Monday - Temptation Day

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Greetings folks!

I'm running in to pinch hit while we work out a transatlantic glitch.

Today I'd like to play with Temptation as our theme...

Seduction, the fall from grace, the slippery slope into damnation, the road to hell paved with good intentions...as innocent as enticing someone to skip school or go along with a prank...as dark and twisted as seducing an angel to fall...and everything in between...


Make the code monkeys happy and formulate your prompts properly:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Faith/Willow, "Want, Take, Have"
Supernatural/Leverage, Eliot/Castiel, not everything is so black and white
RPS, Jared/JDM, subtle isn't really his strong suit

As always, follow the rules: No more than 3 prompts per fandom, no more than 5 in a row...come back and prompt more once some of yours are answered.

Go out and rock this monday!

Theme=temptation

Comments

[darthbatgirl.livejournal.com]

DCU, Lex/Tim, the taste of innocence

[darthbatgirl.livejournal.com]

DCU, Dick/Tim, it's just to tempting when Tim wears Dick's clothes.

Shirts, Dick/Tim, PG-13

[ms-duck.livejournal.com]

Honestly, the hottest thing Dick had ever heard of was when a girlfriend or whatever wore a guy's shirt.

He could see why, not that Tim was a girl, but he looked perfect in Dick's old t-shirts.

The collars were almost off the shoulder, the hem just barely covering his thighs. The fact that he usually didn't wear anything underneath them.

He bent over his sleeping partner and traced his hand up along his thigh, revealing a little more skin as he went higher.

"Dick?" Soft and sleep mussed and perfectly cute. He bent down to share a kiss. Cute little lips, still with touch of gloss from earlier that evening.

"You're tempting me, little brother." He spoke into his mouth with a smile.

"Oh good." That deserved another kiss.

[cloudyjenn.livejournal.com]

CWrps, JDM/Jensen, Jensen doesn't realize how tempting he really is

[ellia.livejournal.com]

Jeff can’t keep his eyes off Jensen, can’t stop himself from fantasising about everything he plans to do to him. Jensen’s not trying to catch his attention, isn’t putting on a show; but that just makes him even more attractive.

Jeff swears that it’s like Jensen has some kind of blind spot when it comes to how he looks; that he’s got no idea how much he affects the people around him. He never seems to see the hungry looks or hear the whispered comments that follow him wherever he goes.

He’s everything Jeff shouldn’t want, but he’s never been any good at resisting temptation. The need’s been building all night, and Jeff’s not sure how much longer he can stand it. Jensen’s his, and every time he notices another person watching him, Jeff wants to stand up and shout his claim to the world.

When Jensen curls his hands around his beer, raises it to his lips and drains the bottle in one long swallow; Jeff knows what they’re all thinking. He knows they’re wondering what those too pretty lips would look like wrapped around a cock. Knows they’re imagining those long fingers touching their skin, fantasising about the way Jensen would look and feel if they were lucky enough to catch his eye.

When Jensen bends low over the pool table, shifting this way and that, as he tries to line up his shot; Jeff knows that they’re all staring at that perfect ass. Wondering what it’d be like to bend Jensen over somewhere a little more private, and fuck him long and hard.

When Jensen’s shirt rides up just a little, showing off a strip of golden skin dusted with freckles, Jeff knows that they’re all as fascinated by the sight as he is. They want to touch and taste, want to strip away his clothes, run hands and lips over soft skin, want to know if those freckles cover every inch of him.

Jeff always knows what they’re thinking, because he feels the same way himself. Every little thing Jensen says or does turns him on, his every move is an unconscious invitation, and Jeff knows he not going to be able to wait much longer. He wants Jensen home, spread out on their bed, where he can kiss and touch and claim what’s his.

His only real comfort is that Jensen truly has no idea just what a temptation he is. He laughs whenever Jeff talks about the way people stare at him, he always thinks that Jeff’s imagining it, doesn’t believe that anyone looks at him that way. He doesn’t want anyone but Jeff, and doesn’t care about everyone else.

