skidmo_fic (
skidmo_fic) wrote2009-04-25 06:09 pm
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50 followers! We're practically a cult!
All right, I promised a game for having 50 people watching the fic journal, so here's one I stole from
misslucyjane:
28 flavors of Evan Lorne.
The rules:
You claim one prompt, I write a ficlet. Feel free to specify a pairing (canon or crossover!) you'd like to see, and I'll do the best I can to fulfill it.
1. naughty
2. happy
3. childlike
4. smudged and somewhat rumpled
5. angsty
6. horny
7. impetuous
8. excited
9. book-reading
10. dancing
11. jealous
12. captured
13. tied-up
14. kidnapped
15. caring
16. on his knees
17. obedient
18. losing his cherry claimed
19. shagged out
20. shocked
21. drunken
22. daring claimed
23. exploring
24. swimming in the buff
25. bath time
26. heterosexual
27. doing his best for interspecies relations
28. injured claimed
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28 flavors of Evan Lorne.
The rules:
You claim one prompt, I write a ficlet. Feel free to specify a pairing (canon or crossover!) you'd like to see, and I'll do the best I can to fulfill it.
1. naughty
2. happy
3. childlike
4. smudged and somewhat rumpled
5. angsty
6. horny
7. impetuous
8. excited
9. book-reading
10. dancing
11. jealous
12. captured
13. tied-up
14. kidnapped
15. caring
16. on his knees
17. obedient
18. losing his cherry claimed
19. shagged out
20. shocked
21. drunken
22. daring claimed
23. exploring
24. swimming in the buff
25. bath time
26. heterosexual
27. doing his best for interspecies relations
28. injured claimed
no subject
#4 - Could it be Lorne/McKay?
(I was tempted by #27, although I suspect that will get snagged pretty quickly as well).
Smudged and somewhat rumpled
Rodney tends to start talking about twenty feet before he actually reaches the door to Lorne’s office. It should probably be annoying, only Lorne likes to imagine that Rodney does this even when Lorne isn’t in his office, and he’s just talking to himself as he walks down the corridor.
There’s also the fact that it gives him the chance to…oh, say…startle awake and at least attempt to pretend he wasn’t sleeping at his desk. So when McKay rounds the corner into his office, Lorne is sitting up straight, signing his last requisition form.
Only, his hair is sticking straight up all along one side, there’s an imprint of his watch on his cheek and a smudge of black ink over his eyebrow, and his shirt is half-untucked where he twisted during his nap.
“Simpson is horribly allergic to his space gerani…” Rodney’s lips stop moving mid-sentence when he sees Lorne and he scowls.
“You haven’t been to bed.”
“Yes, I have,” Lorne says. “I just…got up early to finish some paperwork.”
“No,” Rodney says firmly, sounding rather annoyed. “You haven’t. Get up.” He steps behind Lorne’s desk and grabs his elbow, pulling him out of his chair.
“Rodney, I’m fine. I’ll go to bed early tonight, I promise.”
Rodney keeps pulling him towards the door. “You’ll go now. I’m taking you to your quarters and making sure you don’t leave until you’ve had some sleep.”
Lorne sighs and lets Rodney tug him down the hallway towards a transporter. “You just want to get me into bed,” he says with a smirk.
Rodney pushes him into the transporter and touches the screen for the living area.
“Yep.”
Re: Smudged and somewhat rumpled
because I love that there's this little bit of amusing snark in the relationship - it seems very real. And the mental image of Lorne post-desk!nap is great.
I misread this at first as 'pants' instead of 'plants' which gives it an amusing twist *g*
Thank you! :D :D
Re: Smudged and somewhat rumpled
It wouldn't be Lorne or Rodney if there wasn't snark. :)
Heh. Parrish is always leaving his pants in the lab!
Re: Smudged and somewhat rumpled
It's really starting to freak everyone out!
no subject
David/Evan Please!
Childlike
Today, though, Evan is sitting in the mud near a clay pit on PMX-138, elbows deep in purple soil, grinning up at David.
“This is amazing, babe,” he says, holding up what looks to David like a roundish, orange rock.
What follows is an explanation that mostly goes over David’s head, but that he’s pretty sure boils down to, “This is practically as good as naquadah, and will fuel the city for three months without taxing the ZPM.”
