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kangeikoThe first part of the cherry!meme ficlets... Hurry there and stake a claim to some fic if you fancy anything... *g*
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brandy_took:
ST:DSN, Bashir/O'Brien, prompt: target.
*
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100fandoms prompt #17 : 'wreck'
"I want you to stop sleeping with my husband."
Julian almost dropped the hypospray, fumbling it against Keiko's arm. Grimacing, he let her go, carefully setting the hypospray to one side as if it contained something a lot more lethal than neonatal supplements. He folded his arms. Unfolded them. Cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me the first time; please do not make me say it again." She rolled her sleeve down and hopped off the Infirmary bed, hands folded over the gentle swell of her belly. "Will you?"
Julian cleared his throat again. "I don't - Keiko, if you think that Miles is having an affair, maybe you should talk to him first." He was surprised at how steady his voice sounded, despite his sweaty palms. He resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his pants, instead busying himself with tapping at Keiko's record on his padd. Truth be told, he wasn't even particularly aiming at obfuscation or stalling her. He just wasn't sure that mixing personal relationships with his professional life was a good idea. Yes, and it's only now that this occurs to you, a nagging little voice said. It sounded a lot like his mother.
A long-fingered, elegant hand landed across the padd's screen, obscuring his view. When he looked back up at her, Keiko's lips had thinned into nonexistence. "Laying down ultimatums is not one of the wifely duties I agreed to perform." She was almost smiling: thin-lipped and pearl-white teeth; more wolfish grimace than congenial overture. "I will not be manouevered into that position. Not by you."
Say you're sorry, the little voice insisted. "I rather think that you are laying an ultimatum down right now," he said instead, somewhat horrified at how steady his voice still remained. Like they were discussing the weather.
"Better to my doctor than to my husband," she said sharply. "And where was your Hippocratic oath then, Julian?"
No child of mine! The little voice railed, furious. No child of mine would have taken advantage of this woman's misfortune! He bit his lip and said nothing, willing an emotional reaction - any reaction at all - to come forth.
Keiko's face softened. "Look. You're my friend, and I do love you. But he's my husband, Julian. I had him first."
"I know," he said, almost inaudibly, listening to the internal narration of all of the contrite things he should say. "I don't know - I can't - I'm sorry, Keiko." And, there, finally he was. He wasn't sure what he was sorry about precisely - whether it was sleeping with Miles, or getting caught, or worse, whether he was sorry that they'd ever become friends in the first place. The feeling was there, finally, but he was at a loss as to its cause, floudering about inside his mind, trying to attach it to something, some event that would merit the emotion. He was sorry, yes: sorry that emotion had finally enetered into it, perhaps. Having an affair with a married colleague would be a lot simpler if friendship didn't muddy the waters, he thought. Mile's friendship (maybe), but certainly Keiko's; how are you going to look at yourself in the mirror again?
What had started off as a one-off occurrence after a night out - and Keiko and Molly on Bajor - had swiftly deteriorated. There: that was the word for it. It wasn't a relationship or an affair so much as both of them locating the big red button and pushing it repeatedly to see what it might do. Well, he knew now: Keiko's hard face, and the hands curled into fists resting on the swell of her stomach. That much adrenaline is not good for an infant, he thought, but was able to bite his tongue before he actually articulated something quite that stupid. "I'll stop," he told her instead, watching the fists slowly relax. "I'll stop - everything. No more inappropriate behaviour, no more - anything. I'll stop."
It was a good target, a good thing to aim for, he thought: safe, honest, respectable.
Keiko smiled a little sadly and nodded.
It took Julian all of an hour to realise she knew he had been lying. Interesting, he thought. Because he hadn't known.
The little voice was silent.
*
fin
*
Forbluerosefairy:
ST:DSN, Sisko & Kira, prompt: tense.
*
"I think you'd like it."
"Hrm," Sisko said noncommittally, frowning down at the fuel efficiency reports as if his life depended on it.
