Fic bombage

Sep 20, 2008 10:27

I wrote three (3) fic bombs for members of Team Reality.

For malnpudl (who was in the next room. \o/) Dief, RayK, Fraser.


Fraser whined and surged to his feet, his whole body intent.

"Sure, go," Diefenbaker said without looking up from the board. Fraser took off like a shot, body hugging the ground as he ran.

Ray flipped his glasses up and turned to squint after him. "What's that about?"

"Squirrel." Diefenbaker silently shifted his remaining knight one spot over, then turned his attention to a pawn, setting it down with a firm click. "Pickpocket. The usual."

"So maybe we should..." Ray's eyes caught on the board and he frowned. "Huh."

Diefenbaker yawned hugely. "In a minute."

For belmanoir. F/V.



In a dark alley, well after midnight, two men ran on a collision course. One was racing to foil Martini O'Neill, presumed dead for three months but in actuality orchestrating a bloody power grab the likes of which the Chicago underworld hadn't seen since 1946.

The other was chasing his wolf.

In the moments after the inevitable and spectacular collision, the two men swayed together, only just maintaining their feet by their firm grasp on each other's upper arms.

"Phone, you got a phone?" the slimmer and more vibrantly dressed of the two gasped, patting down the other's brown uniform in his desperation.

"I-- No-- I'm afraid I don't. You see I'm only recently--"

But any further explanation was cut short by the other's terse "Then what good are you?"

While the question was almost certainly redundant--a redundancy made all the more evident by his abrupt return his earlier breakneck pace--his new acquaintance made every effort to answer as thoroughly as possible.

"Well, trapping, of course, fishing, tracking, basket-weaving, basic archery. I'm skilled at wood-carving, though need some improvement in the proper tanning of leather," he explained, running easily alongside his new friend. "I can wrestle bears, perform basic field medicine and clothing-repair, braid rope, and I can fly."

"Well, why didn't you say so before?" the other demanded, skidding to a halt. "Give me a lift, then. I'm getting blisters the size of manhole covers running like this."

"Of course," the stranger replied, his smile as white as the broad wings that unfolded from his back with the crisp snap of freshly laundered sheets. "It would be my pleasure."

And, while it would be four months, eighteen days, and three hours before he would grow so bold as to admit it to himself, and another year exactly before he admitted it to the friend he made that night, the statement was entirely, abundantly true.

For innocentsmith. Fraser, Dief.



The Consulate was still, filled only with the entirely usual and expected three a.m. sounds. Ben couldn't remember anything particularly troubling in his dreams that could explain his sudden wakefulness, nor did his bladder need emptying.

This was irregular. He propped himself up on one elbow and peered over the side of the cot. "Dief?" he asked quietly.

"Meow," said Dief.

"Ah," Ben sighed. "That would explain it."

***

In other news, I've stopped sleeping. Usually, I sleep like a baby, if babies slept like logs. I am offensive in my facility for sleep. This week? My sleep is broken. It's a terrible, tragic, woeful thing. Also, trippy.
Previous post Next post
Up