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Let the Promptathon Begin!

To join the battle, all you need to do is pick a prompt from below (any prompt, even if it's your own) and write/vid/manip/icon/draw/whatever the most creative bit of whatever you can create! And remember - PLEASE feel free to vid or icon or manip or do something non-written. We love ALL kinds of creative output equally!

When you've written/painted/made it, paste it into the comments here. Once you've done that, you can post it wherever else you want.

You may enter as many times as you like, so long as each entry is completely separate (not a series of linked pieces). Also, please do not link to old work - this should be something new, produced for the challenge, based on one of the prompts.


1. It must fit in one comment, so the limit is 4,300 characters (there's no minimum limit). It can be part of a longer piece that you may post elsewhere, as long as it's something new and based on one of the prompts, but all we want here is the part that you are most proud of. If you make art, if it's larger than 350 px wide, please use a thumbnail linking directly to the piece (directly to the artwork, not a post or site). The thumbnail can be up to 350 px wide, and 300 px high, and should include as much of the art as possible. If it is a vidlet or something else requiring dowloading, like a fanmix, please post the link to where we can download. Feel free to post a teaser image, but please confine yourself to the artwork preview rules.

2. Important! Please use the subject line of your comment to identify the snippet, like so: Title, prompt, rating (i.e. Fandom, Pairing, prompt word, rating system of your choice). For example, I might write: "Staying Awake, One Tree Hill, Lucas/Nathan, rain, R", or "The Sun Has Gone Down, Crossover, Torchwood/Stargate Atlantis, Jack/John, under fire, for all ages".

3. You have one week – the post will close for new entries next Sunday, April 1, at midnight eastern standard time. PLEASE be certain to check the World Time Clock to verify the deadline time in your area.

4. Don't forget that these prompts are only written as character one/character two for convience, NOT because of any requirement to make it a relationship story! Gen and friend are very welcome here. They can be interpreted in ANY WAY, so just imagine the FUN possiblities. You can take one prompt and write it, draw it, icon it, fanmix it, AND vid it. (Although if you have the time to do all of that in the week that these prompts are open, I might just have to kill myself out of jealousy :o) And you can use the characters in a different way each time. Don't be afraid to think outside the box!

5. Please don't post anything but your creations or feedback/feedback replies (to individual stories) here. If you've got any questions or comments, please leave them on this post right here, NOT on this post that you are currently reading. We'd like to keep this purely for the creative output (and feedback on the creations - readers/voyeurs, please do show the writers/artists much love for their creative offerings).

The prompts are right here
Thanks SO much to sageness for coding and lending hosting space on her site!

The prompts using only one character were listed first, followed by the prompts for more than one character. ALL crossovers are under both fandoms, so you don't need to worry about looking in multiple places for your crossovers - those listed under Smallville are the same listed under Supernatural, if you are looking for prompts for a Smallville/Supernatural crossover.

Finally! Warning: ALL ratings are acceptable here, from the things that you would show your aged grandmother, all the way up to to the things that would make a sailor blush. Use your own discretion, and please label your stories, art, and other creative output accordingly.

Thank you kindly!

rules stolen from oxoniensis and her AMAZING porn battle


( 647 comments — Leave a comment )
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Mar. 30th, 2007 07:38 pm (UTC)
'Things I'll Never Say', Due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid, PG-ish
Large version (20.33 MB)

Small version (9.12 MB)

Both links lead to FileFront where you will be given the choice of either downloading or streaming the vid. I recommend downloading because of the dramatic difference in quality.
Mar. 30th, 2007 11:44 pm (UTC)
Re: 'Things I'll Never Say', Due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid, PG-ish
So this vid? PRETTY MUCH MADE OF AWESOME. I love, love, LOVE the use of the sound in the clips intercut with the lyrics of the song. I am usually leery about it, but honestly, I don't know that I've EVER seen it used to such a wonderful effect. The end seriously made me tear up. *twirls you around* Thank you SO much for playing!!! :o)
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:08 pm (UTC)
"Morning Has Broken" Good Omens - Crowley/Aziraphale, first light - rated G
While it is widely agreed that one of the first things God said was ‘Let There Be Light,’ it is generally less reported that it was several weeks (those having being invented, somewhat confusingly, before days but after years) until the final colour scheme— such as it went— was decided on.

