens of Dying
Author: berusama
Rating: PG, pre-slash
Warnings/Spoilers: erm, suggestive language?/a bit of episode 13
Summary: Okay, so you know that scene in Le Morte d'Arthur where Gaius and Merlin give Arthur the magic, life-saving water? Right, well I can't watch that scene without thinking about Colin cradling Bradley during filming and subsequently giggling madly. Thus, this little one-shot was born.
Disclaimer: This never happened. Probably. Also, I've never met nor to I pretend to own Bradley James or Colin Morgan which is a great tragedy, yet somehow I manage to soldier on.

It was a beautiful Friday afternoon, and as such, it really couldn’t be helped.

They had flown through shooting, the promise of beautiful weather over the weekend bolstering everyone’s performance. Until the bedroom scene wherein no one had been able to keep a straight face, least of all Bradley who was supposed to be on his deathbed. But Dave had let them move on, saying they’d come back to it later when people were less excited (cue pointed look at Bradley and a laugh from Colin who hadn’t been all too serious himself, thank you very much).

Bradley hadn’t realized, however, that ‘later’ had actually meant ‘later today.’

He walked from make-up back to Arthur’s bedroom slowly, trying not to fuss with the bloody bandage strapped across his chest. The room was crowded again when he arrived, and Colin was already seated at the head of the bed, laughing with Richard and Anthony. Bradley smiled just at the sight – Anthony enthusiastically retelling a story with Colin’s accompanying hand motions and Richard grinning madly at the two of them – and didn’t see how trying this again today was going to work any better than it had just hours ago.

“Alright, positions everyone! Bradley, let’s try it without the sound effects this time.”

Anthony gripped his shoulder briefly on his way to the back of the room, behind the cameras and Bradley was about to retort with something undoubtedly witty when Colin caught his eye.

“Come on, then, Braders!” Colin cooed, patting his lap. Bradley stared at him for all of two seconds before the laugh burst out of him, loud and incredulous.

“Don’t ever call me that,” Bradley demanded moving to the side of the bed. He sat, and then covered his legs with the blankets before glancing back at Colin who patted his lap again with a grin. Bradley rolled his eyes for effect and carefully lay down on top of Colin’s legs.

“Christ, you’re boney,” Bradley griped, shifting around to find a position where Colin’s knee wasn’t about to puncture a lung.

“Not yet,” came Colin’s reply from above him, low and filthy, “but keep squirming around like that and we’ll see.”

Bradley laughed, because it was funny, but he could feel his face heat a little. Yeah, this was going to go just great.

The lighting had to be adjusted then, taking into account the natural glare from the windows so Bradley relaxed and tried not to think about it too much… But really, so what if he was lying in Colin’s lap? They were mates, the bed was comfortable and Colin’s hand was warm on his shoulder.

“Does this itch?” Colin asked, fingering the bandage.

“Only when other people play with it,” Bradley answered. Colin was leaning against one of the bed posts so Bradley had to angle his head back and to the right to see Colin’s smirk.

“It looks real. Smells real too.”

“That’s because it is.” Bradley closed his eyes and settled back against Colin’s thigh.

“An old battle wound, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“From when Santiago was here?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you told him you wanted to see other men?”

Bradley congratulated himself for not reacting. “Yeah.”

“And he said he’d rather see you dead than with anyone else?”

“Yeah. Blamed you, actually. Said your coquettish ways were wearing off on me.”

Colin laughed. “Well. See if I ever go down on him again.”

Bradley’s eyes did snap open then, and he turned his head to stare up at Colin who wore a wicked but completely unreadable look.

“Shut up,” Bradley said eventually, closing his eyes again. “I’m trying to die here.”

“Of course.” Bradley could hear the amusement in Colin’s voice and smiled a little himself. “Terribly sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

Colin was still fiddling with the bandage and it made Bradley want to shiver, even though that might give Colin the wrong idea about… stuff. He wasn’t quite sure because he could feel himself drifting off but surely that wouldn’t matter much for the scene since he was supposed to be near death anyway.

He didn’t move when Richard came up to the bed or when ‘action’ was called or even when Colin cupped the back of his head to get him into position, running his fingers through Bradley’s hair in the process.

He was doing very well, in fact, even managing the water that was tipped into his mouth without choking like last time – and hadn’t Colin just loved that.

And then Richard forgot his line.

“What are you doing, physician? What are you giving him?” Anthony demanded from the back of the room.

“It’s uh… it’s not what it looks like!”

Colin snorted and dropped his head down by Bradley’s and the whole room exploded in unwilling laughter. Bradley, ecstatic that he was not the one to mess up first, was laughing so hard he accidentally tipped his face into the side of Colin’s. Colin didn’t move though, just continued to laugh into the arm that was still supporting Bradley’s head.

“How dare you defile the Crown Prince,” Colin cackled eventually, voice still muffled by his arm and Bradley groaned in protest, reaching for the extra pillow and hitting Colin over the head with it.

“Really, Merlin,” Richard tutted, not to be outdone, “I know he only has eyes for you.”

“Oi!” they both yelled, Colin’s head shooting up and jostling Bradley’s, and the room subsided into another bout of laughter.

Bradley sighed, though he didn’t really mind as long as they were laughing at both him and Colin. He tipped his head back, pressing down on Colin’s hand and smiled conspiratorially. Colin flexed his fingers and grinned back. They’d get them for this. Humiliating and grammatically gratifying pranks for everyone.

But for now they settled back into the bed as Richard looked over the script, Colin’s fingers massaging gently at the top of Bradley’s neck, and waited for the weekend.

Merlin Micromeme (wip)

2009-02-06T07:38:18Z

stolen from... erm, somewhere >_>

[i don't own Merlin or the characters portrayed below]

Cross-over
"I'm Merlin, this is Arthur."
"...We've landed in Camelot??"
"Fantastic!"

Fluff
"You would have made me leave. And that seemed unbearable."

AU
"Buy something or leave!" Arthur yelled, bristling in orange wool.

Smut
"What," Arthur gasps, braced above Merlin, "was in that potion?"

Crack
"Jethro," Ben thought to himself, "was hot. For an emo."

Angst(?)
"I'll find you. You're my destiny; I'll always find you."

UST(?)
Merlin left and Arthur could breathe again, lonely as ever.

First Time
"Do you trust me?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Prat."
"Shut up."
"Make-!"

Hurt/Comfort

Humor
Merlin needed to stop laughing. Hiccups were not that funny.

fic: thursday shopping (A/Y) (wip)

2008-12-04T21:32:02Z

[i don't own WK]

If Youji had come to appreciate Thursday evenings as of late, it was probably, he could admit, because of the attention.