Jensen’s everything he shouldn’t want, but there’s no way Jeff will ever let him go. He doesn’t just want Jensen, he needs him; needs to be the one to make Jensen see how beautiful he is. Needs to touch him, and hold him close, to love him the way he deserves to be loved.

[cloudyjenn.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Castiel, Castiel is not very good at the art of temptation

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Dean feels the weight of it. The guilt.

Not even the guilt he should be feeling. The huge guilt that he has no right to be distracted from.

Dean feels the guilt of being with Cas. Like he's corrupting something beautiful. Ridiculously pure and wondrous and beautiful, and Dean is all dirt and ash and engine grease and he's getting Cas dirty.

So he ends it. Uses a lame excuse about not being that into it any more, they should focus on important things and not get distracted, etc. And Cas seems to accept it, seems to understand.

And Dean hates it, and he wants him so badly he imagines his taste every time he shuts his eyes, wants him so badly he shudders every time he sees that blue-eyed stare glancing over him.

But he doesn't want to tempt Cas into debasing himself, into becoming less than he is for Dean. At least not any more than he already has.

But then Dean comes back to his room to find Cas there. On the bed. On his hands and knees. Wearing pink ruffly underwear and licking a lollipop lasciviously.

"Umm... Cas?"

"This pleases you?"

"Why would this please me?"

"You once watched a pornographic work featuring this theme. You enjoyed it immensely."

"Wait - so that stuff they tell us when we're kids about how it's wrong to jack off because someone's watching!?" Dean asked.

"Only sometimes," Cas said.

"Yeah, um... thanks for the surprise Cas but this really doesn't change anything."

"Oh. I shall be more subtle next time."

"No Cas, I mean-" Dean said but Cas had disappeared.

The next night, Dean walked into his motel room to find Cas dressed in a black boxy costume of some sort. His explanation: "I am dressed like the Impala. I believe it is now time for you to call me 'baby'."

The following night, Cas dressed as a giant cherry pie. Dean turned him down again. The night after that, Cas stood outside in the rain holding up a boombox that played 'In Your Eyes.' Dean just shouted "No chick flick moments!" out the window. The next day, Cas showed up as a plumber, complete with asscrack pants, asking if Dean wanted his pipes cleaned with his long drain snake. "Back to porn, huh?" Dean said as he turned away and ignored Cas' attempts to seduce him.

The last straw was when Cas showed up in pigtails and a schoolgirl uniform. "Okay, look Cas, if I was freaked about corrupting you before, just imagine how I feel about you in that outfit. And if you're going to wear a Britney-style half shirt, you gotta shave your stomach, dude."

"But Jimmy's stomach hair is so soft and - wait!! You're worried about corrupting me?"

"Cas, let's just drop it."

Cas immediately transformed into his usual trenchcoat and disheveled tie. Which Dean immediately found... very appealing.

"Dean. You have done nothing wrong."

"Yeah, if you knew what I was thinking about those lips of yours, you wouldn't say that," Dean said, half jokingly.

Cas looked at him and then said, "Dean, that is an excellent idea! I have never done that with my lips, but I-"

"Forget it Cas! You would be better off staying away from me."

"No I wouldn't. But you would be. I just... can't stay away. I've failed you Dean."

Dean looked at him in shock. "Never. You have never failed me Cas. You came through for me every time, if I acted like I didn't need you, if both sides were against it, even if I was the last person in the world who deserved it, you have never failed me."

"Then why have you thrown me away?" Cas asked, touched and full of concern, but still with frustration spilling out.

Dean had no idea what to say. Finally, he just trie to answer as honestly as he could.

"Because I'm a dumbass."

Cas smiled.

"See, you're even get my jokes now. Told you I was a bad influence," Dean said, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to keep Cas at arm's length any more.

"Then start being a good influence," Cas said with relief at Dean's change in demeanor, "Teach me how to seduce you."

Dean grinned. "Okay, umm... actually, do you still have that Impala costume?"

