Fic: "WWJMD?," Die Hard, Matt/Lucy, Matt/John, R.
When I am stressed out, sick, and just generally in a bad way, I apparently fic!
Title: "WWJMD?" 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: "Live Free or Die Hard"
Rating/Classification: R for language, Matt/Lucy, Matt/John, slash, adult situations, humor, post-movie fic.
Disclaimer: These are SO not my characters. Yippee-ki-yi, motherfucker!
Summary: 1550 words. Admittedly a bit OOC at the end, but gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do. Matt soldiers through. He thinks "What Would John McClane Do?"
He and Lucy start seeing each other about four-and-a-half days after the Great Fire Sale of Ought Seven. He finds himself borrowing Warlock's mom's car again ("Freddie, your friends had *better* pay for the damages, you hear me?") and driving up to Rutgers and standing in front of her dorm like the colossal nerd that he is, just begging for her to happen outside and heap insults on his head.
Which she does.
"You're such a loser, Farrell. I expected you two days ago," she says, sliding her arm through his and grinning.
They spend an hour up in her room making out. When she accidentally brushes her hand over his kneecap, the pain almost does him in. But he soldiers through. He thinks "What Would John McClane Do?" and rides it out. He licks his way down Lucy's soft, pale stomach and by the time she's gasping that he's not a loser, he doesn't hurt at all.
They sneak around, just in case McClane's threats on his life are based in fact and not just theory. But Matt has no doubts that her dad knows anyway. The man seems to know everything. Approximately two weeks after the GFS07, he bullies his way down into Warlock's basement (no one else seems to want to take Matt in, despite and because of his exploded apartment) for a bona fide Intentions Speech. Except without the actual speech and more with the malevolent staring.
"Fucking cops!" Warlock mutters just once for the sake of being subversive. Then he flops into his chair and proceeds to watch Clerks with a giant pair of Bose headphones on.
And Matt is face to face with John McClane, who he hasn't seen since the hospital, where they were both running on large quantities of morphine and post-"Fuck, somebody shot me," adrenaline. McClane looks good. Indestructible. Like he just trained for the New York marathon instead of blowing up half of Washington D.C. and having half the debris land on his chrome dome.
"So, you're dating my daughter," he says in that conversational way that sounds like Matt's death is imminent.
He shifts from foot to foot, trying not to look as dumb and defenseless as he feels. "Um, yes. In a manner of speaking."
"Well, either you are or you aren't." McClane looks amused, which bodes well for his continued existence.
"You know Lucy," he shrugs. "She's kind of… forceful."
"Yeah, she is that." John bursts out laughing, which makes Warlock look up from his movie just long enough to confirm no heads are rolling.
Matt fidgets for a while under the glare of that Look. The one that Lucy gives him all the time but only scares him a quarter as much coming from her. "I'm, uh, purely honorable, McClane. You can trust me with her. Especially since I want to keep my other knee intact and, uh, the rest of me, too. I have a lot of incentive to stay alive and--"
"Kid." It's funny how he calls him that, how it makes him feel like he's 12 with three simple letters. It's funny how it automatically makes Matt shut up. John slides his palm over his head, sighing heavily. "Kid, I'm not sure I trust *her* with *you*."
"Oh."
**
One night, crashed out on her bed after getting his ass handed to him in three levels of Grand Theft Auto, Lucy explains to him about the Nakatomi building and the airport. About McClane's long, long history of heroics.
"…And your mom left him? What is she, fucking nuts?" he gasps out before he can backspace and edit.
She thwaps the back of his head and has every right to --you never mess with a girl's mother. "Living with someone who takes that kind of risk is not easy, Matt. Every time he left the house, she wondered if he was going to come back alive."
"Luce… have you *met* your dad? The man will still be here after the nuclear apocalypse. He'll outlive us all. Him and the cockroaches. And he *rescued* her. How can you not love somebody who saves your life over and over?"
