Thursday - Hush

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

This is atomic89 with my last theme.

We're gonna end my week of hosting with Hush. So that means absolutely NO DIALOGUE!

Please remember not to leave more than five prompts in a row and no more than three per fandom per prompter. You are, of course allowed to come back later and add more once yours have been answered.

Spoilers are *not* allowed in prompts for at least one week after air or publication date. If the fic contains spoilers please mark it clearly and leave at least three spaces before it starts.

Don't forget to format your prompts correctly, for example:

The Tudors, Henry/Anne, spring mornings
Terminator, Sarah/Kyle, I will remember you
BtVS/Supernatural, Buffy/Dean, loneliness

If you can't find the perfect prompt for you here, don't forget to check out the Lonely Prompts! There are loads of wonderful prompts just begging to be written!

[theme tag=Hush]

Comments

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

The Tudors, Henry/Anne, spring mornings

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

Terminator, Sarah/Kyle, I will remember you (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5U5a6rRcv0)

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

BtVS/Supernatural, Buffy/Dean, loneliness

Like Magnets (Buffy/Dean)

[danse-amore.livejournal.com]

She holds her glass with hands stained with metaphorical blood. Everyone in the bar is at a distance, shapes moving off in the shadows beneath her eyes. She can't quite see them, can't quite connect, but she needs them. They're what she does this for.

He throws back shot after shot, the burn in his throat the only thing he feels anymore. His father's missing, his brother at college, each as inaccessible as the other, as removed, as strange.

Her bag sits on the floor at her feet, heavy with things no girl should need. She tangles her toes in its straps because she does need them, needs to know they're there.

He feels the gun at his side press into his skin as he hunches over the bar and longs.

Their eyes meet across the room, multicolored mirrors. They each have seen things that no one should ever see. Monsters. Death. Tears. The sweat of fear, the taste of bloodlust.

They come together like magnets, hands in hair, lips on lips. The night is cool, their hearts are cool, their breath is hot and fast. Blood is drawn, bruises raised, and when they finish they are just as haunted, just as jaded, just as doomed. But maybe a little less lonely.

[vashti.livejournal.com]

Death Note, Misa, tears in rain.

Dangerous and Beautiful

[rocketgirl2.livejournal.com]

She never thinks about what she does, she just acts and hopes that she’s done well enough to please whoever she was doing it for in the first place. It may not be the best way to go about life, but if she changed her ways now, it would cause problems. It’s best for her to simply listen and obey—Light knows what he’s doing, and he’s much smarter than she is. Besides, it’s hardly her place to question him. If she does that—gives him any reason to think that she doesn’t trust him completely—then he’ll never love her, and all she has done up to this point will have been in vain.
Around Light, she keeps her thoughts to herself; pushes them so deep that half of the time, she forgets she had them in the first place. Sometimes, though, he is gone for days on end and she forgets her vow to agree with everything he says. There is no one around to see her disgrace herself, so she lets her thoughts take over. If she is feeling especially reckless, she’ll leave the house while in one of her more pensive moods. Disguised, of course, and completely unrecognizable, but still at a definite risk. It makes her feel as if she is someone brave.
Misa is a coward. She has learned that about herself by now; though she left home to find Kira, she did that out of love. The courage for that was not fully hers. Around Light, and the other members of the task force, and even for the press—especially for the press—she is so sure of herself. They’re not aware that this apparent self-confidence comes off with her makeup and wigs and fancy clothing at home. They love her because they do not know who she is. Misa is a murderer and Misa does not always know if she’s done the right thing. That’s not the kind of girl that anyone would want to model for them.
These are the days that trouble Misa most: the days that she wonders if she shouldn’t have become the second Kira, after all. Light deserves to be Kira and has done the job well—the world is now a much nicer place to live. But when he asks Misa to judge people for him…she feels undeserving. A God should be wise, and great, and righteous, and she is none of those things. She is young, of dubious background, and vengeful. What is it that gives her the right to take over for the Lord Kira?
This thought always makes her cry, and sure enough, Misa can feel the tears building behind her eyes. As always, she tries to blink them back and as always, she fails; they spill through her eyelashes and she cannot get them to stop. The shame she feels at experiencing such weakness only serves to make the tears worse until they are cascading down her face and betraying her fragility to the world.
Misa raises her face to the overcast sky, hoping the falling rain will hide the fact that she is crying. Her hood slips off and her blonde hair is caught by the wind, but she hardly notices. Misa is immobile, facing the heavens, her face soaked with a mixture of tears in rain and her mind a hundred miles away from anything that is happening here and now. She is still haunted sometimes by what she has done, and now she prays to whoever may be listening that she may be forgiven. There is another plea that she dares not even think: an entreaty for strength so she can do her best for Light.
Misa lowers her head and turns around, ready to head back home. She chooses to leave her hood down; there is no one about that will recognize her. Her hair plays out behind her in a mess of gold that will be an absolute nightmare to fix. No matter. She’ll have to shower when she returns home, anyways.
She lets herself into the flat she shares with Light and applies herself to looking decent again. Shower, change of clothing, hair, makeup, accessories—and in less than an hour, she looks as immaculate as ever.
Misa sits down on the sofa and picks up a gossip magazine; it is old and she has read everything in it, but that is not a concern. This is who she must be now. Beautiful and composed and proper and perfect, perfect enough to deserve the title of Kira when it falls to her. Perfect enough to someday marry the god who has so kindly taken her in and saved her. Perfect enough to live forever with him in his new world, where nobody knows how imperfect she is.
After all, that’s the only thing she’s ever wanted.