By the end of the day, Evan has David in the mud with him, and before Cadman comes by to tell them it’s time to go, they’ve gotten into a pretty serious mud fight. Purple clay is streaked across their uniforms, stuck in their hair, and clumped on their hands.
Cadman drags them out of the mud and shuffles them off toward the stargate.
When they come through to the city, dripping mud all across the gateroom floor, David looks up to see Sheppard leaning against a pillar in the control room, rolling his eyes fondly.
Re: Childlike
Re: Childlike
no subject
On His Knees
No, not like that.
It started on his very first off-world mission, way back at the SGC. They were surrounded by spear-waving Unas, looking less than pleased about these Tau’ri being on their planet, and though Colonel Edwards knew they could probably plow through most of them with P-90s before the Unas got close enough to do damage with their spears, Dr. Jackson insisted that violence could be avoided all together if they would all just drop to their knees.
So they did.
It started a pattern of a sort. Lorne would go off world, things would be working pretty well, and then, usually with no warning, he’d end up on his knees at gunpoint/spearpoint/knifepoint/swordpoint.
It’s a lot more comfortable than it looks.
Most of the time, he doesn’t even think about it.
Most of the time.
Except today.
Today he’s on his knees at gunpoint, and in the middle of trying to work out how to at least get his civilians back to Atlantis without causing an interplanetary incident or incurring any (excessive) loss of life on either side, Something happens.
They’re being kept in a tiny cell, shoulder to shoulder, face to face, with hardly room to breathe, and he’s been staring at Zelenka’s face for the past half hour.
Only now he’s not staring at Zelenka’s face, because Zelenka has been dragged to his feet, which puts Lorne’s gaze somewhere in the vicinity of Zelenka’s crotch.
Zelenka’s. Crotch.
And the thoughts he’s having when faced with Zelenka’s crotch are not at all the sorts of thoughts he should be having about a civilian currently under his care, but the guard just keeps Zelenka right there, crotch at Lorne’s eye-level (his mouth-level too, now that he thinks about it, and he really shouldn’t have thought about it), and this is not at all the sort of situation Lorne wanted to find himself in when he got up this morning.
Sheppard’s team saves the day, of course, which almost makes up for all the times Lorne’s team has done the same for him—almost—and before they know it, they’re back in Atlantis, and Lorne can stop thinking about Zelenka’s crotch.
Except that he can’t.
He can tell himself it’s ridiculous all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been thinking about Zelenka’s crotch for the better part of the evening. He’s a firm believer in confronting your problems before they get out of hand, though, which is how he justifies heading to Zelenka’s quarters at 2515 Atlantis Standard Time and not even waiting for Zelenka to invite him in before opening the door and invading Zelenka’s personal space in a very unprofessional manner.
Because, really, Lorne’s quite comfortable on his knees.
Re: On His Knees
Re: On His Knees
no subject
Injured
Which, to be fair, is exactly what he’s got. No Wraith. No Genii. No weird space viruses.
In fact, Lorne would lay money that this was nothing at all he would ever run into on another planet.
He’s pretty sure Sheppard’s never been tied up in a sewer staring himself in the face.
Of course, he’s also pretty sure Sheppard’s never been rescued from a sewer by two very, very good looking brothers who just happen to spend their lives hunting things like this…shapeshifter.
Apparently going to a hospital would raise too many questions, and the last thing the brothers want is to have the U.S. Air Force looking into their activities (Well, Sam thinks so. Dean just shrugged and said, “What’s one more federal agency looking for us?”), so they bring Lorne back to their motel room where Dean pulls out a battered first aid kit and Sam goes out for barbecue.
Lorne is stretched out on the bed with his shirt off and Dean is wrapping a nasty looking cut on his abdomen.
When Dean’s fingers slide gently over his skin, pressing a little to see if any of Lorne’s ribs are broken, Lorne lets out a soft gasp that has nothing to do with pain, and Dean glances up, giving him a curious look.
There’s a brief awkward silence, and then Dean smirks and says, “Man, I really wish you hadn’t let yourself get beat up like that.”
“Why’s that?”
Dean leans up and holds his face just a few inches from Lorne’s. “Because there’s nothing we can do before Sam gets back that’s not gonna make that little scratch worse.”
Lorne smirks right back. “Oh, come on. You’re a smart guy. Bet you can think of something.”
no subject
Daring
So Lorne’s caught off guard when Sheppard calls him into his office after Lorne gets back from M8G-272 and closes the door behind them.
