[6 Fics] 24 - Chloe/Morris; Chloe/Assad; Heroes - Peter/Claire; Prison Break - Sara/Kellerman; RPF;
Title: watercolor words and polaroid pictures
Author: oregonblondie
Fandom - Pairing: Heroes - Peter/Claire
Notes: Um, spoilers for 1x14. Incest liek whoa. Slightly pr0n-ish, I suppose.
And this is so totally falseeeyelashes fault, beacuse I fell off this ship a long while ago.
maybe they save the world in a big city and a man dies (but only one) and the world doesn’t notice a thing.
it’s picturesque and quirky as they all move in to the petrelli house mansion and fight crime like in a comic book. she tries to steal his car (she doesn’t want to be an x-man) but he catches her two blocks away. they drive to jersey and away; a little road trip (don’t they deserve it?)
---
she paints a picture of texas in watercolor words and he whispers faded polaroids of vancouver and tijuana and a week spent by mistake in berlin. jokes and puns and easy silence and she forgets a best friend she used to have (he wasn’t real anyways).
they don’t have much cash (twenty-twenty hindsight or some other shit like that) and they sleep in the car and he’s such a freaking gentleman (but not quite enough) that she wants to scream. every morning they end up limbs-tangled (and maybe one of them wakes up and doesn’t move) but it’s never spoken of during the daylight (because it’s so wrong).
they’re not wanted but they’re still running from something. it’s a freezing night and he’s too protective so he wraps his arms around her and tells her to sleep.
sometime in half-light he feels he stir and his cheeks arms warm because she’s on top of him, half awake herself, lips brushing his pulse. golden curls in her eyes and her legs are too strong and he’s too tired to get away (and maybe he’s corrupting an angel) because her tongue slips past his lips and her fists hold his shirt and he can only bury his fingers in her halo (he’s the devil now).
she fumbles for the hem of his and her shirts and moves her hips in an oval and virgin southern belles should not know how to do that and maybe he imagines it but he thinks he feels a ropy scar when he places his hands below her breasts (nononowrongno).
heavy breaths and the windows are getting fogged up (but only one of them is still a teenager) and it’s like a little bit of magic because they’re moving together now and she runs her nails deep down his back and watches as the lines zip his skin up.
they come together in a single breath and everything zooms back in around them and it’s too quiet and too still and the only sound is sporadic breathing (inandout trynottoscream).
---
cut and copy and paste and they finish their loop around the country and back in new york his car sits in a garage and years later they might talk about it like one talks about distant friends and unfortunate circumstances (she has a shiny wedding band now and he doesn’t).
she reads nabokov one rain-drenched weekend and smiles at her own secrets.
fin.
Title: everything that doesn't happen
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Sara/Kellerman (crack!ship extrodinare!)
Spoilers: Chicago and the rest of Season 2.
---
the tiniest bit of what’s so fucked up here is that she has the clearest picture of Kellerman in the church; blueberry pie and maybe there’s a chance that someone could be interested in her again a broken toy. (lance instead of paul).
she rubs the edges of her eyes, undoing creases and a shiver runs down her spine like a shock. vibrations of the car are giving her a headache and she can feel him behind her, smirking or laughing or mocking; it’s like his default.
it’s the entire situation, just a big joke. she’s a doctor, a drug addict, who’s in the company of two fugitive brothers (one of whom she may have fallen for) and an ex-secret serviceman. what a load of crap.
(what didn’t happen earlier)
she didn’t try to kill him, she’s just too shaken and goes to the bathroom alone and runs a nail along her arm, along her scars. there isn’t a knock on the door and she expects anyone in the world but him, with his head ducked down.
she doesn’t let him in and doesn’t sit away form him while he tries too hard too explain it all. she doesn’t sit too close to him and not say anything more.
she doesn’t touch his cheek and she definitely doesn’t lean in and let her lips graze his for the tiniest second. she doesn’t let him bury his hands in her hair and doesn’t feel his breath along her jaw.
she doesn’t tell his to leave and go upstairs. she doesn’t cry a little bit afterwards; she doesn’t laugh either and clean herself a little and she doesn’t ignore him for the rest of the trip.
no, they pay people to jump off a train and she has some revenge and kisses a different boy and it all doesn’t matter.
fin.
Title: miniature disasters
Fandom - Pairing: 24 - Chloe/Morris
Summary: pain and fear and one tiny tear squeezed out and she really can’t do this again and again and again. everybody she knows dies.
Notes: Spoilers for all the aired hours of Day 6, majorly for the last.
---
pain and fear and one tiny tear squeezed out and she really can’t do this again and again and again. everybody she knows dies.
---
“i got him. he's okay.”
rush of relief and rush to the hospital and maybe she has another chance (second? third?) at all of this because her life didn’t go completely to shit again.
