Drabble Dump!
I have drabbles!
Fandoms, in no particular order: DCU, SGA, The Losers, Push, White Collar, NCIS, and SG-1/Star Trek.
All of these were written for Comment_Fic, which is an awesome comm, and the original links are posted below them, if you want to know what the heck the prompt was. Hope you enjoy, and don't hate me too much for not posting more often!
Communication (SGA: Rodney/John)
There were occasions when Rodney thought maybe he'd turned to mathematics and science out of sheer desperation. His mind was so active, his ideas were so big, and there were so very few people who could understand when he tried to explain... Waiting for a translator who was even remotely intelligent enough to get his concepts across was painful in the extreme - if one could be found at all - and by the time they finished with the first part of his idea, he'd already gone ahead and finished the whole thing so there wasn't much point in sharing with the idiots he was surrounded by anyway. Science though... there was no need for translation. Not across the hearing/deaf border, not across languages, not even across species, as he eventually discovered. It was pure, swift communication and he loved it like he'd never loved anything in his life. Okay, granted, he was still trying to talk across the huge disparities in their IQs, but that barrier was less frustrating when they were at least speaking the same language.
By the time he got to Antarctica he'd bullied, demanded, and harangued all of his scientists into learning at least the basics of American Sign Language so he could insult their intelligence in his own vernacular and even some of the Airmen were starting to mimic his more fervent phrases. Still, communication was always an issue... until he met John Sheppard. It was so easy to get his point across to Sheppard that even as a genius it took him a full day to realize that Sheppard didn't actually understand ASL at all. They were in Atlantis dealing with the Wraith before he gave up trying to figure out how John did it and just accepted that John understood him more easily, and perhaps more completely, than any other sentient creature ever had. (Though his cat's sentience was debatable; Rodney had always held that the feline was at least as intelligent as the majority of his so called co-workers.)
It really shouldn't have surprised him when one day John showed up at his table in the chow hall and clumsily signed something completely unintelligible that Rodney understood anyway. He didn't bother to sign back, confident that John would understand, as he always did. Instead he just pushed aside his tray, grabbed John by the arm, and dragged him away somewhere very, very private.
Words were, on occasion, overrated.
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/194174.html?thread=41757054#t41757054 ))
Underestimated (The Losers Movie-verse: Jensen and Cougar)
They all have their theories, but Cougar knows him best and in the sniper's expert opinion it's his mouth.
Jensen talks fast and rhythmic, like he's stringing you a line of bullshit so you won't shoot him, and yeah most of the time that's true, but it's not because he couldn't shoot you first. No, it's because he's having fun seeing how long he can get you to hold off before Cougar gets tired of waiting and deals with it himself. But when you're a dumbass thug hired to shoot first and ask questions never, that babble just makes him look like he's two steps away from pissing himself and who expects to get shot in the face by someone like that?
It doesn't help that his lips are full and perpetually tilted into a tiny crooked smile. He wasn't capable the same grim set to his mouth that Clay had, or the evil smirk that Roque wore like another knife. Jensen always looked like he was five seconds from a kiss, before or after, and the merry light in his eyes helped the illusion. The team knew, of course, that the little smile was just as likely to be because he'd just conned you into screwing yourself as it was for the news that the Petunias had just won another game, but their enemies never seemed to figure it out until it was too late.
Yeah, Jensen looked young and green from the tips of his spiky hair to the toes of his scruffy boots, but the whole lie came right down to that mouth and you'd just keep watching it until your life was ended by the gun in his hand.
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/221721.html?thread=46489881#t46489881))
Speaking the Lingo (SG-1/Star Trek: Uhura, Daniel, Kirk, Jack, and Spock)
This was not normal. Uhura knew, she'd spent hours reading mission reports from other ships in the fleet and none of THEM ever randomly ran into teams of explorers from alternate universes. It was Kirk's fault, she was sure of it, but she hadn't been able to work out the science of *how* yet and Spock was refusing to be helpful on the grounds that her theory wasn't logical.
Watching Kirk and the leader of the other team, an older man with a ready grin that was disturbingly similar to Kirk's, she murmured, "Wonderful, there are two of him."
"I was just thinking the same thing," The expression of sympathy was surprising for several reasons, first because it had come at all, most of the crew of the Enterprise all but worshiped Kirk most of the time and the idea of there being more than one of him would make most of them happy. Second it had come from one of the explorers, and third because she'd made her comment in an obscure dialect used by one of the tribes in Kenya and he'd replied in the same language.
Her surprise made him smile and he offered her his hand, "Hi. Daniel Jackson, doctor of archeology and linguistics and fellow victim of overly-charismatic leadership. Your accent is excellent; I always had trouble with the deep 'g's..."
It was impossible to resist smiling back and soon Kirk and his counterpart were forgotten while she and Daniel launched into an engaging discussion of linguistics featuring more languages between them than most of the other people in the room had ever even *heard* before. She hadn't had so much fun in longer than she could remember, and got a sharp thrill of triumph whenever she used a language he hadn't heard before and a burst of excitement whenever he used one that she hadn't.
Regardless of all of the trouble Kirk and Jack O'Neill managed to get into in the three short days the Stargate Team was with them, Uhura was actually very sorry to see them go. Of course the materials Daniel had left her on the 'Language of the Ancients' made up for it somewhat...
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/227280.html?thread=47362256#t47362256 ))
"Not AGAIN...” (DCU: In order: Tim, Jason, and Dick)
"She's on Interpol's most wanted list for acts of terrorism; was I supposed to ignore the fact that she has the room next to ours?"
"YES! Damn it Tim, this is a vacation! I know you've got a complex about work but this is ridiculous!"
"Jason... Ow! Ow ow ow! Would you quit complaining and help me hold the door while Tim does his computer mojo?"
