iluvroadrunner6 | meme } { Anon meme

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meme } { Anon meme

Okay. Here's the deal. I'm hitting a major dry spell with my writing, both fic and RP, and I need something to kick myself into gear. So we're going to play a game. I have anon commenting enabled on my journal. You comment with a fandom, character or pairing and a prompt. Each pairing and prompt gets a separate comment. I will write a quick drabble based on that. It's not going to be anything extravagant, it's just going to be me trying to get my muse going.

ALL PROMPTS MUST BE MADE ANONYMOUSLY. If you don't, I will ignore it. You can claim the prompts with your personal journal after I've written them, but not before that. I'm going to try and do these all as I receive them, (possibly in the car as I'm on my way to Nashville soon), and get them to you as quickly as possible.

I don't do M/M slash, so if that kind of pairing is suggested, it'll be done as a buddy fic. I also don't do smut. Keep your prompts simple, please, don't try and tax my brain too much. The fandoms that I do are listed below:

Fandom: Jossverse, CSI:NY, Whoniverse, Alias, House MD, Chuck (through mid-S3), Castle, Heroes, Human Target, Bones, Smallville, Supernatural, Fringe, Warehouse 13 (S2-on), Rizzoli and Isles, White Collar, Covert Affairs, Burn Notice, Leverage, Dark Angel, Charmed.

I also do crossovers.

Hit me. =D

FILLS:

anything you can do | burn notice/supernatural | 308 words
down the rabbit hole | chuck/covert affairs | 374 words
one of these things is not like the other | covert affairs/heroes | 254 words
it must be bunnies | burn notice | 291 words
that's what you get for waking up in vegas | panfandom | 1356 words
i've been stuck in this closet for over an hour ... | leverage | 379 words
you can't be missed if you don't go away | castle/rizzoli and isles | 650 words
nothing's ever built to last | doctor who/supernatural | 2317 words
be my bad boy | csi: ny/white collar | 431 words
neither friend nor foe | buffyverse/charmed | 837 words
river and the light | firefly/supernatural | 904 words
clash of the titans | castle/csi: ny | 440 words
she has no time | house md/supernatural | 1381 words
it's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief | supernatural/white collar | 1982 words
the birth of a song and the death of a dream | buffyverse/dark angel | 882 words
my feet never touched the ground | smallville | 741 words
video killed the radio star | leverage/warehouse 13 | 1342 words
maybe the children of a lesser god | buffyverse/whoniverse | 635 words
feels like i'm falling far out of sight | supernatural | 1038 words

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Fiona/Bela. Lock picking. Whether it's femslash or not is up to you, I just ... couldn't find a better means of phrasing that request.

“If you had let me do this, we would have been out of here by now.”

Bela is sitting on the cot in the corner, checking her nails and looking as though she doesn’t have a care in the world, but the dry comment is not lost on her partner, who’s crouching at the gated door of the jail cell, trying to work on the lock. Fiona turns back to Bela, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t see you trying to help.”

Bela raises an eyebrow before crossing her legs in front of her. “You said you had it handled. Far be it from me to get in the way. Besides—more than one set of hands picking a lock is asking for trouble.”

Fiona rolls her eyes, before pushing up and gesturing to the door. “Please. Show me how it’s done.”

Bela smirks back at her, before pushing up and making her way to the door. “Oh, Sergeant. If you have a moment—”

She talks to him for five minutes, turning up the flirt through the bars of the cell. She charms and wiles, and eventually the guard excuses himself and goes back to his desk. Bela turns around looking like the cat that ate the canary, and Fiona flashes her a look.

“And how did that help anything?”

Bela just smirks, before holding up a hand, the keys to the cell dangling from her fingers. “The fastest point between A and B—”

“Is your hand in a strange man’s pocket,” Fiona replies, before reaching forward and snatching the keys from her. Bela turns and watches as she pops open the door, before following her out and sneaking towards the back end of the jail.

“But you still have to admit that I was faster.”

“We’ll get a real lock and see how fast you are.”

Annie Walker/Sarah Walker

No Femslash

Subway

The car is empty.

It’s probably a good thing considering what’s about to go down. She’s been tracking the blond operative since she left Langley under orders from Joan, and while she doesn’t feel comfortable with tailing a fellow agent, she follows her orders. She’s curious as to what this is about, what she’s being lead to. The tail is sloppy, however. She knows it the minute Agent Sarah Walker steps on to the empty subway car.