[ladykatiewench.livejournal.com]

RPS, JDM/Author's choice, Lying is the most fun a girl (boy) can have without taking her (his) clothes off

[gaffsie.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Ronon, fighting a losing battle against temptation

[badgerling.livejournal.com]

Tempation - SGA, John/Ronon, fighting a losing battle against temptation

John is not a saint. He's never said he was, he's never told anyone that he's good at keeping his hands to himself, or isn't fond of touching inappropriate items at inappropriate times, but in his defense, he's never blown up a solar system. That, he considers, makes everything okay, no matter what he does. Or what he touches.

He is not a saint, though, and there's only so much one very human man can take.

He told Ronon to go back before him for a reason. At least before, sharing a hotel room hadn't been an issue. There was a funeral to attend, then Replicators to deal with, and Ronon was supposed to head back to Atlantis on his own. John was fully intending to act all surprised and disappointed when he got back to Cheyenne Mountain to find Ronon already gone.

Instead, he gets back to the SGC to find Ronon still there and the Gate down for a diagnostic. Which John finds all too convenient, and he wonders sometimes if Ronon messed the Gate up on purpose. That is actually ridiculous, and he knows that. And it's not like John can just ignore Ronon, because Ronon is his best friend or one of, and he was raised to believe it's rude to ignore your friends.

Except Ronon is a distraction, and he knows it. Both of them know it, and when they first came here for his father's funeral, that was what John needed. A distraction. Someone who wasn't going to ask him to talk about his feelings. But now... now it's a different kind of distraction. Now it's two days until the Gate's fixed and Ronon is spending his time sparring with any airman who gets close enough, and John's left actually doing paperwork.

Well, when he isn't finding himself watching Ronon sparring and having to leave the room because his chest is suddenly tight, his breathing is jacked, and if he stays much longer it's going to get really difficult to walk. One day left for the Gate diagnostic, and John finds himself spending too much time watching Ronon's mouth.

Ronon has to notice. John is also not subtle.

Ronon doesn't say anything, though, but he does keep doing things like touching his mouth and smiling and generally drawing attention to himself in ways that are perfectly normal. Just not now, not when John is at a heightened state of awareness. He does his very, very best not to make an idiot of himself, down to and including gripping the edge of the table in the mess hall when Ronon looks right at him and licks his damn lips.

The day the Gate diagnostic is finished, after John has filed every single overdue report (in triplicate!), he's actually standing in the embarkation room, waiting for Walter to actually dial the damn thing. John never thought he'd miss Rodney, but there's something to be said about the scientist's ability to babble and get in John's way at the same time.

He's craving that distraction more than anything as he stands at the bottom of the ramp, and he glances at Ronon when the taller man steps up next to him. He tries not to stare, but Ronon's shirt collar is a little too v-shaped, a little too low, and there's this sudden urge to lick his collarbone.

"Jesus," John mutters, tightening his grip on his duffel-bag. He almost misses the very brief grin he gets from Ronon at that. Almost, but then the Gate dials, goes 'kwoosh!' and John relaxes a little. He clears his throat and starts up the ramp. "It's, uh, it's good to be going home." He offers a tight smile over at Ronon.

Ronon flashes him another grin and says, "Yeah. Maybe you'll actually kiss me there," right before stepping through the Gate.

John can only stare at the shimmering event horizon before rubbing the back of his neck and muttering, "Shit." He is definitely doomed.

[gaffsie.livejournal.com]

SG1/SGA, Cam/John, accidental seduction

How He Is: Cam/John, accidental seduction

[somehowunbroken]

John is absolutely positive that Cam's not trying to seduce him. He's sure of it, because it's subtle enough that it's almost not there, and when he'd tried his own version of responding to it - flirting a little, making slightly more off-color jokes than usual - Cam had just seemed confused.

It's driving John crazy, though, because he's crashing in the guy's spare room while he's stuck on Earth for the next month or so in meetings, and Cam keeps walking around in boxers and socks with his hair all stuck up from sleep, or he'll leave the bathroom with just a towel around his waist and stop to talk to John for a minute on his way back to his bedroom, or he'll eat breakfast in just a pair of worn jeans on the weekends. And his eyes are really, really blue in the mornings, before the weight of the universe settles in, a color that even Lorne would have trouble mixing up.