"Okay, that's it, you two do whatever you want but that bitch's goons just *shot* you Dick, I'm taking that out of some hides."
"It's just a gra... Annnd he's gone. Tim, how long until the police get here?"
"Five minutes. In the mean time I'm going to help Jason teach some terrorists a lesson."
" ... Well... So much for our nice quiet European vacation."
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/227768.html?thread=47440312#t47440312 ))
The More They Stay The Same (NCIS: Abby, Gibbs, Tony, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer)
It had been a shock. Not the deafness, Abby had known that was coming for a long time, no what was surprising was how little things changed.
Gibbs had always been able to talk to her without speaking, and he knew ASL too, so communication with him was effortless. Well... as effortless as it ever was, when Gibbs refused to learn more than the very basics of technology. She had figured that things with him would be easy.
Ducky, being a medical doctor, had been prepared for it, and without any fuss at all proved that Abby being deaf didn't mean she was going to get out of his rambling stories.
Tony's elaborate gestures and eloquent expressions got a little bigger, but he still made himself clear until he learned ASL. Predictably he got the pick up lines down first.
Ziva applied herself to learning ASL with the same frightening determination she used to catch murderers and terrorists. Within the month she was making sarcastic comments about Tony while Abby laughed and chided her for mocking Tony when he couldn't understand her. Abby was half convinced that Tony only learned anything OTHER than pick up lines out of self defense.
Tim started off carrying around a white board on a string with a dry erase marker in his pocket, so endearingly earnest that Abby couldn't stop herself from spontaneously hugging him every time he got within five feet of her. One day about three months in he surprised her with a home-developed computer program that captured her gestures on camera and translated them into a computer-generated voice program. It really didn't work nearly as well as she needed it to, to communicate with the other NCIS teams, but it was good for ordering lunch and the sometimes random results reduced Palmer to helpless giggles at least once a week. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her, and most of the time it made up for losing her music.
Yeah, she still saw her favorite people all the time, her job went on just like always had and bowling with the nuns was only getting better. Nothing really changed.
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/236468.html?thread=48602036#t48602036 ))
Not Cool Guys. (The Losers Movie-verse: Jensen, Pooch, Alisha, Clay, and Cougar)
"I hacked that system."
"So?"
"So that whole thing, that... all of those zombies in that explosion? Those are mine. There had to be like... forty of them."
"Those don't count."
"How can they not count!? Pooch counts the ones he hits with the Hummer, I can count the ones I blow up. I'm at least three up on Cougar now."
"Pooch counts the ones he hits with the Hummer because Pooch is *driving* the Hummer. Pooch is *aiming* for those shuffly bastards. The Hummer is Pooch's weapon, and he is a master of it."
"Pooch is pissing Jensen off is what Pooch is. Come'on Clay, help me out here, those count don't they?"
"Sure..."
"Ye-..."
"IF you can prove they're all down."
"eeessSeriously?! Prove it?! You guys *SUCK*! Really?! ... Bastards. Cougar, how many can *you* confirm?"
"Eighty six. Hold on... Eighty seven."
"That ain't even fair man, you have a scope!"
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/238259.html?thread=48800179#t48800179 ))
Do Not Go Quietly (Push: Cassie and Nick)
It could end two ways.
Not the world, that end (or enough of an ending to qualify, that's what the rare survivors would call it anyway) was the most solid future she'd ever seen. Most days it seemed more solid than the present, and Cassie could tell Nick was starting to worry about her spontaneous shaking fits but it was just so overwhelming...
Anyway, it wasn't the end of the world that Cassie focused on, it was Nick. Nick, who was fighting harder and harder every day, who pulled desperate plans out of thin air and dreams and made people BELIEVE that they could *fix this*.
There were two futures. One where Cassie told him there was nothing they could do, and one where she let him keep fighting until the end.
One where he died holding her, assuring her that he'd find a way, that he wasn't going to let it end like this, because she was a *crappy* artist and she was WRONG. And the other where he died fighting beside her, full of faith and iron will, an inspiration for the few people who would be left... A hero that would be their talisman in the night, their symbol of the human determination to survive and to save one another.
Cassie thought about being selfish, about telling him and feeling his arms around her at the end, making her feel safe again no matter how much of an illusion she knew it was. She thought about what he would want, about how much he was sacrificing to save people, and she thought about his name living forever.
Cassie thought and drew and grieved.
Nick fought.
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/238259.html?thread=48799923#t48799923 ))
Empty (White Collar: Neal)
He feels so stupid later, when he realizes why he'd had unspecified chills running down his spine from the moment he woke up until the moment he stepped out of June's lovely house onto an empty street. It was the silence... the eerie quiet in a city that was anything BUT.
For a moment he'd thought that there must be a movie filming, some disaster movie with more special effects than story and no respect for proper dialogue, but then... Then he'd noticed the flames flickering in the window across the street. There were no safety crews to put it out in case it got out of hand... no actors, no director...
No people.
He didn't even remember running back into the house, frantically dialing Peter's number and begging, then shouting, for his friend to *answer* damnit, and tell him he was going crazy. He tried a dozen numbers, the office, El's cell, Mozzie's emergency contacts, June's cell, Diane's desk, Sarah... No one picked up.
The anklet was the last thing on his mind when he broke his radius on the way to Peter's house, but when he thought about it he just hoped that someone came to throw him in jail, he'd be happy to see anyone at this point... But the streets stayed empty, except for the abandoned cars, still sitting with their doors closed and engines on.
The Burke house echoed with quiet, not even Satchmo was there to greet him.
It took days for it to truly sink in. New York, his vibrant, beautiful, lively city, was empty. Neal was all that was left.
He'd never handled being alone well.
(( http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/238259.html?thread=48800691#t48800691 ))