Aziraphale, the Angel at the Gates of Eden, clothéd all in white and carrying a great flaming sword, was staring at the left knee area of his robe. He appeared to have a grass stain, although the rather unusual sunrise (shades of green and orange, with the occasional dash of grey) was making it hard to tell.

“You’d think that He’d maybe have sat down and thought about this kind of stuff before making everything, wouldn’t you?”

The Angel at the Gates of Eden, clothéd all in white (except for the region of his left knee) and carrying a great flaming sword looked down. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Who else is it likely to be?” the serpent, whose name was Crawly, asked. “It’s not like there’s anything interesting up here yet.” A pause, while he surveyed the in-progress sunrise. “Well, not much.”

The angel, who had recently decided to shorten his name to something less like a job description and preferred to be just plain Aziraphale, rubbed at the stain with one hand and hummed in a distracted fashion.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Crawly pouted as best as his current form allowed and raised himself up so he could see the stain. “I don’t know, not even a whole fortnight in Creation and you’ve already messed up your robes.” Crawly managed a kind of hissing tut as he shook his head.

“What?” Aziraphale blinked and looked at the snake, covering the stain with one hand. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re on about, my dear. And what, precisely, is a ‘fortnight’?”

Crawly shrugged— no mean feat for someone without obvious shoulders— and flicked his tail. “Down Below just invented it,” he said. “Something to do with paving the way for the package holiday.” He glanced around then back to the angel. “Before you ask; No. I have no idea what a package holiday is.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sighed and squinted at the sun. It appeared to be a rather unattractive shade of lime today. “I do hope they don’t settle on this for the final setting,” he said somewhat plaintively.

“It could be worse,” Crawly said. “It could be my side sorting out the lighting arrangements and weather. We’d be neck deep in rains of blood and pitiless ultraviolet radiation.”

“Ultraviolet radiation?”

“It just appeared in my head,” Crawly sounded disgruntled. “They just do that, you know.” He concentrated for a moment. “Something else to do with the package holidays, apparently. And the ozone layer, whatever that is.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale made an effort to stop fussing over the (probable) grass stain and instead elected to polish his sword. It had been rather too smoky recently.

The lime green sun inched higher into the distressed tangerine sky.

“Ink ai ood oo is aac eh oo-ans, re-ae um ifowowee?”

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale stared down at Crawly, who had curled himself into a circle and appeared to be eating himself.

“Oor-oob ur oos?”

“I really can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Crawly spat out his tail and gave Aziraphale a faintly disgusted look. “Some angel you are,” he muttered. “I said; d’you think I should do this in front of the humans, create some good mythology for them?”

“My dear, humans are right down at the bottom of the list at the moment, He’s got a thousand other things to sort out before He gets to them.”

“No shame in planning ahead.” Crawly curled himself into a disgruntled looking heap. “Evil never sleeps and all that.”

“Of course it doesn’t; neither does Good.” Aziraphale shook his head and went back to polishing his sword.

Crawly resisted the urge to bite the angel on the ankle. There was no need to get so— so— angelic about things. Tilting his head slightly, the serpent stared at the sky.

“If they keep this as the final choice, I’m going back Down Below,” he muttered, primarily to himself.
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:21 pm (UTC)
Re: "Morning Has Broken" Good Omens - Crowley/Aziraphale, first light - rated G
I... I totally love this. Yeah, I have nothing constructive as I have been reduced to a little puddle of squee. Lime green sun!
(Deleted comment)
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:12 pm (UTC)
Graduation, due South, Vecchio, uniform, G
Ray was nervous as he adjusted his tie. His mother had already shined his buttons twice and had spent at least ten minutes brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder. Ray had to admit as embarrassing as it was to be an adult and have your mother make sure he was dressed properly, the fact she was proud of him meant he’d happily endure several hours of fussing.

She was sitting out there now with Maria. Ray hadn’t expected his Pop to come. The uniform Ray now wore was something his father thought of as the ultimate failure of Ray as a son but Ray didn’t care. He liked this uniform. Sure the shirt itched a little and his hat was a bit too big, causing it to fall forward slightly, but he’d earned the right to wear it. He’d managed to earn something on his own for the first time in his life.