There’s a moment, a brief one, where their eyes meet and Annie knows she’s been made. She has two choices—either keep making like she doesn’t know what’s happened, or confront the operative head on.

She opts for the second.

She slips her way on to the car. She picks up a newspaper and takes a seat across from her. Sarah’s got a magazine in her hand, legs crossed in front of her and she sighs for a moment before speaking. “I know Joan has you following me.”

Annie’s quiet for a moment, flipping through the pages. “She hasn’t told me why. Unless you want to—”

“Think I’ll pass on that,” Sarah replies, before glancing up at her over the edge of her sunglasses. “It’ll only make your life harder.”

“I think my life was made harder the day I got this job.”

She smirks. “Point.” She places the magazine down as the car continues to roll down the rails, the walls of the subway flashing behind them. “I’m not going to justify myself to Joan.”

“She wasn’t asking you too.”

“I think she is. And I think I’ve known Joan a little bit longer than you have.”

“She just wants to keep an eye—”

“On my progress with the asset. I know.” Sarah sighs, closing the magazine in front of her and looking up at the other operative. “If I take you to meet the asset and show you that he’s in capable hands, you will send a good report back to Joan.”

Annie shrugs. “I’ll report what I see.”

Sarah looks at her, considering for a moment, before shrugging. “I can work with that. We’re getting off at the next stop.”

Annie nods slowly, before going back to her newspaper. “Lead the way.”

Re: down the rabbit hole | chuck/covert affairs | 374 words

margin-oferror.livejournal.com - 2011-10-15 05:12 (UTC) - Expand

Re: down the rabbit hole | chuck/covert affairs | 374 words

iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com - 2011-10-16 17:26 (UTC) - Expand

Jai Wilcox meets Mohinder Suresh. Shenanigans ensue.

For the longest time, they just stared at each other.

Jai had heard the theory that everyone has a double, someone who looked close enough to them to pass for them, and he had laughed it off. It was too ridiculous to fathom that the matching looks could be this close, this perfect, but apparently Jai’s wasn’t as far away as he would have thought. And he was in trouble.

But instead of having the man teach him everything he knew about genetics, they were still just staring at each other. One of them had to snap out of this and refocus them on the mission, but it wasn’t going to be either of them.

Instead, it was going to be Annie.

“Hey!” she said, slamming her hand down on the table as she glanced between the two of them. “I know this is—weird. But you—” She pointed to Jai. “—need to learn everything he knows about genetic anomalies if you’re going to convincingly pass as him, and you—” She turned and pointed to Dr. Suresh. “—need to get into protective custody before the people after your research find out there are two of you. So if we could get started?”

“Right. Of course,” Mohinder sighed, before pulling his files out of his bag and placing them on the table. “Where would you like to begin?”

Jai took a deep breath, before reaching for the files and pulling closer. “Let’s start with the basics, and work our way up.”

Fandom: Burn Notice

Pairing: Sam & Jesse

Prompt: Bunnies

“Uh, Sam?”

Those words in that tone are probably Sam’s least favorite words in the English language. Those words usually were harbingers of doom, especially when they were coming from Jesse’s lips when they were just doing some simple recon? That wasn’t a good sign.

“Jesse, do I want to know what the end of that sentence is?”

“It’s, uh. It’s bunnies.”

Sam paused for a moment, before turning around to face Jesse with a skeptical look on his face. Usually ‘bunnies’ were met with something a little more pleasant. Like a little girl squealing her head off. Or a smile even. Jesse, on the other hand, looked apprehensive—in fact, if Sam didn’t know any better, he might say that the guy was scared.

Sam made his way over to the door, and looked inside. Lining the walls of the shed were cages of rabbits of all shapes, sizes and colors. They all seemed relatively harmless as far as he was concerned, but Jesse didn’t seem so convinced.

“What about them?”

“They’re, you know—there.” Sam continued to give him a skeptical look. “Okay, look. There was this thing, when I was a kid. I really don’t wanna talk about it, but those little carrot eating, rodent-looking—they creep me out, alright? I don’t like them. I think every man has a right to thinks they don’t like.”

“Sure they do,” Sam smirked before making his way into the room to keep looking. “And every man reserves the right to tease him for it later.”

“Come—come on. Does it really have to be like that?”

“I don’t know—want me to ask Fiona and find out?”

“You know, sometimes I hate being friends with you, man. I really do.”

Re: it must be bunnies | burn notice | 291 words

deaniebtvs.livejournal.com - 2011-10-14 17:51 (UTC) - Expand

Re: it must be bunnies | burn notice | 291 words

iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com - 2011-10-14 17:54 (UTC) - Expand

Parker/Sophie Devereaux - "I can't find the key..."