He strolled down the aisle after Aya, draped over the back of their cart, and smiled winningly at a woman walking in the other direction. She blushed and smiled back, glancing between him and Aya quickly before hurrying away. Yes, Youji thought smugly, it was the attention. The looks women gave him and Aya as they disbelievingly ogled, Youji liked to think, at the chances of two such good-looking men being acquainted with each other.

Aya checked the list before selecting a few cans of something from a shelf.

“That’s everything.”

They made their way to the check-out lines, Youji steering them towards a cute redhead at one end. He managed to make her blush three times before Aya had paid and started to leave without him. Grabbing the rest of their grocery bags, Youji winked at the girl one last time and jogged out of the store to catch up.

This part of Thursday evenings was less fun because Aya insisted they walk the eight blocks between the grocery store and the flower shop instead of drive. Youji adjusted his grip on the heavier of the bags he was carrying and stole a glance at Aya. He didn’t quite understand why Aya had started doing the shopping with him lately. Except that maybe it was an effort to sabotage his smoking habit because he wouldn’t let Youji buy cigarettes with the shop money that Omi now entrusted to Aya. Not that Youji minded really, because it meant less work for him at the store and more time to flirt with lovely strangers. …Not that he ever got very far with Aya around.

Youji was about to ask Aya if he had any plans for his day off tomorrow when a shriek was cut off abruptly from around the corner of the block. They glanced at each other, set down the grocery bags and ran silently around the corner, towards the dark mouth of an alley.

Inside, two large shapes were looming over a smaller one and Aya immediately bolted forward, grabbing one of the men and punching him flat out. The other man turned around and Youji sprinted towards the woman who struggled in his grasp until he soothed to her that they were here to help. Together they ran out of the alley, Aya right behind them.

Once in the relative safety of the lit street, Youji turned to ask Aya if the bastards were down and out, but Aya was staring at the young woman whose elbow he was still holding. Spooked and obviously not appreciating being stared at, she shook out of Youji’s hold and took off down the street, her long black braids flying out behind her.

Youji glanced cautiously at Aya who was staring after the girl. Her resemblance of his sister was enough of a clue that when Aya tried to plunge back into the alley, Youji was ready. He grabbed Aya’s arm, but when that was wrenched out of his grip, Youji tackled him to the cold brick wall of the alley.

“Get off me!”

“Aya, you don’t want to do this.” Youji tried for soothing, but he was having trouble keeping the other man pinned. Using the wall for leverage, Aya pushed off and twisted out of Youji’s arms, sending the blonde stumbling in the dark.

By the time Youji managed to regain his footing, Aya had lifted one of the unconscious men and slammed him against the wall, the man’s head cracking back against the brick. Youji got behind Aya and circled his arms, pulling back until Aya was forced to drop the man. Cursing, Aya broke Youji’s embrace again and spun around. He shoved Youji away and started to turn back towards the men.

“Aya,” Youji warned again, trying to keep the redhead’s attention. “Think about this. I know-”

“You don’t know anything,” Aya spat, and Youji could feel the glare, even if he couldn’t see it through the dark.

“You need to calm down,” Youji said and reached out a hand towards Aya, to stop him, maybe to calm him, but Aya grabbed his wrist and then the other, holding them in a crushing grip.

He stepped in close, and when Youji tried to pull away instinctively, he growled, “Don’t move,” and rested his forehead on Youji’s shoulder.

Youji stood completely still, not out of obedience, but out of shock. Staring at the dark alley over Aya’s shoulder, he tried to gather his thoughts and understand what the fuck had just happened. He didn’t know if this was helping Aya or if the other man was about to rip him to pieces, so when Aya turned his face into Youji’s neck, Youji flinched and the hands around his wrists clenched even tighter.

It was possible that Aya was having a mental break down, Youji mused while trying to remain calm. Before he’d run back into the alley, Youji had caught a glimpse of the flashing hatred in Aya’s eyes… the kind of rage he hadn’t seen in the other man since his sister had woken up; since Takatori. Possibly Aya was experiencing flashbacks and Youji should be fearing for his life. He knew he could defend himself, but fighting with Aya when the man was in killing mode wasn’t anything Youji ever wanted to experience.

Several drawn-out minutes later, Aya finally – thankfully – pulled back, releasing his hold on Youji’s wrists. Blood flowed back into his hands and Youji tried not to cringe at the sensation as Aya eyed him distantly. After another protracted moment, Aya nodded once and when he left the alley Youji followed, confoundedly.

Youji waited until he was sure Ken, Omi and Aya-chan had gone to bed, waited long enough to risk the possibility that Aya was already asleep too, before leaving his room to knock lightly on the redhead’s door.

Aya answered almost immediately and stepped back to let Youji in after only a moment’s hesitation.

Youji took a few steps into the room before turning to face Aya who stood in front of the closed door.

“I called the police already,” Aya said after a beat of silence. “They said they’d go pick up the attackers.”

“Did you tell Omi?”

“No. I used the line in the mission room, so I’m sure Kritiker already knows.”

Youji nodded and glanced down at his feet, then around the room. He wanted to ask about tonight, about whatever had happened in the alley, but he didn’t know where to start.

“I apologize for tonight,” Aya said suddenly.

“What?” Youji asked, eyes wide, hoping Aya would open the subject.

“For my behavior. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Oh. No, hey, I understand. I mean, if the order came tonight, I’d be right out there with you, but…”

“I know. I- I’m glad one of us was thinking clearly.”

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” Youji quipped, trying to get Aya to look at him. When he didn’t, Youji decided that the quickest way to an answer would be to just ask. “So, uh, afterwards…”

Aya did look at him then, and it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it, but Youji did, so he raised his eyebrows and waited.

Eventually, Aya sighed and said, “Pulse points,” rather enigmatically.

Youji gave him a look that suggested he should perhaps elaborate.

Aya took a step closer and said, “Here,” holding up his own wrist, “and here,” he moved one hand to the side of his neck. Youji looked down at his own wrists, still slightly pink from Aya’s punishing grip earlier. Aya followed his gaze and stared at one of Youji’s wrists as he spoke haltingly.

“Before I- When I was still visiting Aya-chan at the hospital… I was so angry. All the time, I was furious and Persia wasn’t giving the order and I couldn’t just go out and kill who I wanted because I was supposed to be part of a team now and… if I could just go see my sister and sit with her, feel her pulse, feel the proof that she was still alive… it calmed the part of me that was so desperate to kill.”

