Goosie Brand Fics

goosie_fics @ 2009-03-02T10:20:00

2009-03-02T16:35:05Z

Fandom: Naruto
Title: Life in Technicolor
Chapter Title: The Usual Disappointments.
Characters: Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino, Hyuga Hinata, Mrs. Aburame
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: (sometimes one-sided, sometimes not) Kiba/Shino
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi
Status: 1/?
Summary: This is dedicated to my Kiba and Hinata. This is the first chapter of my alternate universe take on how what we know as Team 8 meet and grew up together. This is also a story about how the relationships between them grow and change with them.

Glaucopsyche xerces.

Little pale hands reached for the dusky blue butterfly, little fingers barely brushing against the fragile wings. He grinned freely.

Shino. Shino~. It’s time to get up my little sleepy head.

He blinked sluggishly and his vision of the blue butterfly faded slowly and a new image, the image of a bespeckled woman with bed ruffled hair came into view. It was the face he saw every morning. Mother. He squirmed when nimble fingers tickled his exposed side.

“Time to get up sleepy head. If I let you sleep any longer we’ll be late, my little bed bug.” She grinned down at him mischievously and pushed a few of his own bed disheveled hairs out of his sleepy eyes.

“Come on now, Shino. We can’t be late. It’s the second day of the first grade. You’re a big boy now and big boys can’t be late for class.” The seven year old let out a barely discernable sigh and shuffled quietly from bed.

“I think I can trust you to dress yourself again today.” His mother said with a wink before leaving him to his own devices for the time being. Shino waited until he was out of the door before he pouted childishly. She would call after him again in ten minutes or so, he decided he should hurry.

~*~

Shino Aburame had decided within barely a day of knowing of Kiba Inuzuka that the other boy was… interesting. With this sudden knowledge came the usual disappointments.

It wasn’t that he knew the other boy really. Kiba ignores him just like everyone else. He’s obsessed with sports just like most boys his age. He likes to get sweaty and filthy. He even seems to like dogs.

He wonders why he never noticed the loud mouthed, obnoxious little boy before now. Kiba stands a few inches shorted than Shino and Shino is pretty sure he’s been seven years old longer than the Inuzuka boy. Kiba’s mud brown hair is another type of messy entirely in comparison to his own. And his eyes are different and much darker than his own. Not that anyone would know this. Even if they did happen to acknowledge Shino’s existence they’d be hard pressed to discern the color of his eyes with these shades he’s been forced to wear.

There is absolutely nothing special about Kiba Inuzuka. There is nothing that sets him apart from the rest of the ill-mannered little boys infesting this school. These facts however do nothing to soothe the cold bitterness that disappointment usually brings. There is nothing to ebb Shino’s compulsion to watch the other boy every chance he gets.

He wants to be Kiba’s friend. He wants the other boy to laugh and grin at something he said and not just the insults the others throw his way. Shino wants someone to talk to or not talk to, someone to just be around even when he doesn’t want them to be. He doesn’t understand why he wants it to be Kiba. He just knows it will never be.

These thoughts nearly brought shivers but instead the Aburame boy huddled back into the tall collar of his jacket. He was just cold. That was all.

~*~

“How was school?”

His mother asked the same way she has always asks, even since pre-school. He never really gave her an answer as always. Only now he’s old enough and in more control of his body to shrug. He heard her quiet sigh, even if she tried to hide it, before she set a cup of juice down in front of him. “If you hurry with your homework maybe we can get a few minutes practice in before your father gets home.” She says with a smile as she takes a seat next to him.

She sipped her dark red, bitter ‘juice’ out of a glass much different than his own. Shino tried it once and swore to never try it again because it made him feel… funny. She affectionately ran her fingers through thick tuffs of dark hair, making it messier than usual while Shino worked a little faster. He knew it really didn’t matter. His father won’t return until much later night if at all and he will be long asleep by then.

But he loved to practice. His mother said piano seems to be a natural talent. Shino just liked to see his mother smile.

~*~

Shino was ‘hogging’ a swing near the field most of the kids used for football or soccer. It was soccer today. Shino didn’t swing, he was too busy watching. No one tried to get him to move.

He doesn’t remember much about the pseudo game. Pseudo. It means false, counterfeit, pretended, spurious. Spurious. He likes that word better.

One minute he was just standing there, a black and white ball in hand. Although, to Shino the ball was more black and gray but it’s not really his fault he’d forgotten what white looked like. He liked gray better anyway. The next, the world seemed to tilt and he was on the ground. It had rained last night. He was sitting in mud. Shino squinted up at a sea of blue before the light dimmed again as he lowered his head in an attempt to blot out the sting. Where were his glasses? “Stop following me around, you freak!” He recognized that voice. He also recognized the laughter. There was another childish voice accusing Kiba… yes of course it was Kiba… of domestic violence.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t hit on your woman, man. My ma tells my dad that all the time.”

“Shut up, Kevin! Ya’… ya’ douche!” Kiba seemed to be sneering at him instead. The laughter rose. “I mean it, weirdo. Stop following me around!” He growled, sounding as savage as he looked. Shino’s heartbeat picked up and he bowed his head again.

He’d been caught. His pale skin flushed in embarrassment and he didn’t even fight when Kiba snatched the ball away from him. He just began feeling around for his sunglasses.

“Ah... um…” Shino’s head snapped up fast enough to hurt at the sound of the new voice. The light hurt and he could barely make out who this person was before his glasses are placed right in front of him. He takes them quickly and puts them back on, only looking up long enough to confirm his suspicions. The new voice belonged to the Hyuga girl that sat in back of their class. He could not be blamed for not recognizing her more quickly. She seemed to fade a way more easily than he did.

“A-Are y-y-you alright?” She asked softly but it was s enough for Shino. He ignored the hand she offered, before he stood quickly. He didn’t even attempt to dust himself off. There really was no use.

“Thank you.” He said in response. He found that Kiba and his friends are gone. He swallowed down the bitter taste of failure and stood with Hinata until the bell rang, thinking of all the things he could have done differently. Hinata was kind enough not to interrupt.

Shino didn’t follow the other boy around again for a week.

goosie_fics @ 2008-05-17T19:56:00

2008-05-18T01:04:53Z

Fandom: Naruto
Title: Breathe in the Rain
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Kiba/Shino (sorta… I guess)
Status: One-shot
Word Count: 444
A/N: I had a pretty vivid dream last night and this was it. I apparently have weird and pointless dreams. I find it strange as I’m not an even a Kiba/Shino fan. Although, I positively adore Shino, I’ve never paid much attention to Kiba. I’m pretty sure I was Shino in the dream, so maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Anyway, this is my very first Naruto fic. I never had the urge to write one until now actually. There may be more shorts later on.