“This is so frustrating.”

Parker slumps against the door of the closet she was being held in. This isn’t the way things are supposed to work. She isn’t supposed to be the one trapped in the closet with no lock on the inside. That’s usually Sophie’s job. She is supposed to be the one who gets Sophie out, not the other way around.

This is going to take forever.

“I know that, Parker.” Sophie’s voice is muffled through the door, and Parker could hear the jingle of the keys. “Just—give me a moment.”

“A moment? You’ve had like, five moments. Why aren’t I out of here yet?”

“I can’t find the key! This ring has a million bloody keys on it, it’ll take forever to find the right one!”

“Key! You’re trying to find a key! You’re a thief, just pick the lock!”

There’s a long pause on the other side of the door, and a few minutes later. “Oh. Of course.”

Parker groans, before slumping back against the door again. She’s trying not to stew. She knows that Sophie is a grifter, and grifters don’t always have to worry about picking locks, but she does know that Sophie can do it. She’s seen her do it. And she was still looking for a key. She turns to face the door, hands resting against the wood, while she listened to the clicks and tumbles as Sophie picks the lock. She thinks she’ll have enough time to pull away before the door opens, but when the door moves, she pitches forward, stumbling and catching herself on the nearest thing she could find.

That thing happens to be Sophie.

Sophie’s not that steady.

They land flat on the floor with an oof!, nose to nose with each other. They just stare up at each other for a moment, stunned, and Parker feels … uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. She stays there, continuing to stare for a moment, before rolling off her and pushing to her feet.

“C’mon. We have to finish the job.”

She gets up and takes off down the hall, and happily takes in the silence of the comms as she does. It’s awkward, and it’s uncomfortable, and really.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

Jane Rizzoli/Rick Castle - "Were you this obnoxious last night or was I really that drunk?"

Rick Castle didn’t consider himself a man of great indulgence.

Okay, maybe a little bit of indulgence, especially in his younger days, but he likes to think he’s grown up from all that. He’s become older. Wiser. Twice as ruggedly handsome. The point of it all is that he would like to think he’s smart enough to not let his pride get in the way when a Boston lady cop says that she can drink him under the table.

The hangover he has the morning after clearly contradicts that particular belief.

He groans a bit as he pushes himself into a sitting position, rubbing his temples and trying to ease the headache throbbing between them. It didn’t help. He is starting to think nothing would when he notices the very naked, very unconscious police detective asleep next to him.

Oh dear.

… At least it isn’t Beckett.

No, that’s a terrible thing to think. He shouldn’t be taking advantage of any women this way. He knows better than that by now. Which is why he’s now leaning over Jane Rizzoli, shaking her shoulder very, very gently.

“Jane. Jane. Jane. Jane. Ja—”

He’s suddenly interrupted with the feeling of her hand in his mouth, which—not really a turn on. Neither is what she says right after.

“If you say my name one more time? I’m punching you in the face.”

“Right. Sorry.” There is a beat as he sits there next to her, twiddling his thumbs as he glances around his bedroom. At least they didn’t go back to her hotel room. It’s been a long time since he’s had a one night stand with a woman that he actually respected. He isn’t entirely sure how to handle this, and naturally, he does the one thing he always does when he doesn’t know what to do.

He rambles.

“I could make breakfast if you want.”

“Goddamnit, Castle—”

“I’m just saying—I got some fresh fruit from the store yesterday, I could make some eggs?”

“No.”

“Pancakes?”

“Castle—”

“French toast, maybe? Crepes a la mode?”

“My God, were you this obnoxious last night, or was I really that drunk?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we were actually that drunk, but really? You think this is obnoxious.”

“Extremely.” Jane rolls over and fixes him with a glare that he’s sure has broken many, many homicide suspects in her time, but Castle is still struck by the fact that she’s hungover with bedhead, and she still looks like she could stroll down a supermodel catwalk. Why are all the female detectives in his life so attractive?

He’s obviously a very lucky man.

“Look,” she continues. “I don’t want anything from you. No, that’s a lie, I want to go drown myself in your shower to get rid of this hangover, but beyond that? I don’t want breakfast. I don’t want to try and figure out what happened last night. I just want to get cleaned up and go. Does that work for you?”

Castle is quiet for a moment, before nodding. “Yes. I can accept that.”

“Good.” There is another pause, as Castle watches her wrap the sheet around her waist and tug it off the bed with her. “Which way is your bathroom?”