Youji stood, shell shocked for a second time that night, and tried to absorb it all. The facts were running around in his mind, telling him things and making him jump to conclusions. Asuka had always hated it when he did that, had always made him stop and explain before she would back him up on a hunch, but that was then and right now Youji was having difficulty keeping the dazed grin off his face.

“That wasn’t a funny story,” Aya said, and Youji looked up to find himself the target of an angry glare.

“No,” he said quickly, wiping the smile off his face, “no Aya, of course not. I appreciate your honesty. It’s just that, well… you like me.”

“What?” Aya demanded, his eyes going wide momentarily before the glare fell back into place, even more pronounced.

“We’re friends,” Youji rephrased, somewhat awed. “I helped you tonight, and you just told me something incredibly personal. You needed someone and I was there for you-”

“Well there wasn’t exactly a selection of other people for me to choose from,” Aya tried to interrupt.

“-and now we’re having a meaningful conversation in the middle of the night. We go shopping together-”

“Grocery shopping.”

“-and you trust me with your sister, and we’re friends because you like me!”

Aya stared at him looking incredibly baffled and somewhat disgusted, but Youji didn’t take offense because now he knew.

“You don’t hate me,” he said softly, with a small smile and Aya’s face softened into a stunned sort of expression.

“Youji, I think you should go.” The words came out strangled, as though Aya were trying to find a proper emotion to hold on to. Youji beamed, victorious.

“Okay,” he said, still smiling. “Goodnight, Aya.”

Aya didn’t turn as Youji moved around him to get to the door, but the look on his face as Youji passed was enough to keep the blonde smiling until he fell asleep that night.

Despite the fact that it was his day off, Aya was the first one in the kitchen the next morning. He set about fixing himself something to eat, moving slowly so that when Aya-chan and Omi hurried down for a quick breakfast before school, he’d have a legitimate reason to stay in the kitchen with them.

Ten minutes later, light laughter preceded their appearance. Aya-chan came to stand by him as she ate and tried, unsuccessfully, to incorporate him into the conversation.

Ken arrived next, but when Youji didn’t turn up right behind him, Aya resigned himself to helping Ken open the shop so that Omi didn’t try to do it and subsequently make himself and Aya-chan late for school.

“Shouldn’t you two get going?” Aya asked, as he did almost every day.

“Yes, but maybe we should open the shop first since Youji-kun’s not-”

“Late?” Youji interrupted from the stairs. “Relax, relax, I’m here.”

“For once,” Ken remarked as Omi and Aya-chan began gathering their things.

Youji flipped him off playfully and then turned to Aya who happened to be standing by the coffee machine. He smiled softly and then said, even softer, “Good morning.”

The room seemed to freeze behind Youji as the blonde gave his attention to the coffee-maker. Aya found himself feeling vaguely embarrassed as all eyes turned to him.

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” He asked, trying to ignore his sister’s curious gaze.

Youji turned to wave goodbye to Omi and Aya-chan, and Aya slipped out of the kitchen while he was facing the other way.

Up in his room, Aya watched Omi and his sister make their way down the sidewalk from the vantage point of his window. He sat there long after they had disappeared from view, trying not to think about last night or this morning. Which was pointless when Youji’s smile kept inserting itself between his other, less interesting thoughts. Frustrated, Aya decided to go back to the kitchen and wash the dishes he was sure everyone else had left out this morning.

The problem with this plan, however, was that the kitchen was within hearing distance of the back of the shop, and with the doors propped open, Aya could clearly hear Ken’s carrying voice.

“-morning all about?” he was asking as Aya collected the dirty dishes from around the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Youji’s voice was close, probably coming from behind the register as he prepared the till for today’s business.

“I mean when you came downstairs and said good morning to Aya like he’s your best friend forever.”

“Jealous?” Youji asked, amusement obvious in his voice. “If it’ll placate you, Kenken, you and I can get matching best friends necklaces to prove our devotion.”

Ken laughed, but didn’t drop the subject.

“Seriously, though. What’s up? I thought you thought he hated you.”

“I did. But he doesn’t.”

“Oh.” The room was quiet except for the sound of shuffling papers and the swish of a broom. Then Ken asked, “Does he hate me?”

“Yes,” Youji answered immediately.

“What? How do you know?”

“He told me.”

It was about then, as Ken called Youji a liar, much to the blonde’s affected offence, that Aya turned on the water and actually began washing the dishes he had gathered. He took his time, using lots of unneeded soap until the sink was full of bubbles. The running water blocked out the individual words of Youji and Ken’s continued conversation, but every time Youji laughed Aya pictured the softly intimate smile from this morning. When he caught himself smiling along with the blonde’s laughter, Aya turned off the water abruptly and left, wet hands dripping all up the stairs as he fled.

more insanity~!

2008-12-04T20:50:03Z

I don't own TH, WK or LotR

part 1
part 2

Saruman: OMG, MY TRADITIONAL THIRD AGE SNOW GARDEN! YOU WALKED RIGHT THROUGH IT! DIE!

[Powerful and incredibly intimidating snow storm threatens the lives of The Fellowship]

Omi: Wow, this was like the worst idea ever.

Youji: Seriously. Whose idea was it to come this way?

Fellowship: [glares at Gandalf]

Gandalf: Oh, bite me. You guys have a better plan?

Ken: Well if you can’t go over it…

[Later that month, at the doors of Moria]

Bill: So how do we get in?

Ken: Um… maybe we should knock?

Bill: Omg. [wanders off to sit by the lake]

Omi: Well judging by the inscription there I’d say we’re dealing with a First Age concealing spell. If I can pinpoint the century through carbon dating, that would leave us with a relatively short list of possible passwords popular for the times… [begins pulling equipment out of his pack]

Georg: Why don’t we just try to solve the riddle?

Omi: Because that’s Gandalf’s expertise and for some reason he’s in kind of a snit about having to come this way and is refusing to help.

Georg: Oh.

Bill: [in the distance] Ich muss durch den monsun…

Gustav: God, this sucks. I just wanna go home.

Tom: Word.

Omi: Georg, can you get me a sample of the stone and then attach these sensors to the outline of the door?

Bill: …hinter die welt…

Gustav: I’d even rather be on tour, stuck in that fucking bus for hours.

Tom: [dreamily] Yeah… on the way to somewhere warm.

Omi: Good, good. Now if these readings are correct I can just look up 14th century dwarvin mining entrance standards and… oh. This gonna take awhile.

Georg: How the hell are you are you getting a Wi-Fi signal out here??