“Kiba?”

“Kiba!”

He found Akamaru huddled somewhere between the front door and the porch.

“This is your fault you know. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him.” The dog actually shrugged.

A barely discernable sigh was heaved.

He hated getting his feet wet.

“Kiba, come back here. You’re not supposed to go out, you know that.”

When he got no reply he ventured out further, Akamaru didn’t move an inch. It figured. Kiba was going to pay for this. He didn’t even have a chance to grab his coat.

He had almost made it over to the other young man when Kiba turned around and grinned at him.

“You look like a wet dog.” He laughed.

“Look who’s talking.” Shino grumbled.

Kiba just chuckled and continue on his merry way to where ever he was going with that paper bag. It was pouring out.

Damn him. But at least he was wearing a coat.

Shino gingerly but quickly made his way over the dog nin on the balls of his feet. It wasn’t very shinobi-like let alone manly but at the moment it was the least of the boy’s concerns.

A hand around Kiba’s arm kept him from going any further. “It’s raining. You have a fever. You’re clearly delirious. And you’re coming back inside,” Shino bit out.

Kiba immediately leaned back into the new source of warm. Though the warm part Shino couldn’t figure out as he was thoroughly soaked and Kiba wasn’t really helping with that matter at this point.

“Kiba,” Shino warned in that monotone way of his that meant he’d use force if he had to.

The stone road was digging into the bottoms of his feet. He was cold and miserable and Kiba was bringing his sick ass back inside if Shino had to knock him unconscious and drag him here.

Plus, the kikaichuu were not amused. They hated getting wet. Shino couldn’t blame them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shino asked. “And why do you have that bag?”

Kiba leaned back against the taller shinobi’s shoulder. His face tilted toward the sky. “I was totally gonna get you some earth worms.”

Despite himself Shino smiled, but only a little. Besides it was hidden behind Kiba wet mop of hair anyway.

“What? They’re bugs aren’t they…or like bugs.” He licked the rain from his lips. “I mean they’re close enough, right?”

Shino shook he head and started pulling the other boy back toward house.

“Come…”

“Into my parlor,” Kiba snickered. “Said the spider to the fly.”

Shino rolled his eyes behind the glasses. “Why do I have to be the fly?”

“Who says y’are, Shino-kun?”

goosie_fics @ 2007-03-07T21:42:00

2007-03-08T03:45:04Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Sugar-Muffin
Rating: PG
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: Pure sweetness...
Status: 29 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: See warnings...

Sometimes, when he’s fast asleep and you’re still up and dozing, you just watch him. You lay there and memorize every line of his face—the tip of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the length of his lashes and the shape of his lips—and you wonder what makes you so special. Not that you think that you’re extraordinary by any means, but there’s got to be something different about you. Something that makes you stand apart from all the other perfectly suitable people in Las Vegas. Why else would he have chosen you?

You also know that if he knew what you were thinking, he’d laugh right in your face.

“Of all the people in Las Vegas to choose from? You’re kidding right?”

You’d smile back. You’d touch him if he’d let you and say…

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m swatting them off with a nail bat. You hear that pounding?”

You’d probably laugh too.

“That’s the sound of my many suitors beating down my door, clamoring for my attentions. You better be careful. One day one of them might sweep me off my feet and take me far away from here.”

You’d think of a million clever things to say to that but you wouldn’t use any of them.

“Well, I guess I wouldn’t be able to blame 'em.”

He’d snort and look at you like you’d lost your mind.

“I think yer somethin’ to be beatin’ down doors and clamorin’ about,”

You’d run your fingers through his hair, kiss him and look him straight in those blue eyes you fell so hard for.

“Sugar-muffin.”

Yeah, he’d probably kill you if he knew what you were thinking.

You wouldn’t mind at all.

goosie_fics @ 2007-01-30T13:48:00

2007-01-30T19:49:39Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Easy
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: More unhealthy relationship practices.
Status: 40 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: David views his world as a series of tests. Good thing he’s not the one that has to take them.

For once it doesn’t seem that he’ll have to take his break alone. He realizes he has company on his way over to the coffee pot. Not particularly interesting company by the looks of it though. It’s Bobby Dawson, the ballistics guy, the one that seems intent on keeping (his secrets) to himself. Seriously, David doesn’t think he’s ever seen the guy on a break.

“Dawson.” He said by way of greeting taking a seat on the other end of the couch Bobby was occupying.

“Oh, hey Hodges.” Bobby’s smile is friendly and apparently holding back a mouthful of candy.

Skittles-- he can tell by the smell of the other man’s breath. They sit in silence for a while. It’s late and there isn’t anything particularly riveting on TV but Bobby seemed intent on flipping through the mess all the same.

“I didn’t think you ever tore yourself from your lab.” David says finally. He’s never been good with silences. They make him nervous. He always ends up wondering what the other is thinking or thinking too much himself.

Bobby laughs nervously. He always does that David’s noticed. Not that they’ve talked much but when they do there’s always this nervous laugh coming from the man. It makes David wonder what it is Bobby Dawson has to be nervous about. “I take breaks.” He says simply his drawl slow and relaxed further hindered by the seeming constant presence of fruit flavored bits. “We jus’ miss each other is all.” He shrugs.

David hums noncommittally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His eyes drop to Bobby’s lap and the little red package in his hand. The ballistics tech gives him an odd look as if sizing him up. Then Bobby’s biting his lip looking down at his precious candy.

“Y’want some?” He says simply finally looking up at David.

David has to fight to keep from laughing and just smirks instead. “Sure.” He wants to add that they must be something if they way Bobby is munching over there was any indication but he doesn’t. And a nervous laugh and a handful of Skittles is the all he gets for his trouble. Not that he’s all that disappointed by either.

*******

David pops another one of Bobby’s french fries in his mouth. “Fancy meeting you here, Dawson.”

“Uh… yeah.”

There’s that laugh again and David finds himself smirking as he takes a seat across from the man, promptly pilfering another of the man’s fries. Chili and cheese—the man has good taste. If Bobby minds he can’t tell although he is looking at him strangely. When neither of them has anything to say Bobby is the one that breaks the silence this time.

“So…” He says, his large sickeningly naive eyes watching him carefully. “What’s up, Hodges?”

Those damned eyes. David found himself wondering what it would take to get them to look even the littlest bit less childlike then they are now.

“Oh nothing. Just passing through.” He says.

“Oh.” Bobby reaches for another of his fries and David pulls the plate away taking one himself.

Bobby frowns but he doesn’t say anything.

“So… Bobby, what do you have planned today?”

The man actually seemed stunned. David isn’t sure if it’s because of the question or the fact that he had actually just referred to him by his first name.