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

Terminator, Marcus/Kyle, hidden in plain sight

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

If Marcus spends a lot more time with Kyle than with Blair then no one mentions it.
If Star sometimes sits outside their shared room with her hands over her ears then no one says anything.
If John Connor asks for Kyle and Marcus follows, hovering over Kyle's shoulder then he doesn't comment on it.
If Kate notices Marcus and Kyle holding hands when they wait for her to treat Star who has hit her head lightly then she smiles but doesn't tell them of obvious they are.

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

Stargate: Atlantis, John/Rodney, silent communication

[me-ya-ri.livejournal.com]

John panted, peering up the hallway with his P90 at ready. Nothing. He listened hard, biting back a growl that neither Teyla nor Ronon were asking what happened over their radios. Something had gone wrong on their end too.

Rodney tapped his shoulder, urgently gesturing towards his radio. He made a questioning gesture towards John's.

No, John shook his head, making a face. He made held his hand out, thumb down. Rodney snarled, the words morons on his lips though he didn't vocalize them. John shrugged, tapping his gun. Rodney whined without sound, pulling his gun out as his eyes went wide and his pulse pounded at his throat.

Now? Rodney mouthed, looking like he'd rather do anything but charge in.

Now, John nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. They didn't have time for a plan or arguments, not if Teyla and Ronon had both been incapacitated. Rodney quivered, bit his lip and then squared his jaw, nodding that he was ready. John smiled at him, easing back to his feet. Rodney followed him, letting out his own long slow breath.

They hesitated for three long, slow seconds and then charged up the hallway to the room where the leader should be. Teyla and Ronon might not be there but the leader was the key to getting them back and then getting the hell out of here. John kicked the door open, knowing that Rodney had his back.

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Uriel/Castiel, touching foreheads

Angst and SPN S4 Spoilers.

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

There were no words, Uriel's eyes said it all. He'd made his decision, one that he knew he would be paying for for the rest of his life - not that there had been any choice and he knew would suffer the consequences of that choice for a long time to come. This being the first in a long line he was sure. But it couldn't be any other way.

Their foreheads touched and eyes closed as their breath mingled breathing in each others scent for the final time. A final memory and a goodbye.

Uriel's hand tightened on his own driving the knife home. Ending a partnership that should have spanned eternity to save the life of a mere mortal.

What had he done?

