the wrong end of the telescope

Greta didn't figure it out until she met Patrick. Because before then, music had just sort of been a defense mechanism, something she hid behind so people didn't look at her too much. But when she met Patrick, and she was playing and singing, voice mingling with Bob's, she watched as he went from unhappy and tired (when he came in) and relaxed and laughing by the time they were done.

The thing was, she'd totally have played it off as them being awesome if she hadn't looked around the room and seen that exact expression on everyone's face, right down to the tilt of their mouths and the open, happy gazes. She shivered, and resolved to try it out again later.

So there it was. She could sway people's mood when she played, and it wasn't just that she was a fucking great performer, thank you very much, she knew she was. But she'd seen people propose on the dance floor; she'd played Gabe down from a grade-A freakout; she'd seen someone fly once, just a little, skipping six inches further off the ground with every leap. She was magical, that was just the way it was.

And then she met Hermione Granger, and nothing would ever be the same again.

From:

mrsquizzical.livejournal.com

aaaahaha! that's wonderful! also quite plausible! greta is magic. that is not much of a stretch! \o/

(&hermione;)

From:

egelantier.livejournal.com

z and charlotte, some sort of variation on tam lin - z getting charlotte back from the elf queen. m?

From:

"Friendship is not enough," said the fairy queen, indolent and cruel and so, so beautiful, Z could hardly stand it. Charlotte's face turned white when she heard that, white beneath the dark hair that was falling in her eyes, and Z thought, she doesn't know. How can she not know?

Slowly, carefully, she knelt down and held her hand out to Charlotte, and she said, clearly and carefully, falling into the older form of address effortlessly, "But I am asking out of love, your majesty. I am asking out of a love that will not leave me alone, that will not dissipate for all the hurts that she has caused me." She could hear Charlotte's breathing speed up.

"You cannot live without her, is that so?" the queen said, mouth twisting.

Z shook her head, still on her knees.

"Then hold on," said the queen, and Z grabbed for Charlotte, who was changing in her arms: bird turning to snake turning to lion and rat and spider, and Z clutched and held and dug her fingers into fur and feather and wing, biting her lip against the sting of claws and beaks.

And then, then there was a girl in her arms, naked and crying, chains falling off like water, melting back into the earth. Z was crying too, holding still tighter. They heard the fairy queen laughing as she left, saying something about foolish mortals and the love they didn't understand, and Z knew she'd have to watch for signs for the rest of their life: the fae are not gracious in their losing.

But it didn't matter. She slid off her cardigan and her scarf and bundled Charlotte into them, the scarf a makeshift skirt around her waist.

Charlotte laughed at her, wiping at her eyes, and inspected her new outfit in the water of the lake. "Lovely," she said, but she was looking at Z now, not at herself.

"Let's go home," Z said, instead of Never leave me again or I thought I'd lost you or any of those other awful cliches that came to mind.

Charlotte nodded, at any rate, and held out her hand. Z wasn't sure why holding hands felt like a much bigger step than naked hugging, but it definitely did, and she had to take a deep breath before she managed it. Charlotte laughed at her again, but there was nothing mocking in her laughter, and she gripped Z's hand so tight it hurt. Z didn't say anything about it, holding on right back.

From:

egelantier.livejournal.com

. Z wasn't sure why holding hands felt like a much bigger step than naked hugging, but it definitely did, and she had to take a deep breath before she managed it.

and yes, ohhh. thank you ♥

From:

Me too:

Z wasn't sure why holding hands felt like a much bigger step than naked hugging, but it definitely did, and she had to take a deep breath before she managed it.

♥ ♥ ♥

From:

kyasuriin.livejournal.com

mmmm, I really liked this. I heart holding hands.

From:

I would like baby Z/Charlotte/Tennessee fic, when they're falling in love with each other and their band. Maybe set on their first tour? (I think they were like, 16-18 then, though I'm not sure.)

From:

also: ♥♥ hi.

From:

On their first tour...with magic? :D?