“I… uh… really didn’t have anything planned.” He says slowly watching as David leisurely makes short work of his food.

It doesn’t take long before Bobby sighs and orders another plate for himself. David doesn’t even bother to suppress his snicker of triumph.

*******

David can’t help but noticed the look the other man is giving him.

“What?”

He’s pouting. David bets that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s rather ridiculous. Bobby Dawson is all curly, blond hair and big brown eyes. Those traits aside, he’s still a grown man. Hell, David doesn’t usually tolerate pouting of any sort from anyone. But there’s something almost rewarding about this. Dawson’s been doing it a lot lately too.

David cocks a brow. “Bobby, what is it?” He says as if actually speaking to a child.

“Nothin’.” He takes his popcorn and starts off toward the theater.

“Oh come on. You’re pouting like a two year old.”

“I am not.”

His accent's getting thicker—damned liar.

“Yes you are.” David’s grin is fiendish.

Bobby sighs and he’s probably pouting even more though David can’t tell as he’s stuck staring at the man’s back and hunched shoulders.

“It’s jus’…”

“Yes?”

He’s fidgeting. David can’t help being amused.

“I always pay.”

“Of course you do.”

This causes the ballistics tech to pause and turn around slowly. He was right; he was still pouting—or frowning. David prefers pouting. It’s just more satisfying in his mind.

“I have an ex-wife and a cat to support. You…” He says tapping Bobby square on the chest. “Do not.”

Bobby rolls those pretty eyes. “I got a cat.”

David just sticks his hand in the other man’s popcorn and walks around him.

“Of course you do.” He says popping a few kernels in his mouth.

*******

Bobby’s giggling. Much like a teenaged girl actually.

“C’mon it’s your turn.” David says as he hands him the dice.

The blond rolls a little more sloppily then he had about an hour ago. David’s guesses that’s what happens when you introduce an avid beer drinker to vodka. Bobby is completely drunk off his ass while David is only experiencing a pleasant buzz. Must be the Russian in his blood. Bobby may have Irish in his but while they maybe known for the amount of liquor consumed in a sitting they aren’t that well known for holding it.

“Uh oh.” David grins rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Looks like Park Place, Dawson and with that hotel it would seem that you owe me…” he says looking at the deed in question. “A shit load of money.”

Bobby looks up at him pitifully.

“Well…” David says leaning back in his seat taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe we can work something out. We’re friends right? I wouldn’t want you out of the streets, Bobby.”

Bobby looks a little hopeful albeit wary at that. Good boy, he’s learning.

David sets his drink down, his hands going for the button of his pants. He’s pleased by the way those brown eyes widen at the sight.

“Oh come on, Bobby I’m sure this won’t be the first time for you.” He snickers. “It’s okay. I won’t tell a soul.”

If Bobby’s face hadn’t already been flushed from the alcohol David is positive it would be now. The Georgian looks David right in the eyes then down at his hands again as he pulls down his zipper.

“C’mon, Bobby-Doll…” David drawls. “Rent isn’t going to pay it’s self.”

Bobby licks his lips and with a hesitant nod he slowly drops down to his knees.

About half way through and David is more then sure that this isn’t Bobby’s first go at this. His fingers tighten on the handful of curls and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud. When he’s done, Bobby swallows it all down not wasting a single drop leaving yet another secret for David to clutch onto victoriously.

*******

Bobby hasn’t been able to look him in the eyes for the past three days. Not that David’s really all that bothered by it. But it’s that Bobby makes such an obliviously obvious show of not doing so that’s bugging him.

“Cut it out.” David says as he snatches the bag of Skittles from the other man’s hand taking a few.

“’M sorry,” Brown eyes looking pitiful yet again.

“For what?” He replies with a roll of his own and hands the little package back to him.

Bobby just smiles at him shyly. And is that a blush?

“I’ve got work to do.” David says ignoring it completely. “You can buy me breakfast after shift.”

“Okay.” Bobby nods his smile getting larger as he turns and heads back to his lab.

*******

It’s David who’s drunk and giggling a few nights later. He’s off and he’s demanded that Bobby be off too, so after a bit of poking and prodding Bobby calls in.

He can tell that the last place Bobby’s wants to be is a bar—especially this one. The music is loud and the people louder. And that asshole over in the corner has been eyeing him since he got there. It might have something to do with the ways he’s been clinging to Bobby the whole time though.

It’s not long before David does something stupid and to his surprise… only not so much… Bobby has to come to his rescue. That’s been happening a lot lately. Bobby had given him those damned brown eyes and had whined about it being the last time… last time but nonetheless he doesn’t hesitate when the time comes.

Bobby gets a split lip, a bruised hand, a promise that David would never do anything like that yet again, and a drunk and sloppy hand job in the front seat of his truck for his efforts. David figures it’s a fair enough trade off.

*******

David believes that has to be the first time that they’ve ever fought about anything. He's shocked to say the least. Odd being that he had done all the yelling. It was just maddening. Bobby would drive him insane one day he was sure of it.

He called the man everything but the child of god and all he could do was walk around pouting like a damned wounded puppy. If he’d had a fucking problem he could’ve just said something about it. But he doesn’t he just looks at him with those damned eyes and hunched shoulders and leaves it alone until it had turns into this mess.

David wonders for the thousandth time if there’s any way to get those eyes to look a little less childlike then they always are.

He gets his answer once he shoves his way inside the other man. Bobby nearly arches off the bed at the abrupt invasion howling at the ceiling as David pushes in to the hilt. David finds that if he trusts a certain way he can get Bobby to say the filthiest things--that little innocent southern boy exterior melting away to nothingness.

The harder the fucks him the louder he gets, begging and clinging to him. Those damned eyes darker and lust filled and David has never been more pleased. He wants more and David gives it to him hard enough to hurt him he figures even if Bobby never asks him to stop. And when Bobby comes it’s probably the most beautifully debauched thing David has ever seen. All tensed muscles and breathless moans ending in a boneless heap of depravity.

David doesn’t even bother to move after collapsing on the man but he’s sure Bobby doesn’t mind. Bobby never minds.

goosie_fics @ 2007-01-30T13:42:00

2007-01-30T19:45:33Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Because
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: Unhealthy relationship practices.
Status: 27 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: Bobby Dawson is slowly coming to the conclusion that he and David Hodges just might not be healthy for each other. The only thing is that neither of them really seem to mind.

David probably thinks they’re friends and Bobby guesses that to a certain extent they are. There is no one in the world that Bobby would ever dare to share his secrets with and he has a pretty good feeling that David feels the same way.

