How Flipper won the race and other life stories
Title. How Flipper won the race and other life stories
Author. hey_Giffy
Pairing. Sam/Ed Junior, love nest of four if you squint really hard.
Wordcount. 1332
Summary. Quorra and Rinzler are mischievous, Sam is a bad influence, and Junior is uptight about things.
Rinzler and Quorra have found that the most fun thing to do while Sam is out is to explore his apartment. The place is small, but there are still plenty of hidden things- little boxes tucked away from view. Some hold photographs, others hold books- Rinzler finds one in the nightstand that holds some weird little individually-packaged slippery balloons. They don't quite know what to do with those.
But their greatest discovery so far had been in a shoebox under the bed- an assortment of colourful... things. They sat there, in front of the box, trying to discern what they were used for- one was shaped like a dolphin- a dolphin. Quorra had seen them on the discovery channel the other day and thought they were just peachy-keen. “Do you think that Sam will let me keep this one?” She asked, eyes wide.
The other program shrugged, poking at one of them absently. They reminded him of something, but he couldn't figure out what. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned a little closer to the box. He snapped out of his trance when he heard Quorra yelp and drop the dolphin-shaped-thing to the floor.
“...Oh my god, it vibrates. Look at it go!” she clapped her hands together and watched as it did indeed vibrate across the floor. Rinzler reached into the box and pulled out another vibrator, and after a moment of fiddling with it, figured out how to turn it on. He set it on the floor and watched as it, too, buzzed across the floor, bumping into the dolphin-shaped one.
“Hey, Rinzler.” Quorra looked at him, a grin spreading across her face. “...I've got an awesome idea.”
It was a few hours later that Sam came home, greeted by the sound of a cacophony of buzzing and rattling. When he followed the sound into the kitchen, what he saw had him doubled over laughing.
Somewhere across town, Ed Dillinger Junior was still at work. He'd assured Sam before he'd left that no, he was not going to sleep at the office again, and yes, he would be home for dinner eventually, and yes he would pick dinner up in the first place because Sam didn't feel like cooking, and he didn't trust Rinzler and Quorra with anything more complicated than cup ramen (and even then, it wasn't really a good idea).
He was just about to pack up to leave when his phone started shrieking at him. The display was blaring “Sam Flynn <3” (Sam had added the <3 a couple days ago, and Junior hadn't bothered to remove it). Picking up the phone, the first thing he heard was a strange sound, like white noise- and Sam laughing like a hyena.
“And what,” Junior began as he leaned back against his desk, “is so funny that it couldn't wait until I got home?” He asked, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger.
“Oh my god, Junior, they fucking- I'm never leaving them alone again, I swear to god,” he gasped between raucous laughter. “They must have been poking around in my room, man, I just got home and I- holy shit, just... just hang up, I have to send you a picture.”
Whatever it was that they did, it must have been pretty hilarious; the last time Sam had called him about Quorra and Rinzler, they'd painted his apartment pink, and the time before that, they'd tried to make pancakes and ended up completely destroying the oven. He hung up the phone, and a few minutes later, it buzzed again.
Junior opened the text message, and when he saw the photo attachment, he didn't know whether or not he should laugh or cry.
Quorra and Rinzler were seated on the kitchen floor, over what appeared to be a rough drawing of the game grid's light cycle arena (Sam had shown him, briefly, when he'd taken him into the grid). The sight would have been adorable, if they'd been racing cars or something like that; but there on the floor in front of them was a sight that made the colour drain from Junior's face.
They were, it appears, having a race with what Junior recognized as two of Sam's vibrators.
“...Mother of god.” he laughed, shaking his head. Jesus christ, Sam, you are such a bad influence on them. He'd texted back.
Eventually, after a short stop for chinese, Junior walked through the door of Sam's place and continued into the kitchen, where it appeared that the... racing festivities were still on. Setting the food down on the counter, he walked around the “track” and leaned against the kitchen table. “So.” He began, trying his best not to look like he found this whole thing incredibly funny. “Who's winning?”
Quorra beamed up at him. “Well, I won the last couple races, but Rinzler's catching up- I won't give up hope, though, because Flipper's the fastest and, well, he's just going to have to deal with it.”
That prompted another snort of laughter from Sam, who was- oh, good lord- filming the proceedings. “Flipper?” Junior asked, rubbing his forhead, caught once more on that fine line between laughter and tears.
