Tuesday - AU Day!

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

To continue our week, we're going with an oldie but goodie - AUs! So why don't you think about putting your characters in a different time period or a different job? Maybe character A never met character B? Maybe they're pirates in space or assassins or maybe they all work in the local shopping mall. So many ideas!

Now, please, please remember to be kind to your hardworking codemonkeys and leave your prompts looking like this (the second is for crossovers):

Fandom(/s), pairing, prompt

SPN, Dean/Sam, FBI agents - BAU profilers
Wolverine Origins/Firefly, Logan/author's choice, "My ship, my rules!"

Just a couple of rules - although I'm sure you all know them already!
- No more than 5 prompts in a row and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If one of your prompts is answered, then you can leave another one! Just don't go crazy and try to space your prompts out through the day.
- No spoiler prompts for a week after its aired - and, if your ficlet contains spoilers, put a warning in bold and leave three spaces.

Remember, if nothing strikes your fancy today, please, head on over to the Lonely Prompts and see if there's something there you like!

Comments

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Sam, FBI agents - BAU profilers

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Wolverine Origins/Firefly, Logan/author's choice, "My ship, my rules!"

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Offing a member of your own crew was a terrible thing. But as Captain, Mal knew it was a choice that sometimes had to be made.

He would have done it with Jayne. If he had to. But even that idiot was capable of learning to follow orders.

These new additions, though. Zoe had made it sound so humanitarian. Gather the ones that the Alliance made different. Them and River could fight what needed fightin', and the good doctor would help them deal with the pains and problems that came with being a manufactured weapon.

But most of these special folk? Weren't nothin' like River. She started as a scared girl and ended as a right powerful one, but even when she was frightful strange, there was good inside.

But some of this new crew sure weren't innocent kids who got tricked into it. He could tell, even without them sayin', that they were soldiers first. The kind that would want the extra power, so they could put extra hurt.

Remy. John. Wade. A bunch of scoundrels, clear 'nuff. He would lay down the law with them. He would make it clear that their special skills meant not a dang thing when out in the black. "My ship, my rules!" would be the motto of the day, and every danged day after that.

Mal would keep order whatever way he had to. They couldn't be any tougher to rein in than Logan was. When Logan first showed, he had about as much respect for Mal as, well, as Mal had for any other authority figures. The man proved to be good in a fight, Alliance technology havin' made him harder than steel. But when he got a whiff of something, some trail he wanted to follow, some memory he wanted to drift on, he would be off. And the whole damn crew would have to linger around to find him, usually some place that was dangerous to be lingerin' around that long.

There were many times Mal wanted to just leave him there, let him die on his latest fool venture. But Logan was crew, and Mal'd rather shoot him out the airlock himself than let Logan look up at the sky and see Serenity abandoning him.

Besides, Kaylee wouldn't have allowed it anyway. When he so much as joked about ditching Logan, she would whine, "BUt you said we could keep him."

So keep him they did. And Soon enough, Mal learned to read him the way he did the rest of his crew. Knew when he was getting a dumb idea about runnin' off in that pretty little head of his. Saw that gleam in Logan's eye, and then Mal would have his fingers digging into Logan's hips, tongue down his throat, knee between his thighs, backing Logan against the wall, and Logan would growl but would let him.

And Logan stopped runnin' off.

Mal knew that being a captain means running a tight ship. It means knowing your crew. These new ones, they might be a handful. They might be a waste of time. But at least now he had Logan to help him rein them in. And, tough as they all were, not one of them looked like they wanted to make Logan angry.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, life in the retail industry

Life in the retail industry, NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Tony DiNozzo is bored.

It's two-thirty on a Thursday afternoon - not exactly prime shopping time. The housewives have gone home or are at lunch and the high-school kids aren't out of their prisons yet. There's a few mallrats lingering around, but no one exciting.

Tony loves excitement.

(Which kinda begs the question of why, exactly, he's working in a clothing store in a mall. The answer to that is about to step through said clothing store's doors.)

"Elbows off the counter, DiNozzo," his boss barks as he strides in armed with coffee and a glare. Tony straightens and snaps off a quick salute - then ducks the swipe to the back of his head as Gibbs joins him behind the counter.