He thinks so even when David is red faced and yelling, throwing back all the secret things Bobby ever said to him in the quiet of a pitch black bedroom when they were both tired--feeling heavy and light as air all at the same time. All while David seemed to try his very best to burrow his way inside of Bobby’s chest.

Even then when David is being especially nasty he can’t find it in himself to resort to the same cruelty. To even utter quietly even one of the things he knows. Because David always comes to him, clutching at him, eyes pained and skin pale. His fingers threading through Bobby’s hair and his lips on Bobby’s mouth when they aren’t frantically muttering apologizes. Bobby just softens and clutches back, offering forgiveness and a willing body as David coaxes him back to where the whole mess began in the first place.

Bobby figures he can ignore the ache in his chest for a little while, just as long as it takes for David to fill it with something else all over again.

Because David Hodges never begs anyone for anything and that has to mean something right?

goosie_fics @ 2006-11-23T16:53:00

2006-11-23T22:53:13Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Clearly
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Bobby Dawson/Henry Andrews
Warnings: Uh… porn. And then there’s the fact that it’s gay porn soooo…
Status: One-shot
Summary: It's Henry's birthday...
A/N: This an extremely freaking late birthday gift to my dear moira_fae11. Have you noticed I always give porn as birthday gifts? Hmm… curious. XD

Clearly, this is all Henry Andrews’ fault. It had been all the other man’s idea to celebrate his birthday with a movie marathon, popcorn and a ridiculous amount of Captain Morgan.

So now here they are, drunk out of their minds and trying desperately to remember how long it takes to cook top ramen when Henry finally stops giggling. This isn’t entirely strange by any means. It is just that Henry has been giggling pretty much incessantly since they cracked open that bottle of rum he holds in his hands. The sudden silence is what prompts Bobby to turn away from his careful study of the pot of noodles that has yet to start boiling.

When he does turn around he’s captivated by the sight before him. Henry Andrews is pink faced and biting his lip as he clutches what remains of their bottle of rum to his chest. Bobby lips part just a bit, the idea had been to ask Henry if he was doing alright but that plan has left him suddenly.

“I’m really having fun, Bobby.” Henry says—his voice quiet and soft. “The movies are great. And really, you didn’t have to buy me that sound system.”

Bobby just smiles and blushes accordingly. “Aww c’mon… That’s what friends are for, right? How else are you gonna ever get cool crap you’d never buy for yourself?”

Although, really the truth was when you really like someone--possibly more than friendly--you tend to do crazy things. Like spend ridiculous amounts of money on things you know they’d like. Things like surround sound systems for their televisions.

“An’ besides… think of it this way. I’m over here most of the time anyway. So I’ll be getting just as much out of it as you are.” He reasoned, possibly more to convince himself than the man in front of him.

Henry just smiles at him shyly and for some reason Bobby’s thinking that his last stitch effort at not seeming like the creepy dude with the man crush on his best friend has failed miserably.

“Uh… yeah…” Henry starts, his head dipping toward the floor.

There is an awkward silence between them now. One Henry uses as an opportunity to take another swig from their bottle of rum. Bobby could blame the alcohol in his system for the way he’s staring as Henry tips his head back, his neck exposed just so, giving Bobby and unobstructed view of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

And when exactly had Henry’s neck become so attractive?

Before he knows it he has crossed the small space between the stove and the refrigerator and is gently tugging the bottle away from Henry’s mouth. A mouth that Bobby had always thought was attractive. Especially now wet with rum and Henry’s tongue as it swipes across it.

The shorter man looks at him curiously, giggling a bit. “I was gonna share, ya know.”

“I know.”

It isn’t until now that Bobby notices that his hand was still clasps over Henry’s; both of them holding the neck of the bottle now. Henry’s hands are warm against his palm and a little damp from spilled rum and sweat. His fingers flex underneath Bobby’s own as he offers the bottle to him.

Bobby’s body is already humming with the effects of his obviously tipsy state. It’s fuzzying effects aside; it has made him strangely hyperaware of any and everything Henry.

Alcohol has also pretty much made Henry completely pliant. Bobby easily takes the once death gripped bottle from the younger man placing it on the top of the fridge.

“Aww…” Henry pouts… and Bobby can’t help but notice that he does so adorably. “Why is the rum gone?”

“Cause we’ve both had enough.” He replies.

This is when he realizes just how close they are. When Henry’s barely brushing against him, the sound of fabric rustling as the shorter man squirms and tries to reach for the bottle.

“I said no.” Bobby laughs as Henry turns and he’s forced to grab both of the man’s arms and pin them to his sides.

“But it’s my birthday.” Henry giggles drunkenly. “An’ I want more rum.”

“Later, Captain Giggles…” Bobby insists. His arms still secure around the other man.

There’s nothing overtly sexual about it. They wrestle all the time. Sometimes for prizes… like the TV remote and sometimes out of sheer boredom. Neither of them has ever had a problem with it. And this has always surprised Bobby actually, because he’s gay and Henry knows it. He’s never kept this fact from his friend. And while most other men would shy away from such a close contact activity with a man that could potentially see them as more than just a friend, Henry has never hesitated not even once.

But that didn’t mean that any other type of touches would be welcomed however and Bobby knows that.

Yet, this hasn’t kept him from edging the line from time to time. Like now when his nose just so happens to brush into Henry’s dark hair and he inhales sweat, some vague lingering of apple scented shampoo and a smell that doesn’t really have any other suitable title except well… Henry. He’s tells himself he’s too drunk to know just how really pathetic he’s being. Ignoring, of course, the fact that he’s been thinking pretty clearly all this time (well except for the fact that he’s yet to figure out why those noodles aren’t boiling).

His mind is rambling on so that he hasn’t noticed that Henry has gotten his arms free or that they are now laid on top on his own that are still wrapped around the other man’s waist until Henry murmurs, “Why do you do that?”

He apparently also hadn’t noticed that he was still practically nuzzling Henry’s hair.

“Do… what?” Bobby asks hesitantly, repressed horror lingering in his throat.

“Smell me.” Henry says. There’s laughter in his voice or at least that’s what Bobby hopes he’s hearing.

Amusement and ridicule he can take. Disgust… not so much.

“I… wasn’t?” He protested weakly.

Henry laughed outright at that. “Yes you were. I know when I’m being sniffed Bobby Dawson.” He says as he looks over his shoulder at the other man, a questioning eyebrow raised. “Do I smell bad or something?”

Bobby’s blush lights his face on fire. “Uh… no,” He stutters. “’course you don’t.”

By now Bobby’s trying to get as far away from Henry as possible as not to make an even bigger fool of himself…but Henry’s not letting his arms go.

“So…I smell good?” Henry questions.

Bobby squirms under the younger man’s gaze. “’course you do.”