---
it’s not pretty but she doesn’t care. she waits in the hospital (uncomfortable chairs) for what seems like forever and it’s still scary as hell but she’s not sure why.
she concentrates on breathing even breaths and pretends to sleep but she doesn’t want to miss it when he does wake up.
---
she’s half asleep but hears smooth vowels and she’s never been so happy to hear him call her a ‘hottie’.
her fingers skim over his face, so afraid of it all; like it’s not really him like it’s more of her life just being fucked around with and that he’s going to be taken again.
“hi.”
she whispers a ‘i’m so glad you’re okay’ and a smile and maybe even a ‘i love you’ thrown in there but don’t ever tell and timothy’s coming down from Washington tomorrow.
he sees her hands and is so serious and tells her that she will get a new ring but he can’t get her a new life; universe. no answer (but maybe there was the tiniest nod).
she really is to the point of crying and she holds his hand almost too hard and when she makes him promise that he won’t ever leave again. he makes room for her to sit and when she’s done crying into his neck he whispers ‘never’ because he couldn’t ever mean it more.
fin.
Title: Hum Hallelujah
Author: oregonblondie
Fandom: 24
Pairing: Chloe/Assad, Chloe/Morris
Summary: he’s not there very often, maybe once or twice a month (it’s not her job not keep track), but he always brings her coffee (bitter and almost too hot), like some kind of offering.
Note: Um, yeah. Crack!ship all the way! This started as a bit of a joke, when rorylie asked who would be a random ship for Chloe, and I picked Assad. And because that would be so hawt, I decided to write it. Yes, I'm a terrible Chloe/Morris shipper, I know it.
he’s not there very often, maybe once or twice a month (it’s not her job not keep track), but he always brings her coffee (bitter and almost too hot), like some kind of offering. she purses her lips and absently twirls the ring around her finger (shiny; new; second time around) and leans forward in her chair to where she can see him working across the bullpen. the cup’s always empty by the time he leaves for the day.
it’s December and it was snowing when she came in (no windows in here) and it’s been too long since he’s been in. but there’s a styrofoam cup on her desk and it makes her smile a little but she can’t have it around (two rings now; she’s not free anymore, again).
he’s typing away in the otherwise empty conference room, so she grasps the cup and holds it out in front of her, sits down quietly.
“hey,” it seems like they could be should be friends, or something else. something to make this not make her feel guilty (she shouldn’t feel this horrible; she hasn’t done won’t do anything wrong).
“hello,” he nods, a warm smile nice lips. he’s stopped typing, eyes moving form screen to cup and finally to her eyes.
she looks away (gaze too hard), brushing right hand over left under the table. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for the coffee.” (she really wants to ask how the hell this even started; if it was her fault)
he smiles again, wide and it’s the kind of smile that shows in his eyes and she’s just talking to another man, “it’s no problem at all.”
it’s like an itch she can’t bring herself to scratch; asking why. she nods, looking anywhere but him, “but I can’t drink it.” she meets his gaze, unrelenting now, characteristically defiant. “I’m pregnant.”
if she were anybody else she might have noticed how his smile got tight, or that his gazes follows her a bit too closely on her way back to her desk before he returns to his work (she also doesn’t notice that he leaves the cup untouched on the table when he leaves).
it’s a long while before he’s called to come in again, three months (the world’s just getting too safe). she’s not there in her spot, only a vacant space. he hears words like ‘maternity leave’ and ‘best rest’ and someone chuckles about a happy little O’Brian family and he nods and gets back to work, because the world’s how it should be again; everything back in its place.
fin
citywide rodeo (oh i wish i had someone to love) [30 Rock - Jack/Liz] (for zauberer_sirin) ^_^
you problem is really that you haven’t been kissed well enough in a long time; out of the blue.
eye roll and sagging shoulders and trying to push past him and out of the room.
warm hands at her waist and they’re just too close too close and a whisper; you could use a good kiss.
she can’t lie; there haven’t been a lot of good kisses in her life recently too long forever.
the moment passion;grace;beauty hangs about too long; fans blowing air aimlessly; papers shuffling too close
she can slip past him now that he’s made her a ghost.
fin.
satellites surround us (everybody says you can’t) [RPF - Sandra Bullock/Keanu Reeves]
sometimes, there are nights she can’t sleep and can’t breath anymore and she’s just drowning in this city, suffocated less by the smog and more by the people.
she steals away on one of Jesse’s bikes and drives south on the 5 for as long and fast as she can and plays her funny little game of never driving slower than 50 (because it makes her laugh more than it should).
and she remembers another ride, cleaner air (so different from this city) and the wind is cold but he isn’t and they ride silently and in the dark and now she can’t believe she was ever so alive.
fin.