Technically, Gibbs' nametag says 'Hello, my name is: Jethro'...but no one ever calls him that. Tony calls him 'boss', most days. It's a thing.

Tony grabs the cup Gibbs holds out to him and practically inhales his first couple of swallows. Gibbs rolls his eyes at Tony's theatrics and Tony grins and pretends to swoon.

"Delicious, delicious caffeine," he says. To his everlasting surprise, Gibbs always remembers Tony's order - although Tony can't remember ever telling Gibbs his favourite drink.

"Customer," Abby hisses as she swans past back to her side of the shop from her break. Tony and Gibbs stow their cups under the counter and put on their brightest, most attentive customer service smiles. Well, Tony smiles and Gibbs manages to look a little less like a drill sergeant than usual.

It's a good thing they're not working on commission, Tony often thinks, because then Gibbs would be out of a job...or camping out on someone's couch. There's a reason Jenny - Ms Shepard, as she insists on being called - assigned him to practically shadow Gibbs. Tony is good with people. Tony will even admit to liking people, most days. Except when there's those certain, oh-so-difficult customers that just insist on making a fuss for, Tony's sure, the sake of it.

Tony tends to hide behind Gibbs on those days. Despite Abby's teasing, he's really not ashamed to admit it. There's just something about Gibbs...

When the customer's gone, Gibbs reclaims his coffee and slips out from behind the counter, brushing up against Tony on his way past.

"I'll be in the stockroom," he says, and Tony knows he's not imagining that look in Gibbs' eyes. After all, this isn't exactly the first time.

"Cover for me, Abs," Tony says with a grin, and he follows Gibbs to the back of the store to the sound of Abby's delighted laughter.

[voksen.livejournal.com]

Death Note, Mikami, Ryuk drops the Note outside Mikami's house instead of Light's school

[weesta.livejournal.com]

It had been so easy to fool herself for so long; to convince herself that the yellow-eyed demon wasn’t going to follow through and would just leave her to her family. She had to build a new family after what he did, but she made it work. She loved John and he loved her in a way no one ever had. When Dean was born, life couldn’t have been more perfect. Okay, it was a little touch and go there for a while because anyone who’d ever read a fairy tale knows that the first-born son is always a target, and though it was hard to explain her weird superstitions to John she got all of the protections past him. It turned out she didn’t need them.

How could anyone blame her for becoming complacent? She had the life she always wanted and knew she deserved – a devoted husband, a happy toddler and a baby on the way. Even living in the house she’d inherited through the deaths of her parents wasn’t enough to remind her to stay on her guard; it was too easy to give in to the fantasy.

That night in the nursery came back to her in hazy chunks with disturbing moments of clarity – realizing the figure standing over the crib wasn’t John; watching the blood – perfect drops of demon blood – falling into Sammy’s mouth; being pushed against the door of the closet. The demon had kept his word, to a point – as long as Mary didn’t interfere, no one would get hurt. And because the bastard “liked” her it even “helped” by keeping her frozen and silent, before it turned its yellow gaze back toward her precious baby to continue working.

Then John with a bottle of formula. A laugh from the demon. Blood and flames. Freedom. Flight.

An electrical fire. That’s what the official report said. Mary sometimes wondered how the officials explained the body on the ceiling, but that wasn’t her concern. All she had on her mind was the two boys in the back seat. Sammy was strapped into the car seat and Dean was in a booster seat right next to him. All the baby and little-boy stuff she could cram into the back of the minivan was stored in the space behind the boys. Trading in the Impala and getting a more practical car was easier than Mary thought it would be. She didn’t need a car to remember John; the image of his screaming face was etched on the inside of her eyeballs. She would never forget it.

The map from AAA indicated that Bill Harvelle’s roadhouse was just a few hours away. Mary pointed the van north and started driving.

Mary lived her perfect, fairy-tale life for ten years. Now she was going to jump into the life she never wanted but was trained to live. That bastard demon made a mistake leaving her alive, and she was going to make him pay for it.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Firefly/NCIS, author's choice, Mal is the lead agent in an NCIS investigation team

A Sailor's Little Family

[chibifukurou]

Mal was a sailor at heart. He liked nothing better than being out on the open sea. After the war when he’d been retired for PTSD he’d thought his life was over. How could he live without the sea?