He was a guy with a career, with a future, with the possibility of doing something good in his life and not wasting it playing pool and drinking beer. He looked at the star shaped shield on his chest, the silver a nice contrast against the navy blue. Chicago PD, he was part of the Chicago PD. He wore the uniform to prove it. And he was going show everybody it was more than the right to wear a uniform he was earning today.

He checked his gloves one last time. His palms were sweaty; he jest hoped his gloves would stay dry for the presentation. He took his position with the other graduating cadets. He took a deep breath as he walked forward with them, about to become a fully fledged cop, wearing his uniform with pride.
Apr. 8th, 2007 07:36 pm (UTC)
Re: Graduation, due South, Vecchio, uniform, G
I like this glimpse into Ray's past.
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:19 pm (UTC)
Interlude, due South, Fraser/Vecchio, dark, PG
Fraser opened his eyes. It was dark in the apartment and there was barely any light from the streetlights outside but it didn’t matter. It was nice to close his eyes and use his other sense. He could feel the warm body next to him, Ray’s breath on his skin and the sound of Ray’s heart beating. He could smell Ray, himself, their mingled scents and smiled.

It might be dark but he could still sense the love in the room. It was lying beside him. Satisfied Fraser drifted off back to sleep.
Apr. 8th, 2007 07:38 pm (UTC)
Re: Interlude, due South, Fraser/Vecchio, dark, PG
Very sweet, made me smile happily. :)
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:27 pm (UTC)
Together, due South, Fraser/Vecchio, belonging, G
Far from home, in an unfamiliar city Fraser should have felt completely out of place. This wasn’t his country, the people here were different, the culture was different, this was the place he was most of out of place. And yet he belonged here.

He belonged in a place with tall buildings and concrete, where fresh air was virtually non-existent. He belonged in a place where when it did snow the snow was trampled on or cleared away and there were few stars in the night sky. He belonged in Chicago because he belonged with one of its residents, Ray Vecchio.


Ray had always felt a bit out of place. Sure Chicago was his home he’d been born and brought up in the city, the city was where his life was but he’d never felt like he belonged, not quite.

He never fitted in at work, not really. He’d struggled when he was with a partner, he’d struggled less without one, so he was left on his own, doing the caseload of two. Sometimes he felt he shouldn’t be a cop, that he didn’t belong as a detective. Then he’d met someone with whom he did belong, one Benton Fraser.


It was late, just after 1AM and the guy Ray had been staking out had yet to appear. The long nights used to drag much more when Fraser wasn’t there to tell Inuit stories, or pass on handy survival tips or just listen to Ray comment on how cold he was getting. Then Fraser would take Ray’s hand and Ray would squeeze it and both of them would know, just know that they belonged. Whether it was in the Riv, on a stakeout or in a bustling street together, they belonged.
Apr. 8th, 2007 07:54 pm (UTC)
Re: Together, due South, Fraser/Vecchio, belonging, G
Love this! :)

And sorry for spamming you, I'm just catching up on my reading. :)
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:45 pm (UTC)
Unspoken, Sports Night, Dan/Casey/Dana, as long as, R
They're not exactly sure how they got here and if you asked them tomorrow, you'd get three very different rationalizations about why they did it: too much to drink, too caught up celebrating to realize when the line was crossed, too desperate to cling to what was nearly lost.

By unspoken agreement, they do something very unnatural to them: they don't speak. Gasps and guttural moans fill the air, but no words. As long as they talk, don't cry out each other's names, then it's not really real and they won't have to spend the following weeks parsing meaning and having repeated conversations about how it will never happen again and how it won't change anything. They won't have to call it a mistake.

As long as they don't talk, they can step aside from everything else and just be here and now, three bodies: drunk and celebrating and desperate.
Apr. 1st, 2007 12:28 pm (UTC)
Re: Unspoken, Sports Night, Dan/Casey/Dana, as long as, R
Oooooh,and ouch!
Mar. 30th, 2007 10:35 pm (UTC)
Anecdotal, Green Wing, Caro(/Guy), wonky,
Caroline has never been the soul of grace. She knows it. Her hands are steady, but her heart isn't, and she's got that funny walk and can't ever quite match her top to her trousers.