Bill: …ans ende der zeit…

Gustav: Like Barcelona.

Tom: Or L.A.

Bill: …bi skein regen mehr fällt…

Gustav: Or Milan…

Doors to the Mines of Moria: [are not very picking about pronunciation these days and swing open invitingly]

Omi: …wtf?

[Aya and Youji emerge from behind a large boulder]

Youji: Oh, hey, good work chibi. That was fast.

Omi: But I- I don’t- [is bewildered]

Bill: …gegen den sturm am- [stops abruptly when he sees the lake water move]

Tom: [runs to fetch Bill] Hey, let’s go! The doors are open.

[Lake water laps at the shore suddenly.]

Bill: Did you hear that?

Tom: All I heard was you singing.

Bill: Hm… [they turn to walk away]

[Something emerges from the lake and seizes Bill and Tom in its long, slimy tentacles]

Crazed TH Fangirl-Monster: OMG, IT’S YOUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!1 I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!!!! I LOVE TOKIO HOTEL MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF!!!!! AND I’M TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU BOTH AND YET AT THIS PRESENT MOMENT I CAN’T SEEM TO DO ANYTHING MORE COHERENT THAN SCREAM SHRILLY IN YOUR FACES: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!ONE!!!!!!!!!!!1

Omi: Oh no! Bill-kun! Tom-kun! What is that thing?

Aya: [grabs Omi’s sword] Questions later, denying of the tomorrows now.

Crazed TH Fangirl-Monster: [still screaming unintelligibly at Bill and Tom]

Aya: [chops off the tentacles holding the twins]

Crazed TH Fangirl-Monster: OMG, OW!! LOVE HUUUURTZ!!!!!

[Aya grabs the twins and The Fellowship runs through the mine entrance which then collapses behind them from the hypersonic, hysterical howls of a Crazed TH Fangirl-Monster, deprived of her photo with the boys.]

Omi: Wow, that was close! Are you guys okay?

Bill and Tom: WHAT?

Omi: Never mind.

Ken: Dude, why are there dead and decaying bodies everywhere?

Gandalf: What’s that? Oh yeah. It’s time for my I-Told-You-So dance. Here I go.

Omi: Oh man. This was like the worst idea ever.

Youji: And yet if it gets the old guy to stop dancing, I feel the need to press on.

[Some indeterminable amount of time later]

Ken: I see day light! [runs recklessly into a tomb]

The Rest of The Fellowship: [hurry to keep up]

Youji: Wow, it’s totally creepy in here.

Gandalf: Oh, look! An Old, Dusty, Bloody, and Spider web-y, tome. I think I’ll pick it up and read you all a morbid passage about entrapment and unavoidable death.

Bill: [not paying attention, backs into a skeleton] Oh, EW! [knocks it down a well as he tries to get away] …Oops.

The Fellowship: [waits for the awful clanging to stop for several awkward minutes]

Gandalf: [rounds on Bill] WTF IS WRONG WITH-

Bill: [pouting slightly, eyes watery, looking angelic and absolutely repentant]

Gandalf: -oh. Well I… I’m sure you didn’t mean to. Just… Just make sure you’re more careful from now on.

Bill: [nods innocently and then shares a smirk with Tom after Gandalf has turn away]

Ken: Well, there’s no avoiding the inevitable battle now.

Youji: You sound far too pleased about this.

Ken: Hey, it is in my character to be a little unhinged when it comes to spilling blood.

Youji: You know, you’re right. And it’s in my character to refuse missions that don’t involve beautiful women, so if you’ll all excuse me I think I’m gonna sit this one out.

Aya: [glares]

Evil Goblins: [attack]

The Fellowship: [fights back]

Georg: [gets stabbed again] God dammit, I’m so fucking sick of this shit!

Omi: Georg! Are you okay??

Georg: I just got fucking stabbed by a cave troll! What do you think?

Omi: But you’re wearing the mithril, right?

Georg: No! That dude was fucking scary! No way was I wearing anything of his after he tried to jump me!

Gustav: So basically you’re going to die because you were scared of some old dude’s shiny undershirt?

Georg: Pretty much, yeah.

Omi: We have to get out of here before Georg bleeds to death! If we can just finish the level all his health points will be restored to normal!

The Fellowship: [run for their lives, except for Georg, whose life is currently pouring out of a gaping chest wound and thus needs to be carried]

Omi: We’re almost there! We just need to climb down these decaying stone steps! Never mind the eerie calm that has settled over the place and is surely heralding the arrival of something truly awful!

Youji: Now do you see why he’s the one who gets to carry the sword in this story?

Aya: Shut up.

The Fellowship: [reach and cross the bridge just as the Balrog appears]

Balrog: WTF, who woke me up with all that noise?? I’m gonna- Gandalf… Gandalf, baby, is that you?

Gandalf: [is attempting to hide behind the rest of The Fellowship who have stopped and turned to gape at the talking fire-demon]

Balrog: OMG, it is you! Oh, sweetie it’s been forever!

Gandalf: [tentatively walks towards the Belrog] Um… yeah, look, I know I never-

Balrog: WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?? YOUR NOTE SAID ‘OUT FOR MILK’!!! IT DOESN’T TAKE FORTY YEARS TO GET A CARTON OF MILK, THE DAIRY’S RIGHT AROUND THE FUCKING CORNER!!!!!!!!!!1

Gandalf: I know, I can explain…

Balrog: YOU CAN EXPLAIN ALL YOU WANT AT HOME! LET’S GO!

Gandalf: [meekly follows the Balrog across the bridge and back into the depths of Moria]

The Fellowship: …

Georg: [gets ready to die again]

Omi: Gah! We have to leave the mine to complete the level!!

The Fellowship: [hurries out of the mine and into the bright daylight]

Georg: Wow, I feel better already.

Bill: Sooo… I’m guessing that was the reason Gandalf didn’t want to come this way?

Omi: Apparently.

Youji: Poor guy. I know how it feels to be caught in a situation like that… Some people just don’t know how to let go of a good thing.

Aya: [rolls his eyes and then glares]

fic: heartthrob adaptation (C/A) (wip)

2008-12-03T00:07:43Z

[i don't own angel]

AU of Angel: Season 3, episode 1 after:

Cordy: Alright I've been doing this awhile. Don't stakes through the heart and sunshine *kill* you guys?

Angel: He seems to have become-

Cordy: Invincible?

Angel: Let's not exaggerate.

Cordy: [grabs Angel's arm] The Ring of Amara! When you had that, you were invincible. Does he have a ring?