He’d tried living as a civilian sailor for a time, just him, his ex-2IC, and her husband Wash but he’d soon discovered that he missed being a soldier more than he missed the sea. When he’d been approached to run a NCIS team it had been a godsend.

He’s happier now than he’d ever been before. He’s found a family in his little team of agents, Zoe with her unceasing loyalty, Jayne with his straightforward way of thinking, Inara with her awe-inspiring undercover abilities, and Kaylee with her intuitive lab work. With the addition of their new ME Simon and his assistant and sister River their family was complete and he never planned to let anyone take them away.

[myinkyfingers.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jared/Jensen/Chris/Steve, on tour together

RPS, Jared/Jensen/Chris/Steve, on tour together

[yanzadracan.livejournal.com]

It’d been a month since they wrapped Supernatural. After taking a week to wind down and catch up on much needed sleep. Jensen started packing to move back to LA. Jared had tried to get him to stay longer, but Jen said he had obligations, he couldn’t change.

Now the house seemed empty and way too quiet—even the dogs were pining for Jensen. He really should be thinking about his own next move.

They’d talked on the phone and email, but Jared hadn’t seen Jensen since he left. He’d been back in LA three weeks, but no one had actually seen Jensen, and when he asks, Jensen’s evasive. Steve and Chris aren’t giving him any information either.

There are scripts and meetings, and decisions about what’s next, but he seems fixated on finding out what’s going on with his best friend.

Getting desperate, Jared started watching Christian and Steve’s websites. He knows it’s a little nuts but he also knows that if Jensen’s out there, someone somewhere will be posting just as fast as they get an internet connection.

Chris is back in Portland filming the third season of Leverage. Steve’s played a few dates in LA, but he’s been as scarce as Jensen.

Then a ‘SQUEE!’ that’s almost audible is heard across the fan sites when Chris’ MySpace page announces new shows in Portland--in a larger venue, and the newly reformed Kane will be going on tour when Leverage finishes filming, with rumors of a new CD.

Jared’s jaw drops when he reads the playbill. Kane featuring Christian Kane, vocals, Steve Carlson, lead guitar and back-up vocals—and everything stops. Jensen Ackles, rhythm guitar and back-up vocals.

He scrambles for his phone, cursing when all three numbers went to voicemail.

The members of Kane tumbled into their coach, all hair, sweat, adrenaline, and unharnessed energy. Words, laughs, hugs, whispers tangled together as they moved in a symbiotic motion around the customized bus looking for a place to settle.

Jensen falls onto the couch pulling Steve and Chris with him. The tangle of arms and legs is soon sorted out as the smaller men cuss the younger, still laughing and enjoying the post show high. Steve reaches out snagging Jared’s wrist and pulling the youngest down into the mix.

Jared burrowed into the pile of hard bodies, ignoring the other band members trying to get around the human tangle. Three dogs swirled around the chaos of their humans.

He was thankful everyday that the three older men wooed him into their musical life, and then into their bed. Jared displayed an amazing knack for organizing and keeping their lives running smoothly, leaving them to be seduced by the words and music.

Arranging the schedules of three actors, a successful musician, and an up and coming band had them doing a balancing act worthy of the Flying Wallendas but after a lot of cussing, yelling, whining, and awesome makeup sex, they worked it out.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

RPS, Taylor Kitsch/Hugh Jackman, a most peculiar shade of gold

Shade of Gold

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Part of my magic!TK-AU. A longer fic can be found here: Black Marks and Revelations (http://community.livejournal.com/cyphs_stories/9738.html)

Hugh panted as he ran up the last hill towards his hotel. Sweat was trickling down his back and his thighs burned deliciously. It'd been a good run even if he'd had the strange feeling of being followed the whole time. Finally reaching the entrance to the hotel he stopped, did some stretches and then went inside. Still with the feeling of being watched.