[ribbon-purple.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney, Saying it with touch

[me-ya-ri.livejournal.com]

John sighed, shivering a little. Cold. Warm underneath him but cold on top. He mumbled, stretching slightly as he looked for the blankets, for his pillow with his fingers. He didn't find them and that stirred his sleep-muddled brain. Couch, John thought, not opening his eyes. Rodney's couch. Movies. Oh, fell asleep.

He sighed, knowing he should get up, head back to his quarters. He didn't want to move. His top half was cold but the rest of him was warm and tired and sore and the couch was just as comfortable as his narrow bed. John grumbled, his sense of duty almost enough to get him off of the couch. Almost.

A blanket spread over him, wrapping him with blessed warmth that beat down that sense of duty more effectively than anything else could have. John sighed, smiling into the cushions. A pillow rubbed against his head very gently and John sleepily pulled it under his cheek. Sleep was washing back over him like lying on the beach in Hawaii with the tide coming in.

Rodney's hand smoothed over his hair, soothing him back to sleep with a silent promise to be there if John needed him. John sighed, letting go. Rodney's warm fingers brushed his cheek, the gentle touch saying so much that neither of them could communicate in words. John slept again.

[momma-66.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Parker, picking locks

this might be too long.. Ive never responded here before...

[serenelystrange.livejournal.com]

I hope you like it anyway.


Eliot was wrong, Parker knows. People arent like knives, people are like locks. They can be as easy to open as a simple padlock, or as tricky as a voice activated safe. But people are like locks, and no lock is unpickable. At least not to Parker. She knows all she needs is the right series of clicks, that magic combination. Her team is easy, all padlocks, Hardison the easiest, his heart and clicks out in the open, and she'd be lying if it didnt intrigue her, make her want to know how to be so open. But Parker's hardest lock to pick is her own, she knows this, and it bothers her more than she admits. She knows the clicks, knows the solution, but she cant bring herself to slide the pin, not yet. But day after day, she's getting closer, and she convinces herself that it's enough for now.

[devils-almond.livejournal.com]

Numb3rs, Don and Charlie, paralyzed

[momma-66.livejournal.com]

Leverage, team!fic, nights when they aren't conning bad guys

[moonchildfic.livejournal.com]

It’s a Tuesday night and the team is in between jobs. Nate had expected to have the night to himself, just him and his apartment.

It starts when Parker comes in through the window. Nate doesn’t comment more than a raised eyebrow, it’s not like it’s the first time, and she just shrugs. Nate takes another sip of coffee, only half wondering why Parkers there, not enough to ask. She’ll tell him so when she needs to and he’s trying to hold onto the quite.

It wasn’t long after Parker had sat down on a stair about halfway up and was starting to mess with a set of padlocks and picks that Eliot let himself into the apartment. He kicked the door closed behind him, holding up a grocery bag for Nate to see as explanation of why he was there.

Eliot liked to cook but not everything he wanted to cook could be made in single portions. Back in L.A. he’d bring it into the offices, but lately he’d taken to just cooking in Nate’s place and leaving it there. He rarely spoke to Nate when he did, but Nate was fine with that. They both had a higher respect for silence than the rest of the team.

Hardison appeared not long later, stepping in and starting only a moment, sniffing the air and smiling in anticipation of whatever Eliot was making. He set down his computer, seemingly distracted from whatever he was coming by to do by the potential of food and drifted toward the kitchen. His hand came very close to touching something as he opened his mouth to make a comment.

A knife being driven point first into the cutting board a fraction of an inch away from his hand and a glare from Eliot was enough to both silence Hardison and send him skittering away. He went back to his computer and toward the TVs in a somewhat subdued silence, obviously not feeling like dealing with a “grumpy” cooking Eliot.

Nate read his paper, Parker played with her locks, Eliot cooked, Hardison did whatever it was Hardison did when he was on his computer, and the silence grew easy. No one spoke, no one needed to.