He points to the door not too far from them, and she nods before turning and heading in that direction. She is just about to disappear into the doorway, before he pipes up again.

“I do make very good coffee.”

There’s a quiet pause from where she stops, glancing back over at him for a moment, before sighing. “Fine. One cup of coffee—to go.”

Castle smiles, pleased with himself, before he hops up to get dressed and make his way into the kitchen. He conned her into coffee, there’s no saying he can’t con her into breakfast as well.

He just has one of those faces.

Lindsay Monroe/Neal Caffrey - "But he's a pretty ex-con."

Danny finds Flack standing at the counter in one of the labs, staring out through the glass windows at something, a firm look of disapproval on his face. There’s a pause as he places the evidence he’s looking at down on the counter, before turning to face his friend.

“Did Adam do something to merit that stink eye, or did you eat something that disagreed with you?”

Flack doesn’t respond at first, before glancing over and blinking when he realized he’s being spoken to. He then shakes his head and resumes his hard stare. “Not Adam.”

At first, he still isn’t sure he wants to know, but his curiosity gets the better of him. He turns, and he follows Flack’s eye line to where he’s looking. What he does see is a guy in a suit he doesn’t recognize talking to Lindsay. And they look like they are getting very friendly.

“Who is that?”

“Neal Caffrey.”

“Caffrey. Like the art thief Neal Caffrey?”

“Yup,” Flack’s expression doesn’t change as he continues to stare at them. “And he’s been flirting with her the entire time.”

Danny smirks, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Montana’s a big girl, Flack. I think she can handle herself.”

“Oh, yeah. I know that.” He sighs. “She’s flirting back.”

“ … What?”

“Yup.”

Danny turns to stand next to him, also crossing his arms in front of his chest. He doesn’t look any happier than Flack does, and they both continue to stare menacingly as Lindsay breaks away from Neal and makes her way into the other lab. She gives them both a look when she walks into the room, before moving to one of the far microscopes to look at her sample.

“There a problem, boys?”

“We saw you over there with Caffrey,” Flack says, not taking his eyes off the man in the suit. “You two seemed like you were having fun.”

Lindsay gives them both a bemused look before lowering her eyes to the microscope. “We were having a very interesting conversation about art.”

Danny shifts and places his hands on the edge of the table. “Flack here says you were flirting.”

“And so what if I was?” she asks, making a quick note on the file, before closing it and looking up at them again. “I’m allowed to flirt if I want to.”

“Yeah, but—he’s an ex-con,” Flack points out. Danny quickly nods his agreement to that fact, and all Lindsay does is smirk as she walks past them and back to Neal.

“Yeah. But he’s a pretty ex-con.”

Castle & Flack with mentions of Angell and Beckett, "My brunette is better than yours."

“How long do you think they’re going to be at this?”

Beckett looked up from the table where they were sitting and raised an eyebrow. Flack and Castle seemed to be having a very intense conversation over the beers they had ordered for themselves. Beckett and Angell weren’t close enough to hear exactly what was being said, but it clearly was of extreme importance to the two of them.

“I have no idea,” she sighed, taking another sip of her own beer. “And I don’t think I want to know.”

Angell was skeptical as she leaned back in her seat, eying the two men as she continued to try and figure out what they were talking about. “Castle can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, no. Castle is that bad,” Beckett smirked. “He has a way of exaggerating everything and making it all seem bigger than it really is. His favorite theories are the ones that would make good movies.”

“That’s a given, isn’t it? He’s a writer.”

“Yeah, he’s a writer, but he’s trying to solve my cases. Then Ryan and Esposito get in on it—”

“Then they’re all unbearable,” Angell nodded. “Those are the days I’m grateful for Mac. He knows how to nip that kind of talk in the bud.”

“Gates tries, but she’s not getting any far. I think Castle was born to be a rebel.”

“That? Doesn’t surprise me.”

Both women laughed over that comment before Castle got up from his table and made his way over to them. “Ladies,” he began. “Would you lovely detectives care to join myself and Detective Flack for a game of darts?”

Angell glanced back at Beckett and shrugged, before nodding and making her way over to her partner’s side. “Sure. Fine with me.”

Beckett watched Castle hesitantly for a moment, before pushing herself to her feet as well. “What are you up to?”

“Why do you always assume I’m up to something?”

“Because you usually are,” Beckett pointed out, and Castle sighed, before responding.

“Detective Flack and I are discussing which one of you is the better partner.”

“What?”