The feeling faded as he went through the lobby and up the elevator and by the time he was outside his room he was chalking it all up to imagination. That is until he entered his room and heard a rustle out on the balcony. His room was on the fifteenth floor so this made him rather curious. When he pulled the curtain away he saw a bird sitting on the railing. The bird was rather big but he wasn't sure exactly what kind. It was the most peculiar shade of gold. He opened the door and got out, cause what else is one to do when a strange golden bird is perched on one's balcony.

"Hey there big guy..." Hugh said softly as he reached out a hand towards his guest. The bird rustled it's feathers and tilted it's head. He could have sworn it was smirking at him. "You're not afraid of me are you..." And it really wasn't. He stepped closer and reached out again, this time aiming to pet the bird. It allowed him to do so with a look that seemed very familiar.

Suddenly the bird moved, but instead of flying away it flew into the room. Hugh was just about to tell it off and chase it out again when it landed on his bed and promptly was enveloped in an odd goldish haze.

When the haze cleared the bird was gone but in its place was a grinning and completely naked Taylor.

"Hey, darling, guess what I learned to do..."

[myinkyfingers.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, Merlin's the Prince, but Arthur is still a prat

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, Same Story, Different Version :Part 1:

[neierathima.livejournal.com]

The first time Merlin is aware of meeting Arthur (he forgets people he meets at court, sometimes), he's in the woods looking for herbs (which his uncle says he doesn't need to be doing alone) and a basilisk attacks him. He's all set to take care of it himself (honestly, he was only hesitating because he was startled) when a knight in Camelot's colors runs out of the forest and pokes it (with some amount of skill) with his sword. When it's well and truly dead, the knight turns to Merlin, sneer on his (admittedly pretty) face.

"Good thing I was around to keep you from being dinner, isn't it?"

Merlin stares at him in shock.

"Don't you have any idea who I am?"

The knight rolls his eyes.

"You're the Crown Prince of Camelot. And apparently not very bright, considering you were about to be eaten by a basilisk."

At this point, Merlin is about ready to give him a practical demonstration of his more impressive magic, when the sound of a patrol returning breaks through the otherwise silent forest. He debates staying to give the prat of a knight a lesson, but if the patrol finds him, they'll insist on escorting him back, then he'll have to hear about this from his uncle, and his mother, and Gwen, and Lancelot, and probably Morgana, and whoever else feels the need to remind him of his responsibilities. He glares at the knight once more, then stomps off.

~

At dinner that night, an evil sorceress tries to kill him with a laughable enchantment, then a not-so-laughable knife to the back. Uther and several other knights rush him off while his uncle takes care of the mess. When they reach the small side room, instead of leaving knights outside the door, Uther stays with him.

Merlin didn't have any problems with the head of the knights , but Uther has always intimidated him, with his strong devotion, his stern countenance and the almost sad way he used to run a protective hand along Merlin's back as a child. Merlin knows Uther's vast overprotectiveness of sorcerers in general and his family in particular has something to do with the death of Nimueh, the former Court Priestess, but he hasn't been able to get any more information than that. He does know that Uther's wife makes excellent pies, however (which had been enough to stop his questioning at age six).

Right now, Uther is eyeing Merlin with a look of "how stupid can you possibly be" that feels oddly familiar.

When the door bursts open and the king walks in, Merlin tries to sink into the wall. He almost does but then he gets a hold of his magic. The king is not at all pleased.

"What in heaven's name were you thinking Merlin? We have knights, sorcerers, to defend against just this sort of thing, and you go throwing yourself at it with no care to your safety! And this is hardly the first time."

Unfortunately, his uncle has a point, he does have a tendency to attract trouble.

"What will I tell your mother?"

Merlin blushed, staring at his boots, and tried to think of an appropriate response. It's not as if he wanted to worry everyone, it just sort of happened sometimes.

It was Uther who intervened, preventing what would no doubt be another prolonged game of disappointment-embarrasment-avoidance between uncle and nephew.

"Please, Gaius, if I make a suggestion."

"Of course Uther, your opinion is always welcome."

"The prince is more than capable of taking care of himself magically, though we certainly wish he allowed the court sorcerers to do their jobs. It seems the most serious threats are the physical attacks."

Merlin frowned, but Gaius was nodding thoughtfully.