"I can't figure it out," Charlotte said crossly, flicking her wand for the fifteenth time. Tennessee--she refused to call it snickering, what she was doing was far more dignified--muffled a laugh behind her hand, and then looked at Charlotte placatingly when she turned her murderous gaze from the broken amp to Tennessee.

"No, Charlotte, I think you have to slide your wand, like so," she said, moving her own wand in demonstration. "Otherwise it doesn't mesh correctly with the spoken incantation."

Charlotte set her jaw and tried again. This time they both heard the snap of a spell going right, and grinned in victory.

Then Charlotte reached out for Tennessee, tugging at her wrist.

"Come on," she said, looking up through her eyelashes. Tennessee knew that look, oh, did she ever. She swallowed.

"Z's going to be back soon" she heard herself saying, but she was looking at Charlotte's mouth.

"Eh, whatever," Charlotte said, the last muffled against Tennessee's lips.

Tennessee broke away, through a supreme force of will if you asked her, and said, "But really, I think she'd want us to wait. Wouldn't you?"

Charlotte looked a little wild, and that meant, Tennessee knew, that meant she'd been waiting, which wasn't precisely a good thing for a part-Veela.

"Okay," she said hurriedly, sliding her fingers down to trace over Charlotte's waist.

And then they both felt Z coming back, because they couldn't ever not feel it when she was around. Tennessee remembered one of their professors practically weeping when Z said she didn't want to go on to university for Magical Studies.

They turned around and Z grinned at them both. "Started without me, huh?" she said, but she didn't sound angry, rather the opposite, in fact.

"So come here," Charlotte said, and Z went.

Really, Tennessee thought, watching them kiss, it wasn't ever right unless it was all of them, and she thought if they kept on for long enough, maybe they'd set something on fire again. No cakes in the vicinity this time, though.

Edited Date: 2010-05-05 01:14 pm (UTC)

From:

Oh my god, Vee, this. *__* Part-Veela Charlotte and Z being powerful enough that they can feel her coming back, and burning cakes in a whole new way, omg, I love it so much. <3333 &you;

From:

I don't know if you even know Xena Warrior Princess canon? But the last article on The Like kept talking about Zena Berg, and once I was done snickering I found I shamefully wanted a Xena!Z/Gabrielle!Tennessee story.

Or something possibly more suited to you, this is Lyn-Z/Tennessee in my head:

When Lindsey saw the great man perform with his inventions, when she saw the living doll who danced to the self-winding accordion, she heard the cheers and laughter around her as though from a distance. She couldn't believe nobody else saw the sadness in the doll's eyes.

From:

Since you said you'd try, I also want a Laena coffee shop AU in the vein of all Jon Walker coffee shop AUs ever, where Laena is the awesome barista who Annie/Z/Tennessee/I'm-not-really-fussy can never remember how to talk around, only smile helplessly.

From:

AHA. Set in a high school AU. *looks mysterious*

"So rehearsal was okay," Annie says.

Laena hums noncommittally, flicking at the switches of the espresso machine, and then she hands over Annie's mocha. It's perfect.

Annie sips at it carefully and tries not to stare too obviously at Laena where she's back at the counter, taking the order of someone who bounces too much and grins too obviously. He might go to their school, actually.

Annie hasn't figured out how to smile that big without looking ridiculous, and anyway she tries not to do it around Laena, because surely eventually she'll figure it out.

She can't help but to grin a little when Laena comes back to her between orders, ostensibly to check if she needs anything but really to say, "Hey, I forgot--that new thing you showed us, it was awesome. Made up for how other things are not so great, you know?"

"Really?" Annie grins big, then, because she's such a sucker, such a sucker for Laena complimenting her. "Um, I mean, the only thing sucking is, like."

"Yeah," sighs Laena. "Also, Z and I keep going out of sync and stuff, but you, you're always really on." She slips a cookie over the counter to Annie, who tries to look innocent when taking it but probably fails. (Laena's not supposed to give out cookies, obviously. But her boss isn't working, so it's probably okay.)