And his drawl is just a touch heavier when he first wakes or when he's about to go to sleep, and John's always been a sucker for a country boy. And he loves football, and flying, and fast cars, and Ferris wheels, and John's going to have to find someone else's couch to crash on, else he's going to lose his damn mind.

Too late, he thinks later that week, because he and Cam are relaxing on the couch with a movie on, and John's had maybe a beer and a half, enough to loosen him up but not nearly enough to impair his judgment, and right in the middle of a scene with something exploding he leans across the two feet separating them and kisses Cam full on the lips.

Cam drops his beer.

John's standing and making his way into the kitchen before the liquid is done pouring form the bottle, and he's trying to toss his own bottle into the recycling bin and remember where his keys are and cram his feet into his shoes before he can make even more of an ass out of himself, but when he turns around in the kitchen after putting his bottle into the can, Cam's right there, looking at him.

"John-" he says, and when John doesn't meet his eyes and tries to just push past him into the hallway, Cam grabs him by the arms, looks right into his eyes, and kisses him soundly.

"Oh," John says when Cam pulls his head back. "I - was really about to fuck that up, wasn't I?"

"I probably would have forgiven you," Cam replies, and their faces are still just inches apart, so John leans forward and captures Cam's mouth with his own again.

"Walking around half-naked all the time and that damn stupid voice of yours and Michigan/Michigan State," John breathes. "How was I supposed to-"

"Sorry," Cam apologises, "it's just how I am," but he doesn't sound sorry at all as he threads his fingers into John's hair and draws him closer and closer until John can't do anything but kiss him again and again.

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Dean/Sam, “if you’re the death of me, darlin’, I wanna die” (Miranda Lambert)

[tigriswolf]

Heroes, Sylar, his mother always said the world could be his

[cala-jane.livejournal.com]

Gossip Girl, Chuck/Author's Choice, Experience the world of Chuck Bass

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, You called me and I came home to your heart (Browning)

[ltec.livejournal.com]

Dean's been calling for hours when he realises that no one is coming, no one cares and he was wrong to wait this long to say yes.

He calls on Cas, not expecting him to come but the angel is there straight away holding him as he sobs because he feels worthless and broken. Cas holds him together and says the words he needs to hear.

He realises he doesn't need Michael to save the world, the three of them can do it themselves.

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, author’s choice, the Impala talks to Dean in his dreams

[cougarcat.livejournal.com]

Dean’s dream starts out as always. Fire, heat searing his skin. Thick smoke and sulfur clogging his airways. Screams that never end ringing in his ears. He stares at the blood on his hands. Slick, tacky, it catches in every crevice never coming off. Dean wonders if he is the one screaming.

A deep growl in the distance causes him to look up as a familiar dark shape glides out of the smoke and flames. It stops next to him.

“Baby,” he whispers.

The driver side door opens. He slides inside. The door closes and the screaming stops. All he can hear is the engine’s rough purr. He can feel it through his body and it soothes him like a mother‘s embrace. Just him and Baby. He closes his eyes.

The engine reves and Dean reaches for the wheel. The last of the blood is seeping into his skin. He knows it will always be a part of him. But here it is hidden. The Impala raced forward. The flickering darkness passed by the windows in a blur. The smoke twists, tries to twine itself around the sleek black shape that is stealing it’s prize. It will not let him go. Baby growls deep and moves faster.

Then there were only stars in the dark night sky. An endless black ribbon with a broken yellow line stretched beneath. Metalica’s ‘Wherever I May Roam’ plays on the radio. And Dean knows he is free. At least for now.

