free for all

[tigriswolf]

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Here's the free for all.

As ever, the rules are:

*No more than five prompts in a row.
*No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
*No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use a spoiler cut as needed.
*If you know the character's full name, use it. Also, give the fandom's complete name, too.
*If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.

There's also a new rule now: if something in the fill could be a trigger, please have a note to warn for it.

Please follow this format for prompts:

[Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Have fun!

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Cross My Palm with Silver/Original Fic/PG/Very brief graphic yuckiness 1/2

[asphaltcowgrrl.livejournal.com]

Hopefully original fic is okay? I just happen to have a Romani (gypsy) character.
--
“What are you playing with, Reyes?” Zeklos reached out and touched his partner’s arm, stilling his twiddling fingers.

“This?” Reyes held up a semi-round piece of metal, turning it side to side. “I don’t know. The victim’s mother gave it to me when I told her we’d gotten the man who’d killed her daughter. She said it was a token of appreciation. It looks like it’s a coin of some sort, but I couldn’t tell you from where.”

The item itself was misshapen, like it had been hand crafted, and looked to be made of silver. Andrej leaned over and turned Reyes’ hand so he could get a better look. It was definitely old, but he wasn’t certain just how ancient. “Interesting.”

“Take it,” Reyes said, holding it out.

Zeklos had learned at a very young age not to pick up random things he didn’t recognize. He’d first made the mistake at age five, when he’d found a broken doll lying near his family’s home. One second, he’d held the toy in his hands, the next he was waking up on the floor of their living room, unable to remember what had happened. His mother, grandmother and aunt had stood over him, watching warily.

“No,” Zeklos stammered, releasing his grip on his partner, “I don’t –”

But it was too late. Reyes dumped the antique coin into his palm.
Images filled his head, swirling and swarming and overpowering. Children roasting on spits, men and women impaled on long spikes. Dead animals and blood everywhere. The smell of rotting flesh invaded his nostrils and he gagged. Zeklos struggled to drop the coin, to stop the madness, but he was tied into the memories now, unable to break away.

With a gasp, his fingers finally, blessedly loosened and the coin fell to the table between them. Shaking, Zeklos pushed his chair back, face pale.

“Good god, Zek,” Reyes said, coming quickly to his partner’s side. “You okay? What the hell just happened?”

Cursing his Romani blood, Zeklos put his head into his hands, attempting to stop the room’s spinning. “Help me,” he whispered. “I need –”

“Need what, man,” Reyes asked, bracing his partner with a hand.
“Floor. Help me to the floor.” He didn’t trust himself to remain upright in his chair much longer.

If there was one thing Reyes got props for, it was his unconditional trust in Zeklos. Without batting an eye, Reyes helped his partner onto the floor, settling him into a corner so that Zek’s back was framed by two walls. He stood, staring at the detective for long moments. “You gonna live?”

Zeklos nodded and lost his balance, catching himself against Reyes’ leg. The dizziness that came after such a strong vision was the worst. “It’s a Romanian coin,” he said, waving off Reyes’ concern. “Wallachian, to be precise. Early to mid-1400’s. Please, put it somewhere where I’ll never have to touch it again.”

Zayne grabbed Zeklos’ chair and brought it near its owner. Sitting down, he rested his forearms on his thighs and stared hard at his partner. “Are you going to tell me what the hell all of that was about?”

Holding up a hand, Zeklos silently asked for patience. When he felt like he could look his partner in the eye without falling over, he did. There wasn’t anything but concern and a hint of curiosity in those jade colored eyes. How much to tell him though? Reyes was open-minded and trusted Zeklos to tell the truth, but how open-minded was he?

“You know about me,” Zek started, not sure how to proceed. “About my… heritage?”

Zayne flicked a glance at the coin on the table and nodded. Zeklos didn’t discuss it much, but every now and then, he’d tell a story or two.

“According to my mother, rest her soul, I got the talent from my grandmother.” Zek shook his head at the memory, not having thought about his family in a while. “It doesn’t happen every time, but occasionally, when I touch something – or even someone,” he clarified, looking at Reyes’ confused face, “I see things.”

“Dead people,” Reyes joked.