"Hey," she says then, possibly emboldened by the sugar. "Want to, I mean, Z has a thing, but we could get together and work on some stuff anyway?"

Laena smiles, slow. "Yeah, I was thinking--" and then she looks over at the line and makes this hilariously horrified face.

"Go work!" Annie says between giggles. "Later, we'll talk when you get off here." And she absolutely does not blush this time. Mostly.

From:

almostblue.livejournal.com

I LOVE YOU.

(...Oh god we probably don't have room for this, do we? But I want it. I want it so bad. Laena working at the coffee shop and Annie pining and it's so cliche but no one ever writes it with girls and. And. I don't even. I want it.)

From:

You can find room! Surely you can find room? *earnest pining eyes*

From:

almostblue.livejournal.com

I shall have to discuss this with my partner in crime when she wakes up. *nods* Although, I say this as though I haven't already emailed her going !!!!

From:

Dude, there is NO ROOM for anything but hints. I don't think. But we could write an outtake?

From:

An outtake! I vote outtake. ♥ It can be NOT EPIC, even.

From:

I HAD NOT SEEN THIS. OMG. &HEARTS;___&HEARTS;

From:

I know, right? DARLING ANNIE.

PS. Am pretty sure my crush on Laena is visible from SPACE. Send help, pls.

From:

When Lindsey saw the great man perform with his inventions, when she saw the living doll who danced to the self-winding accordion, she heard the cheers and laughter around her as though from a distance. She couldn't believe nobody else saw the sadness in the doll's eyes.

It was her third time seeing this show; she'd followed it here, to Memphis, Tennessee. It hadn't gotten any less sad along the way.

Lindsey stuck around after, hanging back as he signed autographs, the doll standing behind him, head tilted, unnaturally still. Lindsey couldn't stop looking at her.

Slowly, she backed away, sliding down to hide between two seats in the auditorium. When he was whisked away, the magician-inventor, taken to dinner by his entourage, she stayed, wedged uncomfortably and straining not to sneeze from the dust.

Then everything went quiet. Lindsey scrambled out, stretching her arms out to try and get rid of the strain, and looked up.

The doll was looking right at her.

"Hi," said Lindsey, wondering if she needed to be wound up to talk.

The doll blinked. "Hi," she said uncertainly.

"You, can you talk all the time?" Lindsey asked, unable to figure out how to say what she really wanted to say, which was, "Come away with me."

"Yes," the doll said. "I can talk all the time." She was fidgeting a little, fingers thumbing at the hem of her skirt.

"Do you," Lindsey swallowed, "Do you eat?"

"Not really," said the doll. "I can, but it's not necessary."

"Do you like to?"

The doll looked at her like she had no idea what Lindsey just asked her.

"Do you like food?"

"I don't. I don't know." She looked unhappy at that.

Lindsey bit her lip. "Would you like to find out?"

"I can't go anywhere," the doll said listlessly. "I have to wait to get stored away for the night."

No, Lindsey thought. No you fucking don't have to. "Come on," she said, smiling as widely as she could. "Come on, I'll take you for ice cream, we'll be back before they ever notice."

The doll hesitated.

"What's your name?" Lindsey pressed, and the doll looked at her.

"I don't have a name," she said.

"So pick one," Lindsey said, thinking, come on, come on.

"Perhaps I will go for ice cream," the doll said suddenly. "Perhaps I will, and perhaps I'll find a name on the way."

She stepped out of the spotlight, and jumped off the stage, landing lightly. Lindsey had been prepared to catch her, but grinned when she realized she wouldn't have to. The theatre seemed brighter when she came close, the shadows less heavy.

They walked out together, and Lindsey thought, I'm never letting you come back here, deciding she was going to give her freedom even if it meant she disappeared from Lindsey's life forever.

Edited Date: 2010-05-06 07:32 pm (UTC)

From:

Icecream in Tennessee! This is gorgeous.