"And what do you propose we do, Uther?"

"Assign him a bodyguard. It's something I probably should have done years ago, but I have always relied too heavily on the safety of Camelot's walls."

Uther looked pained for a moment, and then it was Gaius' turn to comfort. Merlin looked away, not wanting to intrude on the private moment. Soon his uncle was talking again, and Uther was back to his stiff formality.

"Did you have anyone in mind?"

Uther nodded.

"I have a few ideas. If you will allow me to make arrangements?"

"Of course."

Merlin was going to protest, but Gaius shot him a look and he decided that discretion might be the better part of valor, just this once.

[myinkyfingers.livejournal.com]

Primeval, Becker/Connor, cops and the robbed

[myinkyfingers.livejournal.com]

Hornblower, Archie/Horatio, pirates

[milleniumrex.livejournal.com]

DC Universe, Cassie Sandsmark/Kara Zor-El, the Kryptonian empire invades Earth.

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

SPN, Castiel/Dean, AU; Dean still a hunter, but Castiel a human priest.

[mariana-oconnor.livejournal.com]

I had some fun with this. ^_^ I hope you like it as well.

-

Dean wakes up to muttering, which is fairly unusual; Sam doesn’t talk in his sleep and most of the people he brings back leave before morning arrives to bring harsh new light to the meaningless hook up.

But this isn’t sleep murmurs, or someone trying to find their clothes and stubbing their toes. There’s no they landed over… here or don’t let the bunnies get you. Dean can’t understand half of it, although he recognises the words and noises. It’s a garbled mixture of English and Latin, and when he twists round he already knows what he’s going to see.

His partner from last night kneeling by the foot of the bed, hands clasped in prayer, begging for forgiveness perhaps.

“What makes you think that anyone’s listening?” he asks, feeling petulant.

The flow of words stops and his one night stand (if that’s what it was, Dean still can’t quite understand why he took a priest to bed with him – maybe it was the dog collar) looks up at him, possibly amused, possibly insulted.

“If I didn’t, then I doubt I’d be in the line of work I am,” replies Castiel.

Castiel? What sort of a name is that?

I was born on a Thursday, my mother named me after the angel of Thursday.

Man, you never even had a chance, did you?

“Right… of course. Didn’t seem too concerned about the sinning last night, though,” Dean smirks, and he knows how he must look, knows that his hairs all messed up, by the very hands that are clasped together in prayer. He’s practically irresistible.

But Father Castiel’s face twists a little, uncomfortable, and Dean immediately feels bad. He had taken almost vicious pleasure in his seduction the night before, after he and Sam had burnt the ghost who was haunting the man’s church. He had seen how the priest’s eyes followed him and he had wanted to prove a point.

If there was a God up there, he certainly didn’t give a damn about Dean’s family, and he’d wanted to pay him back.

Sometimes he hated waking up in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” he says, truly meaning it. Whatever his vendettas against the higher powers he should never have got some poor schmuck who thought he was doing good work involved. The man didn’t deserve it.

“Then you are forgiven,” Castiel tells him, smiling slightly with amusement. “Don’t worry, Dean. I knew what I was doing.” He sighs, “and our father forgives.” Dean bites his tongue, but he can’t quite smother the comment.

“Never seen much sign of that,” he mutes the words, but the priest still hears and laughs a little.

“Two days ago I was convinced I was going mad, I was convinced that ghosts didn’t exist, then I learn they do and you save me from being killed by one. There were so many ways in which this could have ended up worse… but I’m still alive and so are you.” He stands up, his shirt half undone and walks over to the bed, reaching out one hand to touch Dean’s shoulder.

“Thank you… for everything.”

“Even last night?” Dean asks incredulously and Castiel smiles at him, like he knows something Dean doesn’t.

“Especially for last night,” he walks away leaning down to pick up the scrap of white collar that rests on the floor by the door, where Dean dropped it the night before. But before he makes it to the door it opens and Sam walks in, stopping dead when he sees who Dean brought back for the night. Castiel’s face is bright red as he greets the newcomer and shuffles out, leaving Sam to gape at his brother in disbelief.