Angel: No.

Cordy: ...Did the Amara people make cuffs links or belt buckles?

Angel: [impatiently] There was only one!

Cordy: And you had to smash it!

Angel: Why don't we recriminate later, okay?

Cordy: Yes.

Angel: Now be quiet. I think he took the bait.

[rumbling; Cordy clings to Angel]

Cordy: Earthquake!

Angel: [pushing her off] Subway.

Cordy: Okay. Just the subway. [after a beat, her phone rings] Whoop!

Angel: [startled] Geeze!

Cordy: [whispers] Sorry, cellphone.

Wes: Cordelia, is that you? Can you hear me?

Cordy: Huh? What? Say that again!

Wes: There's something you have to know about James.

Cordy: Oh, he's *invincible* is he? He went to a what? A slog demon? What's that? [to Angel] Some kind of doctor demon that, uh, collects rare organs- [shocked] Cut out his heart?! [to Angel] Absolutely cannot be killed. [to Wes] Wait, what? How long? Six what? [stomps impatiently] What?? Hello?? Ugh! No signal. Okay, the guy's invincible, but it only lasts for so long and then he dies.

Angel: [whispers] How long?

Cordy: Uh, he said... I donno, six minutes, hours, weeks? I hate these; C'mon give me a signal!

Angel: That's good news. All we have to do is wait him out.

Cordy: Right. We'll just wait here until we're sure.

They stare at each other for several beats, expectantly.

"What time is it?" Angel asks eventually.

Cordelia glances at her phone. "Two thriteen."

The subway rumbles over head again, and they glance around, looking for somewhere to sit and wait.

"Angel?"

"I don't really want to talk about that right now."

"Fine," she says, a little pleased and a little disappointed. Another glance at her phone. 2:38. "Look I can't sit around in the dark brooding for hours unlike some people. We need to talk about *something* or I'm going to go insane."

Angel looks over at her, trying for put-out but the look falters when she flashes him a knowing smile.

"Alright," he says, turning on his box to face her. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Tell me about your trip."

"We already covered that one: peaceful, meditatey, demon monks."

"You know, sometimes you can be a really great story teller, but this is not one of those times."

"Look, Cordy, I'm kind of preoccupied. James is out there doing God knows what right now and I'm doing nothing, hoping that he dies while I sit in a sewer... storage room?" His tone goes from aggrivated to curious as they both look around at their surroundings.

"Where *are* we?" Cordy asks, standing to wander a little further into the room. Angel wastes no time in following her.

Past a several more stacks of crates, they reach a sectioned off corner of the room that holds a couch, a low end table and several book shelves full of odd knickknacks and old, matching volumes.

"It's not trespassing if you don't do it on purpose, is it?"

"I don't think we can expect anyone, anytime soon," Angel says, swiping a finger through the thick layer of dust on the end table.

"Or *maybe*, someone just dusted a bunch of trespassing vampires and then stepped out for a bit of fresh air and when they get back and discover us, we'll be next, only they'll keep me around as some sort of slave because killing *me* would get blood and not dust all over their nice leather couch. Could you live with yourself if that happened?"

"Well technically I'd be dead, so I wouldn't have to," Angel teased, making himself comfortable on the couch.

berusama @ 2008-12-02T16:03:00

2008-12-03T00:04:52Z

it's like touching fire, he thinks. touching raw passion and getting, not burned but engulfed by it; by the strength and honesty and vulnerability hidden under layers of protective confidence. he'd stay forever if he could. if they could live like this: entwined and desperate. it's all he needs these days and that should probably worry him, but right now all that matters are the small panting groans he can elicit from the man beneath him. he presses back in, stroking a hand gently down pretty, tanned skin; wants to give back everything he's being given: comfort, care, trust, need... love.

Youji smiles up at him and rolls his hips, squeezing hot, wet and perfect; Aya seizes up, spilling inside the blonde over and over and always... He's still braced above the other man when he regains focus and Youji looks quite smug until Aya gets him in his fist and starts to stroke fast and tight and then Youji looks like he might die. The strangled curses turn into Aya's name soon enough and Aya licks at Youji's neck, bites and nuzzles until he comes, comes apart, comes back to Aya eventually and they lay together until the sun comes up because this is all they need.

fic: reckless abandonment (B/T)

2008-12-03T00:03:56Z

possible starter for part one of my No Really, I'm Fine arc

[i don't own TH or its members]

There are times when it's too much. Times when everything goes so well, so fast, speeding past Bill at a blinding pace. He gets caught up in it all, letting it carry him away and he forgets the places and the faces because no matter where he is, he's on top of a world that's spinning too fast and he can't find time to care.

Nothing can help when he gets like this; nothing but the press of bodies as he arches up, nothing but Tom's grip on his hips holding him down, grounding him as their lives blur past them with the cities and the landscape and the rest of the world. Here, the fans don't matter and the critics don't matter, nothing matters as long as Tom is braced above him, panting and cursing and holding Bill down so forcefully he knows there will be bruises. Bill pulls at his own hair and then at Tom's, forcing him down for a kiss. It's harsh, needy, quick because he can't breathe through the enormity of it all. The world loves him, and the world can go fuck itself because he has everything he needs right here. The fanatics, the haters, the obsessed, the jealous: Bill doesn't care about any of them right now. They can keep rushing past while Tom holds him down, keeps his body in one place as Bill's mind flies. Ecstasy and adrenaline and complacency and fuck, yes, love, love, lovelovelove as Tom groans and comes inside him. It's so much and Bill wants to scream, opens his mouth but nothing
happens as Tom pumps the orgasm out of him.

It doesn't stop time. It doesn't slow down the pace of their lives, but it does help Bill's perspective. He can't get lost in the raging speed if Tom holds him in place. So they stand in the middle of the rush, hand in hand, and smile because the world loves to love them, and loves to hate them and together like this, they get to choose to not even care.

berusama @ 2008-11-01T16:00:00

2008-12-03T00:01:25Z

[i don't own TH]

Waking up on a bus usually pleases Georg. Like he wasn’t just sleeping, he was traveling too; like multi-tasking.

Breakfast on a bus is less fun. There’s less space for moving around, less space for preparation, less variety because it all has to fit in a tiny fridge for four. Also, you have to watch out for sudden turns or stops.

Bill is already at the table when Georg sits down. He grunts at the other boy who blinks blearily and waves. At the sight of his own name scrawled across Bill’s palm, Georg remembers and laughs.

“Next time we play poker, you should just bring cash and keep your bodyparts,” he teases.