From:

kyasuriin.livejournal.com

I want Buffy being sick - regular sick, like with a cold or broken bone sick - and someone (your choice of fandom!) having to take care of her OR I don't know if you've read season 8 of Buffy but Buffy sleeps with another slayer (and has a really good time). Who's her second 'experiment' and does it count as experimenting when you... keep doing it?

From:

I know everyone likes to talk about Jack Harkness, but really, Veronica Mars is my little black dress of fandom choice. ♥

"This is stupid," Buffy says, but it comes out muddled with the flu she's been fighting for days and finally succumbed to.

Veronica snickers and takes another look out the motel window; just making sure none of the odd-looking dudes from the diner followed them here. She's not sure what was wrong with them or why Buffy tried to stay and fight (seriously, six against two?), but she'd gotten both of them in a car and driven to the Camelot as fast as she could.

Very fast, in fact. So fast Buffy threw up when they stopped and then said something about her mom being surprised a worse driver than Buffy existed. She also leaned on Veronica all the way inside, which told Veronica just how bad she was feeling. (She'd met Buffy in an online community for "non-traditional law enforcement," but they'd met for the first time about six months back, and she's never seen Buffy even stumble before.)

But it's just a flu. She refills Buffy's water and pats her forehead absently. Hmm.

"So what do you work with, exactly?" she asks, trying hard to sound innocent. She's just so damned curious; she's never been able to figure out what it is Buffy does, except that it requires her to know how to fight. Which she does.

"Slayer," Buffy says, leaning into Veronica's hand on her face. "Slayer, with the vampires."

Veronica snorts. "You don't have to tell me, it's fine."

"The truth," Buffy says sleepily, and that's just gosh-darned adorable, isn't it?

"Sure," she says, stroking Buffy's hair. "Try and get some sleep?"

"No," Buffy mutters. "Gotta be awake to fight them."

Jesus. "I'll wake you up," Veronica promises. "I'll keep watch, I'm good at that, I'm a PI, remember? And I'll wake you up."

"Kay." Buffy rolls over, ending up leaning against Veronica's side, and Veronica resigns herself to hanging out for a while. She lets Buffy sleep, too. Something tells her they're going to be okay here.

From:

kyasuriin.livejournal.com

AHHHH! New cross-fandom OTP!! This is so precious! I love a sleepy Buffy and VMars being all protective.

I also lol'd at the online community thing. I can imagine Willow linking Buffy to it and Buffy taking notes... 'Huh. Taser, sweet'.

What do they do after they beat up the bad guys? Please say ice cream! :D

From:

I feel like if this is a universe where multiple fighting evil crews are real, there MUST be an online community of some sort. Anonymous and helpful!

I feel like Buffy is still sick, but Veronica goes out in the morning (Buffy told her these particular bad guys only go out at night) and gets sorbet because that's nice on a sore throat and has no dairy, and then basically supports her so she can eat it because she keeps falling over when she tries to sit up on her own.

Edited Date: 2010-06-29 10:10 am (UTC)

(deleted comment)

From:

This was really too much, Lyn-Z thought. She'd gotten left behind when the bus left town (art school field trips to look at California's foremost Museum of Weird was totally something she was into, but she did want to go home after) and now she was standing outside the only coffee shop in the whole town that was open past eight.

It was closed now, since it was already quarter past nine. Her roommate had sighed harriedly and promised to be there in three hours, which meant she still had another two to go.

"Watch out!" someone yelled, and Lyn-Z turned, only narrowly escaping being slammed into the door of the coffee shop by, whoa, what the fuck? Something was wrong with that guy's face, seriously seriously wrong.

She only had time to think that before said person snarled at her and reached out to grab her shirt, at which point something grabbed him and he flew, there was no other word for it, flew backwards. And exploded into dust. What. The. Fuck.

"What the hell just happened," she said breathlessly.

The short blond girl standing there smiled sheepishly. "Um, spontaneous combustion?"

"Hey!" came another shout from further down the alley, and both Lyn-Z and the girl turned.

