drabbles: Supernatural, Leverage, SN/NCIS, The Losers

[tigriswolf]

Title: Remembrance only can remain
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: Dean’s not mine. More’s the pity. Title from Lord Byron.
Warnings: pre-series outside pov; spoilers for season 2
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 275
Point of view: third
Prompt: absorb

 

Rob watches the kid. He’s listening but not taking notes, and he won’t do the homework, and he’ll leave most of the test blank. But he’s listening and there’s comprehension on his face, which is so frustrating.

“Winchester,” Rob calls as the bell rings. “Wait a second.”

The kid slouches next to Rob’s desk, shifting impatiently.   Class before lunch always drags, Rob understands that. He grabs a worksheet from the bottom drawer and holds it out to Winchester.   “Give this back to me whenever you can,” he says. “No deadline.”

Winchester takes the paper with a raised eyebrow, but replies, “Okay, Mr. Paulson. Can I go now?”

Rob nods and the kid rushes out.

He doesn’t expect to see the worksheet again, but he had to try. If Mrs. Wilcox hadn’t reached out to him junior year, he’d probably be dead or in jail by now, and listening to the other teachers, he knows they’ve just about given up on Winchester.

A week later, after five undone homework assignments and a test with one problem solved, the worksheet appears on his desk, every answer right.   Winchester doesn’t show his work, which could be taken as cheating, but Rob knows better. The coursework is too easy and Winchester’s bored.

It ends up not mattering because the kid is expelled for fighting the next day. And years after that, when Rob sees the news about a bank robbery downtown and that face staring at the camera in fear—he can’t help but blame himself a little. He should have tried sooner. When Dean Winchester was still in his class, the boy could have been saved, but it’s too late now.



 

Title: Make a list of what’s lost
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich.
Warnings: character death
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 160
Point of view: third
Prompt: vitamin

 

 

i

 

You know, he can almost hear her say, the sun gives people vitamins. I don’t know which one, but it’s not K. Is it? I’m pretty sure we get K from bananas. I like bananas. They’re best with chocolate pudding, though. Or peanut butter. Ooh, what about with both? Yeah, definitely best with both. While in sunlight. You get K either way, then, right? I love the sun. It’s so shiny and warm.

Her hair looked like sunlight. And she was so much fun. He could barely keep up with her, and he loved her so much, and she’s gone now. She’s gone.

“C’mon,” he hears Eliot mutter. “Time to make those fuckers pay.”

He wasn’t the only one who loved her, and he’s not the only one who misses her.

Alec ruined their lives without ever seeing their eyes.   But Eliot will take their lives and watch their eyes die, and Alec knows it won’t be enough, but it’ll have to do.



 

Title: the used-to-be warriors
Fandom: NCIS/Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich.
Warnings: takes place early in season 3 for NCIS; spoilers for everything aired in Supernatural
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 290
Point of view: third

 

 

i

 

You can’t hide much longer, brother, Michael whispers in his ear. You’ve survived too many things to be a man. Our time is approaching; soon, my vessel will be ready. You must stand with me.

No, Tony replies, turning his face away. I left all that behind when I crafted this form.

Azrael, Michael says quietly. We cannot succeed without you. If you were not one of us, you’d be long dead—remember that.

Tony knows the words are true: human lungs wouldn’t have lasted through the plague and a human couldn’t have outrun that bomb. Without wings, he’d have died while McGee and Kate rushed to safety.

You can return, Michael cajoles, hands warm and familiar on Tony’s skin. Tony still refuses to look at him.

I will offer you one more chance, on the eve of battle, Michael says coldly, pulling away. Know that there are but two sides to this war, mine and Lucifer’s. You are with me, Azrael, or you are with him.

I understand, Michael, Tony murmurs. And I wish you well.

Tony woke shivering and burrowed deeper into his blankets. That dream had long since become tiresome, and he wondered if there were anyone but a shrink he could talk to about it. He resolved to keep ignoring it until it went away. Anyway, it probably just meant he had delusions of grandeur—why else would the Archangel Michael keep visiting and practically begging Tony to stand by his side at the End of Days?

It didn’t matter. Tony still had a job to do, so he might as well get up and head to the office.

He made a mental note to look up Azrael; it was the first time Michael had used the name.



 

Title: swirl of sand grains and stars
Fandom: The Losers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Betsy Sholl
Warnings: pre-movie
Pairings: Cougar/Jensen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 205
Point of view: third
Prompt: cephalopod

See, the thing about Cougar is that he’s a stealth-snuggler. None of the rest of them ever mention it to him because he is one scary bastard, but he’s like an octopus if you’re within his reach when he’s asleep. Once he decides to trust someone, then being near them doesn’t wake him up. But if a stranger or someone he doesn’t trust gets near him while he’s asleep, then he wakes up with a gun in hand. 

It didn’t take long for Clay, Roque, and Pooch to keep their distance, if they had any room for distance. But some places where they’ve bedded down, there was no room for personal space, so they had to make the best of Cougar’s octopus tendencies.

And then the team got assigned a new kid genius and he loved to cuddle. So anytime they had to scrunch up, Jensen slept next to Cougar and if he got snuggled, he woke up happy.

“Don’t let it interfere with the job,” Clay ordered Jensen and Cougar. Jensen blushed and stuttered an explanation while Cougar tipped his hat.

No one else says a thing. Cougar’s a scary bastard and Jensen is less annoying when he’s spent the night cuddling, and that’s that. 

 

Title: I miss most, even now, his hands
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Carol Ann Duffy
Warnings: spoilers for 5.20
Pairings: Sam/Jessica, Sam/(not)Brady
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 230
Point of view: third

 

The body is so small. Barely able to contain him. Puny and weak—how can any demon want a sack of flesh surrounding the power granted from the Boss’ own hand?

But he has a task, given by Azazel, from the Boss himself. An important task. He has to get the whole thing started.

As the months pass, as Brady nearly ruins himself, and cries in Sam’s arms, and gives Sam everything he has, and finally pushes Sam to sweet, delectable Jess—he falls a little in love with Sam. He sees the potential in Sam, the power, the anger, the will. Sometimes, watching Sam and Jess dance or laugh or kiss, he can barely wait to rip Jessica from him in fire and blood. He had Sam first. He’ll have pieces of Sam forever.

Tonight’s the night. Sam will be home soon, and Jessica’s made cookies, and she invites Brady in when he knocks because this discussion’s been a long time coming. He knows she’s seen his eyes on Sam—always Sam, beautiful Sam, Sam who tried so very hard to save him.

don’t don’t, Brady begs, don’t don’t

Jessica offers him an oven-warm cookie because she’s a good girl. He takes a bite and murmurs, “Delicious.”

(When Sam thrusts the knife into Brady’s long-dead body, he feels those strong hands, and the potential swells out, and he thinks, yes.)



 

Comments

[lmx-v3point3.livejournal.com]

Leverage fic made me whimper. So awesome.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!