50 followers! We're practically a cult!

[skidmo_fic]

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

Comments

Injured

[skidmo-fic.livejournal.com]

All he’d wanted was to take a vacation. Just a proper vacation. Two weeks somewhere far from Colorado, possibly on the beach, but he wasn’t picky. Some place he wouldn’t have to worry about Wraith or Genii or space chicken pox or anything else that could be waiting for him every time he stepped through the gate.

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.”