(apparently, Keanu did actually coin the term ‘demon ride’ for riding a motorcycle without headlights. see here under ‘Personal Life’.
Author: oregonblondie
Fandom - Pairing: Heroes - Peter/Claire
Notes: Um, spoilers for 1x14. Incest liek whoa. Slightly pr0n-ish, I suppose.
And this is so totally falseeeyelashes fault, beacuse I fell off this ship a long while ago.
maybe they save the world in a big city and a man dies (but only one) and the world doesn’t notice a thing.
it’s picturesque and quirky as they all move in to the petrelli house mansion and fight crime like in a comic book. she tries to steal his car (she doesn’t want to be an x-man) but he catches her two blocks away. they drive to jersey and away; a little road trip (don’t they deserve it?)
---
she paints a picture of texas in watercolor words and he whispers faded polaroids of vancouver and tijuana and a week spent by mistake in berlin. jokes and puns and easy silence and she forgets a best friend she used to have (he wasn’t real anyways).
they don’t have much cash (twenty-twenty hindsight or some other shit like that) and they sleep in the car and he’s such a freaking gentleman (but not quite enough) that she wants to scream. every morning they end up limbs-tangled (and maybe one of them wakes up and doesn’t move) but it’s never spoken of during the daylight (because it’s so wrong).
they’re not wanted but they’re still running from something. it’s a freezing night and he’s too protective so he wraps his arms around her and tells her to sleep.
sometime in half-light he feels he stir and his cheeks arms warm because she’s on top of him, half awake herself, lips brushing his pulse. golden curls in her eyes and her legs are too strong and he’s too tired to get away (and maybe he’s corrupting an angel) because her tongue slips past his lips and her fists hold his shirt and he can only bury his fingers in her halo (he’s the devil now).
she fumbles for the hem of his and her shirts and moves her hips in an oval and virgin southern belles should not know how to do that and maybe he imagines it but he thinks he feels a ropy scar when he places his hands below her breasts (nononowrongno).
heavy breaths and the windows are getting fogged up (but only one of them is still a teenager) and it’s like a little bit of magic because they’re moving together now and she runs her nails deep down his back and watches as the lines zip his skin up.
they come together in a single breath and everything zooms back in around them and it’s too quiet and too still and the only sound is sporadic breathing (inandout trynottoscream).
---
cut and copy and paste and they finish their loop around the country and back in new york his car sits in a garage and years later they might talk about it like one talks about distant friends and unfortunate circumstances (she has a shiny wedding band now and he doesn’t).
she reads nabokov one rain-drenched weekend and smiles at her own secrets.
fin.
Title: everything that doesn't happen
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Sara/Kellerman (crack!ship extrodinare!)
Spoilers: Chicago and the rest of Season 2.
---
the tiniest bit of what’s so fucked up here is that she has the clearest picture of Kellerman in the church; blueberry pie and maybe there’s a chance that someone could be interested in her again a broken toy. (lance instead of paul).
she rubs the edges of her eyes, undoing creases and a shiver runs down her spine like a shock. vibrations of the car are giving her a headache and she can feel him behind her, smirking or laughing or mocking; it’s like his default.
it’s the entire situation, just a big joke. she’s a doctor, a drug addict, who’s in the company of two fugitive brothers (one of whom she may have fallen for) and an ex-secret serviceman. what a load of crap.
(what didn’t happen earlier)
she didn’t try to kill him, she’s just too shaken and goes to the bathroom alone and runs a nail along her arm, along her scars. there isn’t a knock on the door and she expects anyone in the world but him, with his head ducked down.
she doesn’t let him in and doesn’t sit away form him while he tries too hard too explain it all. she doesn’t sit too close to him and not say anything more.
she doesn’t touch his cheek and she definitely doesn’t lean in and let her lips graze his for the tiniest second. she doesn’t let him bury his hands in her hair and doesn’t feel his breath along her jaw.
she doesn’t tell his to leave and go upstairs. she doesn’t cry a little bit afterwards; she doesn’t laugh either and clean herself a little and she doesn’t ignore him for the rest of the trip.
no, they pay people to jump off a train and she has some revenge and kisses a different boy and it all doesn’t matter.
fin.
Title: miniature disasters
Fandom - Pairing: 24 - Chloe/Morris
Summary: pain and fear and one tiny tear squeezed out and she really can’t do this again and again and again. everybody she knows dies.
Notes: Spoilers for all the aired hours of Day 6, majorly for the last.
---
pain and fear and one tiny tear squeezed out and she really can’t do this again and again and again. everybody she knows dies.
---
“i got him. he's okay.”
rush of relief and rush to the hospital and maybe she has another chance (second? third?) at all of this because her life didn’t go completely to shit again.