Eliot had worked his way through one dish and into the next when Sophie let herself in, her eyes downcast and posture tensed as much as she ever allowed. She turned and a look of surprise ran across her face, obviously startled that the entire team was there when it was so quiet.

Her eyes swept over the room again, really taking it in now and she seemed to relax a little. She walked over to sit beside Nate and looked around a little more, breathing and absorbing the peaceful air until Eliot tapped her shoulder. She turned and nodded her thanks when he handed her the book she’d asked to borrow from him a few days ago and then she settled down to read.

Nate finished his coffee and watched the slow movements of the team in the room. It was a Tuesday night, and they didn’t have a job for once, and even if none of them would ever admit it maybe just maybe they’d all been lonely.

[rhiannon-wing.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, Waking up

Waking Up

[piratekit.livejournal.com]

First comment fic [second Leverage-- the other was posted like 5 minutes ago, lol], hope you like! Sorry no porn

---
A soft smiled pulled onto Nate’s lips as he considered the man before him. He loved to watch Eliot sleep, to see the way the muscled loosened under life marked skin. To see his features relax in a way that may him look years younger. To see the stress melt away and those gentle features to be left without a care in the world.

For once he wasn’t on guard. It stirred something deep inside of Nate he wasn’t sure he wasn’t ready to acknowledge that he trusted him that much. He knew Nate would keep him safe, ridiculous though it may seem; wouldn’t take advantage of the unprotected position.

He was vulnerable. Moreover he was beautiful, something no one would ever think to apply to the hitter unless they saw him like this. Something no living person would say out loud and hope to make it to morning. Well maybe…
Blue eyes slowly open, blinking until the bleary image focused. He looked confused and Nate could only smile more, scooting closer and steal a tender kiss.

If this was a dream Nate would be happy to never wake up again.

[rhiannon-wing.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, Keeping quiet because someone's in the next room.

more porn!

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

Eliot’s biting his lip and Nate’s breath is hard in his ear, they’re clinging together tightly, fingernails digging at flesh as Nate pushes his way into Eliot’s body. It’s slow and intense, the time belongs to no one but them and they can take all the time they want to. The sun is streaming through the wide-open windows, their sweaty skin glistening in its brightness.

Eliot opens his eyes when Nate is all the way inside him, settled perfectly between his thighs, he smiles as he crosses his ankles in the small of Nate’s back. One hand trails up and his fingers burry themselves in Nate’s curly hair.

Nate is smiling back, it’s his I-know-something-you-don’t-and-it’s-awesome smile. He leans in and they meet in a sloppy kiss, their lax mouths counterbalancing the tightness with which they’re holding each other. Their hips are moving unconsciously, taking up a tempo as old as time as they willingly lose themselves to the moment.

Downstairs a door slams shut.

Both men freeze in a pornographic tableau.

Sounds from downstairs are muffled but not undistinguishable. Hardison is talking to someone on the phone, half of an incomprehensible conversation. He’s not quiet as he goes from room to room, his footfalls are heavy and the conversation doesn’t stop.

Eliot is smiling his I’m-up-to-something-mostly-evil smile when Nate looks back to him. He flexes his legs and pulls Nate into him in a hard thrust.

Nate only just manages not to moan. And then he’s onto the game. He smiles in return, accepting the challenge; pulls out nearly all the way, dragging his cock against Eliot’s prostate and then slams back in.

Eliot bites his lip and claws Nate’s back, but he remains silent.

They work up a rhythm that’s faster, harder than they had originally intended; but the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment turns them on, makes it a game and neither are good at losing.

The bathroom fan turns on and they know that Hardison is ten feet away from them, right on the other side of the wall. He’s hung up the phone and they hear him taking a leak.

Eliot nearly laughs, his shoulders shake silently and he rolls, taking Nate with him until he’s sitting up, riding Nate’s cock.

Nate’s mouth opens; he only just manages not to cry out in pleasure. He loves it when Eliot rides him. He automatically fists his hand over Eliot’s bobbing prick. Eliot’s smile and the lust in his eyes combine into a look that Nate knows he’s going to have to see more often. He bends his knees, his heels find purchase on the sheet and he drives up as Eliot slams down.