She stares at him for a long time. Until he's shifting on top of the covers and two times as more petrified by that Look than usual. When she kisses him, he kisses back even though he half fears she's going to eat his head like a praying mantis.
Lucy's sexy, wet mouth trails to his ear and her whisper is harsh. "Maybe you should ask yourself that, Farrell. How can you not love somebody who saves your life?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?" He pulls back, trying to figure out what's going on in her eyes but like he told McClane… she's forceful.
"I know why *you* didn't see it," she says, conversationally, like his death is imminent. "I just don't know why *I* didn't see it."
"See what?" He sits up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and fumbling for his sneakers so he can run like Hell if she suddenly decides to hand him his ass outside of the realm of the PS2.
Lucy sweeps her long hair off her shoulder with one hand. She makes no moves to hit him, which he thinks is a good sign. Until she speaks. "You're totally gay for my dad."
"Oh," he says, and blinks.
**
He and Lucy break up about two months after the Great Fire Sale of Ought Seven. All things considered it's not so bad. He's working for Bowman's task force, finally moved out of Warlock's basement ("Freddie, why can't you bring a nice *girl* home?"), and generally doesn't think about the fact that he's apparently in love with John McClane. He files it in the same category as "Almost died at the hands of cyberterrorists," and "Will never see my Marvel and D.C. rare collectibles ever again."
Like, the fact that he hacks into the NYPD's mainframe on his downtime and sees what cases John is working on… that doesn't mean anything. And the fact that he's relieved McClane hasn't gotten himself shot again… purely professional concern. And putting three points on Holly Gennaro's driver's license definitely doesn't mean he's bitter and jealous.
A month after that, John bullies his way into Matt's new apartment. How he found the address, since the guy can't even Google, he has no idea. He probably stuck a gun in Bowman's face. Or threw a helicopter at him.
Matt is barely awake, reaching for Red Bull and a T-shirt (and not necessarily in that order) as McClane paces around the minuscule living room and stops in front of a bust of Captain America. He's learned his lesson from before, because he looks but does not touch.
"Isn't this the part where people start shooting?" Matt asks, lamely, chugging half his Red Bull in one gulp.
McClane laughs, a short, sharp bark of sarcasm and he pretends he's not staring at the chest rising and falling beneath the black T-shirt. At the lines that crinkle at the corners of his mouth. At the hands that could very easily shove Matt to his knees and fist in his hair. *No, Lucy, I am not gay for your dad. What could you possibly be thinking?*
"So, my daughter tells me you broke up."
"Uh, yeah. You know Lucy…" Is it just him or have they had a variation on this conversation before?
"Forceful," John says before he can. "I know." He taps his fingers against his thigh-- not that Matt is looking at his thigh, no way-- and keeps looking around the room, like he's checking for exits, for things to throw at people in case they find themselves under siege. (Matt has learned that sudden siege is always a possibility with the McClanes around.)
"Can I, um, help you with something?" he wonders, clearing his throat.
McClane doesn't answer that question. Instead, he answers something Matt asked somebody else. "You know, I can relate to breaking up after a high stress situation. Holly did it to me three times after I *saved* her. It's gotta make you wonder… what's that about? You play hero, you still don't get the girl."
"Um, yeah," he murmurs, helpfully, for lack of anything profound to say. He's getting that Look and it makes his stomach clench and his sense of impending doom go off like a blaring perimeter alarm.
"You wanna know why my wife really dumped me, Kid?"
Matt has the distinct feeling John is going to eat his head like a praying mantis. Especially when he gets up in his face and looms there, big and invincible and very, very scary. "Why'd she dump you?"
"It's simple." McClane's whisper is harsh against his cheek. "'Cause she kept catching me with another guy's mouth on my dick."
When he's knocked none-too-gently down to his knees, the pain almost does him in. But he soldiers through. He thinks "What Would John McClane Do?" and rides it out. By the time he's licking his way down John's hard stomach and tugging at his zipper, he doesn't hurt at all.
"I expected this three months ago, Matthew."