Bill smiles and flips Georg off gracefully, Tom’s name written boldly on the digit. Georg can’t remember Tom winning either of Bill’s middle fingers, though.

In fact, now that he looks more closely, Tom’s representation on Bill’s body seems to have increased since last night. He can make out the faded name in the crook of Bill’s elbow, down one side of his neck, and on most of Bill’s unadorned fingers.

“How many more hands did you guys play after Gustav and I went to bed?”

Bill looks up and when he notices Georg’s scrutiny he grabs a jacket – Tom’s – from the seat next to him and effectively buries himself in it.

“Just a few,” Bill lies, and obviously so because his exposed ears are turning a bit pink.

Georg watches Bill ditch his breakfast in favor of the bathroom and wonders briefly where else Tom’s name might have ended up last night. And then stops himself because inappropriate visuals are a bit much for this early in the day.

He tries to watch the scenery but after three minutes of the same view, Georg decides to go back to sleep so he can wake up somewhere new.

fic: 10 things i hate about you au (A/Y)

2008-12-03T00:00:20Z

[i don't own WK]

omg, new plotbunny:

ten things i hate about you-inspired weiss AU!!

kat = ran
patrick = youji
bionca = aya
cameron = ken
michael = omi
joey = hirofumi
chasity = sakura
mandella = hanae

for example...

"Hi."

Ran looked up and stared. Kudou Youji was leaning against the counter across from him, smiling softly. Ran suppressed the urge to look behind himself and

check for another recipient of that smile, or perhaps a mirror.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Youji replied, still smiling. "I'm looking for something."

"A book, perhaps?" Ran inquired slowly when Youji didn't elaborate.

The blonde laughed briefly, his expressive eyes crinkling at the corners. "You'd think, being as how this is a library. But no. I'm actually looking for a date. With you."

Ran stared, bewildered for about two seconds before his eyes narrowed. This time he did glance around, looking for the audience that he was surely privy to.

There was no one else around at the moment, but still Ran glared. "I don't know what you're playing at but I don't appreciate it. Please leave."

The suave smile vanished from Youji's face with an almost audible slide. He opened his mouth, probably to speak some scathing retort, so Ran stood from his stool and grabbed several books that needed re-shelving. He walked away and didn't return to his post until he was sure Kudou had picked himself up off of the counter and fled.

"Perhaps this wasn't the best idea," Omi said as he peeked cautiously around the edge of a week-old newspaper.

"No, no, it'll work," Ken assured him from behind an encyclopedia. "We just need to help him out a little bit."

"Ken, that's Kudou Youji. The day he needs help getting a date is the day we all die virgins."

"Well we can at least offer to help. Come on."

With that, they set down their props and exited the library in an entirely conspicuous manner.

Out in the quad, Youji was lounging under his usual tree. A group of girls had stopped to talk but as soon as they moved on, giggling quietly to each other,

Ken and Omi approached.

"Nice day," Ken commented friendly.

Youji let his sunglasses slide down his nose until he could peer over the top at them.

"I guess," he replied, not taking his eyes off Ken.

"So, uh... we know about the deal you made with Hirofumi."

Youji slid his glasses back up to cover his eyes and sat up slowly.

"And?"

"And... well, we want to help you out."

There was an uncomfortable pause during which Youji stared -- or rather Ken assumed he was staring at them. He could have been looking in the opposite direction for all Ken could tell with those sunglasses shielding his eyes.

"Why?"

"Well, I... I mean..."

"You see," Omi interrupted, stepping up to Ken's side, "we planned this whole thing so that *Ken* can go out with Aya. Hirofumi's only involved because we can't pay you ourselves."

More uncomfortable silence, and then Youji's face broke into a dazzling grin. He stood up and clapped a hand onto each of their shoulders.

"Men after my own heart," he said sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head. "And all for the sake of love... this deal just keeps getting better and better."

Although they didn't quite understand the musings of the grinning blonde, Ken and Omi smiled along with him until Youji was called away by a leggy brunette.

"Now what?" Omi asked, still dazed from the afterglow of Youji's smile.

"Now we research. Which means," he said, with excitement, "I have to go talk to Aya."

Omi watched him practically skip away and wondered at all the high school drama he'd been missing these last few years.

Ran stops dead and glares with an intensity he hopes Youji can feel.

"Are you *stalking* me?"

Youji turns, eyes wide. "What? No, I-" He stops and a slow smile spreads across his face. "Yes."

"Why?" Ran bites out, a little unsettled by the look in the blonde's eyes

"Well, you were so rude the other day, how could I help but want to see you again?"

"So what? You're a glutton for rejection or you just can't take no for an answer?"

"If I say it's the former will you go out with me just to spite me?"

Ran has to stop himself from smiling so he turns his glare up a notch to make up for it.

"If I go for a restraining order against you, do you think I'll need a second one just for your ego?"

Youji grins at him and takes a step closer.

"I've got restraints in my room, baby; you don't need to go for an order to get them."

Ran rolls his eyes and side-steps the blonde who turns to watch him walk past.

"Think about it."

Ran doesn't stop as he calls over his shoulder, "Trust me, I won't."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Youji looked up at Ran and then back down at his book.

"Is there a less obvious answer that you're looking for?"

Ran's glare softened momentarily before suspicion crept back into his gaze.

"You're really just here to read..." he glanced down at the cover of Youji's book, "Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Ran crossed his arms, temporarily at a loss.

"I didn't figure you for the sort of person to be interested in intellectually stimulating literature."

"Well, that's what happens when you refuse to get to know a person." Youji smiled finally and Ran felt a bit more on familiar ground.

"Are you recommending I get to know you?"

"I recommend that to everyone."

"Of course you do." Ran rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. The annoyance he should have felt when Youji stood and followed him was strangely absent.

"So are you going to Sakura's party on Friday?"

"Why? Do you recommend that too?"

"Not really. But if you're going to be there then I'll make a point of being there too."

"Well isn't that enticing." They had reached the impending silence of the study room but Ran found himself pausing just outside to see what Youji would say next.

"Is that a 'yes'?" Youji asked, his voice dropped to a low purr.

"No," Ran whispered back as he opened the door.

"But is it a 'no'?"

Several occupants of the room looked up sharply, pinning Youji with glares that clearly said to 'shut the fuck up.'

Ran smiled to himself and walked away. He knew he should say yes, should affirm that there was no way he was going to Sakura's party; if he didn't keep rejecting Youji, the blonde might get the wrong idea... instead, he kept walking.

"I'll see you there, then," Youji called quietly before being chased out of the room by a chorus of angry shushes.