Eliot throws his head back; everything inside of him wants to call out in triumph, to howl in pleasure, but he manages to stop himself. He rides Nate hard, like he’s a thoroughbred at a dead run.

Both of them are covered in a sheen of sweat; the only sounds in the room are their panting breaths and the slight squeak of the bedsprings under the force of their coupling.

Eliot feels his orgasm building, hard and fast just like the sex, he’s driving up into Nate’s fist and down onto his cock and it’s too much, it’s too good, and he doesn’t think that he can stop himself from screaming the roof down when he comes, not when it’s this good. So he grabs the sheet that was discarded when the sun came up and they started this with gentle, teasing touches. He bunches the cotton and brings it to his mouth, clamping his teeth around it and biting down as his entire body seizes and he’s lost to the force of his orgasm.

Nate draws in a breath, his body giving one last hard push, burying him as deep in Eliot’s pulsing channel as he can stand. Suddenly Eliot’s hand and the taste of his skin are over Nate’s mouth and he’s glad for it because he can’t stop the sounds, he has no control over it when his body finally takes what it’s been begging for and he fills the condom.

Suddenly the door bursts open, Hardison standing there looking concerned, looking like he’s about to ask if Nate’s alright, but then he’s the one who freezes in tableau.

Eliot can’t help it, he laughs hysterically.

[rhiannon-wing.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Dean, Speaking without words

SPN, Sam/Dean, Speaking without words

[devon99.livejournal.com]

There isn’t the need to say anything.

Their mouths speak the language of intimacy
without uttering a sound.

Touching tongue to skin,
they lick and kiss their words into each others flesh.

Biting, nibbling, a grazing of lips,
like butterfly wings in a dance.

Eyes make love.

Bodies slide.

And forever is silently spoken.


~

[sivanshemesh.livejournal.com]

Magnificent 7, Ezra, speechless

[jennytork.livejournal.com]

He watched as the cloth passed over his forehead once again. He smiled as he saw the dark head firmly nod, and he nodded in return.

He had thought the fever was breaking. He truly felt better.

He sat up and drank the cool water and the lukewarm tea and slept again. When he woke, they were all there. Lips were moving in his direction, and he smiled gently at them.

Eventually, they realised and shut up. And to his amazement, lip moving was replaced by touching. A hand to his shoulder, to his arm, to his thigh...

They wouldn't leave.

He wouldn't have to face this alone.

But how in the world could he remain?

What the hell kind of good was a deaf-mute gambler and gunslinger?

[sivanshemesh.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Alec/Eliot, stop talking

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Ran away from the no dialogue theme a little, sorry but I just couldn't keep Eliot quiet... which is just wrong, really!

Eliot said nothing, just quirked an eyebrow and Alec cut himself off mid-sentence, his jaw snapping shut. Eliot smirked and nodded, leaning forward and kissing him; lips dragging over his cheek to nibble on his earlobe before promising he would keep him quiet by giving his mouth better things to do.

Laughing, Alec pulled back. He met Eliot's eyes and grinned widely. "That so? See cos..."

Eliot fisted a hand in Alec's shirt and pulled him close, kissing him roughly to shut him up. His lips parted Alec's, tongue teasing even as his hands curled around the back of his neck and Alec's tall frame folded itself onto his lap.

"Now that's..."

Eliot thrust two fingers into Alec's mouth, effectively shutting up. He groaned as Alec sucked on them, tongue swirling and teeth scraping, slurping obscenely until Eliot had to reach down and adjust his pants.

"I can't help but think..."

"Shit son," Eliot growled, interrupting. His voice was rough with need, his accent stronger than Alec had ever heard it, making him shudder with arousal. "I swear if you don't shut up I'm gonna gag you."

Alec bit down on his lower lip and dropped his gaze. He exhaled sharply, another tremor of need running through him before he looked back up, meeting Eliot's eyes again. "So, is that a threat or a promise?"

