General rating is PG-13. No warnings.
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica
TITLE: Too Late
PROMPT: Off duty tonight, by miabicicletta
He's off-duty tonight. He'll fly a Raptor down to the planet, that godsforsaken planet that holds nothing of interest to him but a certain woman who lives in a tent on the east end of the ragged city. Bill's skin tingles with anticipation - her warm breath on his cheek, her hands so soft despite hard work and the cold of winter.
It's been seventeen days. Much too long.
Just ten more minutes until he can fly down to temporary freedom. If he closes his eyes, he can taste her.
Lee's voice rings out on the wireless. He sounds as if he's choking on something. "The Cylons," he says. "The Cylons. They're here."
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica
TITLE: Not Necessarily the Old Man
PROMPT: First time, by somadanne
"You didn't!" Maya gasps, her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline. "The Admiral?"
"Yep," Laura says smugly. She's not normally the type to kiss and tell, but this is just too delicious to keep to herself.
"Outside? In the grass? You two are shameless!"
"Yep," Laura says again, crossing her arms at the chest. She's wearing the red dress again because it makes her remember that night and how her first orgasm burst through her at the same time as a comet streaked across the night sky. It makes her feel beautiful.
Maya brings her head closer to Laura and lowers her voice. "Tell me this. Is he... Is he any good?" Pink stains Maya's cheeks.
Laura licks her lower lip. "Let me put it this way... You know how everyone calls him the Old Man?"
"You're saying he's an old man in bed?"
"No, let me finish. People call him the Old Man but if they really knew him, they'd call him the Big Man. Maybe even the Huge Man." She giggles.
Maya squeezes Laura's arm. "I think you're the luckiest woman on New Caprica."
"I don't think so. I know it," says Laura, feeling like a cat that just was presented with a bowl of tuna and a saucer of fresh cream.
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica/The Hunger Games crossover
TITLE: Licked by Fire
PROMPT: Laura was a tribute, by icedteainthebag
Bill asks her about the scars on her back. Laura won't tell him.
She's glad he doesn't seem to remember her face. At the time, he was off fighting in the war. He probably didn't have a lot of spare time to watch the Games. Plus, she was only 15 at the time. It was a long time ago and her face has changed with age and wisdom.
Laura doesn't want to talk about the running, the endless running through the woods. About hiding and starving. Or about how she killed five of her fellow tributes.
Thou shalt not kill, says the Book of Pythia, but she did. Five times. She still has to tell herself that she had no choice. It was kill or be killed in the arena. A random drawing put her in the games, televised 24 hours a day. She had no choice at all.
The first she felled with her bow and arrow. The second was archery, too. The third she managed to push onto her own sword. The fourth she drowned in the muddy river. And the fifth... She strangled that poor boy in his sleep. It got easier every time.
Laura prays to the gods almost every night but she doesn't ask for forgiveness. She suspects it's beyond her. There's no forgiveness for the winners of the Games.
Bill asks again. "What happened to you?" He touches the tight, pink skin that was scarred by the fire deep in the forest. She refused to let the doctors fix the scar after she'd won.
She says nothing as usual.
FANDOM: The Hunger Games
TITLE: Sweet Sleep
PAIRING: Mrs. Everdeen, gen-ish
PROMPT: Gen with Mrs. Everdeen, by leiascully
It's better to sleep.
If she opens her eyes, she can see the mine's foreman standing at the door, his hat in his hands and tears streaking his grimy face. "He's gone," the foreman always says. "I'm so sorry, Anita."
Sometimes she can hear the children in the other room. Their voices sound so far away. A lot of the time the girls are silent and she's grateful for the quiet.
Katniss comes into the bedroom from time to time and tells her mother to get out of bed. Anita just rolls over to face the wall. There's nothing to get up for anymore.
She wonders if she'll ever forget Pat's voice, how he sang songs to her when they met late at night. They were so young then. Sometimes they'd sneak under the wire to make love in the woods. Afterward, he'd sing a song about a princess in a tower guarded by a fire-breathing dragons and the prince that rescued her.
There's no rescue for her now. Her prince is gone.
She hears the girls crying again. She pulls the blankets over her head, willing herself to sleep again.
PAIRING: Casey gen
PROMPT: Casey gen, by coffeesuperhero
The funeral is short and sweet, but solemn. Casey gives the eulogy.
"She was the best friend I ever had," he says, fighting to hold back his tears. "She was the only one in the world I could count on."
Chuck looks guilty, Sarah looks bored. She's examining her nails. Feckless woman.
"From the day we met, it was love. She was my faithful companion." Casey blinks rapidly. "It's hard to say goodbye to her."
A music student Casey found on Craigslist plays "Taps" on his bugle. A most fitting song.
"Goodbye," Casey whispers to her, so cruelly struck down in the line of duty. "Goodbye, my Crown Victoria."
FANDOM: Chuck/X-Files crossover
TITLE: Swimming Pool Blue Eyes
PROMPT: "I refuse to dignify that with an answer" by nnaylime
Casey will admit that there's something about her. All that red hair and the swimming-pool blue eyes set in pale skin. The way she talks about her Navy father and how he loved his country. The fact that she has a gun and knows how to use it. She drives American. He wouldn't be surprised if she voted Republican.
His kind of woman.
It been six months of long-distance calls, government bureaucracy in triplicate and the occasional weekend when he's not off killing someone bad and she's not off with that crazy bastard looking for little green men (clearly a product of the Zionist conspiracy, not extraterrestrial life). Six months that have been the best of his life, he thinks when he's being introspective, which isn't that often. Still, when he washes the Crown Vic on Sundays, his mind can wander.
Dana's mind must wander when she washes her car, too, because one night, just before they're about to fall asleep, he hears her hesitant voice. "Do you love me, Casey?" He's suprised. Dana's reserved, not at all the sentimental type.
He doesn't even think about it. The answer tumbles from his mouth, "I refuse to dignify that with a response."
He can feel her freeze in horror at his words.
Every woman he's ever truly love has died because of who he is. Casey has to face the facts. He killed each and every one of them. Dana can handle herself pretty damn well, but he's not going to put her life on the line. Not anymore.
He grabs his clothes from the floor and leaves the bedroom before she can say anything.
TITLE: Gimme Sympathy
PAIRING: Mulder and Scully, gen
PROMPT: Music by tlynnfic
"Who would you rather be, Scully? The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?" Mulder asks.
Scully looks up from her laptop. He's sprawled across her bed. "No shoes on the bed," she says. "That's disgusting."
He rolls his eyes but he does manage to get his feet off the bed. It's a motel bed so it's probably filthy anyhow, but why make things worse? Scully has standards.
"You didn't answer my question."
This time she doesn't look up from the monitor. "The Beatles, I guess."
He groans. "The Beatles? Really? The Stones were and still are at least 275% cooler than the Beatles."
"I disagree. Nobody was cooler than John Lennon."
"Overrated," Mulder mumbles. "The Beatles were the most overrated band in the history of modern man."
"Whatever," she says under her breath. She has work to do.
"I'm not leaving until you admit that the Stones are the superior band," Mulder says, swiping a handful of her popcorn.
"You'll be here a long time, Mulder." She shrugs.
"I'm a patient man. I can wait forever."
She pats him on his head and continues typing while Mulder hums "Angie" under his breath. She has the damn song stuck in her head for six days.