Henry smiles at him brightly and Bobby attributes it to the rum. “You smell good too, Bobby.”

Okay, at this point Bobby knows that his blushing is more than obvious and he really, really should not be so close to this man. Because when Henry smiles at him like that it makes him breathless. He’s adorable, sweet and one of the greatest friends he’s ever had and if he fucks this up by being an idiot he’d never forgive himself.

Henry has turned around now. His hands are fisted in Bobby shirt and he’s staring at him like there’s something he wants to say but he can’t quite decide on how to phrase it.

“Heya, buddy,” Bobby interrupts this thought process because clearly it could only lead to trouble. “Why don’t we forget about the noodles and just have some more popcorn or something? Watch another movie?”

Henry shakes his head. “Nope, I dun wanna.” He says quietly, burying his face in the front of Bobby’s t-shirt.

“Well what do you wanna do?”

When he doesn’t get an answer he sighs. “Hen…”

“Bobby?” Henry’s giving him that focused look again but now he’s biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah, Henny?”

“Do you like me?” The question sounds so innocent that at first Bobby almost convinced himself that it was just that.

“’course I do.”

“No…” Henry hesitates, “I mean… really… like me.”

Bobby sighs again his eyes fluttering shut in a mixture of anxious nerves and frustration as he finally says, “I know.”

This was not how Bobby had expected this to go. He’d always figured he’d wait until they were both old and gray and Henry was on his death bed. And when Hen’s wife and children, and grand children and great-great grand children had left the room and the two of them were all alone…

But this—some twisted mockery of a live action Disney movie with a pair of thirty something guys blushing and giggling and asking if the other like-liked them like a pair of twelve year olds—also not what he had in mind.

He once again blamed the rum.

Bobby’s eyes fly open when he’s feels the first hesitant brush of lips against his own, but he doesn’t move an inch. In fact he’s so frozen to the spot with pure and utter shock that Henry practically pulls him by the shirt until their lips are pressed more firmly together. Bobby’s eye lids are suddenly very heavy and he can’t help but give in to the careful tongue that has apparently made it its aim to gently coerce his lips apart.

And suddenly here they are… Kissing. Henry clinging to him like more than his balance depended on it and Bobby with his arms loosely wrapped around the younger man’s waist. Bobby is tasting nothing but rum and is intractably determined find out what’s underneath it. But just as he makes his earth shattering discovery, reality is back with a vengeance and he’s pulling away so suddenly Henry nearly falls on top of him.

Henry is obviously confused if the owlish blinking is any proof.

“Hen…” Bobby starts. “This is a really, really bad idea.”

“Oh.” Henry’s already blushing cheeks go even redder to match is shining red ears. And even though the puff of air had sounded like pure disappointment, Bobby couldn’t help but notice just how perfect Henry Andrews looked all pink and glowing.

“I just thought…” Henry stutters at first but finds some sort of lingering bravery no doubt aided by the alcohol. “It’s my birthday. You said… anything I wanted.” Henry gives him a weak smile and adds, “I… er… I want you.”

Oh there is no other good excuse for the wave of toe curling lust that causes.

“Henry…” Bobby nearly chokes, but before he blurts out his compiled list of excuses as to why the two of them having sex, let alone drunken sex is a very bad idea, Henry is all too close again.

His hands cautiously inching up Bobby sides, over his shoulders, “It’s okay,” and around his neck pulling a wide eyed Georgian down, “I know what I’m doing,” for another toe curling kiss.

As Bobby closes his eyes, weak and helpless in the face of Henry Andrews and kisses back, he’s making himself believe that Henry really means this and that’s he’s not just drunk out of his ever-loving mind. He believes that those fingers curling and tightening in his hair are sure and not just fumbling for something to hold on to and that tongue in his mouth isn’t just curious. (I mean because really a mouth isn’t just a mouth right? The person attached to it is important too.) Oh god… and that moan is certainly not just a figment of his imagination.

When Henry pulls away Bobby finds that he can do nothing but stare. He watched as Henry licks his lips before tugging gently on the bottom one in worry, thought… hesitation? Who knew?

“Can we?” he asks, his hands once again fisting in the sides of Bobby’s shirt. “I mean… if… you…”

That was the Henry he knew… and loved… shy and hesitant and infinitely polite. Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol talking. Maybe Henry really did know exactly what he was doing and exactly what he was asking for.

It’s these hopeful thoughts that convince Bobby to lean in and kiss the other man again and keep him clutched tightly to Henry as the younger man coaxes him back into his bed room and down with him into the bed.

Their kissing is hot and deep. Leaving the both of them breathless and craving even more of the other. Bobby’s hands have a mind of their own as they slip underneath Henry’s clothes, trailing up unfamiliar territory and trying to memorize every bit of it. He gratefully sucks on and swallows every whimper and moan Henry offers up. He’s still in a haze of shock that this is even happening but tries to soak up every second of it despite it all.

Even if Henry wakes up in the morning and never wants to speak of this again, Bobby will agree but he won’t ever forget.

How could he ever forget these wonderful sounds the other man is making or the way he thrusts his hips up against his and the sensations it causes.

Henry’s hands are starting to wander too, bravely leaving the safety of Bobby’s hair to venture into his shirt to press their warm palms against his sides. Bobby’s hips jerk in response to those hands on his skin and Henry whines and fists those hands in his shirt tugging it up and over Bobby’s head insistently. Bobby takes this as permission to divest Henry of his own and this becomes just the start of this silent challenge. Henry takes his cue to reach for Bobby’s zipper which the other man eagerly allows.

There is much wriggling and rustling of fabric and breathless moans as well as laughter and soon there is nothing separating them from one another. Bobby stubbornly resists the urge to shudder when they first rub together. He’s balancing precariously above the other man on the palms of his hands, panting with his eyes half closed. He can’t seem to take them off of Henry though as the younger man groans long and deep, his head tilting back as his eyes roll in the back of his head.

Bobby is fascinated with the sight. So much so that he rolls his hips again, nudging Henry’s erection with his own. His arms nearly giving out as he groans, “Fuck!”

Henry’s hands are clawing at his back and shoulders, one coming to once again rest in thick curly hair.

“Oh… please, Bobby. Please.” He begs and Bobby can’t help but comply.

They move together and pant together. Bobby on to the side of Henry’s neck where he’s buried his mouth and nose breathing back in the scent of sweat and sex and Henry Andrews. And he can’t help but want more but he’s too afraid to ask. Henry hadn’t stated exactly what he’d wanted and he didn’t want to push too far.

But before he can think on it some more or build up the nerve, Henry is tugging on the hand full of hair in his grip, guiding Bobby’s mouth to his own. Henry groans again as his hips buck up against Bobby’s again. “Oh god… please, Bobby. I want you… so bad. Please? Please, fuck me.”