“Dean… you slept with the priest?” he asks, outraged, and Dean just shrugs, swinging himself out of bed. He can still feel the touch of Castiel’s hand against his shoulder, almost more intimate than what they had done the night before.

“What can I say, Sammy?” he asks. “I’m just irresistible.”

[jestana.livejournal.com]

Tin Man, Glitch(Ambrose)/Cain, ranchers/cowboys

[jestana.livejournal.com]

PotC, Jack Sparrow/James Norrington, James never took the heart to Beckett at the end of DMC

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney/Teyla/Ronon, witches and wizards

[jestana.livejournal.com]

Numb3rs, Don/Charlie, mercenaries for hire

[jestana.livejournal.com]

PotC, Jack Sparrow/James Norrington, space age sailors

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

Legacy of Kain, Vorador/Janos(/Kain?), post-Blood Omen 2, what if Kain had gone into the demon realm and recovered Janos?

[jestana.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, werewolves

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Sam, both boys born Incubi.

Not Meant to be Alone

[chibifukurou]

His meal kept moving over him, riding him. She was his third of the night. He just needs two more and then he can return to his mate. Dean is still healing up from their last run in with hunters and San isn’t about to risk him coming out hunting till he was back in top form.

The two of them had been together since Sam was born, and he didn’t like thinking about what Dean went through before that. Incubi weren’t meant to be alone and Sam would do anything to make sure that Dean was never alone again. Even if he had to take Lucifer up on his offer to help destroy the world of humans.

[amor-remanet.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Reid/author's choice (slash preferred, but anyone works), "He was left in a basket on the steps of the FBI"

[devils-almond.livejournal.com]

In the early years of the BAU, the agents typically never left the building. Agent David Rossi, youthful and bushy-tailed, laughed to himself as the other, more experienced agents headed to their homes, whereas he was as hyper as a child on sugar at 3 am. He was an eager profiler and refused to waste a minute of his time. For a while, he considered selling his apartment and live at headquarters. The others said he was crazy, whilst they thought that really wasn't such a bad day.

And yet, as 5 am approached and the sun crept out of the sky, David couldn't ignore his body's need for sleep. Though he enjoyed the solitude of working alone, he needed to rest. He headed home in the brisk near-winter weather, wondering how early taxis ran, when he heard a strangled cry.

His heart leaped into his throat as he turned back; it was a baby.

---

No note, no identification, no reports, and no distinguishing marks, besides a pair of eyes David had only seen in his supervisor; a probing, penetrating type of stare.

He called everyone he could think of: his team members, social services, hospitals, even his mother. Slowly he began to calm down with the relief of knowing someone would come and know what to do and do it.

David waited impatiently as the other agents began to arrive after calling them frantically. He stared at the infant's face, it's eyes closed, sleeping contently in the warm room.

"Who does this kind of thing anymore?" David mumbled to himself. The child's eyes peeled open. "Huh?" he asked the baby. Hazel eyes blinked at him. "Who would do this to you?" They continued to stare at each other, both with a need for an explanation, until the baby yawned deeply and fell back asleep.

---

After several hours of digging and searching, David and the others found what they needed. Spencer Reid, born only two weeks prior, son of Diana and William Reid, his mother notably mentally ill. When they phoned the Reid household, they discovered that his wife and child disappeared last week. Apparently, Diana had taken the boy and driven from Nevada to Virginia.

Despite the obvious psychological involvement, the Behavioral Analysis Unit was taken off the case and the child was taken with Social Services.

Before the officers left, David ran his head across the baby's fair hair. "Stay safe," he whispered to little Spencer. The baby's eyes began to water and David looked away before he could see the boy cry.

---

Some time later David learned that Spencer Reid had been returned to his parents. His mother, discovered halfway through Maryland, had been properly medicated and sent back to Las Vegas to be with her family.

The other agents were usually smug when younger agents experienced the loss of their naive idealism. But they all felt for young David Rossi. David was sure that the little boy would turn up dead in six months.

David headed home, exhausted and little sick. When he walked through his door and the smell of carpeting and cigarette smoke flooded his nose, he decided to keep his apartment, needing that rock, that place of solace to put the pieces of himself back together.

