[Fic][TF2007/AU] - Paranormal Activity
Title: Paranormal Activity
Author: SugarCube
Rating: PG
Pairing: E'verse Johanna/Erin
Summary: There are no such things as ghosts. Right?
A/N: XD this, has nothing to do with the movie, but everything to do with paranormal activity. Actually spawned from when I was creeping myself out reading through the /x/ board on 4chan.
---
Any longer, and the text on-screen was going to be permanently imprinted onto her retinas. Johanna scowled, pressed her fingers to her eyes, and shook her head, willing her eyes to clear, so she could put this last report to bed, and herself to bed... warm, cosy, glorious bed with a beautiful redhead in it. A beautiful redhead who was a freakishly light sleeper and would probably bite her head off when she crawled in at crazy-dark o'clock... but, cuddles, and breakfast usually were a good enough bribe to forestall said biting. Or they could roll with it and have, in Erin's words, 'kinky chandelier sex.' Maybe. No chandelier, though.
Jo grumbled under her breath, muttering a particularly choice series of curses that she herself barely heard for the headphones over her ears, with soft music floating through. Oh well. Just this one case, and then to bed... she resumed typing, running over the case as she did so; a car rearending another car, because the first driver had slammed on the brakes. They'd claimed that they pretty much had been forced to do so to avoid 'a woman that was crossing the road', but as they got out to inspect the damage and/or offer assistance, nothing had been found. The other driver had been a shade over the limit. Quite open and shut, except for the location, and the claim - that particular stretch of road was notorious for its many accidents, some of which involved the apparition of a woman.
Now that she thought about it, it really was pretty creepy. The driver had been oddly specific in describing the woman - approximately five-eight, skinny, with delicate forearms - she remembered that, and remembered wondering why and how he'd managed to be so fixated on her forearms. "She had really pale skin, and really dark clothes, so it was like really white and long and really stood out and..."
Yep. That would do it. Idly, she constructed the image of a tall skinny woman with long, thin limbs and dark, ragged clothes. Sounded like something out a a horror movie...
And suddenly she was hyperaware of herself and her surroundings, of her tank top and pyjama bottoms and bare feet, and the fact that her desklamp was looking pretty damned dim at the moment. Shit. And had it always been this cold? Wait, it was late spring, and late at night, wasn't it? It was allowed to be cool, right? Jo fought a shiver, scowling at the computer and abso-fucking-lutely not thinking of all those crappy scarefests the Twins loved. Not thinking of it. No, not at all, not one bit...
No, no. She was a detective, for fuck's sake. No kiddie ghost story was going to freak her out. Stubbornly, she resumed her report. Jo was almost done, anyway, just needed to wrap it up and copy it for the files, and...
Skin prickling, she bolted upright in her chair. Was that a squeak? Jo slid off the headphones slowly, cursing the tangled bun that sat low at the nape of her neck, and that she just had to get headphones that wrapped around the back of her head. Goddamn, she was going to swap those out for earbuds. No, a mini speaker system. About damned time anyway... maybe it was the music. She eyed the music player, set to a movie soundtrack that Erin had recommended. It had strings, that had to be it.
Turning back to her report, she growled fiercely under her breath. Nope, 2.14 am did not constitute the witching hour. Nope, there was nothing creepy in her apartment, because dammit, she frickin' owned the place. Besides, there was an absolute minefield of gun parts to get around, and pretty much only she and Erin navigated it with any success.
She'd have to clean it up though. Erin would not be happy at accidentally stepping on a firing pin, she wouldn't be happy, and the firing pin wouldn't be happy either. Speaking of which... maybe that particular pin would work better instead of the current one in that last project she'd been working on...
"There," she grumped, saving the document. Done and done. Now she could shut down, and slink off to bed, and...
Before she could move, long, elegant white hands slid into her field of vision, gliding down over her forearms.
Oh, God.
Jo froze in her chair, staring, willing her racketing pulse to quiet down and stop pounding in her ears because she couldn't hear. The hands, such cold, cold hands, slid lower, down to her wrists with inhuman slowness. Sweet mother of god.
There were no such things as ghosts. Nope. But that didn't explain what the hell this was, and the detective simply stared, not quite daring to move. Holy shit, maybe it was Erin. If Erin was pulling a prank, god she was going to spank the redhead untill her pretty butt matched her hair. But Erin had warm hands, Erin was sleeping, Erin always failed to avoid that one squeaky floorboard in the floor and she would have heard that, it was a dead giveaway -
The fingers clamped down on her wrist and she jumped about a mile in the air at the icy touch, whipping around with a low growl to break the hold and make a grab for whoever it was, spirit or flesh - and pulled up short. The room was as empty as it had been earlier, when she'd stomped in to finish her work. Goosebumps prickled on her skin, and she was just reaching back to shut down the computer when something grabbed at her ankle.
------
Erin lounged on the barstool in the kitchen, with a faintly mysterious half-smirk on her face, her chin propped up in one hand and the other curled around a hot mug of cocoa to warm cold fingers. Jo slouched beside her, with a scowl that could curdle milk, and angry sparks still flickering in her eyes.
"I'm seriously going to spank your pretty ass to match your hair, I swear to god. You damned well better get ready for that, Erin McKenna."