"Benjamin. Anyone listening?" Dax waved a hand in front of his face.
Sisko blinked and finally surrendered at Dax's insouciant expression. "I'm listening, old man. I'm just not convinced. I'm not a real fan of holodecks." Not since coming to the station, at any rate. Holodecks were a necessary evil on starships, with months between planetfalls for the average crewmember. On Deep Space 9, though, with Bajor so close by, it was a little pointless to immerse yourself in pixelated foliage when you could have the real thing. Holodecks, no matter how accomplished, would never replace a real forest or beach - and Quark's holodeck equipment was far from accomplished. In fact, Sisko would be hard-pressed to call it adequate, and he said so in no uncertain terms.
Dax's nose wrinkled as she laughed. A maintenance person on the upper deck glanced down to see what was so amusing. "I'm not talking about a promenade through authentic English countryside, Benjamin!" She leaned in, smile wicked. "I'm talking about a holonovel."
"Oh," Sisko said, "well, in that case - definitely not."
"Come on, Benjamin!" Dax wheedled. She leaned in a little closer, mouth almost touching his ear. The nosy crewmember was craning his neck into impossible angles to keep them in line of sight. "We all need a little fun now and then."
Sisko looked at Dax. He looked at the crewmemember, now busily inspecting perfectly fine circuitry. He carefully put his raktajino to one side, collected Dax by virtue of grabbing her elbow and went to his office. "I'm not going to a holobrothel," he said, in a tone brooking no disagreements.
"Oh, but it's not a brothel!" As if sensing weakness, Jadzia launched into a detailed - and occasionally graphic - description of why an enactment of an early twenty-second cinematic 'hit' was in no way, shape or form, even close to resembling a brothel.
A soft chime at the office door: Kira, not even pausing as she entered. "I have Doctor Bashir's reports on the -" she looked up and suddenly started, noticing dax for the first time. "Am I interrupting?"
"No!" Sisko said loudly. He threw Dax a pained glance. "Could we discuss this later? Much later?"
"Discuss what?" Kira asked.
"Ben is thinking about joining us for our Mars Express evening," Dax told her brightly.
Sisko bit down on the exasperation and went for a command tone instead. "Thank you." It came out a little pissy.
Kira was looking him up and down critically, a look of cool assessment on his face. "He might be too large for the bathing costume," she said at last.
"Oh, that will simply add to his character," Dax said, turning to smile encouragingly at Sisko. "I remember, back on Earth, when you were about twenty and I was -"
"Thank you," Sisko said again, helplessly. Neither Kira nor Dax seemed inclined to leave his office. In fact, Kira's expression had slowly shifted from dubious to - oh, good grief - anticipatory. He contemplated barring Dax from ever mentioning unfairly obtained knowledge - such as his Academy escapades - ever again.
"You've convinced me," Kira finally declared. "I'm definitely going to wear the red outfit."
On second thoughts, now would be a good time for unexpected visitors, Sisko thought, somewhat despairingly. Or an extended away mission.
*
fin
*
Forhobsonphile:
ST: VOY, Tuvok/Neelix, prompt: unexpected
*
100fandoms prompt #04: 'distance'.
"Mr Vulcan."
Tuvok regarded the Talaxian with a raised eyebrow: an appropriate expression for the middle of the sleep cycle. "Mr Neelix. How may I be of assistance?"
"Am I disturbing you?"
A human would have lied. "Yes," he said, "but given that we share the same shift and sleep-cycle, you were doubtless aware of this fact before you roused me."
The Talaxian's face fell; which had a curious effect, as if a small, helpless animal had been injured. Tuvok restrained a sigh. "How may I be of assistance, Mr Neelix?" he repeated patiently and, this time, stepped to one side in a silent invitation.
Neelix nodded eagerly and steeped into his quarters. He picked out a spot and sat, unasked. It was a spot Tuvok would often choose for meditation, one facing the small fire-demon he had kept tucked into his possessions, even when with the Maquis. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a spot any other visitor would have chosen. "Mr Neelix."