"Stay right there," snapped the girl, and ran. Lyn-Z followed (what? she really sucked at doing what she was told). They reached the end of the alley and saw a redhead holding another freakish-looking dude off by—uh, by holding her arm out, palm forward? There was some weird kind of light, too.

Lyn-Z hadn't even had time to get past her surprise when there was another dust explosion and the guy disappeared. She had to sit down.

"I have to sit down," she said, and the redhead caught her as she nearly fell over.
"Sorry," she told her.

"It happens." That was a nice voice. Those were some nice arms, too, holding her up.

"I'm Lindsey," she said, because somehow it seemed important that the girl knew her name.

"I'm Willow. Like the tree, you know? It's weird, because it's not like there were any willows around where I was born, but I guess my mom liked it? Or something." She paused to breathe.

Lindsey grinned at her. "I like it," she said. "I can probably stand up now. Maybe."

"Oh! Oh. Of course." Willow carefully helped her stand on her own feet but kept a hand on Lindsey's arm. She turned to look at the blond. "Um, Buffy?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Vampires are real, I kill them for a living except they don't actually pay me much for it, yadiyadiyada. I want some coffee."

"I think it's closed," Lindsey said helpfully, because no other part of that sentence made sense.

"Coffee at my place, I mean," Buffy said.

Willow looked at Lindsey. "You, uh, want to come?"

Lindsey thought about it for a second before nodding. Her roommate would presumably take another hour or so, and coffee did sound good. As did—"Hey, do you guys mind if I smoke on the way?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm pretty used to it," she said ruefully.

"It, it's fine," Willow said, and took her hand off of Lindsey's arm. They started walking.

Lindsey took about a minute before she couldn't hold her curiosity in any longer. "Really, vampires?"

--

Three hours later, after her roommate called and said her car broke down and Buffy broke out the whiskey, Lindsey decided she was alright with vampires. And witches. Especially witches. She arched into Willow's hands and mouth and couldn't think of a single place in the world she'd rather be than Sunnydale, California.

From:

wavesofwood.livejournal.com

Oh, I'm not sure if you've seen new Doctor Who yet, but: Amy Pond & fairytales♥

or, alternately: Tennessee is a witch setting up in a new city by the sea.

(Hi. I've been studying like mad recently, but I'm alive!)

From:

Amelia wasn't scared. Her aunt had moved again, the third time in two years; this time they had a weird neighbor and even though the neighbor had a black cat and a broom that hovered above the ground sometimes when it thought no one was looking, Amelia wasn't scared. The neighbor lady had a kind smile, and she had lots and lots of flowers that talked to Amelia when she was walking past her house on the way home from school.

(Somehow the flowers were never as scary as the voices inside the wall had been.)

She was having a particularly interesting talk with a sunflower about where they turned when it was cloudy, when the neighbor came outside.

"Oh, hello there," she said. Her hair looked like the girls on Amelia's aunt's old records and her dress was really strange. But nice. Amelia thought she might try something like that herself when she got taller.

"Good afternoon, miss." Adults liked it when you were polite.

The sunflower whispered, "She's not a miss, she's a Tennessee."

Tennessee laughed. "That's quite right, I am a Tennessee. And you are Amelia Pond, correct?"

"How do you know my name?" Even raggedy doctors who landed in your garden didn't know your name.

"Oh, I know lots of things." Tennessee put her finger on her nose and grinned at Amelia. "I know, for example, that you draw stories, great stories. And I know you like flowers, and definitely like dogs."

Hold on. Amelia tilted her head. "You mean you've seen me drawing in the garden, and you've seen me talking to your flowers and to Mr Philips's dog—oh, and you probably heard my aunt calling for me, didn't you?"

"You are a sharp one, Amelia Pond, that's what I know," Tennessee said, and her smile was all, it was just like the sunflower's.

Amelia told her so, and Tennessee curtsied. "Thank you my dear, that is quite the compliment. Tell me, would you like to come in for tea?"

Amelia thought about it for a second, and then she decided that no one with talking sunflowers could be all that dangerous.