"Hey, Ran?"

"No."

Aya blinked at her brother who hadn't even looked up from his book.

"What?"

"I said no."

"You don't even-"

"You want me to drive you over to Sakura's house because you told mom and dad that you're staying the night there, but they don't know that she's throwing a

party tonight and you want me to drop you off because you think *I'm* more likely to give in and say yes."

"Well when you put it like that..."

Ran smiled at the bashful look on his sister's face but it wasn't going to change his mind.

"Come on, Ran," Aya pleaded, kneeling at the foot of the chair he was curled up in. "It's just a party."

"It's not just a party, Aya, it's a cesspool for delinquent activities. Why do you even want to go?"

"All my friends will be there."

"Well then maybe you need new friends."

Aya sighed and snatched Ran's book away when he tried to go back to reading it.

"You're over reacting. You should just come too and see for yourself."

"Right," Ran snorted, trying to take his book back. Aya bounced to her feet and out of his reach.

"Please, Ran?"

"Aya..."

"Please? Just this once... Please?" She hid the book behind her back, pleading with her eyes the way she used to do when they were younger and she'd wanted him to do something like steal cookies from the kitchen. He'd always gotten caught no matter what mission she sent him on, and yet...

"Fine."

Aya shrieked in joy and his book when flying across the room. She hugged him before running off, exclaiming something about needing to change her clothes.

The expression on his face, Ran imagined, was probably somewhere between and indulgent smile and a grimace.

It took forever to find a place to park near Sakura's house, but Aya didn't bound away as soon as they'd gotten out of the car. Ran glanced over at her as they walked towards the noisy and glowing house. Perhaps she was nervous.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" he asked gently.

Aya looked up at him and smiled, "Yeah."

"Alright. If we get seperated, we'll meet by the car at 12:30, okay?"

"I did tell mom and dad I was spending the night..."

"Okay?"

"Okay," Aya affirmed with a roll of her eyes before she opened the front door.

The initial onslaught of sounds and smells were awful, but before Ran even had the chance to stop being horrified, Aya was whirled away by a group of loud, possibly drunk, teenaged girls.

Which left Ran standing alone in the entrance hall. After several moments, he heard the door close behind him.

"If it'll make you feel better," said a low voice into his ear, "I can steal you away so you don't have to stand here awkwardly."

Ran turned to face Youji who was leering at him playfully over the top of his sunglasses.

"If that includes somewhere that smells a little less horrifically, I might go willingly."

Youji's leer melted into a smile and he grabbed Ran's wrist without another word.

Two sets of stairs and three already-occupied rooms later, Ran found himself dragged into what looked like an infrequently-used study. There were two leather couches, a large wooden desk, and several filled book shelves, but nothing to make it feel lived-in. There was, however, no dust Ran noticed as Youji beckoned him over to the couches. He was wondering about the merits of cleaning a room you never used when Youji's amused stare brought him back to the current situation. He was in a semi-lit room with Kudou Youji. Alone. Ran smiled back shortly and sat on the couch Youji wasn't lounging across.

"I'm glade you came," Youji said after a beat of silence.

"I'm just here because my sister begged," replied Ran, wanting to set the record straight.

"Does that work with everyone, or just her?"

"The begging?" When Youji nodded, his eyes seductive but his mouth teasing, Ran decided that he didn't really mind playing this game. "I dunno. It's not often I get begged to do things."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "Ran?" Youji asked, effecting a breathy falsetto. "Will you please come sit on this couch with me? Please, oh please?"

Ran laughed and Youji, encouraged, sat up and leaned forward, reaching out a graceful hand and batting his eyelashes.

"Please?" he asked again, his voice low and... needy. Like he'd die if Ran didn't sit by him right now. Ran found himself crossing to sit next to the blonde, his previous humor replaced by intrigue and, he had to admitt, interest.

"Much better," Youji purred, scooting over so their knees touched.

They stared at each other for several beats before Ran voiced the question that had been bothering him for days. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Stalking me. Did you get bored of all your fangirls? Thought you'd expand your horizons a bit?"

Youji laughed and slid his sunglasses into his hair. "Baby, I was *born* with expanded horizons."

"Then why?"

Youji stared for several seconds before answering.

"Yeah, bordem, I guess. Wanted to be around someone I could actually hold a conversation with."

"You seem to hold plenty of conversations with the girls at school." Ran realized belatedly -- when Youji's eyebrows peaked momentarily -- that he had just admitted to paying atleast some attention to the blonde during school hours.

Youji didn't mention the slip, though. Instead he shrugged, "I flatter their egos, but none of them would want to be seen with me off campus." His eyes were distant for a moment before the leer slid back into place. "But who can blame them for wanting to talk," he said, the smoothness back in his voice. He leaned back and struck a pose. "Wouldn't *you* want to stop and talk with me?"

Ran let his eyes rake up Youji's body from lean, gracefully angled legs and sharp hipbones up to seductively disheveled hair and mischievous eyes.

"Maybe not *talk*..."

Youji grinned and sat up again.

"Yeah?"

Ran shrugged, not quite willing to give Youji permission. But his eyes darted down to Youji's lips and that was all the permission the blonde seemed to need.

He threaded his fingers into Ran's hair just behind his ears and crushed their lips together. It was a chaste kiss despite the intensity. Ran hesitated just long enough for Youji to pull back minutely and then he felt his own name breathed against his lips.

"Please?"

Ran froze, his hand raised halfway between Youji and himself. Youji laughed shortly against his lips and buried his fingers deeper in red hair. "Please? ...Please?"

Ran's hand found its way to Youji's thigh and the blonde's breathy plea changed.

"Please," low and anxious and irresistible, so Ran pressed forward, pressed until Youji was on his back, hands sliding through Ran's hair and down across his shoulders. Youji lifted a leg and Ran braced himself above the blonde with one hand to grab at it, sliding his palm towards Youji's ass.

"Fuck," Youji moaned, pushing up with his hips. A strange noise sounded from the back of Ran's throat and he bit Youji's neck as his hips ground down in return.

Through the haze of lust and the sudden need to get Youji to touch him, Ran could hear a faint beeping. It got louder and louder until Youji was swatting at his hand, trying to get the noise away from his ear and then Ran realized it was coming from his own watch. He sat up suddenly, and pushed at the buttons until the damn thing turned off.

Youji, whose hands were still gripping his hips, looked mildly annoyed, but mostly disbelievingly amused.

"Got somewhere better to be?" he asked, arching his back a little.

Ran took a moment to memorize the blonde before answering.