"I've been thinking," the Talaxian said abruptly. He looked up at Tuvok and then swiftly looked away, his features tightening. "I know that you don't think very highly of me, Mr Tuvok. You think I'm emotional and impulsive and - and - simple." Some heat fired his voice; Tuvok watched, fascinated, as the Talaxian swallowed and it bled away. "I always knew. But after - after what happened..."
It appeared that the Talaxian, too, had trouble articulating it. Standard had no appropriate words for the experience, falling instead upon trite, emotion-laden language better suited for greeting cards or commercial music. We who are one - joined as one - together - one being - he had searched for several hours for a way to articulate this episode in his life without resorting to Standard's sexually-loaded language. The Vulcan words existed, true - they had existed before the drive to Mastery had spread across the ancient houses - but they were words without companions: dead-end words, stunted and lost in the language. No translation for them, merely a soft beep when the universal translator stumbled.
"You are discomforted in the aftermath of our joining," he observed, using the closest approximation to what he understood they had experienced.
The Talaxian flushed beet-red. Evidently this phrase had some sexualised meaning for him as well - maybe so, for was this thought not doubly-translated, to Standard and back again? "It feels odd, to be alone," Neelix said at last.
"We were never 'together', Mr Neelix. Tuvix was an entirely new entity, not merely the sum of our parts," he reproved gently.
The Talaxian nodded. His bristles had rustled forward, signalling extreme agitation or distress. Odd, then, that Tuvok felt nothing from him: no wave of strong emotion battered at his defences; no soft undercurrent of can't-have-want, as he had often encountered among the crew. The Talaxian had been loud and clear just a few days previously; now, there was nothing.
Several times Neelix started to speak but stopped. His hands fluttered ineffectually, as if communicating by body language alone. "It felt nice," he said at last.
Tuvok was silent for a long moment. His quarters, too, were silent. His mind, also: nothing came from the being sitting opposite him, though his distress was apparent. "It did," he allowed, finally. As Tuvix, he had certainly felt; foreign though the sensation had been, he had recognised it. One could certaily characterise it as 'nice'.
"I miss it," Neelix said.
Tuvok said nothing. They sat in silence: whole, entire, separate.
*
fin
For
brandy_took: ST:DSN, Bashir/O'Brien, prompt: target.
*
100fandoms prompt #17 : 'wreck'"I want you to stop sleeping with my husband."
Julian almost dropped the hypospray, fumbling it against Keiko's arm. Grimacing, he let her go, carefully setting the hypospray to one side as if it contained something a lot more lethal than neonatal supplements. He folded his arms. Unfolded them. Cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me the first time; please do not make me say it again." She rolled her sleeve down and hopped off the Infirmary bed, hands folded over the gentle swell of her belly. "Will you?"
Julian cleared his throat again. "I don't - Keiko, if you think that Miles is having an affair, maybe you should talk to him first." He was surprised at how steady his voice sounded, despite his sweaty palms. He resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his pants, instead busying himself with tapping at Keiko's record on his padd. Truth be told, he wasn't even particularly aiming at obfuscation or stalling her. He just wasn't sure that mixing personal relationships with his professional life was a good idea. Yes, and it's only now that this occurs to you, a nagging little voice said. It sounded a lot like his mother.
A long-fingered, elegant hand landed across the padd's screen, obscuring his view. When he looked back up at her, Keiko's lips had thinned into nonexistence. "Laying down ultimatums is not one of the wifely duties I agreed to perform." She was almost smiling: thin-lipped and pearl-white teeth; more wolfish grimace than congenial overture. "I will not be manouevered into that position. Not by you."
Say you're sorry, the little voice insisted. "I rather think that you are laying an ultimatum down right now," he said instead, somewhat horrified at how steady his voice still remained. Like they were discussing the weather.
"Better to my doctor than to my husband," she said sharply. "And where was your Hippocratic oath then, Julian?"