This time she's really done it, though. Here she is in a strange man's apartment, blocked loo, disgusting kitchen things, and no Toblerone in sight. No Bollinger either.

"Shit," she says again, and leans momentarily against the nearest wall. With her forehead pressed to the paint, she feels calmer. She takes a few deep breaths, which isn't advisable really, given the smell, and says "Shit" one last time before crossing the little foyer to the door. When she opens it, Guy tumbles in, having apparently had his ear pressed to the panels.

"Just trying to get comfortable," he says from the floor, standing up slowly so that he almost slides up her front. She skitters backwards.

"You can't sleep in the hall," she says. "That's ridiculous. This is your flat."

He smiles, this lazy, bashful grin that she knows - she knows - is put on, but her knees still go a little wobbly. Her balance is wonky at the best of times and he's got her completely off-kilter with the eyes and the twattishness and the Bollinger and the smell of his throat through the open neck of his shirt (are those roses?).

"So how about that something to eat?" he says, and they end up making omelet with mushrooms and some cheese she finds in the back of his fridge. There's no Bollinger, but there is a nice white wine, and then she takes a shower while he makes up the couch for himself. She comes out wearing her pajamas and he's watching tv, half-sprawled on the couch, and she stands there for a minute with her mouth open and nothing really to say.

"Ready for bed?" he says in a rich flirty voice. She puts her hands on her hips, trying to be affronted. "Not like that, Caroline" he says, "I just want to make sure you're comfortable. You're my guest."

She sits cautiously in a chair and draws her feet up. "I'm fine, thank you," she says. "Actually, I feel like a human being again."

His eyebrow quirks. "Did you feel like an alien before?"

"Metaphorically?" she says, and ruffles her drying hair. "Not like with green skin and tentacles and everything. Just out-of-place."

He props his chin in his hand, and it's such a calculated move, but there's no denying she could use a friend, if not more, and he really has got lovely eyes under those massive eyebrows. "Tell me about it," he says sympathetically, and she finds herself actually doing it, telling him the whole story of the missing keys and her brother's inability to stay in one place for any length of time, and her mother's delight over the fact that her daughter was finally a doctor.

"I think it confuses her," she says, curled into the chair, and he's still watching her attentively, which is astounding. "I mean, her knowledge of medicine is going down to the pharmacy for a packet of aspirin. And once she was thinking about buying a foot spa - we've got hard toenails in my family - but she couldn't decide whether Epsom salts would be prescription or not." She leans her chin into her hand. "I wish she'd bought it. I always wanted one of those."

He tells her about Switzerland, about Zurich and Gstaad and a little bit about some boat he seems to have and some house in France, and his voice is soothing, and she's nodding off.

"You look exhausted," he says, and she knows it's because she is exhausted, but his voice seems to be wrapping around her like something warm and comforting. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll wake you in the morning."

"I can take a taxi," she mumbles, losing ground quickly to the yawns. "Left the car at the...place. Too much bloody stuff in it."

"Don't be silly, Caroline," he says, affectionate amusement in his tone. "I'll take you."

Take me to bed, she thinks about saying, but drags herself out of the chair and mooches toward the bedroom. At the door, she pauses and turns. "Thanks," she says. "It's generous of you to have me over."

"Not a problem," he says. "Sweet dreams, Caroline."

She goes into the bedroom and leans her cheek briefly against the door before she tumbles into his bed, asleep almost before she can press her face into his pillows.
Mar. 30th, 2007 10:41 pm (UTC)
Re: Anecdotal, Green Wing, Caro(/Guy), wonky,
Oh good god, I am so in love with this. It's so perfect. And you've got the foot spa in there! And did I mention that it's PERFECT?

*smooshes Guy and Caroline both seperately and together*

(Also I admire Caroline's willpower. I would've totally given in to Guy.)
Mar. 30th, 2007 11:20 pm (UTC)
Perpetuity, Green Wing, Mac(/Caro/Guy), then, PG
Mac feels himself slipping into past tense already. Even standing next to Caroline at the altar, even kissing Caroline on the lawn after dragging her out of the sky, he's aware of himself as a story she'll tell later. He tries hard to live in the present, but it turns out that's difficult when there's no future. In bed, he can forget, but he can't spend all his time in bed. More's the pity.

