(no subject)
Title: Entropy
Pairing: Reed Richards/(Wini)Fred Burkle
Notes: Fantastic Four/Angel crossover
Rating: R for some brief sexual content
Summary: When two scientists meet.
They meet in the science section of some large, overpriced bookstore in Los Angeles, posters for the next Harry Potter book plastered all over the walls. It's quiet in that end of the store. Quieter than the rest of it because not everyone comes to Barnes and Noble for books on quantum physics. They're all there for self help books and Golf For Dummies and trashy romance novels. Quantum theory isn't nearly as entertaining to the rest of the world as it is to Reed. Or Fred.
At first he's just wandering around. Poking through lesser scientists' books on theories he's long disproved. But then his mind is back on money again, how he's in town to beg JPL for a grant, how the steady supply of what Ben calls his genius-stash has been slowly depleting with every mistake he's made. And there's been a lot of them lately. Maybe his books would pick up again, he thinks, and he knows it's silly when he starts looking up his name to see just how many of them are left on the shelf. There's a few of his biggest titles, and one or two of his most obscure. But his pride and joy isn't to be found, because when Reed looks up from his crouched position there's the last copy in the hands of a pretty young woman in glasses. She smiles when she notices him looking at her, and her speech gets flustered and rapid when she realizes that its his picture on the laminated cover of the hardback.
"I...I...Doctor Richards, i-it's an honor, sir. I just..."
"No, no. It's a pleasure to know that someone's interested in my book."
"I've been a-a huge follower of all your work. I'm planning to write my masters thesis springboarding from some of your theories."
"Really? I'd love to hear about it."
It takes Reed four days to sum up the courage to finally call her. His palms are sweating and he's stammering into the phone while Fred suppresses a nervous giggle on the other line. He hasn't done this in so long. He figures it shows. But his suit is pressed and his hair combed when they meet up for dinner in the candlelit Italian restaurant just off of Sunset Boulevard.
Reed's sweet and charming, but altogether more naive than sensitive. Fred likes the way the skin around his eyes crinkles so delightfully when he smiles. And Reed thinks the way she snorts when she laughs is cute. They talk more about Quantum physics and math and the cosmos than they do about themselves. It's like the almighty atom has more significance to their time together than where Fred grew up or what Reed's favorite movie is. For once, Fred barely touches her pasta, and they both drink far too much wine.
Eventually they stumble into Fred's apartment, kissing messily, lightheaded and happy from the cheap merlot. Sloppily, Reed pulls Fred's blouse over her head. She hums and starts to toy with the buckle of his belt. They fall together on her squeaky bed, a tangle of fuzzy movements and tongue-filled kisses, as he slips the condom over his prick and slides into her. He starts thinking in mathematical equations. How part A plus part B makes noise X, and how the clouds of electrons surrounding their atoms must at some point occupy the same area, making them for a blip in time one whole molecule. But Reed also knows that it's only mathematical theory, with loopholes and teeth and slippery sweat, and that it's application in real life is about as useless as his last experiment with gene amplification. He watches Fred come in a series of geometric shapes. The circle of her mouth, the arch of her spine, the parallel nail-lines down his back. He's still thinking in graphs and proofs when he comes with surprise, an entire equation he apparently left out of the prompt.
There's an awkward silence when they wake. Reed knows that they're both thinking how simple body chemistry (fermented alcohol plus human equals entropy) has gotten the best of them, and now they doubt themselves as scientists, at least until Fred's been kind enough to make them coffee. Quietly Reed gathers his things and leaves, the door swinging behind him.
He calls once, when he's back in New York. There's a rejection letter from JPL in his hands, but he doesn't trouble Fred with that. They chit chat for a minute about her classes, her professors, how the mathematics of him plus her just don't equal out to something viable in the world. She agrees quietly and is the first to hang up, leaving him the vacuum of empty sound waves.
For once, Reed understood that one plus one didn't always make two.