It’s soft and airy and if he’d hadn’t been looking right into Henry’s eyes and hadn’t felt the other man’s lips moving against his own he wouldn’t have wrote it off as some voice in his own head. And if he hadn’t felt it, he wouldn’t have believed that mere words could cause such an incredible wave of lust.

He could only answer with a slight nod of his head but it was enough to get the birthday boy to smile at him.

But did he really have a clue what he was asking?

“We’re gonna need something…” Bobby whispers finally.

Henry replies by beginning to squirm underneath him a bit and it’s a moment before Bobby finally figures that he wants up. He lets Henry roll over on to his stomach and reach off and into the drawer of his nightstand. The blushing man returns with his prize clutched to his chest much like that bottle of rum had been earlier and offers it to Bobby in much the same way.

It was cute and sweet and incredibly hot all at the same time, leaving Bobby helpless to fight the urge to lean down and kiss the other man as he carefully plucked the proffered tube of lubrication from Henry’s hand.

Bobby kissed and sucked and nibbled everywhere he could reach as his prepared the both of them. Watching Henry as the man wriggled, whimpered and blushed as his slicked fingers worked him open. Henry watching him in turn wide, shiny brown eyes as Bobby slicked himself up with a few strokes of his palm.

Those eyes stayed on him even as Bobby wheedled Henry onto his belly, then up on his hands and knees. Those bright eyes only closing when Bobby first brushes his cock against Henry’s opening. That dark head of hair sags down between his shoulders as Henry whimpers and moans Bobby’s name. Bobby’s hands are reassuring as he rubs them up and down the blushing skin of Henry’s back. His hands coming to rest on Henry’s hips as he pushes forward and Henry presses back into the welcomed invasion as the tip of his dick slips inside.

“Oh god…” If Bobby had thought that Henry’s skin had been warm it was nothing to when compared to what it felt like to be inside of him. He pushes further inside, his eyes clinched tight and a few curses dangle off the tip of his tongue.

Henry does curse however and it’s something between a sob and the actual coherent words and it just prompts Bobby to pull out a little and thrust back in hard. This is the beginning of it. Sweat, heat, panting, hands, noises and spilled words that neither of them even realizes are being uttered. And Henry begs. Oh god, does he beg and it’s the most arousing thing Bobby has every heard. It makes him thrust even harder, faster, anything that passes across those lovely lips of Henry’s. He’s always noticed those lips too. Always wondered what it would be like to kiss them, to feel them wrapped around him.

Bobby reaches around and pets Henry’s stomach, down to his groin and back again. He wraps his hands around the other man’s cock and began to stroke, producing the most interesting sounds. His fascination with the noises Henry can make is probably a bit strange. But Bobby Dawson has always been a bit strange. And he figures that Henry should know how good he is. How tight and hot and perfect he is. So he tells him over and over muttered against the feverish skin of the other man’s back and listens to him whimper in response to it all.

Henry comes first; babbling and pushing back into him and then back into his hand nearly frantic. He would have given anything to see his face then. Did he bite his lip? Were his eyes closed tight or opened wide. But the sounds, they were enough for now and the feeling of Henry’s body as it clamped down around him. And Bobby thrusts back inside only a few more times before he too was even more of a babbling mess. Clinging to the other man as he spilled every embarrassing endearment that he’d ever secretly thought of when it came to Henry Andrews.

The bed was warm. That was a good thing. And Henry was just as hot as before. He knew this because he was still wrapped around him. Even after they’d both collapsed into boneless heaps. His eyes were heavy and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say at the moment so Bobby had resigned himself to just staring. Henry was looking back at him with a silly little grin. His bottom lip was redder than usual and little a bit swollen. “So… he did bite his lip then.” Bobby mused as he leaned forward to kiss it and make it better.

Then suddenly Bobby did think of something to say.

“Happy Birthday, Henny.” He murmured as he ran his fingers through sweaty dark hair. Henry just scuttled closer, snuggling into him and before long he was breathing slow and deep. There was something else Bobby wanted to say of course. But he figured it could wait 'til morning. He wasn’t going anywhere and by the looks of things Henry wasn’t either.

goosie_fics @ 2006-11-23T16:45:00

2006-11-23T22:45:09Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Tag
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Greg Sanders/David Hodges
Warnings: Male/Male sexing.
Status: 13 of 30 (30_kisses challenge)
Summary: I'm back. *evil grin*

It begun, in retrospect, in the most idiotic of ways, Greg believes.

He’d been elected to go to Trace to pick up he and Nicky’s lab results and of course this meant tangling with Hodges.

“Sanders.”

Greg barely quirked a brow at the curt semi-greeting—he was used to this sort of thing of course…

“Hodges.”

…and could dish it out just as well.

It wasn’t that he’d ever had a problem dealing with the man. Sure Hodges got on his last nerve most of the time, a feat that no one in Greg’s life had been quite able to achieve, but Greg was more than capable of dealing with him. Besides he’d been doing it for the past fours years. It was near instinctual at this point.

This stare down going on between them was merely standard procedure.

“I hear you’ve got something for me.”

“You hear right.” The other man said more interested in the GCMS than actually telling Greg what that something was apparently.

“Well?”

“Well, what, Sanders?”

“The results, Hodges. I don’t have all day.” Just because he was capable of dealing with Hodges didn’t mean that this little game of theirs didn’t get tiring from time to time—Especially in the middle of particularly grueling doubles.

“Well apparently Mr. CSI Level One, you seem to think I do.” Hodges’ voice was dripping with a sort of snark-tinged boredom that Greg had only ever heard directed at him.

“Look, I’m really busy tonight, okay… and why am I even explaining myself to you?”

At that Hodges turned his attention away form his precious Gas Chromatograph Mass Spectrometer (Greg swore he sometimes heard the other man humming to it from time to time) and gave him the most gut wrenchingly vicious smirk he’d ever seen.

The bastard.

“Oh, maybe it’s because you’re finally coming to realize just how valuable my time is?” Said bastard replied. “Christ, Sanders you’d think you’d gotten amnesia in that lab explosion or something. Haven’t your days as a fellow lab rat taught anything?”

The man added making his way over to one of the microscopes. “Yours and Stokes’ case is not the only one I’ve got on my plate you know. And believe me when I say Willows isn’t nearly as entertaining as you are when left to her own devices in here.”

Greg rolled his eyes in response to the trace tech’s tirade. As usual this was not why he was here.

“Look, Hodges, can we just get to my results already? Nicky’s…”

Hodges expelled the most long-suffering, put upon sigh. “Sanders, you should know by now that I do not fear the wrath of anyone is this lab, especially not Stokes.” Even as he was blathering on his eyes were already trained down the scope.