No child of mine! The little voice railed, furious. No child of mine would have taken advantage of this woman's misfortune! He bit his lip and said nothing, willing an emotional reaction - any reaction at all - to come forth.
Keiko's face softened. "Look. You're my friend, and I do love you. But he's my husband, Julian. I had him first."
"I know," he said, almost inaudibly, listening to the internal narration of all of the contrite things he should say. "I don't know - I can't - I'm sorry, Keiko." And, there, finally he was. He wasn't sure what he was sorry about precisely - whether it was sleeping with Miles, or getting caught, or worse, whether he was sorry that they'd ever become friends in the first place. The feeling was there, finally, but he was at a loss as to its cause, floudering about inside his mind, trying to attach it to something, some event that would merit the emotion. He was sorry, yes: sorry that emotion had finally enetered into it, perhaps. Having an affair with a married colleague would be a lot simpler if friendship didn't muddy the waters, he thought. Mile's friendship (maybe), but certainly Keiko's; how are you going to look at yourself in the mirror again?
What had started off as a one-off occurrence after a night out - and Keiko and Molly on Bajor - had swiftly deteriorated. There: that was the word for it. It wasn't a relationship or an affair so much as both of them locating the big red button and pushing it repeatedly to see what it might do. Well, he knew now: Keiko's hard face, and the hands curled into fists resting on the swell of her stomach. That much adrenaline is not good for an infant, he thought, but was able to bite his tongue before he actually articulated something quite that stupid. "I'll stop," he told her instead, watching the fists slowly relax. "I'll stop - everything. No more inappropriate behaviour, no more - anything. I'll stop."
It was a good target, a good thing to aim for, he thought: safe, honest, respectable.
Keiko smiled a little sadly and nodded.
It took Julian all of an hour to realise she knew he had been lying. Interesting, he thought. Because he hadn't known.
The little voice was silent.
*
fin
*
For
bluerosefairy:ST:DSN, Sisko & Kira, prompt: tense.
*
"I think you'd like it."
"Hrm," Sisko said noncommittally, frowning down at the fuel efficiency reports as if his life depended on it.
"Benjamin. Anyone listening?" Dax waved a hand in front of his face.
Sisko blinked and finally surrendered at Dax's insouciant expression. "I'm listening, old man. I'm just not convinced. I'm not a real fan of holodecks." Not since coming to the station, at any rate. Holodecks were a necessary evil on starships, with months between planetfalls for the average crewmember. On Deep Space 9, though, with Bajor so close by, it was a little pointless to immerse yourself in pixelated foliage when you could have the real thing. Holodecks, no matter how accomplished, would never replace a real forest or beach - and Quark's holodeck equipment was far from accomplished. In fact, Sisko would be hard-pressed to call it adequate, and he said so in no uncertain terms.
Dax's nose wrinkled as she laughed. A maintenance person on the upper deck glanced down to see what was so amusing. "I'm not talking about a promenade through authentic English countryside, Benjamin!" She leaned in, smile wicked. "I'm talking about a holonovel."
"Oh," Sisko said, "well, in that case - definitely not."
"Come on, Benjamin!" Dax wheedled. She leaned in a little closer, mouth almost touching his ear. The nosy crewmember was craning his neck into impossible angles to keep them in line of sight. "We all need a little fun now and then."
Sisko looked at Dax. He looked at the crewmemember, now busily inspecting perfectly fine circuitry. He carefully put his raktajino to one side, collected Dax by virtue of grabbing her elbow and went to his office. "I'm not going to a holobrothel," he said, in a tone brooking no disagreements.
"Oh, but it's not a brothel!" As if sensing weakness, Jadzia launched into a detailed - and occasionally graphic - description of why an enactment of an early twenty-second cinematic 'hit' was in no way, shape or form, even close to resembling a brothel.
A soft chime at the office door: Kira, not even pausing as she entered. "I have Doctor Bashir's reports on the -" she looked up and suddenly started, noticing dax for the first time. "Am I interrupting?"