Dancing on the Edge

[guiltyreasons.livejournal.com]

There was nothing he could do. Not for Anna. Not for Dean.

He watched after they told him, watched the mundane things Dean did. From dressing to brushing his teeth it all seemed like a dance towards the edge. He'd never tell Dean, because he was guessing, but Dean didn't dance. Not like he was picturing.

As an angel he'd always felt more like a puppet then a person. Moving to the direction of those about him, but Dean moved without reservations. He danced on the edge of hell without saying any safety net. He'd felt the fire and he still fought so hard to keep moving beyond it.

Now all Castiel could do was watch him dance right over the edge and take everyone with them. He was an angel. He should be better at watching, but his heart pulled for action. Why should THEY choose his fate? Why should heaven, just as godless these days as Hell, define the future of humanity?

Dean wiped off his face after his morning shave and paused midstroke. He turned his head upwards, as if staring into the sky for a moment sensing he was being watched. A look of suspicious confusion broke on his face and he tensely turned away as if trying to prove to himself he'd been imagining it.

Castiel smiled softly, wondering if Dean could feel him watching over him. He might finally understand the meaning of guardian angel.

[ltec.livejournal.com]

They are both broken jigsaw pieces that fit together perfectly.

They don't need to speak because somehow they both know what each other wants, what the other needs.

And it's beautiful because they have one another and they both hadn't had that before, no one that was just, theirs.

It's perfection to them because Dean loves Cas and Cas loves Dean and that's all they really need.

[lovesrogue36.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Sophie, he has the most amazing, expressive eyes

[mzmtiger.livejournal.com]

They're the first thing she notices about him, intense, ice blue eyes with brown curls hanging ever so slightly in front of them, watching her from across the room. That's when it starts, this little cat-and-mouse game they've played for the last ten years, the first time she sees those eyes.

They're how she can read him so easily at times, because no matter how good his poker face is, his eyes give him away. When he's sad, they're the first to glaze over and cut him off from the rest of the team, from the rest of the world, from her. When he's angry, it's as though some one lit a fire behind each one, and they dance and flicker with his fury.

But she loves them the most when he's happy, and they light up like twin stars on a warm summer Saturday night, when even the biggest problems are of little concern and it's only her and him and those amazing eyes of his.

He's never needed words to express how much he loves her because she can see it in his eyes every time he looks at her.

Nate's eyes were the first thing that Sophie noticed about him, and they're the last thing she's sees as he leans in to kiss her softly.

[bigcasino.livejournal.com]

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, Horrible/Hammer, a room full of police on the other side of that door

[fairady.livejournal.com]

Two inches of wood, give or take a few millimeters for paint, is all that separates him from freedom and the humiliation of capture. Dr. Horrible would never live down the embarrassment of being the first League member to be arrested. Probably literally, because Bad Horse wasn't the type to forgive stupidity and Horrible had been skating on thin ice with him before this. He flinched as the sound of searching grew too close to the door for his comfort.

Hammer grinned. Smug and absolutely insufferable. Horrible had to forcefully bite back several choice words he wanted to shout at the idiot, but he'd just been keenly reminded of exactly how many police officers were on the other side of that door. Hammer knew perfectly well just how badly he didn't want to get caught here, the bastard knew he had Horrible.

Arms braced on either side of his head, Hammer leaned in closer. Smug grin turning expectant as he opened his mouth, ready to say something. Horrible slammed a hand over his mouth and glared, he silently promised to pay the jerk back a thousand times for it.

Dr. Horrible sank to his knees, gloved fingers catching in Hammer's belt before quickly undoing it. He didn't have much room to work with, the idiot still kept him pinned to the wall with one knee, but it didn't really matter. Hammer was easy and this wouldn't take long at all.

He'd still make Hammer suffer for this later.

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Eureka, Jack/Nathan, Cyclical audio-negation device overload

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

Nathan sees the explosion, and he tries to growl Fargo's name but no sound comes out of his mouth. To think of it, the hustle and bustle of GD has been reduce to silence also.