“We may have had too much beer. But we did decide that a game of darts between the two of you would be the best way to determine which one of us was right.”

Beckett fell quiet, considering that for a moment, before rolling up her sleeves. Never let it be said she wasn’t competitive. “How’s this going down?”

“Two teams. You and me versus Angell and Flack.”

“Please tell me you’re good at darts.”

He grinned. “I still hold the high score at Buzzy’s.”

“Then let’s kick their ass.”

Myka (W13) & Hardison (Leverage), don't make me frisk you while you're holding an artifact. Please have the artifact be some geeky computer thing, like Steve Job's first CPU or something.

There are not many people who can trip up Alec Hardison. (http://iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com/476855.html#cutid1)

Flack/Angell with drunk dialing!Stella, "I thought this was Mac!"

Bela/Dean or Bela/Neal (with the other one involved): my secret shame.

Neal meets Bela in France.

It’s a one off encounter that slowly turns into more and more encounters, the two of them angling to find each other and an sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. It’s as though they’re letting fate guide them, and Neal finds something incredibly whimsical in that. It’s never more than two people crossing paths at any given time, and while he care about her an incredible amount, she never let on that she wants more than that, and he doesn’t push. He doesn’t want to ruin the romance of what they have—after all, that would take the fun out of it.

Besides, prison does that for him.

He doesn’t see Bela for almost five years. She doesn’t send him one letter in prison, or try to track him down once he’s out. There’s a small quiet rumor that she’s dead that he doesn’t want to believe, but as time goes by, he starts to think more and more that that might be the case. He tries not to let it get to him too much. He has never been much to her, and now, he’s fairly sure that he’ll never get the chance to see if they could have.

Then, one cold rainy night in May, she turns up at his front door, soaked to the bone and looking scared out of her mind. At first all he can do is stare at her because he isn’t sure if she’s really there or he’s making it up in his mind. She stares right, back, before one hand rubs her arm gently.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

There’s so much despair in that one statement, that he can’t help himself. He reaches a hand out to her, and pulls her in close, wrapping his arms around her and letting her lean into him. “It’s okay,” he whispers, one hand coming up to rest against the back of her head. “You can always come to me.”

***

It takes a while for things to settle, but when they do, it’s almost like she never was gone.

Peter isn’t necessarily pleased to have another thief hanging around Neal, but she wins him over eventually, as well as Elizabeth. For the most part, she manages to get around the fact that she used to be a thief because she doesn’t work anymore. Neal finds it—odd, for the most part. He thought that she loved the con as much as he does, but she doesn’t stick her nose out anymore. Whatever happened to her that night, that thing that she still won’t tell him about, it scared her to the bone. He knows that kind of fear isn’t something you get over.

But there are … occasions. He’ll watch her as she’s watching the news, the look on her face as they report on the storms, massacres, and there’s this idea that she knows something, but he never asks. There are moments where property that they are trying to cover goes missing, is destroyed before they can get to it, and the thieves are dead, and it happens to be right after Bela asks him about a case. He answers all her questions because he has no reason not to, but there’s a part of him that’s suspicious. If the bodies of the men hadn’t come back with natural causes as their cause of death, he’d investigate it further, but for now he’s comfortable with what he has. It’s the closest he’s ever had to stability, and he wants to keep it that way.

And then he meets Dean Winchester.

It isn’t so much a meeting as finding out about him. Bela comes running into the apartment that night, eyes wide and scared. It isn’t the same fear that he saw when she first arrived at his doorstep those years ago, but it’s enough that it makes both him and Peter sit up and pay attention. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just sheds her coat and goes straight for the back cabinet.

“You two need to hide. Now.”

Neal knows what’s in that back cabinet. Peter doesn’t. “Hide? In Neal’s apartment?”

it's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief | supernatural/white collar | 1982 words | part 2

iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com - 2011-10-17 18:25 (UTC) - Expand

it's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief | supernatural/white collar | 1982 words | part 3

iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com - 2011-10-17 18:25 (UTC) - Expand

Re: it's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief | supernatural/white collar | 1982 words | part 3

afteriwake.livejournal.com - 2011-10-24 19:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: it's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief | supernatural/white collar | 1982 words | part 3

iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com - 2011-10-24 20:03 (UTC) - Expand

Spike & Neal: Hand over the fedora.

Fiona/male of you choice from CSI: NY, Jossverse or Supernatural: Disturb me during __________ and I'll kill you...slowly and painfully.

Eleven & Dean: My TARDIS is in love with your Impala.