He smiles. He copes. He loves his wife. He goes to work. And he buys a notebook.

"What are you doing?" Guy says, leaning too close over his shoulder.

"Writing my memoirs," Mac says, ignoring the way that Guy's breathing into his ear. "That way I can exist in perpetuity, and everyone will know what a wanker you were."

"Yeah, well," says Guy, sitting down almost in Mac's lap. "Maybe you should spend a little less time with the pen and a little more time perpetuating. Wouldn't want your wife to leave you before you've even kicked off."

"You are the consummate gentleman," Mac says, scribbling down he doesn't even know what anymore, but he feels like he should leave something for Caro and Guy, because no matter if he tells them he loves them a hundred times a day (and he can't quite imagine saying those words to Guy), it won't be enough. Strange how dying clarifies things.

"Actually," Guy says, and his thigh is pressed against Mac's, and his elbow is in Mac's ribs, "I'm not sure I want to know what a ginger/ex-and-future-fiancée child would look like. Both of you have got shit hair and no fashion sense."

"It's good to know you care," Mac says. He keeps writing in the future tense, as if there will be a future. He wants to remind them of the good times, but he can't bring himself to say "was" and "were" and "have done" when he can't say "will be" and "will do".

"Actually..." says Guy, still too close. "I do. Care. If you were wondering." And Mac turns his face to give Guy his best puzzled look, and Guy kisses him. It's awkward and sloppy and Guy tastes like that awful yogurt of Martin's, but then Guy puts his hand around the back of Mac's head and slides so that their mouths actually line up, and that's better. Astronomically better. Guy's mouth urges his open and there's that long tongue and the taste of blackberries. And it's not even weird to be kissing his best friend. Mac feels like he's actually in the moment for the first time in weeks.

"You ginger tosspot," says Guy, with his mouth against Mac's cheek and their noses mashed together. "Don't die. We still have things to do."

Mac laughs but it turns into a sob.
Mar. 30th, 2007 11:28 pm (UTC)
Re: Perpetuity, Green Wing, Mac(/Caro/Guy), then, PG

*a lot*

Lovely. And sad. And the boys were so them and the kiss was mmmmmmm and now I have to go and blow my nose.

Mar. 31st, 2007 01:56 am (UTC)
Never Enough Angel the Series Angel, time (gen) PG-13
Angel stared out the window at the skyline of his city one last time. Time. Such a funny concept.

Back when he’d been Liam he’d thought he had all the time in the world. He was young, plenty of time for wine, women and song. Father had wanted Liam to marry, settle down, have children and take over the family business. No time for that, there was a world to see.

Then Darla came and gave him time immeasurable. Days and nights spread out before him like a blanket. He was Angelus now and he took his time, savored every moment to its fullest, filling every second with screams and blood and sex. Time filtered past him slow and sensuous like a lover’s caress. Time enough to love Darla in his way, to torture and turn Drusilla, to love his childe and preen as she made her own, to teach young William and be with him, just that one time.

Time a plenty for a kill he would always regret and never forget. Angel was born and time had no meaning now. He left the shores of Europe behind for America. Day melted into day, night blended into night. Years came and went and when Whistler showed up, he wanted nothing more than to end his time on this Earth.

Buffy slowed time once more, bringing purpose to his existence. Time again for love, of a different sort. Time for shadows and secrets and longing. Time to reunite with family, to return to the beast he’d been. Angelus. Making sport of the Watcher and his Slayer. Until time again had no meaning in hell.

He had no memory of his stay there save for the loss of time again. This time days drew out forever, each second lasting a lifetime, endless minutes of drawn out pain. Suffering of a kind that Angelus would have envied giving to his victims. Until he returned and time sped up, torturing him again with a love he could never have.

Los Angeles ran on its own time. It sped up and slowed down on a whim. Not enough time to save Doyle. Too much time to sleep with Darla. Betrayal in an instant. Death prolonged over months. A year erased by magic. A year spent to close to evil. Spike saved. Fred and Cordelia lost. Illyria gained. His chance at redemption lost with the stroke of a pen. His legacy alive with his son.