Ha! That was a laugh. With the way the man sucked up to Grissom, Greg would swear Hodges was sporting a bit of a man-crush on their resident bug man. And Ecklie? Greg wisely chose to get his mind back on the task at hand than to let it wander in that direction. He was barely able to repress the shudder even brief thought brought.

“Are those the paint scrapings I brought you earlier?” Greg asked, more than annoyed at this point. Hodges undoubtedly was getting a real kick out of this fact.

“Could be.”

“May I see them?”

“Possibly. Y’know if I was finished viewing them.” Hodges stated as a matter of fact.

Greg frowned. That was it.

“Look, Hodges…” Greg began and in the next moment he was doing something wholly juvenile. Like pushing Hodges away from the microscope with a well placed hip bump. “Move it!”

The look on the other man’s face was priceless. It was a mixture of shock and down right infuriation. Gregory Hojem Sanders could not even begin to categorize the level of pure elation he felt in the very pit of his belly at the sight. So he just chose to express it nonverbally and gave his arch-nemesis the most horrible self-satisfied smirk ever to grace his face.

Sure it was true that this behavior was nothing like him at all. Sure he had just stooped to a near child like level (okay it was pretty childish). Sure it would seem that the annoying bastard of a man had apparently rubbed off on him.

So what? He’d won this round and that was all that mattered.

Hodges merely narrowed blue eyes at him, a frown crinkling his brow. He cleared his throat. His voice low and level as he began to speak, “The paint scrapings are from a Nissan Altima—Sonoma sunset red—2006 model.”

Greg didn’t even look up from the microscope. “Thanks, Hodges.”

The tech simply offered a non-committal grunt and went back to his precious GCMS. Oh, he was definitely humming.

…..

“What is up with you and Hodges lately, man?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nick laughed out right at that brilliant attempt at evasion. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, G. You two have been playing tag with each other for the last couple of days. Hell, he nearly knocked you on your ass earlier.”

Greg ignored the other man and continued processing the car. It had taken them entirely too long to find this damned Altima and he wasn’t going to let Nicky hyperactively nosy nature distract him.

“C’mon. I’ve seen harmless shouldering before. Hell, I’ve even been apart of it before.” Nick continued as he tagged and bagged what little potential evidence they had been able to recover so far. “But you two… that ain’t nothing short of foreplay out there, man.”

Greg nearly cracked his head open on the top of the door frame. “What?”

Nick snickered.

“Are you… have you completely lost your mind?”

Sure it wasn’t long after the first incident in the trace lab that Hodges had passed him in the hall and had only barely nudged his shoulder. And maybe a little later Greg had found the man in the break room by the coffee pot and had seen fit to return the favor—waiting of course to the most opportune moment as to aid in the spilling of the man’s beverage of choice.

The completely innocent instances had come progressively more frequent and maybe even slightly more violent as the days went on, but that didn’t mean anything. It was just Hodges being Hodges. Greg was simply playing along.

“I don’t know man.” Nick smiled. “You two have always had this weird vibe going on between you. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you to had this freaky sorta sexual tension thing going on.”

“But you know better.” Greg said going back to printing the steering wheel. “So knock it off.”

…..

He had been on his way back from Tox.

“Oww! Son of a…What the hell is wrong with you, Hodges?”

He had taken the back hall in hopes of avoiding another one of their… encounters but apparently the other man was as wily as he was demented.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sanders.” Hodges snarled. His eyes were a lot darker when he was pissed Greg noted. He’d never noticed that before. That could be, of course, because he had never been able to piss Hodges off before.

At the moment, however, he wasn’t so sure if this was a good or a bad thing. He certainly was feeling a lot more irritated than victorious right now that was for sure.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He whispered harshly.

Although they were on the back hall--the least frequented of all the crime lab’s halls—Greg had no intention of bringing attention onto him self.

“I am talking about this idiotic excuse for a game of tag you’ve started.”

“Tag?” Greg baulked. “I started?”

Hodges raised an unamused brow.

“Look I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about but I have got to…” Greg was well aware that he’d been, quite literally, backed into a corner—a corner that had conveniently contained a door. A door leading to where? Greg was not entirely sure. This door, however, had a very good chance of not leading to an angry Hodges. As an angry Hodges was currently in front of him and obviously not behind said door.

Thus he turned the knob and promptly fell backwards inside.

Not the smoothest move of his career he’d admit. But at least he didn’t have a deranged trace tech in his face.

“Idiot.”

Greg rolled his eyes as Hodges strolled on inside. “Idiot? You’re the one that’s been stalking me for the past three days.” He said getting back to his feet.

“Oh, like you weren’t stalking me back, Sanders.”

Greg’s frown deepened then. Okay, so technically he had sort of been making it his business to know where Hodges was when they happened to be in the building at the same time. But that didn’t mean anything. He was just making sure he avoided the other man. When he did happen to fail, he only kept track of the man so that he could exact his revenge.

“…”

Okay, in retrospect, perhaps it was actually pretty idiotic. But, he wasn’t going to admit that to Hodges.

“Look, Hodges…”

David Hodges was already rolling blue eyes, his lips pursed and saying “Oh, shut up, Greg.” before grabbing hold of him to place those very same lips squarely over Greg’s own.

The initial contact between them created a spark of current through out Greg so strong he could feel every nerve ending in his is body perk up in response to it. It made his skin prickle… His breath come short. He had been a complete idiot for not having noticed before.

This was but a more pronounced, more dizzying version of what he had felt all those times before when he and Hodges had brushed shoulders in the hall, shoved each on the way to the coffee pot or blindsided one another in semi-vacant hallways. He had been a fool and simply mistaken it for annoyance.

But who could have blamed him? Who would have even thought it to have actually been attraction?

Well, there was this guy by the name of Stokes, but Greg wasn’t willing to live through that smug-fest.

After the first, almost electric shock ran its course throughout Greg’s body he began to relax. Obliging Hodges as the man wrapped the arm that wasn’t busy with its hand in his hair around his waist. Greg was kissing back eagerly before he realized it, pulling at the other man and stumbling backward until his back was against the wall. Their motions were pretty much in line with most of their previous physical interaction. Insistent and aggressive… and pretty much not very well thought out at all. Teeth and lips knocked together almost violently enough to draw blood. Hands pawed and tugged at clothes. Hips rocked together rhythmlessly. There was nothing in sync between them not even in this. None of this really mattered though, because to Greg it still felt amazing.

A growl rose between them. One that was certainly not Hodges’ as the man’s mouth was much too busy exploring Greg’s neck and that little spot behind his ear that drove him crazy. It was odd how quickly Hodges had found that Greg would muse later, but for now he was too busy focusing on the delicious sparks of pleasure that shocked his body with every thrust of his hips against Hodges’.