Right insect metaphor, wrong application, Matt thinks before stupidly gasping, "Oh."
--end--
July 8, 2007
Title: "WWJMD?" 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: "Live Free or Die Hard"
Rating/Classification: R for language, Matt/Lucy, Matt/John, slash, adult situations, humor, post-movie fic.
Disclaimer: These are SO not my characters. Yippee-ki-yi, motherfucker!
Summary: 1550 words. Admittedly a bit OOC at the end, but gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do. Matt soldiers through. He thinks "What Would John McClane Do?"
He and Lucy start seeing each other about four-and-a-half days after the Great Fire Sale of Ought Seven. He finds himself borrowing Warlock's mom's car again ("Freddie, your friends had *better* pay for the damages, you hear me?") and driving up to Rutgers and standing in front of her dorm like the colossal nerd that he is, just begging for her to happen outside and heap insults on his head.
Which she does.
"You're such a loser, Farrell. I expected you two days ago," she says, sliding her arm through his and grinning.
They spend an hour up in her room making out. When she accidentally brushes her hand over his kneecap, the pain almost does him in. But he soldiers through. He thinks "What Would John McClane Do?" and rides it out. He licks his way down Lucy's soft, pale stomach and by the time she's gasping that he's not a loser, he doesn't hurt at all.
They sneak around, just in case McClane's threats on his life are based in fact and not just theory. But Matt has no doubts that her dad knows anyway. The man seems to know everything. Approximately two weeks after the GFS07, he bullies his way down into Warlock's basement (no one else seems to want to take Matt in, despite and because of his exploded apartment) for a bona fide Intentions Speech. Except without the actual speech and more with the malevolent staring.
"Fucking cops!" Warlock mutters just once for the sake of being subversive. Then he flops into his chair and proceeds to watch Clerks with a giant pair of Bose headphones on.
And Matt is face to face with John McClane, who he hasn't seen since the hospital, where they were both running on large quantities of morphine and post-"Fuck, somebody shot me," adrenaline. McClane looks good. Indestructible. Like he just trained for the New York marathon instead of blowing up half of Washington D.C. and having half the debris land on his chrome dome.
"So, you're dating my daughter," he says in that conversational way that sounds like Matt's death is imminent.
He shifts from foot to foot, trying not to look as dumb and defenseless as he feels. "Um, yes. In a manner of speaking."
"Well, either you are or you aren't." McClane looks amused, which bodes well for his continued existence.
"You know Lucy," he shrugs. "She's kind of… forceful."
"Yeah, she is that." John bursts out laughing, which makes Warlock look up from his movie just long enough to confirm no heads are rolling.
Matt fidgets for a while under the glare of that Look. The one that Lucy gives him all the time but only scares him a quarter as much coming from her. "I'm, uh, purely honorable, McClane. You can trust me with her. Especially since I want to keep my other knee intact and, uh, the rest of me, too. I have a lot of incentive to stay alive and--"
"Kid." It's funny how he calls him that, how it makes him feel like he's 12 with three simple letters. It's funny how it automatically makes Matt shut up. John slides his palm over his head, sighing heavily. "Kid, I'm not sure I trust *her* with *you*."
"Oh."
**
One night, crashed out on her bed after getting his ass handed to him in three levels of Grand Theft Auto, Lucy explains to him about the Nakatomi building and the airport. About McClane's long, long history of heroics.
"…And your mom left him? What is she, fucking nuts?" he gasps out before he can backspace and edit.
She thwaps the back of his head and has every right to --you never mess with a girl's mother. "Living with someone who takes that kind of risk is not easy, Matt. Every time he left the house, she wondered if he was going to come back alive."
"Luce… have you *met* your dad? The man will still be here after the nuclear apocalypse. He'll outlive us all. Him and the cockroaches. And he *rescued* her. How can you not love somebody who saves your life over and over?"
She stares at him for a long time. Until he's shifting on top of the covers and two times as more petrified by that Look than usual. When she kisses him, he kisses back even though he half fears she's going to eat his head like a praying mantis.