--

As it turned out, she was wrong, but not in a bad way. Tennessee was actually very dangerous, but only to the right sort, or rather the wrong sort. A week later, Amelia watched as Tennessee grew vines large and nasty enough to cover an entire infestation of great big wasps that were half as big as Amelia, and she thought, I didn't think I would get to meet another one.

From:

wavesofwood.livejournal.com

Oh, Vee, this is gorgeous and perfect and charming and I am basically beaming like mad here. She didn't think she would get to meet another one, oh my goodness ♥♥♥ This story is my favourite story.

From:

torakowalski.livejournal.com

Would you write about Angela? How about she's at the Jeffersonian late at night and ~things start coming alive? Maybe? Really I just want Angela being awesome and saving the day, please!

From:

The saving-the-day late at night with things coming alive turned out very complicated every time I tried, BUT.

"I don't know what to do." Brennan's voice was hushed on the phone.

Angela bit her lip and pressed down harder on the gas pedal with her foot. Seriously, this sucked so much.

"I'll be there, sweetie," she said into the phone. Why Booth had had to go and break his leg last week was beyond her; this was NOT supposed to be Angela's job. She took stock of what she had with her again: gun, rope, handcuffs, shovel. Okay.

--

As it turned out, she ended up needing all that she'd brought with her, but not in the way she'd thought: she hit the murderer over the head with the shovel, rigged the rope to the handcuffs using a knot Jack had taught her in a very different context, fastened the handcuffs to a telephone pole and shot off the lock to the grate that was on top of the hole that Brennan had been forced into.

Brennan, of course, managed to climb up the rope when Angela lowered it to her, because even with a sprained ankle and a concussion, Brennan was the most coordinated person Angela knew. Something to do with thinking about her actions a lot, or whatever.

Just as expected, she also tried to pretend to Angela that she wasn't upset. Angela wondered if Booth fell for that when they were on these jobs, and pulled Brennan into a hug, holding on when she tried to squirm away.

Finally she relaxed into it, and Angela stroked her hair for a bit. "Hey, sweetie, you're okay," she said, and Brennan nodded.

"That was unpleasant," she said.

"No kidding," said Angela, and then they pulled the still-unconscious asshole into the car, putting the handcuffs on him and driving back.

From:

torakowalski.livejournal.com

*beams* Oh my goodness this is lovely! I love how you managed to make Angela kickass and compassionate all at once.

From:

turps33.livejournal.com

I'd like something about Parker. Maybe that the reason she's so good at climbing is that she can actually fly.

From:

Parker's pretty glad she doesn't have wings. They'd definitely get in the way; her harnesses wouldn't fit as well and she couldn't crawl through air ducts or move the way she wanted, all snap-snap-snap tumbling through a room of lasers. Yeah, wings would be a pain in the ass, and besides, she'd probably drop feathers in dumb places. Also, they'd tell her secret.

See, Parker doesn't have wings, but Parker can fly. Like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, like Wonder Woman, like the angels she was told to believe in a million years ago when they hadn't given up on her going to Sunday School.

It's so easy, flying; what's hard is hiding it. Parker doesn't mind hiding, not really, but she forgets all the time, climbs too fast, leaps off buildings without her safety line attached--no one ever notices, though.

So she maybe gets a little reckless sometimes (okay, a lot). Once, she falls asleep on the couch in the office and wakes up to find herself floating about twelve inches above the cushions. Sometimes she breaks in through Hardison's window instead of the door and doesn't actually touch the wall when she climbs up, feet finding purchase on nothing but air.

Be that as it may, she doesn't get caught until the day when they've finished a soccer-related job and the team all leave. Parker looks at the enormous field and takes two steps fast and pushes off from the ground. She goes higher and higher, and then she hears him.

"Parker!" Hardison is on the ground looking terrified. Big baby.

She rolls her eyes and goes down, quirking her eyebrow at him. "Well?"

"Parker."

"Right," she says, fiddling with her shirt.