"Aya's curfew is in an hour."

"You have an alarm set on your watch for your sister's curfew?"

"Yes."

Ran expected an insult, but Youji simply dropped his hands and smiled.

"Fair enough."

It made Ran want to kiss him again, but that would probably be distracting, so instead he climbed out from between Youji's thighs to stand on unsteady legs.

"See you around, then?" Youji asked, glancing up at Ran with an indistinguishable look on his face.

Ran dropped to one knee and kissed him, watched Youji close his eyes and then closed his own. He slid his tongue slowly along Youji's once more and then pulled back an inch.

"See you around," he murmured before standing and hurrying away to find his sister.

berusama @ 2008-10-16T15:58:00

2008-12-02T23:59:04Z

Me: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!!! [glomps Aya and Youji]
Youji: Oh, hey, happy anniversary, sweetheart!
Aya: [aside] Anniversary of what?
Youji: [aside] I have no idea.
Me: It's the two year anniversary of the day I started 'shipping you two!♥! :D
Youji: Oh! Well in that case, we should celebrate. [jumps Aya]
Aya: Gah! Youji- mmh!
Me: XD

fic: wherein youji is destined not to die in an alley (A/Y)

2008-12-02T23:57:41Z

[i don't own WK]

Youji clenched his eyes shut, trusting Aya to watch where he was going for him. He didn't have a clue where they were, but Aya was walking with a purpose, so maybe he had a plan. Or maybe they were still being followed. Youji tried to turn his head and look behind them, but the motion wrenched the bullet wound and he cried out in pain.

"Keep moving, Youji," Aya warned, adjusting Youji's arm across his shoulders to better support him.

"Aya," Youji panted and tried to slow down. It hurt too fucking much and he had to rest soon or he'd pass out. Or rather he wanted to rest soon so he could pass out.

"Aya, stop."

When he didn't, Youji gave up and let his legs crumple beneath him. Aya stopped him from falling completely, but was forced to kneel under Youji's sudden dead weight.

"Get up!" he demanded, but Youji leaned back, hoping for the support of a wall. Instead he found himself lying on cold concrete, Aya looming over him and glaring fiercely.

"Just go," Youji groaned. He felt better on the ground, and if he could just breathe through the pain for a little while longer, he'd pass out and then he'd definitely feel better.

"What?" Aya asked, incredulous and angry, before glaring sharply at the entrance of the alley.

"Leave me here," Youji reiterated, "You'll be faster-"

"Shut up," Aya spat, cutting him off. "I'm not fucking leaving you so get the fuck up right now before I pick you up and drag you to the safe house."

"Good luck with that," Youji whispered and then passed out.

Youji woke to the constant and incredibly annoying beep of a monitor. He tried to ignore it, to go back to sleep, but the damn noise wouldn't stop and holy fuck if it beeped one more fucking time he was going to break something.

It beeped again and Youij's eyes flew open, hands already searching for something to throw. One of them landed in soft red hair, and Youji looked down to find Aya sitting next to his bed, his arms pillowing his head next to Youji's legs. Aya's eyes blinked open, but he didn't move so Youji left his hand where it was.

Eventually, Youji said, "That can't be a comfortable position," and slipped his hand back onto the bed.

"Hn," said Aya, as he sat up stiffly. "How do you feel?"

"Awful. But not dead. Thanks to you, I assume?"

"More specifically, no thanks to you," Aya said, eying him critically.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"What were you thinking?"

"...When I passed out?" Youji asked, suddenly confused. "Not alot, actually."

"No. When you threw yourself to the ground and told me to leave you there."

"Okay, that is not what happened. I was in pain and you weren't listening!"

"So your best idea was to tell me to go on without you? Did you honestly think that would work?"

Youji looked down at the ugly hospital blanket and admitted to himself that he had.

"It's worked before."

When Aya didn't respond, Youji glanced at him through his bangs. Aya was studying the ugly blanket too.

"I'm sorry," Youji said quietly. Aya lifted his head, but his face was carefully blank. "I'll try not to be so dramatic the next time I get shot."

"Just quit getting shot and I won't have to worry."

"Yes, Aya," he said with a smile. "Never again." When Aya didn't smile with him, he reached out and tugged gently on an ear-tail. Aya scowled at him, then, but it barely hid his amusement, so Youji grinned at him and winked.

"Can we get out of here now?"

"Yes," Aya said, standing to reach the call button.

"Will you carry me home too?"

"No."

"Tsk, I thought you cared!"

"I do care, Youji," Aya said, deadly serious. Youji suppressed a shudder as a funny feeling coursed through his veins. "I care about not throwing out my back. You're heavier than you look."

"Hey!" Youji said too loudly as the sudden tightness in his chest eased a bit. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aya was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the nurse, but later when Youji indignantly tried to climb the apartment stairs by himself, not wanting to "strain Aya's back," Aya just smiled and pulled the blonde to his side, easing him up one step at a time.

By the time they got to Youji's room, he was gasping and in need of another dose of pain medication so Aya sat with him until the drugs kicked in. When Youji made a few futile kicking motions in an effort to get his shoes off, Aya took them off for him.

"Oh, baby," Youji purred, amused and drowsy. "You do care."

"I'll be back in a few hours to check on you."

"'kay," Youji responded, eyes already closed. "Love you too. G'night."

Aya stopped in his tracks and turned, but Youji had been drugged and on the verge of sleep, so probably...

He stared at Youji's sleeping form for a full minute before turning out the lights and closing the door behind himself.

berusama @ 2008-10-10T15:53:00

2008-12-02T23:54:28Z

"Pay attention," he whispers, and you can feel his breath against your lips. "This is our first real kiss."

A useless piece of advice, really, because your entire being is already focused on this one moment; you're practically buzzing with anticipation.

So when his lips brush against yours gently and nothing happens, it's a bit of a disappointment. Okay, so you didn't expect actual fireworks or anything, but you did expect something, well... more. Because isn't that what happens with true love? Two people share one magical moment and immediately know that they're destined to be together forever?

He slides a hand around the back of your neck and you shiver. You can feel him smile against your lips and it's an interesting sensation to actually know what that smile feels like.

"You're over-analyzing the situation," he says, his voice low and full of amusement.

"No I'm not," you defend, a little annoyed at his ability to read your mind so easily. To prove your point you wrap your arms around his neck and crush your lips to his.

He doesn't move for a beat, but when you don't pull back he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, almost a sigh, and it kind of sounds like he can't believe this is happening. It's a flattering thought, and you blush as his hands slip into your hair; then you don't think at all for awhile.