Time had seen it all. And now, once last time, the Champion was called. He’d sent them all away to spend there time as they wished. He’d spent his wishing for more.
Mar. 31st, 2007 05:47 pm (UTC)
Re: Never Enough Angel the Series Angel, time (gen) PG-13
I'm fascinated with the idea of time, so this hit a really good note for me. I love the idea of Angel having different views in his different incarnations. Lovely.
Mar. 31st, 2007 09:30 am (UTC)
Oh, this is lovely.

And it's just so right. I can easily see Ma Vecchio doing this and Ray letting her despite feeling embarrassed, but deep down liking it.

Mar. 31st, 2007 12:58 pm (UTC)
Thank you I'm glad you enjoyed it. I always thought Ma would be proud.
(no subject) - nakeisha - Mar. 31st, 2007 02:52 pm (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 31st, 2007 09:30 am (UTC)
Very touching and lovely.
Mar. 31st, 2007 01:00 pm (UTC)
Thank you.
Mar. 31st, 2007 11:33 am (UTC)
Whispers, NCIS, Tony/Gibbs, Now!, R
Larger Image Here

Apr. 1st, 2007 06:53 pm (UTC)
Re: Whispers, NCIS, Tony/Gibbs, Now!, R
Oh, WOW! That is stunning. Beautiful and intense and just exploding with heat.
Re: Whispers, NCIS, Tony/Gibbs, Now!, R - leyna55 - Apr. 2nd, 2007 09:12 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 31st, 2007 02:46 pm (UTC)
Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid
Ray gets out of the shower to the sound of the six o'clock news. The sun's setting--he can see the light coming in all golden through the high-up bathroom window. The birds are going crazy out there.

He gets dressed and goes out into the living room. Fraser's on the couch, already showered, concentrating on cleaning up his hand. He has it resting on his own knee and he's using the other hand to pull all these tiny little slivers of glass out from under his skin. Has a pair of tweezers to make it easier; has the lamp turned so its light falls right where he needs it to. His face has no expression on it at all, except maybe concentration. Every time he gets a new sliver un-stuck, he drops it into a saucer on the coffee table in front of him: chink.

Ray goes into the kitchen so he can make sure Dief's fed and watered (yep) and also so he can put on a kettle for Fraser and a pot of coffee for himself. Then he digs his glasses out of the pocket of his jacket and clears stuff off the coffee table, stacks the old bills and newspapers and flyers on the floor. He pushes Fraser's gross saucer to one side and sits down in its place, right in front of Fraser. Fraser looks up but he doesn't say anything, not even when Ray takes the tweezers out of his good hand and lifts the hurt one in his own, so he can see it better. And--jeeze, what a mess.

He pushes his glasses up with the back of his hand and gets to work. Fraser sits quiet and watches him do it. On the news, they say that employment is up and crime is down. They say that there is trouble in Sierra Leone and an earthquake in Iran and that some famous kid of some famous celebrity was caught with a shitload of drugs. Fraser clears his throat. "Well, thank goodness for the intrepid reporter who brought us that last story," he says.

Ray grins and drops the latest bastard sliver into the saucer beside him. Pain makes Fraser sarcastic. Good to know.

"I think there's one there," Fraser murmurs, tilting his hand so Ray can see the bloody scratch on the knuckle of that pinky, and yeah, shit--at least two or three more. He works those free, carefully, then examines Fraser's hand again, looking for any he missed. He can't see any.

"Make a fist," he tells Fraser, and Fraser obeys, gently, squeezing Ray's hand in his own. Ray looks up at him. "What do you think?"

Fraser squeezes a second time. "I think you may have found all of them--that feels much better."

Ray huffs a laugh, his eyes on the mess that is the back of Fraser's hand. "Yeah, well," he says. "Good. But don't get up yet--we're not done." He finds the antibiotic cream Fraser brought out of his bathroom and spreads that over everything, then wraps the whole hand up with a bunch of gauze, tapes the end of the gauze in place. And that is pretty much that. Except it isn't, because he is still holding Fraser's hand, and he is still sitting there on the coffee table with Fraser's knee resting against his own and Fraser's sock-clad foot nudging the toes of his bare one, and in his head he is still seeing Fraser's face when he put that fist through the window of Jarte's burning garage so he could get Ray out. There was something huge, there, and it is not a thing which Ray expected, and thus it is not a thing with which he is sure he knows how to deal.