"You can fly," he breathes, and she looks up. There's nothing but awe in his eyes; she doesn't understand, shouldn't he be scared?

"Always could," she says, and he grins.

"Magic, aren't you," he says softly. She still doesn't understand what it is that tone of voice does to her, and she's not sure she wants to.

"No such thing," she says.

He shakes his head at her. "The little you know."

"I know lots of things," she says automatically, and he nods.

"I know you do," he says.

She shrugs at him, and he doesn't say anything either. He hands her a lock he wants to know if she can pick in under a minute (it's a copy of the one on the storage unit of the man they're after).

"Please," she says and picks it in twenty seconds flat.

He grins. "Ought to give you an actual challenge next time, huh."
She shrugs. He touches her hand and she thinks about it for a second before wrapping her fingers around his. She can hear his breathing go sharp and doesn't know why, but she holds on.

From:

turps33.livejournal.com

"You can fly," he breathes, and she looks up. There's nothing but awe in his eyes; she doesn't understand, shouldn't he be scared?

"Always could," she says, and he grins.

"Magic, aren't you," he says softly. She still doesn't understand what it is that tone of voice does to her, and she's not sure she wants to.

Oh. That is just perfect! I love it.

Thank you!

From:

airgiodslv.livejournal.com

Lyn-Z as an AWESOME Alice in Wonderland?

Really, though, I will take anything and everything having to do with ladies, lesbianism, and AUs.

From:

*grins* Can we count the story I just posted as a partial response to this prompt? I'm going to put up a new post in a couple of hours; I'll leave you a slot in that one.

From:

airgiodslv.livejournal.com

We can absolutely count that! I enjoyed it very much, and it got me in a very pleasant frame of mind last night. <3

From:

Or a new post NOW, but same same. Go leave a prompt, dearest, sorry I couldn't do this one!

From:

jamjar.livejournal.com

When you say no repeats of characters, do you mean in this round or of characters we've already asked? Because if it's the former, then:

Veronica Mars/DCU. Enforced "voluntary" extracurricular activities.

And if it's the latter, then:

Buffy, on some level, never lets go of the idea that the Doctor is English like Giles, or that "English" doesn't always mean fussy, overly attached to tweed and old books, and with a possible wild, demons-and-orgies rebellious phase.

From:

Veronica flipped through the list. The prospects were not promising. Read to the elderly, help out in kindergarten, ugh, all of these had set hours that seriously conflicted with her real job. She'd tried to argue that technically working as a PI could be considered a service to the community, but Clemmons had raised an eyebrow at her and handed her the form.

Fine. Habitat for Humanity it was; at least with them you could come in outrageously early and also do a bunch of hours at once, six hours on a building site or whatever. That was easier to schedule around, and she imagined it might be easier to sneak away from there.

--

Her first day on site was a Wednesday, and it was so early she wasn't even sure what time it was. She'd been over at the Camelot last night, getting pictures for what looked like an open-and-shut adultery case, and she'd gotten back late. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but when one had to lug around tools and planks and not hit oneself in the head before school had even started, then it could get tricky.

She shifted her grip on the hammer again and tried to focus. She should have had more coffee.

A tap on her shoulder made her yelp and she dropped the hammer, miraculously avoiding dropping it on her toes through a – must have been a random gust of wind – that made it fall just a little to the left of her feet.

"Hey, Mars," said Connor.

She glared at him. He looked obnoxiously awake; must be those farmer genes. "You know, in Neptune it's considered really rude to make sudden noises near people in the morning."

"Don't disturb the wild Mars out of her natural habitat, huh," he said, grinning.

"Yes." She thought about what he'd said for a second. "Wait, what is my natural habitat?"

"Not a construction site, anyway. You get volunteered, too?"

"We all did. That is, anyone with parents who don't own NGO's or can wrangle their lovely child a summer internship somewhere prestigious and charitable."

Connor snorted. "Neptune is—"

"Seriously predictable?"

"Uh-huh. Anyway, mostly I came over to see if you wanted help with that."