Pairing: Reed Richards/(Wini)Fred Burkle
Notes: Fantastic Four/Angel crossover
Rating: R for some brief sexual content
Summary: When two scientists meet.
They meet in the science section of some large, overpriced bookstore in Los Angeles, posters for the next Harry Potter book plastered all over the walls. It's quiet in that end of the store. Quieter than the rest of it because not everyone comes to Barnes and Noble for books on quantum physics. They're all there for self help books and Golf For Dummies and trashy romance novels. Quantum theory isn't nearly as entertaining to the rest of the world as it is to Reed. Or Fred.
At first he's just wandering around. Poking through lesser scientists' books on theories he's long disproved. But then his mind is back on money again, how he's in town to beg JPL for a grant, how the steady supply of what Ben calls his genius-stash has been slowly depleting with every mistake he's made. And there's been a lot of them lately. Maybe his books would pick up again, he thinks, and he knows it's silly when he starts looking up his name to see just how many of them are left on the shelf. There's a few of his biggest titles, and one or two of his most obscure. But his pride and joy isn't to be found, because when Reed looks up from his crouched position there's the last copy in the hands of a pretty young woman in glasses. She smiles when she notices him looking at her, and her speech gets flustered and rapid when she realizes that its his picture on the laminated cover of the hardback.
"I...I...Doctor Richards, i-it's an honor, sir. I just..."
"No, no. It's a pleasure to know that someone's interested in my book."
"I've been a-a huge follower of all your work. I'm planning to write my masters thesis springboarding from some of your theories."
"Really? I'd love to hear about it."
It takes Reed four days to sum up the courage to finally call her. His palms are sweating and he's stammering into the phone while Fred suppresses a nervous giggle on the other line. He hasn't done this in so long. He figures it shows. But his suit is pressed and his hair combed when they meet up for dinner in the candlelit Italian restaurant just off of Sunset Boulevard.
Reed's sweet and charming, but altogether more naive than sensitive. Fred likes the way the skin around his eyes crinkles so delightfully when he smiles. And Reed thinks the way she snorts when she laughs is cute. They talk more about Quantum physics and math and the cosmos than they do about themselves. It's like the almighty atom has more significance to their time together than where Fred grew up or what Reed's favorite movie is. For once, Fred barely touches her pasta, and they both drink far too much wine.
Eventually they stumble into Fred's apartment, kissing messily, lightheaded and happy from the cheap merlot. Sloppily, Reed pulls Fred's blouse over her head. She hums and starts to toy with the buckle of his belt. They fall together on her squeaky bed, a tangle of fuzzy movements and tongue-filled kisses, as he slips the condom over his prick and slides into her. He starts thinking in mathematical equations. How part A plus part B makes noise X, and how the clouds of electrons surrounding their atoms must at some point occupy the same area, making them for a blip in time one whole molecule. But Reed also knows that it's only mathematical theory, with loopholes and teeth and slippery sweat, and that it's application in real life is about as useless as his last experiment with gene amplification. He watches Fred come in a series of geometric shapes. The circle of her mouth, the arch of her spine, the parallel nail-lines down his back. He's still thinking in graphs and proofs when he comes with surprise, an entire equation he apparently left out of the prompt.
There's an awkward silence when they wake. Reed knows that they're both thinking how simple body chemistry (fermented alcohol plus human equals entropy) has gotten the best of them, and now they doubt themselves as scientists, at least until Fred's been kind enough to make them coffee. Quietly Reed gathers his things and leaves, the door swinging behind him.
He calls once, when he's back in New York. There's a rejection letter from JPL in his hands, but he doesn't trouble Fred with that. They chit chat for a minute about her classes, her professors, how the mathematics of him plus her just don't equal out to something viable in the world. She agrees quietly and is the first to hang up, leaving him the vacuum of empty sound waves.
For once, Reed understood that one plus one didn't always make two.