---
it’s not pretty but she doesn’t care. she waits in the hospital (uncomfortable chairs) for what seems like forever and it’s still scary as hell but she’s not sure why.
she concentrates on breathing even breaths and pretends to sleep but she doesn’t want to miss it when he does wake up.
---
she’s half asleep but hears smooth vowels and she’s never been so happy to hear him call her a ‘hottie’.
her fingers skim over his face, so afraid of it all; like it’s not really him like it’s more of her life just being fucked around with and that he’s going to be taken again.
“hi.”
she whispers a ‘i’m so glad you’re okay’ and a smile and maybe even a ‘i love you’ thrown in there but don’t ever tell and timothy’s coming down from Washington tomorrow.
he sees her hands and is so serious and tells her that she will get a new ring but he can’t get her a new life; universe. no answer (but maybe there was the tiniest nod).
she really is to the point of crying and she holds his hand almost too hard and when she makes him promise that he won’t ever leave again. he makes room for her to sit and when she’s done crying into his neck he whispers ‘never’ because he couldn’t ever mean it more.
fin.
Title: Hum Hallelujah
Author: oregonblondie
Fandom: 24
Pairing: Chloe/Assad, Chloe/Morris
Summary: he’s not there very often, maybe once or twice a month (it’s not her job not keep track), but he always brings her coffee (bitter and almost too hot), like some kind of offering.
Note: Um, yeah. Crack!ship all the way! This started as a bit of a joke, when rorylie asked who would be a random ship for Chloe, and I picked Assad. And because that would be so hawt, I decided to write it. Yes, I'm a terrible Chloe/Morris shipper, I know it.
he’s not there very often, maybe once or twice a month (it’s not her job not keep track), but he always brings her coffee (bitter and almost too hot), like some kind of offering. she purses her lips and absently twirls the ring around her finger (shiny; new; second time around) and leans forward in her chair to where she can see him working across the bullpen. the cup’s always empty by the time he leaves for the day.
it’s December and it was snowing when she came in (no windows in here) and it’s been too long since he’s been in. but there’s a styrofoam cup on her desk and it makes her smile a little but she can’t have it around (two rings now; she’s not free anymore, again).
he’s typing away in the otherwise empty conference room, so she grasps the cup and holds it out in front of her, sits down quietly.
“hey,” it seems like they could be should be friends, or something else. something to make this not make her feel guilty (she shouldn’t feel this horrible; she hasn’t done won’t do anything wrong).
“hello,” he nods, a warm smile nice lips. he’s stopped typing, eyes moving form screen to cup and finally to her eyes.
she looks away (gaze too hard), brushing right hand over left under the table. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for the coffee.” (she really wants to ask how the hell this even started; if it was her fault)
he smiles again, wide and it’s the kind of smile that shows in his eyes and she’s just talking to another man, “it’s no problem at all.”
it’s like an itch she can’t bring herself to scratch; asking why. she nods, looking anywhere but him, “but I can’t drink it.” she meets his gaze, unrelenting now, characteristically defiant. “I’m pregnant.”
if she were anybody else she might have noticed how his smile got tight, or that his gazes follows her a bit too closely on her way back to her desk before he returns to his work (she also doesn’t notice that he leaves the cup untouched on the table when he leaves).
it’s a long while before he’s called to come in again, three months (the world’s just getting too safe). she’s not there in her spot, only a vacant space. he hears words like ‘maternity leave’ and ‘best rest’ and someone chuckles about a happy little O’Brian family and he nods and gets back to work, because the world’s how it should be again; everything back in its place.
fin
citywide rodeo (oh i wish i had someone to love) [30 Rock - Jack/Liz] (for zauberer_sirin) ^_^
you problem is really that you haven’t been kissed well enough in a long time; out of the blue.
eye roll and sagging shoulders and trying to push past him and out of the room.
warm hands at her waist and they’re just too close too close and a whisper; you could use a good kiss.
she can’t lie; there haven’t been a lot of good kisses in her life recently too long forever.
the moment passion;grace;beauty hangs about too long; fans blowing air aimlessly; papers shuffling too close
she can slip past him now that he’s made her a ghost.
fin.
satellites surround us (everybody says you can’t) [RPF - Sandra Bullock/Keanu Reeves]
sometimes, there are nights she can’t sleep and can’t breath anymore and she’s just drowning in this city, suffocated less by the smog and more by the people.
she steals away on one of Jesse’s bikes and drives south on the 5 for as long and fast as she can and plays her funny little game of never driving slower than 50 (because it makes her laugh more than it should).
and she remembers another ride, cleaner air (so different from this city) and the wind is cold but he isn’t and they ride silently and in the dark and now she can’t believe she was ever so alive.
fin.
(apparently, Keanu did actually coin the term ‘demon ride’ for riding a motorcycle without headlights. see here under ‘Personal Life’.