Lucy's sexy, wet mouth trails to his ear and her whisper is harsh. "Maybe you should ask yourself that, Farrell. How can you not love somebody who saves your life?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?" He pulls back, trying to figure out what's going on in her eyes but like he told McClane… she's forceful.
"I know why *you* didn't see it," she says, conversationally, like his death is imminent. "I just don't know why *I* didn't see it."
"See what?" He sits up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and fumbling for his sneakers so he can run like Hell if she suddenly decides to hand him his ass outside of the realm of the PS2.
Lucy sweeps her long hair off her shoulder with one hand. She makes no moves to hit him, which he thinks is a good sign. Until she speaks. "You're totally gay for my dad."
"Oh," he says, and blinks.
**
He and Lucy break up about two months after the Great Fire Sale of Ought Seven. All things considered it's not so bad. He's working for Bowman's task force, finally moved out of Warlock's basement ("Freddie, why can't you bring a nice *girl* home?"), and generally doesn't think about the fact that he's apparently in love with John McClane. He files it in the same category as "Almost died at the hands of cyberterrorists," and "Will never see my Marvel and D.C. rare collectibles ever again."
Like, the fact that he hacks into the NYPD's mainframe on his downtime and sees what cases John is working on… that doesn't mean anything. And the fact that he's relieved McClane hasn't gotten himself shot again… purely professional concern. And putting three points on Holly Gennaro's driver's license definitely doesn't mean he's bitter and jealous.
A month after that, John bullies his way into Matt's new apartment. How he found the address, since the guy can't even Google, he has no idea. He probably stuck a gun in Bowman's face. Or threw a helicopter at him.
Matt is barely awake, reaching for Red Bull and a T-shirt (and not necessarily in that order) as McClane paces around the minuscule living room and stops in front of a bust of Captain America. He's learned his lesson from before, because he looks but does not touch.
"Isn't this the part where people start shooting?" Matt asks, lamely, chugging half his Red Bull in one gulp.
McClane laughs, a short, sharp bark of sarcasm and he pretends he's not staring at the chest rising and falling beneath the black T-shirt. At the lines that crinkle at the corners of his mouth. At the hands that could very easily shove Matt to his knees and fist in his hair. *No, Lucy, I am not gay for your dad. What could you possibly be thinking?*
"So, my daughter tells me you broke up."
"Uh, yeah. You know Lucy…" Is it just him or have they had a variation on this conversation before?
"Forceful," John says before he can. "I know." He taps his fingers against his thigh-- not that Matt is looking at his thigh, no way-- and keeps looking around the room, like he's checking for exits, for things to throw at people in case they find themselves under siege. (Matt has learned that sudden siege is always a possibility with the McClanes around.)
"Can I, um, help you with something?" he wonders, clearing his throat.
McClane doesn't answer that question. Instead, he answers something Matt asked somebody else. "You know, I can relate to breaking up after a high stress situation. Holly did it to me three times after I *saved* her. It's gotta make you wonder… what's that about? You play hero, you still don't get the girl."
"Um, yeah," he murmurs, helpfully, for lack of anything profound to say. He's getting that Look and it makes his stomach clench and his sense of impending doom go off like a blaring perimeter alarm.
"You wanna know why my wife really dumped me, Kid?"
Matt has the distinct feeling John is going to eat his head like a praying mantis. Especially when he gets up in his face and looms there, big and invincible and very, very scary. "Why'd she dump you?"
"It's simple." McClane's whisper is harsh against his cheek. "'Cause she kept catching me with another guy's mouth on my dick."
When he's knocked none-too-gently down to his knees, the pain almost does him in. But he soldiers through. He thinks "What Would John McClane Do?" and rides it out. By the time he's licking his way down John's hard stomach and tugging at his zipper, he doesn't hurt at all.
"I expected this three months ago, Matthew."
Right insect metaphor, wrong application, Matt thinks before stupidly gasping, "Oh."
--end--
July 8, 2007