[tigriswolf]

Psych, Henry/Gus, taking comfort after Shawn dies

[cala-jane.livejournal.com]

RPS, ChrisKane/SteveCarlson, say yes

[orphan-project.livejournal.com]

Chris had cornered Steve right after they had gotten off stage. He pushed the younger man behind the curtain and kissed him breathless before he pulled away.
Steve had kissed him back, fisting his hand in Chris's shirt before blinking at the loss of contact. "What?"

"Say yes." Chris growled, pulling at Steve's belt buckle.

Steve groaned, "God yes."

Chris made quick work of the belt and Steve's jeans before sinking down onto his knees. Steve's moans were covered by the next band as they started to play.

[cala-jane.livejournal.com]

House MD, Chase, changing my religion

[tigriswolf]

Leverage, Eliot/Hardison, Alec never used to think violence could be so pretty

[scout-lover.livejournal.com]

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Violence – real violence, not the kind that played out on his computer or TV – was something to be avoided, something to be feared. It was nasty, brutal, left people bleeding and broken and crying out their pain. He knew, because he’d seen it, all too often, in his youth, had seen kids like him, kids from broken homes, or no homes, kids abandoned or betrayed by the system, end up lying in their own blood, lives wasted and cut way too short.

It was what had driven him inward, into his head, into the computer, into the clean and orderly world he learned to bend to his will.

Violence was ugly.

Except … with Eliot … it wasn’t.

He wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened, but he’d come to love watching the man fight. Oh, yeah, that first time, he’d watched out of sheer shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Speed, power and precision, every blow going exactly where Eliot intended, with exactly as much or as little force as he intended. It had been over before his bag had hit the floor, four men, all bigger than Eliot, all armed, writhing and groaning on the ground while Eliot stood among them, shrugging and grinning that farm-boy grin.

Shock. That was all it had been.

Only after a while, the shock had worn off and … something else … had set in. Fascination … admiration … and maybe a little thrill he just knew was wrong and would never admit but couldn’t deny. Because, damn, Eliot Spencer in a fight was a wonder to behold.

When not confined under one of those damn knit caps he wore – and, seriously, the man’s head could not possibly be cold! – his long hair flew about him in an untamed wealth, emphasizing the speed of his movements. His blue eyes shimmered and shone with a wild and wicked glee, and a fierce joy shone in his face. He taunted his opponents, grinned shamelessly at them and waved them to him, urging them in that husky, hayseed drawl to “c’mon!”

And when they did, he let them have it.

He spun, kicked, blocked and punched with what seemed an effortless grace and ease, ducking, leaping, weaving, flowing, dancing to some music only he could hear. Silver flashed at his wrists and ears as his jewelry caught the light, his nimble fingers twirled bats or stripped magazines from guns, and through it all Eliot laughed.

Because this was when Eliot came alive. This was when Eliot let go and simply allowed himself to be.

Bones crunched, blood flew, and sometimes the bones and blood were Eliot’s. And, yeah, that always hurt to see. But even so, amid the carnage, there was art, there was music … there was poetry in the pain, something brutal and alien to others but absolutely vital in Eliot.

It should have been ugly.

It should have sickened and horrified him.

But each time Alec saw Eliot fight, each time he watched the man unleash himself, all he could do was marvel.

Never in his life had he imagined violence could be so beautiful.

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, let me praise men for eating the apple

[tigriswolf]

Doom/Star Trek reboot, Reaper!Bones/Jim, he hasn't been drawn to someone so strongly since Sam died

[cala-jane.livejournal.com]

BtVS, Spike/Xander, come to the Dark Side

[momma-66.livejournal.com]

Teasing the whelp had become a game. Revving his young engines, winding him around and around, until he was blue in the face with anger, or red with desire. It didn't matter to Spike which. Both ended with the boy pressed against a wall, table, bed, any flat surface really. And he always made such pretty sounds. Even when he was still fighting during the fucking, Spike was certain Xander knew how much that turned him on.

So teasing and tempting, it was all apart of Spike's game with Xander. Wind and wind the boy until he was a cord ready to snap, then let him go and watch the fireworks explode.

It was a part of the game, so one night when he had Xander bent over the edge of couch, teasing his neck with his tongue and his hole with his dick, it was all in fun.