Nathan almost rang Henry, before smacking his rather large palm against his forehead. He texts Henry instead.

Within minutes, Nathan's office has a busy Henry; confused Carter and Fargo who is only been held there by Stark's hand on his collar. He squirms his way free, looking to Carter to protect him. Carter just slaps the handcuffs on him and tries to glare at him, but it is no where near as impressive as Stark's. Fargo was actually trembling before he begins to confess.

It seems like Stark is able to read lips, as well as Henry because they understand Fargo just fine. They're speaking to eachother using sign language. It's not unusual for Henry and Nathan to use a language Carter doesn't understand, but this is ridiculous. Carter grabs Henry's arm and pleads silently for someone to explain to him.

Henry tries, but his hand begins to cramp up before he's even written half of it down. Stark just has that amused smirk that lights up his eyes and Henry shrugs, apologising to Jack before continuing to work on a solution.

Jack's about to go when Nathan shoots him a look. A look which Jack may want to ignore, but his cock certainly shows interest. It turns out, Stark just wanted Carter to transfer the fugitive (Fargo) to the labs with them.

Jack is almost convinced he was imagining it. The heated looks Stark kept throwing his way, loosening his tie as if he was doing a striptease, flaunting those huge hands at him. Henry and Fargo are oblivious, gesturing wildly and managing to have an argument without words. Nathan lets them, occasionally throwing in helpful suggestions which keep them on the right track.

Then Nathan started whispering in Jack's ear. It wasn't audible, but the sensation alone made Jack shiver, eyes wide and pupils wider. When Jack opened his eyes again, Nathan was smirking. Jack knew he was doomed.

In between writing out equations, signing solutions to Henry, pointedly ignoring Fargo and actually rebuilding pieces of technology, Nathan finds time to molest Jack. It isn't fair, Jack can't protest. With Nathan's hand on his hip, he finds he really doesn't want to.

Between the looks and the touches and the fact Nathan smells fucking FANTASTIC!!! it doesn't take long until Jack is completely hard and aching. He's desperate, desperate for Nathan's hand, desperate for skin on skin and it's so frustrating but he stays.

Nobody's paying attention to him apart from Nathan, only the odd moment, the brief touch. It's driving Jack crazy so it's probably not the most sensible thing to do, but he strokes himself through his uniform. He figures he can be as loud as he wants, nobody can hear.

Except they can because Henry fixes the problem, just as Jack is coming, screaming Nathan's name. Nathan grins before returning back to his office. Fargo looks like he's about to faint whilst Henry just shrugs it off and gets back to work.

Jack can only pray nobody will ever say a word about this but knowing his luck, it's probably already on youtube.

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Wash, Alone on the ship at hour 47 of comm silence

Firefly, Wash, Radio Silence

[trillianastra.livejournal.com]

47 hours and counting.

It’s all part of the plan, and he knows that, but 47 hours without at least talking over the comms isn’t easy. He’s not used to going 47 minutes without talking to someone, and he’s getting very uncomfortable now, because he knows that if everything went right, they’ll be getting in touch in less than an hour.

He rearranges the dinosaurs again, just to have something to do with his hands, and looks out at the sky outside. Setting down the dinosaur he’s holding, he chews a nail thoughtfully, silently praying that everything went to plan.

He almost cries with relief when, forty or so minutes later, he hears Zoe’s voice over the comms, telling him that everything is fine and that they’re on their way back with the cash.

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

He knows when to push his brother.

He knows when to back off.

He knows when to get down on his knees.

He knows when to push his brother against the wall.

He knows when to throw a punch.

He knows when to give a gentle kiss.

He knows when Dean is near.

He knows his brother like himself.

When it comes to Dean.

Sam just KNOWS.

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Buffy, The Scooby Gang, 'No, like, for real mass laryngitis.'

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Psych, Gus/Shawn, Taking the game of 'personal jinx (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jinx_(children's_game))' far too seriously