“Yeah! It's a great name, don't you think? Rinzler won't name his, though- I think he's just being a sore loser.” The other program groaned quietly and covered his face with both hands as... “flipper” crossed the finish line again.
Sensing a full-blown sulkfest over a vibrator race, Junior threw up his hands. “All right, all right- put your... racers away. It's dinner time. And don't forget to wash your hands.” Junior reached down and squeezed Sam's head when he started to protest.
Quorra laughed and slung her arms over Rinzler, who made a soft little purring sound, then got to his feet. “You may have won the gaytona 500 this time, but I'll take that title.” Rinzler took both vibrators, and the two went off to Sam's bedroom to replace them in the box.
Junior fixed Sam with a venomous gaze, then gave his head a shove. “Gaytona 500? Really? Don't be such a bad influence, Sam.” The other could only laugh, slinging his arms around Junior's waist.
“Oh, c'moooon, Junior, loosen up. It was fucking adorable.” He smiled that goddamn charming Sam Flynn smile and nosed against Junior's neck. Stupid charming Sam. Junior decided he'd take out that heart from next to Sam's name in his phone. He'd definitely do that. Tomorrow.
“I will not. Is that permanent marker on the floor? Goddamnit, Sam.” Junior grumbled, slinging his arms around Sam in turn. “I am not cleaning this up. You are going to clean this up, and then you are going to explain to Rinzler and Quorra about what they found in those boxes, and-” Sam groaned, then blew a raspberry against Junior's neck. He had to bite back a squeak.
“Yes, mother.” he teased, pinching Junior's side gently. “Loosen up. It was hilarious, and you know it. Plus, now I've got some awesome footage for next year.” A cat-like grin split his face and he pulled away, heading over to the counter and nosing through the chinese food.
“Next year?” Junior balked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sam, you can't be serious. Please, please tell me you're not being serious. I don't want you base jumping off the goddamn tower again. Promise me you won't do that again.”
Sam's face was the absolute model of angelic innocence. Holding one hand over his heart, he shut his eyes. “I, Sam Flynn, swear that I will never base jump off of Encom tower again.” Junior let out a breath he didn't remember ever holding, though his relief was short-lived. “Wingsuit gliding, though- now that's a whole different story.”
Junior just scowled and punched him in the arm.
Author. hey_Giffy
Pairing. Sam/Ed Junior, love nest of four if you squint really hard.
Wordcount. 1332
Summary. Quorra and Rinzler are mischievous, Sam is a bad influence, and Junior is uptight about things.
Rinzler and Quorra have found that the most fun thing to do while Sam is out is to explore his apartment. The place is small, but there are still plenty of hidden things- little boxes tucked away from view. Some hold photographs, others hold books- Rinzler finds one in the nightstand that holds some weird little individually-packaged slippery balloons. They don't quite know what to do with those.
But their greatest discovery so far had been in a shoebox under the bed- an assortment of colourful... things. They sat there, in front of the box, trying to discern what they were used for- one was shaped like a dolphin- a dolphin. Quorra had seen them on the discovery channel the other day and thought they were just peachy-keen. “Do you think that Sam will let me keep this one?” She asked, eyes wide.
The other program shrugged, poking at one of them absently. They reminded him of something, but he couldn't figure out what. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned a little closer to the box. He snapped out of his trance when he heard Quorra yelp and drop the dolphin-shaped-thing to the floor.
“...Oh my god, it vibrates. Look at it go!” she clapped her hands together and watched as it did indeed vibrate across the floor. Rinzler reached into the box and pulled out another vibrator, and after a moment of fiddling with it, figured out how to turn it on. He set it on the floor and watched as it, too, buzzed across the floor, bumping into the dolphin-shaped one.
“Hey, Rinzler.” Quorra looked at him, a grin spreading across her face. “...I've got an awesome idea.”
It was a few hours later that Sam came home, greeted by the sound of a cacophony of buzzing and rattling. When he followed the sound into the kitchen, what he saw had him doubled over laughing.
Somewhere across town, Ed Dillinger Junior was still at work. He'd assured Sam before he'd left that no, he was not going to sleep at the office again, and yes, he would be home for dinner eventually, and yes he would pick dinner up in the first place because Sam didn't feel like cooking, and he didn't trust Rinzler and Quorra with anything more complicated than cup ramen (and even then, it wasn't really a good idea).