“What the hell do you think you were doing out there, Major?”
“Sir?” Lorne asks. He’s confused anyway, and Sheppard standing so very close to him isn’t helping him focus one bit.
“I asked you a question, Major. Think it’s pretty straightforward, myself. What the hell do you think you were doing out there?” He puts even more emphasis on the word ‘hell’ this time, and Lorne’s gaze tracks the movement of his lips unconsciously.
“I think I was getting my men out of a tight spot, sir.”
He’s pushing it with the sarcasm, and if it were any other CO, he’d never have risked insubordination like that, but this is Sheppard, and he’s acting very un-Sheppard like at the moment.
Apparently the sarcasm was pushing it a bit too far. Sheppard rounds on him, shoves him up against the wall and gets right in his face.
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he says, and where Lorne had been expecting to see anger, he sees something quite different. Where he’d been expecting Sheppard to yell, red-faced and angry, he whispers instead, sounding almost desperate, his voice breaking just a bit.
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he repeats, shoving Lorne once more for effect.
Lorne looks at him for a moment, weighing the situation, and he thinks that what he does next is probably more daring than his earlier rescue had been. He leans forward, closing the short distance between them, and kisses his CO.
The thing is, the more daring the mission, the more worthwhile the payoff, and this is no different.
Re: Daring
no subject
Losing His Cherry
“Fourteen,” Lorne says quietly.
It’s the sort of thing most guys would be smug about, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to be.
Sheppard leans back too casually and eyes Lorne with suspicion. “Uh-huh. Pull the other one.”
Lorne shrugs. “Whatever. You’re the one who asked.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I thought you’d tell me the truth. I told you about mine.”
Lorne sighs and shifts onto his side. “I was fourteen,” he begins, and Sheppard slides down to lay next to him again, stretching his long, lean body before settling in to listen. “I was visiting my granddad. He lived in Kentucky, and I used to go help him with the horses just about every summer. Trent lived down the road a ways, and Granddad hired him to help that summer too, ‘cause his arthritis was getting bad, and he couldn’t ride anymore.”
Sheppard’s fingers sliding along his hip make it hard for Lorne to concentrate, so he closes his eyes to help himself remember. He’d just started filling out, changing from a skinny, short boy to a compact, broad-chested man, but he was still just a kid, really.
“We were hanging out down by the creek one night after we mucked out the stalls, and it was hot, and we were sweaty and smelly, so we went for a swim.”
Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic, he still draws Trent as he remembers him that night, naked and wet and glistening in the moonlight.
“And after…” He hesitates. He and Sheppard don’t talk about stuff like this. Not stuff that’s real, that matters. They talk about football and mission schedules and whether or not they have time for a quickie before staff meeting.
But Sheppard asked, and he deserved an honest answer.
“After we were laying in the grass, drying off, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He looked so…perfect. And I just…blurted that out. I just looked at him and said, ‘You’re perfect.’ And he laughed, and I was so embarrassed and so angry that I didn’t know what else to do, so I kissed him.”
He’d been terrified. Wet and naked and sticking his tongue into another guy’s mouth. An older guy. An experienced guy.
“It was so different from what I’d done with girls.” It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was hard and desperate and fierce. “And when I stopped kissing him, I thought for sure he was going to deck me, but he just laughed again, and called me a sweet kid and kissed me back. And then…well, you know.”
Sheppard nods, and his fingers move gently up Lorne’s side, trailing along his shoulder and dipping into the hollow of his throat. “Did you see him again?”
“Not after that summer,” Lorne admits. He’d tried. He’d gone down to Trent’s parents’ house the next summer, almost as soon as he arrived, but Trent never came back. “He was a nice guy,” he says, because even now he feels like he should defend Trent’s honor. “He just wanted a summer fling, and I was there.”
Sometimes he wonders if that’s not why Sheppard is with him: because he’s there. And sometimes he wonders if the why of it matters at all.
Sheppard nods and slides his hand back behind Lorne’s neck and into his hair. “Sounds to me,” he murmurs, “like this Trent guy didn’t know a good thing when he had it.” He kisses Lorne then, soft and slow, not like their usual kisses, not like any kiss Lorne ever shared with Trent.
“And do you?” he can’t help asking.
“Yeah,” Sheppard says, resting his forehead against Lorne’s. “Yeah, I really think I do.”
Re: Losing His Cherry