He let his fangs slide free and scraped them along Xander's already abused throat. "I could change you now," he breathed, scratching the skin, the thin red line of blood warm and tempting. "Make you mine forever."

The boy, true to character, should have acted appalled and pushed away. Told Spike to get out and it would have been a whole new game of seduction convincing the boy to let him stay and coax him to bed.

Xander did not stay true to character. Instead he bared his throat and in a tight whine begged, "please, I want it." Spike almost stuttered to a stop, but couldn't lose that much ground. "Turn me," Xander shoved back against him, grunting his approval of the turn in events. Xander's fingers dug into the couch cushions and Spike grabbed his hips and held him tight, leaving finger shaped bruises, he was sure.

He buried his nose behind Xander's ear and inhaled his scent as much as possible, getting drunk on it much as he could. Another whine and he sank his teeth into the soft flesh, Xander's flavor washed over his tongue and the taste was overwhelming. One, two, three hard pulls and Spike ripped himself away. He licked at the wound, the taste of Xander satisfying in ways he wouldn't explain.

Later when the boy slept Spike laid awake, the thought he'd pushed to the back of his mind coming back full force. The boy could play games, too, even if he didn't know he was. The idea would always be there, teasing Spike to see if Xander had meant what he said.

[shanaqui]

Supernatural, Sam/Dean, Sam is about sixteen and he's not trying to be seductive, but Dean wants him all the time.

[cala-jane.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, Whatever you say Boss

[museofspeed.livejournal.com]

DCU, Dick/anyone (no batcest), Dick's easy

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

SGA, Rodney/Coffee + John/Rodney, How is Rodney supposed to concentrate on the debriefing when there's a pot of freshly brewed coffee just sitting there and he just has to have a cup or three? How is John supposed to concentrate on the debriefing when Rodney is making love to coffee: eyeing it, caressing his coffee cup, moaning at the taste of it?

[lobelia321.livejournal.com]

Coffee.

Coffee in a mug.

Coffee in a mug on a mat, with steam rising out the top and foam forming on the meniscus and a swirling motion from planetary twist right in the very centre of its black circular surface.

Now, I'm just an ordinary kinda mug, with two ears sticking out the side and a heavy bottom so's I don't fall over too easy, and all day long, hot liquid gets poured into me, and out of me, and lips clamp themselves onto my rim, and hands grab m'ears. That's my life, and somebody's got to do it, right?

Only this guy, this geezer, this dude, he kinda takes the whole thing one little step too far. It's just not right what he does to me. This slurping on the lip, and this poking of the tongue into the inside, and this smoothing of my ceramic flanks with his fingers and his thumbs, up the side, and down the side, and then he holds me against his chin, and sometimes he waves me about so that coffee splooshes right out and down my sides, and I don't like that.

Oh nope. I don't like that at all.

So I'm not too unhappy when the other bloke, the tall one, grabs me away from slobber-fingers and plonks me down on the desktop -- although, mind, I don't normally like being plonked. But at least now I'm safe and out of the way, and can just sit there and bemoan my besmirched outside, drops dripping, the logo on my belly getting all smudged. And hails forbid, what if I'm leaving behind a ring on the wood?!

And now what? Now everybody's leaving. The chairs are scraping. Somebody's bumping the desk, that's making me wobble! Oh, I can't wait to be back in the dishwasher, this has been one hell of a...

Oh no.

He's coming back.

He's run back in. Everybody's already gone, but he's run back in and he's grabbing me, horrible tight pinching fingers, and sucking away at the coffee. I know that the coffee is cold. I can feel its chilly wetness against my insides! But this guy doesn't seem to care; he's making moaning sounds; he's licking the last little drops from the bottom; he's dredging up the damned dregs. I can tell! He's got brown goo all over his lips!

"Oh Rodney," says the other one. Where'd he come from so quick? The tall one, the drawl-voiced one. "Oh Rodney."

"What?" says the guy but he says it into me because he doesn't stop licking, and then he's talking at the same time, and then he's looking up.