He was just about to pack up to leave when his phone started shrieking at him. The display was blaring “Sam Flynn <3” (Sam had added the <3 a couple days ago, and Junior hadn't bothered to remove it). Picking up the phone, the first thing he heard was a strange sound, like white noise- and Sam laughing like a hyena.
“And what,” Junior began as he leaned back against his desk, “is so funny that it couldn't wait until I got home?” He asked, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger.
“Oh my god, Junior, they fucking- I'm never leaving them alone again, I swear to god,” he gasped between raucous laughter. “They must have been poking around in my room, man, I just got home and I- holy shit, just... just hang up, I have to send you a picture.”
Whatever it was that they did, it must have been pretty hilarious; the last time Sam had called him about Quorra and Rinzler, they'd painted his apartment pink, and the time before that, they'd tried to make pancakes and ended up completely destroying the oven. He hung up the phone, and a few minutes later, it buzzed again.
Junior opened the text message, and when he saw the photo attachment, he didn't know whether or not he should laugh or cry.
Quorra and Rinzler were seated on the kitchen floor, over what appeared to be a rough drawing of the game grid's light cycle arena (Sam had shown him, briefly, when he'd taken him into the grid). The sight would have been adorable, if they'd been racing cars or something like that; but there on the floor in front of them was a sight that made the colour drain from Junior's face.
They were, it appears, having a race with what Junior recognized as two of Sam's vibrators.
“...Mother of god.” he laughed, shaking his head. Jesus christ, Sam, you are such a bad influence on them. He'd texted back.
Eventually, after a short stop for chinese, Junior walked through the door of Sam's place and continued into the kitchen, where it appeared that the... racing festivities were still on. Setting the food down on the counter, he walked around the “track” and leaned against the kitchen table. “So.” He began, trying his best not to look like he found this whole thing incredibly funny. “Who's winning?”
Quorra beamed up at him. “Well, I won the last couple races, but Rinzler's catching up- I won't give up hope, though, because Flipper's the fastest and, well, he's just going to have to deal with it.”
That prompted another snort of laughter from Sam, who was- oh, good lord- filming the proceedings. “Flipper?” Junior asked, rubbing his forhead, caught once more on that fine line between laughter and tears.
“Yeah! It's a great name, don't you think? Rinzler won't name his, though- I think he's just being a sore loser.” The other program groaned quietly and covered his face with both hands as... “flipper” crossed the finish line again.
Sensing a full-blown sulkfest over a vibrator race, Junior threw up his hands. “All right, all right- put your... racers away. It's dinner time. And don't forget to wash your hands.” Junior reached down and squeezed Sam's head when he started to protest.
Quorra laughed and slung her arms over Rinzler, who made a soft little purring sound, then got to his feet. “You may have won the gaytona 500 this time, but I'll take that title.” Rinzler took both vibrators, and the two went off to Sam's bedroom to replace them in the box.
Junior fixed Sam with a venomous gaze, then gave his head a shove. “Gaytona 500? Really? Don't be such a bad influence, Sam.” The other could only laugh, slinging his arms around Junior's waist.
“Oh, c'moooon, Junior, loosen up. It was fucking adorable.” He smiled that goddamn charming Sam Flynn smile and nosed against Junior's neck. Stupid charming Sam. Junior decided he'd take out that heart from next to Sam's name in his phone. He'd definitely do that. Tomorrow.
“I will not. Is that permanent marker on the floor? Goddamnit, Sam.” Junior grumbled, slinging his arms around Sam in turn. “I am not cleaning this up. You are going to clean this up, and then you are going to explain to Rinzler and Quorra about what they found in those boxes, and-” Sam groaned, then blew a raspberry against Junior's neck. He had to bite back a squeak.
“Yes, mother.” he teased, pinching Junior's side gently. “Loosen up. It was hilarious, and you know it. Plus, now I've got some awesome footage for next year.” A cat-like grin split his face and he pulled away, heading over to the counter and nosing through the chinese food.
“Next year?” Junior balked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sam, you can't be serious. Please, please tell me you're not being serious. I don't want you base jumping off the goddamn tower again. Promise me you won't do that again.”
Sam's face was the absolute model of angelic innocence. Holding one hand over his heart, he shut his eyes. “I, Sam Flynn, swear that I will never base jump off of Encom tower again.” Junior let out a breath he didn't remember ever holding, though his relief was short-lived. “Wingsuit gliding, though- now that's a whole different story.”
Junior just scowled and punched him in the arm.