"With hammering?" She put as much sarcasm as she could into her voice, which was a lot of sarcasm indeed, but Connor didn't seem to notice.

"You were kinda squinting, there. I was worried you'd hit your own hand or something."

"Despite that vote of confidence I am in fact capable of finishing this on my own." Ooops, that was snappish rather than sarcastic.

"And also I was bored." He smiled at her, which was very disarming, dammit.

"Fine. You can stand over there and hand me nails."

The morning turned out tolerable, after all.

--

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After that, they tried to schedule their shifts at the same time when they could, which definitely helped with the whole experience. And Connor was pretty good at the whole working-with-tools thing (not that she'd tell him that), so Veronica picked up a few useful tricks and cut down on the number of bruises and bandaids she needed by half.

During their twelfth shift together, everything changed. She heard Connor shout a warning and she turned too fast, saw the enormous pile of bricks topple off a ledge above her and then felt herself being lifted out of the way. Lifted, even though there was no one near her.

Everything got a little fuzzy for a second, and then she saw Connor, face white, cramped smile, and a lot closer than he'd been ten seconds ago.

"You okay?" he said.

"Sure," she said, after thinking about it for a bit. "How'd you do that?"

He got even more pale. "Do what?"

"You were way over there and then you moved me and now you're here." Shock, she thought indistinctly. That was definitely what was going on with her speech pattern. And the shaking.

Connor took hold of her hands carefully, stilling them. "I didn't—"

She gave him her best unimpressed face. It was very good, even when she was sitting on the ground and trying not to shiver every time she looked over at the bricks. She was also busy putting things together. Meta, obviously, like those kids you saw on the news sometimes. The times she'd thought he blurred a little, or the times he lifted too much, or, shit, even the hammer. But especially: "You saved Rosita from getting hit by that car, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

Connor looked sheepish. "Dammit, I suck at this." He murmured something about Tim making fun of him, which made no sense. Veronica was tired.

She told him that, and he pulled her a little closer, until she was sitting half on his lap, leaning against him. Ordinarily she would have objected, but Connor was just very good at this hugging thing and she was going to sit here for a second until standing seemed less difficult. Yes, that's what she was doing. She closed her eyes and carefully didn't think about falling bricks or death by—

Wait. She sat up. "Those bricks should not have fallen," she said, voice low.

Connor nodded against her hair. "I'm on it," he said.

"What do you mean I'm on it? I'm on it." She was the one who'd nearly gotten killed.

"There's something weird going on here," he said.

"And you're trying to solve it?" She wasn't going to laugh, but seriously. "You know what I do, right?"

"…oh. Yeah. Um. I'm not actually bad at this, actually."

Leaving aside the improbabilities of that, "We could work together?" she offered.

"Hell yeah," he said quietly. "We'll be an unstoppable duo of awesome, Mars."

"You're not making t-shirts," she said.

"Aww, come on," he said, but mostly he was fighting a grin, she could hear it in his voice.

"Help me up," she demanded. "Our shift must be over now and I'm feeling coffee instead of school."

"Right on," he said, and they walked out of there together.

Edited Date: 2010-08-03 09:03 pm (UTC)

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jamjar.livejournal.com

I'm so happy you wrote this!

And oh, Kon. Despite all appearances to the contrary, he really isn't that bad at this. He just sacks at full-time faking of his self, that's all.

Veronica could probably teach him that, and also to say "fuck you" to anyone that demanded it of him.

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I was ALWAYS going to write this, it just took me a while to wrap my head around writing again. (I'm having one of those months where everything I write feels very meh, so it's always difficult to start writing a prompt I really like, you know?)

Yes, precisely! Obviously the full-length version of this would have Veronica figuring out just how much he doesn't suck at it and finally roll her eyes at him and go, "Hey, seriously? You're ridiculously easy to work with and you're smart, fuck anyone who doesn't think so. Stop it with the self-deprecation already." Because clearly the objective of a story about these two is about them fixing each other--he knows how to deal with obsessive tiny people who do not quit, even when they should.

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