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Morgan/Reid, faculty

Criminal Minds, Morgan/Reid, faculty

[amor-remanet.livejournal.com]

Three weeks into the semester, and young Doctor Reid had yet to become any less of an enigma. The Cal-Tech prodigy had lectured at everywhere from Abilene Christian to Youngstown State, on subjects ranging from Homer, Virgil, Chaucer, and Dante to identifying non-obvious relationship factors using cluster weighted modeling and geographic regression. If asked, he named MIT, Yale, and -- interestingly enough, if one were to ask Derek Morgan, tenured Professor of Criminology -- Sarah Lawrence as being chief among his favorites.

Granted, he would immediately follow any statements of that nature with a disclaimer and further favorites. He refused to outright pick one he liked above the other; there were, he said, too many things about each institution that made it unique and worthy of remembrance. He said the same about choosing favorite books or historical figures, though the Star Wars and Star Trek franchises appeared to have unchallenged holds on his affections for films. What he would think of Northwestern, Derek had no predictions, but Assistant Dean Gideon seemed to think that he would be a delightful match for the university, and Dean Hotchner seemed to agree.

Until he'd arrived at Northwestern for his first semester of classes, Spencer Reid hadn't even entered Derek's worldview, beyond the occasional offhand mention of a young genius who was single-handedly revolutionizing how interested students were in their higher education. Perhaps it was that he was pretty (and he was, as Derek had seen firsthand, very pretty), but Gideon and Hotchner seemed to think it was less about his looks and more about his teaching. Derek did hope so. He would have hated for this wunderkind to turn out to be a horrid professor under any circumstances by which he'd found himself at Northwestern, but, given that his classes were in Derek's department, Derek cared about his colleague's quality even more.

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, FBI

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Star Trek '09, McCoy/Chekov, crime scene investigators

Star Trek '09, McCoy/Chekov, crime scene investigators

[trillianastra.livejournal.com]

Um. Kirk snuck in there as well. And Spock. And Uhura. (There's even a mention for Gaila... sort of)
----

Leonard McCoy climbed out of the car, and shivered in the cold, wintry air outside. Rubbing his hands together, he turned to his assistant. “Hey kid, get the kit and let’s get on with it before we freeze to death.”
His assistant nodded quickly, “Yes, sir, Doctor McCoy, right away.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “I thought I told you not to call me ‘sir’.”
“Oh. I think you may have done. Sorry si-, uh, boss.”

McCoy wasn’t too happy about ‘boss’ either, but it was at least better than ‘sir’. “It’s okay. Let’s move.” He picked up one of the toolboxes, leaving the kid – Chekov, his name was – to carry the other one, and headed over to the crime scene. He could see a small cluster of people – mostly cops, and a couple of familiar figures in suits and long coats.

One of them grinned when he saw McCoy approach. “Bones! So you got this one, huh?”
“Yeah. No-one else wanted to come out, and the kid back there’s Russian, he’s used to the cold.”
“Look on the bright side, at least we get to work together.” McCoy smiled wryly. Detective Jim Kirk was, ostensibly, his best friend. He wondered, frequently, if maybe Jim had a different definition of ‘best friend’ to everyone else, because he seemed to be forever bailing him out of trouble or covering for him with whichever girlfriend he had at the time (it was a redhead named Gail at the moment).
“Yeah. The bright side.”
“So…” Jim nodded in Chekov’s direction, “..new assistant again, then?”
“Uh-huh. Name’s Chekov. He’s doing okay so far. Better than the last one.”
“High praise from you, Bones.”

Jim’s partner, Detective Spock, broke in. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I believe Dr McCoy and his assistant have work to do. If they were to perform their tasks promptly, we could all return home sooner.”
Jim rolled his eyes, and mouthed Loser at McCoy, who sighed. “Guess you’re right, Detective Spock. Come on, kid, we’ve got work to do and it’s not going to do itself.” As he walked over to the crime scene, he muttered “cold-blooded bastard” under his breath, and wondered again how it was possible that Detective Spock had managed to end up with Nyota Uhura, the assistant pathologist who was hanging around with her boss waiting for McCoy to finish, and who Jim had been resolutely chasing after for months.