Author: SugarCube
Rating: PG
Pairing: E'verse Johanna/Erin
Summary: There are no such things as ghosts. Right?
A/N: XD this, has nothing to do with the movie, but everything to do with paranormal activity. Actually spawned from when I was creeping myself out reading through the /x/ board on 4chan.
---
Any longer, and the text on-screen was going to be permanently imprinted onto her retinas. Johanna scowled, pressed her fingers to her eyes, and shook her head, willing her eyes to clear, so she could put this last report to bed, and herself to bed... warm, cosy, glorious bed with a beautiful redhead in it. A beautiful redhead who was a freakishly light sleeper and would probably bite her head off when she crawled in at crazy-dark o'clock... but, cuddles, and breakfast usually were a good enough bribe to forestall said biting. Or they could roll with it and have, in Erin's words, 'kinky chandelier sex.' Maybe. No chandelier, though.
Jo grumbled under her breath, muttering a particularly choice series of curses that she herself barely heard for the headphones over her ears, with soft music floating through. Oh well. Just this one case, and then to bed... she resumed typing, running over the case as she did so; a car rearending another car, because the first driver had slammed on the brakes. They'd claimed that they pretty much had been forced to do so to avoid 'a woman that was crossing the road', but as they got out to inspect the damage and/or offer assistance, nothing had been found. The other driver had been a shade over the limit. Quite open and shut, except for the location, and the claim - that particular stretch of road was notorious for its many accidents, some of which involved the apparition of a woman.
Now that she thought about it, it really was pretty creepy. The driver had been oddly specific in describing the woman - approximately five-eight, skinny, with delicate forearms - she remembered that, and remembered wondering why and how he'd managed to be so fixated on her forearms. "She had really pale skin, and really dark clothes, so it was like really white and long and really stood out and..."
Yep. That would do it. Idly, she constructed the image of a tall skinny woman with long, thin limbs and dark, ragged clothes. Sounded like something out a a horror movie...
And suddenly she was hyperaware of herself and her surroundings, of her tank top and pyjama bottoms and bare feet, and the fact that her desklamp was looking pretty damned dim at the moment. Shit. And had it always been this cold? Wait, it was late spring, and late at night, wasn't it? It was allowed to be cool, right? Jo fought a shiver, scowling at the computer and abso-fucking-lutely not thinking of all those crappy scarefests the Twins loved. Not thinking of it. No, not at all, not one bit...
No, no. She was a detective, for fuck's sake. No kiddie ghost story was going to freak her out. Stubbornly, she resumed her report. Jo was almost done, anyway, just needed to wrap it up and copy it for the files, and...
Skin prickling, she bolted upright in her chair. Was that a squeak? Jo slid off the headphones slowly, cursing the tangled bun that sat low at the nape of her neck, and that she just had to get headphones that wrapped around the back of her head. Goddamn, she was going to swap those out for earbuds. No, a mini speaker system. About damned time anyway... maybe it was the music. She eyed the music player, set to a movie soundtrack that Erin had recommended. It had strings, that had to be it.
Turning back to her report, she growled fiercely under her breath. Nope, 2.14 am did not constitute the witching hour. Nope, there was nothing creepy in her apartment, because dammit, she frickin' owned the place. Besides, there was an absolute minefield of gun parts to get around, and pretty much only she and Erin navigated it with any success.
She'd have to clean it up though. Erin would not be happy at accidentally stepping on a firing pin, she wouldn't be happy, and the firing pin wouldn't be happy either. Speaking of which... maybe that particular pin would work better instead of the current one in that last project she'd been working on...
"There," she grumped, saving the document. Done and done. Now she could shut down, and slink off to bed, and...
Before she could move, long, elegant white hands slid into her field of vision, gliding down over her forearms.
Oh, God.
Jo froze in her chair, staring, willing her racketing pulse to quiet down and stop pounding in her ears because she couldn't hear. The hands, such cold, cold hands, slid lower, down to her wrists with inhuman slowness. Sweet mother of god.
There were no such things as ghosts. Nope. But that didn't explain what the hell this was, and the detective simply stared, not quite daring to move. Holy shit, maybe it was Erin. If Erin was pulling a prank, god she was going to spank the redhead untill her pretty butt matched her hair. But Erin had warm hands, Erin was sleeping, Erin always failed to avoid that one squeaky floorboard in the floor and she would have heard that, it was a dead giveaway -
The fingers clamped down on her wrist and she jumped about a mile in the air at the icy touch, whipping around with a low growl to break the hold and make a grab for whoever it was, spirit or flesh - and pulled up short. The room was as empty as it had been earlier, when she'd stomped in to finish her work. Goosebumps prickled on her skin, and she was just reaching back to shut down the computer when something grabbed at her ankle.
------
Erin lounged on the barstool in the kitchen, with a faintly mysterious half-smirk on her face, her chin propped up in one hand and the other curled around a hot mug of cocoa to warm cold fingers. Jo slouched beside her, with a scowl that could curdle milk, and angry sparks still flickering in her eyes.
"I'm seriously going to spank your pretty ass to match your hair, I swear to god. You damned well better get ready for that, Erin McKenna."