The Doctor always seemed to show up when Dean needed him the most. (http://iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com/474616.html#cutid1)

Edited 2011-09-20 15:55 (UTC)

River with Amy/Rory & Eleven: i wish i had a loving husband.

Eleven and Flack with mentions of Angell, post "Pay Up": I can save her because it's not a fixed point in time and space

Eleven/River with Rory, Flack, Mac, Hawkes, Danny, Angel, Spike, Xander, Wesley, Lindsay McDonald, the character Christian Kane plays on leverage, Hardison, Sam Axe, Castle, Pete, Booth, Neal, Dean, Sam Winchester & Castiel: Bachelor party gone horribly wrong/I look exactly like you for the four characters played by the same actor

Inviting Jack is where things started to go a little screwy.

Never mind that Rory never wanted to throw the bloody thing in the first place. He is the father of the bride—which, believe him, is strange enough as it is—but on top of that he had to throw the Doctor his stag party?

No.

Just, no.

If Amy hadn’t had anything to say about it, he would have very happily stuck to those guns, but no, apparently since he is the Doctor’s male best mate, he had to go and be the best man as well. Best man, has to throw him his stag, and father of the bloody bride. Only with the Doctor could you go to a wedding and be this confused.

So when Rory approaches him about this particular venture, doing his best to make it clear that if the Doctor didn’t want one, really, he was more than happy not to throw him one, but then the Doctor suggests he call Jack. Jack says he’ll bring the Gimbus.

It all goes downhill from there.

Never mind that the guest list is a nightmare. Rory has up until this point, assumed that most of the Doctor’s companions are of the female variety, which would then make this a very small party, but then he starts rambling off names—Mickey Smith, Ianto Jones—Rory draws the line at actual historical figures, or the Doctor might have invited the entire crew of the Enterprise, and as much fun as he presumes Captain James T. Kirk is, Rory thinks he has much more important matters to attend to—defending the universe and all that.

They decide to hold the party in the TARDIS. That is probably the wisest decision they made since deciding to have the thing, given that it keeps everyone in one place, and the TARDIS can keep them from mucking things up too badly. Rory is trusting her to at least do that much, and he’s sure they’ll be just fine in that regard.

All the guests receive invitations at their various points in time. They are encouraged to bring their own guests, which Rory doesn’t understand at all, but it’s also the Doctor and he doesn’t understand most things that come out of the man’s mouth. All he has to do is make sure that there’s a decent amount of food around, because according to Jack, Gimbus will go through a guy and knock him on his arse quicker than a pissed off one-night-stand. He isn’t even sure if he wants to know what this stuff is, but it wouldn’t be a stag party without the booze, now would it.

Of course not.

It’s when they go to pick up the first group that Rory realizes for probably the twelfth time since they started this venture, that this is a very, very bad plan.

“What do you mean you invited him?”

It is a small group of five men. Two are rather scary looking, and the Doctor tells them that they’re vampires—not like the Venice vampires, different kind—and then there are three other men—actual men, he double checked that—who seem just as perturbed that certain members of their party are included. Rory, however, just rolls his eyes.

“Do all your friends hate each other, Doctor?”

“No—only the special ones.” After that he’s gesturing for them all to come on board, and there are promises of Gimbus, and with that the blond one—Spike—lights up like someone had just offered him a puppy. He claims he’s never tried Gimbus before, and Rory already feels like this situation is heading downhill fast. But there’s nothing Rory can do about it—he’s really just along for the ride.

The next few groups are relatively easy pickups—cops, authors, people who don’t cause much trouble. The drinks are already flowing, there’s music playing, and everyone seems to be having a good time. There is one small snafu when Angel and Lindsey met Agent Seeley Booth and Hardison’s friend, Eliot, having to do with people having the same faces, but the Doctor simply waved a hand and went “wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey,” and they all seem to accept that as a viable answer. Rory will never understand it.

And then the Winchesters arrive.

With strippers.

Amy/Rory (pre-series), first fight

Eleven, Mal & River: Finally, someone who's more crazy than River.

Mal/Inara, I walked in on you naked before today!

Zoe, past Wash/Zoe, I'm finally having your baby

Oh, I wish I could request some Anderson fic...I miss him.

I miss him too. I miss a lot of the people I used to write in that universe.

The Light still shines. It sits, somewhere inside Sam, and doesn't go away. (http://iluvroadrunner6.livejournal.com/475145.html#cutid1)

Doctor Who/Warehouse 13, 11/Claudia, Claudia and the Doctor play an intense game of dress up

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