"You are disgusting, you know that? You've got fuckin' coffee grounds all over your mouth!"

Not good. I do not approve of swearing on the job. I would cover up my ears if I had hands.

"Put down that mug."

I'm in the air.

"Put it down, I say."

There's a tugging. One hand is grabbing onto me, another hand is pulling me away. I hold on for dear, dear life. Help.

"I'm going to have to... get that coffee off of you."

I can see how he's getting the coffee off. It got onto the mouth by licking, and now it's getting taken off by licking. It's not as efficient as a dishwasher but okay, it'll do.

If only they wouldn't relax their grip. Oh... oh... Help.

I've fallen onto the floor. And I've broken into a gazillion pieces.

This is terrible.

Coffee drops trickle out. My left ear is here, my right ear is over there, my bottom is in three shards, my belly... oh no, it's horrible.

Nobody even notices. I'm just left here. Left here to fester!

THE END

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Hardison/Parker, they all have the temptation to run away and face the world alone again but if they ever give in to temptation they now have someone to drag them back.

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Eliot limps to his door.

He wasn't used to limping any more. He had gotten used to having more contingency plans and a hell of a lot more backup.

He had gone soft. It was good that he was back in action, then.

Even if he really wasn't used to limping any more.

But as he opened the door he realized that something wasn't right. And he grabbed his knife from his boot as he crouched to the floor and went for cover behind the counter.

But then he heard a voice.

An annoying voice.

"I told you we should have called!"

"The man doesn't have a phone! Should I have sent a passenger pigeon?"

"Oh sure, NOW you think of the cool pigeon idea!"

"Passenger pigeons are not cool, Parker! For one thing, they're extinct, and if you're extinct, then by definition you have ceased to be cool. Also, they are pigeons. Which are like rodents - nasty flying poop machines. They're the rats of the air."

"That's dumb. Everyone knows flying squirrels are the rats of the air. And also, why did they go extinct?"

"Oh, that's a sad story, actually. See, they need a special plant to survive which can only be grown in light that passes through a lens made of the Caruvian Ruby that belonged to Queen Cristina. And when someone stole that a few years back, no more special light, no more plants, no more passenger pigeons."

"But I - I - do you mean it's my fault Hardison?"

Hardison burst out laughing, but his laughs were interrupted by a grunt as Eliot recognized the sound of Parker punching him.

Eliot stood. He did his best to look stern. He in now way revealed with his expression how ridiculous the two looked bickering in the back corner as they stood beneath a big multi-hued banner. But when he saw that the banner said, in large block letters, "Surprise! And please see who we are before you indiscriminately hit us!", Eliot broke down and started laughing.

"What did I tell you?" Hardison said, "I told you he would be glad to see us!"

Parker ran over and jumped in Eliot's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. "You totally missed us," she said and looked expectantly at him for confirmation. He gave it by planting a long kiss on her lips, and giving a light grunt of pleasure as their lips parted. Hardison had walked over to them by then and was eager to take his turn also, as Parker released Eliot with her legs but stayed close so she could see the two men come together above her.

Eliot looked at the two of them, flushed and eager and turned on. But they were expecting something from him, and he knew it was a lot more than a good night.

"We're here to drag you back," Hardison said, and then added with a smile, "By force, if we have to. We'll drag you back kicking and screaming if that 's what it takes."

"Let's drag him by the hair," Parker said with a smile.

Eliot on instinct did a quick dodge to move his head out of Parker's reach. But he looked at their faces and he knew that the lure of his old life had some tough competition. So he just said, "Thanks for coming to get me."

"You did the same for each of us once," Hardison said.

"More than once," Eliot said, "Seriously, you guys are the biggest pains in the ass I've ever met."

"Awww!" Parker said, touched by his comment, "That's Eliot for 'I love you!'"

Eliot rolled his eyes and brought both of them into a big embrace. He didn't like to admit it in words when Parker was right.

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Star Trek XI, Spock/Kirk, temptation in a blue (or gold) shirt