So instead of dealing, he sits there looking at Fraser's bandaged hand like maybe it can tell him what steps are next, and he listens to the way that Fraser's breath is speeding up and his own is speeding up and then he nearly has a heart attack when Fraser's good hand touches the back of his neck. Those fingers just brush him there, gently, then move down to squeeze his shoulder.

Fraser clears his throat again. "Ray," he says.

Ray lifts his head, meets Fraser's eyes. "Yeah?"

Fraser licks his bottom lip, like he's nervous, which, Jesus--he better be. But when he speaks, what he says is, "I think the kettle's going to boil dry." And damned if he isn't right.

Ray laughs, because he can't help it, and he gets up to pull the stupid kettle off the stove, and then he stands there in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, breathing, looking out at the darkening street, before he heads back into the living room to change everything.
Mar. 31st, 2007 04:12 pm (UTC)
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid
So very, very beautiful. The way you write is so vivid that I can see it happening. It's the little details that make it perfect, like the news articles and Ray in bare feet and Fraser in socks.
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:22 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:28 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:28 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:27 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:26 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:26 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:25 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 3rd, 2007 06:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sliver, due South, Fraser/Kowalski, unsaid - sprat - Apr. 14th, 2007 04:13 pm (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 31st, 2007 02:52 pm (UTC)
Aww, so lovely.

So sweet.

And it says it all.
Mar. 31st, 2007 07:15 pm (UTC)
Some Kind of Compromise, Green Wing, Mac/Guy, jelly, 15
"There you are, you fucker," said Guy.

"Here I am," Mac agreed, perched on the countertop of one of the nurses' stations. "Go and hide, go on." His innocent expression was belied by the cup of jelly he held, half-eaten with the spoon still in. Red flavour, Guy thought. That complete and utter ginger tosspot of a surgeon.

"Right," said Guy. "Come down from there, you perching ponce. Once again you have impugned my honor and now we must duel."

"Sorry?" said Mac, lifting another spoonful of jelly to his lips, which were stained pink. "I thought we were in a hospital, not a medieval schoolyard. I've done what?"

"Impugned my honor," Guy repeated. "Get down and fight like a man. Except you're not one, you're a girl, with your devious tactics."

"There are times," said Mac, not setting the jelly down, "when you are utterly, utterly incomprehensible, Secretan. Don't you have some anesthetizing to do?"

"That's it," said Guy, and lunged. He grabbed for the jelly and only succeeded in knocking the cup out of Mac's hand and splattering the rest of the jelly all over Mac's face. "Oh, fuck it," he muttered, and continued the lunge, licking the jelly off Mac's chin and cheeks.

"What the fuck...?" Mac started, but Guy shut him up with a deep kiss, licking at Mac's lips and teeth, tasting jelly everywhere. To his surprise, Mac started kissing back, and Guy took Mac's face in his hands to hold him still. Damned if Mac wasn't delicious even under the taste of the jelly, and Guy didn't even mind when Mac hooked one calf around the Guy's hips and pulled him closer. He could feel the beginnings of some very pleasant sensations stirring below his belt, and where he was pressed into the juncture of Mac's legs, it was clear that Mac was equally pleased with the situation.

"Well," said Guy, breathing roughly. "That's settled."

"Is it?" said Mac. "I think it merits some more discussion, somewhere less populated and more horizontal."

"Are you going to stop taking all the fucking jelly?" Guy demanded, his hand running up and down Mac's thigh without any real thought on his part.

"I think we can come to some kind of compromise," Mac murmured, and Guy licked a last spot of jelly off his cheek. The day was looking promising.
Apr. 1st, 2007 12:30 pm (UTC)
Re: Some Kind of Compromise, Green Wing, Mac/Guy, jelly, 15
Can I just say mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm? This makes me think I could even like jelly (blech) if this is what you get to do with it.

Mmm, Guy with the public displays of affection.
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