"No!" Sisko said loudly. He threw Dax a pained glance. "Could we discuss this later? Much later?"
"Discuss what?" Kira asked.
"Ben is thinking about joining us for our Mars Express evening," Dax told her brightly.
Sisko bit down on the exasperation and went for a command tone instead. "Thank you." It came out a little pissy.
Kira was looking him up and down critically, a look of cool assessment on his face. "He might be too large for the bathing costume," she said at last.
"Oh, that will simply add to his character," Dax said, turning to smile encouragingly at Sisko. "I remember, back on Earth, when you were about twenty and I was -"
"Thank you," Sisko said again, helplessly. Neither Kira nor Dax seemed inclined to leave his office. In fact, Kira's expression had slowly shifted from dubious to - oh, good grief - anticipatory. He contemplated barring Dax from ever mentioning unfairly obtained knowledge - such as his Academy escapades - ever again.
"You've convinced me," Kira finally declared. "I'm definitely going to wear the red outfit."
On second thoughts, now would be a good time for unexpected visitors, Sisko thought, somewhat despairingly. Or an extended away mission.
*
fin
*
For
hobsonphile:ST: VOY, Tuvok/Neelix, prompt: unexpected
*
100fandoms prompt #04: 'distance'."Mr Vulcan."
Tuvok regarded the Talaxian with a raised eyebrow: an appropriate expression for the middle of the sleep cycle. "Mr Neelix. How may I be of assistance?"
"Am I disturbing you?"
A human would have lied. "Yes," he said, "but given that we share the same shift and sleep-cycle, you were doubtless aware of this fact before you roused me."
The Talaxian's face fell; which had a curious effect, as if a small, helpless animal had been injured. Tuvok restrained a sigh. "How may I be of assistance, Mr Neelix?" he repeated patiently and, this time, stepped to one side in a silent invitation.
Neelix nodded eagerly and steeped into his quarters. He picked out a spot and sat, unasked. It was a spot Tuvok would often choose for meditation, one facing the small fire-demon he had kept tucked into his possessions, even when with the Maquis. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a spot any other visitor would have chosen. "Mr Neelix."
"I've been thinking," the Talaxian said abruptly. He looked up at Tuvok and then swiftly looked away, his features tightening. "I know that you don't think very highly of me, Mr Tuvok. You think I'm emotional and impulsive and - and - simple." Some heat fired his voice; Tuvok watched, fascinated, as the Talaxian swallowed and it bled away. "I always knew. But after - after what happened..."
It appeared that the Talaxian, too, had trouble articulating it. Standard had no appropriate words for the experience, falling instead upon trite, emotion-laden language better suited for greeting cards or commercial music. We who are one - joined as one - together - one being - he had searched for several hours for a way to articulate this episode in his life without resorting to Standard's sexually-loaded language. The Vulcan words existed, true - they had existed before the drive to Mastery had spread across the ancient houses - but they were words without companions: dead-end words, stunted and lost in the language. No translation for them, merely a soft beep when the universal translator stumbled.
"You are discomforted in the aftermath of our joining," he observed, using the closest approximation to what he understood they had experienced.
The Talaxian flushed beet-red. Evidently this phrase had some sexualised meaning for him as well - maybe so, for was this thought not doubly-translated, to Standard and back again? "It feels odd, to be alone," Neelix said at last.
"We were never 'together', Mr Neelix. Tuvix was an entirely new entity, not merely the sum of our parts," he reproved gently.
The Talaxian nodded. His bristles had rustled forward, signalling extreme agitation or distress. Odd, then, that Tuvok felt nothing from him: no wave of strong emotion battered at his defences; no soft undercurrent of can't-have-want, as he had often encountered among the crew. The Talaxian had been loud and clear just a few days previously; now, there was nothing.
Several times Neelix started to speak but stopped. His hands fluttered ineffectually, as if communicating by body language alone. "It felt nice," he said at last.
Tuvok was silent for a long moment. His quarters, too, were silent. His mind, also: nothing came from the being sitting opposite him, though his distress was apparent. "It did," he allowed, finally. As Tuvix, he had certainly felt; foreign though the sensation had been, he had recognised it. One could certaily characterise it as 'nice'.
"I miss it," Neelix said.
Tuvok said nothing. They sat in silence: whole, entire, separate.
*
fin
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 06:47 pm (UTC)Marry me! I love it! Love it, love it, love it! Neelix's unrequited attraction is captured perfectly.
I did notice a few typos, though. I hope you don't mind if I do a quick beta:
Tuvok regarded the Talaxian with a raised eyebrow
A human would have lied. "Yes,"
The Talaxian's face fell, which had a curious effect, as if a small, helpless animal had been injured. Tuvok restrained a sigh. "How may I be of assistance, Mr Neelix?" he repeated patiently and, this time, stepped to one side in a silent invitation.
He picked out a spot and sat, unasked.
Odd, then, that Tuvok felt nothing from him:
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 06:53 pm (UTC)You may write me anything you wish, hon. I will hardly complain about Sean/Christian, nor will I complain about the lovely Ben-Jadzia-Kira ficlet I already got!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 07:06 pm (UTC)Thank you! *g* Writing these back to back was a little... weird. Actually, scratch that: it was very weird. (And it didn't even occur to me to do a Our Man Bashir fic! Blast!)
You may write me anything you wish, hon. I will hardly complain about Sean/Christian, nor will I complain about the lovely Ben-Jadzia-Kira ficlet I already got!
Well, the plan is to write all of the requests, so... *scribbles* (Plus!! S/C is practically canon! And yet noone writes it! Why is this travesty allowed to continue??)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 08:24 pm (UTC)Aw, I love Our Man Bashir. Great episode.
(Plus!! S/C is practically canon! And yet noone writes it! Why is this travesty allowed to continue??)
IT SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO CONTINUE! S/C is just so VERY VERY pretty, and god, in any other fandom, Rose and Raven Rosenberg would have spawned fifty billion hot S/C fics that "cut out the middleman" or some pervy C/S/J fics that put the real Julia in the mix.
Also, your icon is ten kinds of hot. I love that scene!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 08:47 pm (UTC)Damnit, you've discovered my sekkrit identity!
in any other fandom, Rose and Raven Rosenberg would have spawned fifty billion hot S/C fics
Have you seen S4? Because Christian's subconscious is a very slashy place indeed... (apparently complete with hottub and matching speedos. But who am I to judge?)
"cut out the middleman"
I have a horrifying hooker kink, but only if she's there as a substitute. I've already using that gimmick for about ten other fandoms (including Boston Legal and A Knight's Tale) but it's just such a fab gimmick. (And the voyeur!kink gets some play, too. *purrs*)
Also, your icon is ten kinds of hot. I love that scene!
I am a bad, bad fan - I cannot remember which scene it's from! Woe. And I've leant my vids to
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 02:28 am (UTC)I have seen the dream sequence of Christian's, with all the cabana boys and him trying to shave Sean's chest. Loved it.
*pets* I have N/T Seasons Two and Three on DVD. And it's from 3x10, "Madison Berg", when Sean and Christian are doing the wedding-cake tasting because Kimber's getting her bikini line waxed or something. And they are ridiculously fucking cute because the woman from the cake company thinks they're the one's getting married, and they play along, and Sean calls Christian "baby" and Christian calls Sean "sweetheart" and WHY IS THERE NOT MORE FIC?!
no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 10:00 pm (UTC)Well, there's the tall guy, the short guy and the other guy. Erm, girl. Thing. Yes. :)
Sean calls Christian "baby" and Christian calls Sean "sweetheart" and WHY IS THERE NOT MORE FIC?!
*shakes head8 No justice in this world, I'm telling ya...
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 09:31 pm (UTC)Thanks so much.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 09:58 pm (UTC)