It was almost too much and at the same time not enough. He’d gotten brief brushes of the tech’s skin against his own. It was insane that he’d be wanting more especially from this man—the bain of his existence in this lab for the past four years.

Hodges must have been reading his mind.

Greg was suddenly looking the other man right in the eyes as Hodges unfastened his jeans and pushed his hand inside. Their mouths were so close that they were practically panting into each other.

“We could… wait.” Hodges said suddenly, grinning all the while as he wrapped his hand around Greg’s cock. His voice was low and level. Everything it usually was in the lab with Greg and nothing like it at all at the same time. “We could just wait until after shift. I could take you home and…”

“Or… or we could do this.” Greg panted, thrusting a few times into the other man’s grip. “And then… you…you could take me home.”

Hodges’ dark chuckle and smirk were as much of an answer as Greg figured he’d get. It was more than enough though—enough for Greg to hurriedly push his pants and underwear down his thighs, Hodges’ being the last to go. With a firm yank of the other man’s short hair their mouths were crushed together again—their cocks brushing together for the first time without any fabric to get in the way.

Hodges barely had enough room to get his hand between them but when he did… “Ooooh…” Greg’s moan was almost enough to send him over the edge. From that moment on, for the first time they were actually in sync. Thrusting and panting against one another, it was Greg that gasped first, clinging on to the other man as if his life depended on it. Hodges, stubborn even in this, held out just long enough for the younger man to finish first.

…..

From then on, if Greg and Hodges so happened to be in the same room together, or hall or storage closet they would still pretend that their not so subtle brushes against one another were just the result of poor depth perception the part of the other.

I mean there was only one other person who would ever think otherwise and it if it just happened to by that guy named Stokes—well Greg still wasn’t willing to put up with that smug-fest.

goosie_fics @ 2006-11-23T16:33:00

2006-11-23T22:33:56Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: The Itch
Rating: R
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: Too much information.
Status: 2 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: This fic stars the csi_labs twins.

“I told you not to go out there.”

“Look June, I’m not in the mood for this right now. I…I need to find some soap. Where the hell is the soap?!”

“Well what the hell did you think they did out there…alone…without hunting gear?”

“I dunno. I just… I just didn’t think… I think I need a stronger prescription now. What’s Dr. Hopkins’ number?”

“Jamie…”

“No, seriously things are getting blurry.”

“Sit down.”

“Look, I’m not a baby. I don’t need…”

“Sit!”

“Fine. Geez…”

“Jamie,”

“…”

“Our fathers have sex.”

“Oh god.”

“With each other.”

“No shit.”

“And it’s perfectly natural. They love each other. Just like Papa loves Archie, just like Daddy loves Mom. There is nothing wrong with their love for each other.”

“Shut up!”

“In fact, I think it just makes our family stronger.”

“What?”

“I mean, if Papa ever decided to leave not only would he be leaving Archie and Mom but Daddy too.”

“But why would…”

“But really what’s the big deal? So Daddy takes it up the…”

“June!”

“…ass from Papa. It doesn’t make your dad…”

“I can’t believe…”

“… any less of a man.”

“You just aren’t going to stop, are you?”

“Besides, it only happens every once in a while. Daddy will do something completely innocent like take his shirt off while he’s cutting the grass.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“And Papa will stare.”

“Oh, dear lord.”

“And lick his lips. I’ve seen it before, Jamie. It’s like clockwork.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving.”

“And then Papa will have the sudden urge to hunt imaginary deer.”

“Leaving!”

“It’s the itch, Jamie. Apparently Papa thinks your dad is hot. You should be proud that Daddy is still hot to people other than Mom.”

“I’m scarred. There you’ve done it. You’ve ruined me. You should be proud.”

“Well, I do try.”

goosie_fics @ 2006-07-02T15:22:00

2006-07-02T20:24:33Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: The Brightest Crayon in the Box
Rating: PG
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: Coversation based snooping. Death threats. True love.
Status: 26 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: Wherein Sara figures it out.

She’d barely been paying attention really.

“Hodges, it’s not so much that these guns are my babies, okay.” Bobby started. “It’s just that in order to replace them I gotta go to property, gotta locate another gun, and fill out all this paper work… So all I’m saying is that I would appreciate not being left out of the loop, kay?”

And then Hodges had gone on this ridiculous rant that had included a metaphor that cast him in a role of a solider and Grissom as the general.

Okay so maybe Sara had been paying attention.

But if it hadn’t been for Bobby doing something that she had always figured to be completely out of his character, she probably wouldn’t have ever looked up from the microscope in front of her.

While it was true that over the years Sara had noticed that Bobby did seem to have a more than healthy attachment to his guns, the ballistics tech had been… “snippy”. Bobby Dawson was never snippy. Bobby Dawson was friendly and helpful… sometimes overly so in both aspects if you asked Sara, but never snippy.

Now Sara had taken into account that the person that Bobby had been “snippy” with was David Hodges—a man that could annoy even the most un-ruffle-able individual.

Okay so maybe, Bobby Dawson was indeed only human.

Sara didn’t get long to ponder on any of these things, because just then Warrick interrupted and a mere moment after that Hodges found blood. Then, once again, everything else became way more important then why Bobby Dawson had suddenly become someone else completely.

It was a couple days later when Sara’s curiosity was once again kindled. She’d walked in on Bobby and Hodges in the Trace lab bickering like an old married couple.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Dave.” Bobby grumbled.

“Look, I didn’t do it. Don’t take that tone with me.” Hodges said turning back to his microscope. “And don’t come in my lab whining and not expect me to say anything.”

“I’m not whining… I’m just…”

“Whining. Bobby, good god, if the guy is being such a pain in the ass just tell him and stop bugging me about it. Every time he rearranges your precious guns you come in her pestering me about it and… what can I do for you Ms. Sidle?”

Sara had almost been startled when she’d realized that Hodges’ icy glare was now trained on her. Bobby just looked like he’d been caught committing a felony.

Sara could see how he could confuse the two. I mean he was willing associating with David Hodges.

“Oh, hi Sara,” Bobby smiled. “Bye, Sara.” And just like that the ballistics tech was off, but not before sending one last glare in Hodges’ direction.

Sara just watched the other man go. Well, that had been strange.

“Something I can do you for you CSI lady?” Hodges said, his eyes once cast on his current task. “Or do you just like standing in the middle of labs and generally being a nuisance?”

Sara rolled her eyes.

It was almost a week later when Sara wandered into the Ballistics lab and walked in on this train wreck of a conversation. Their voices were hushed but the tone more than got the point across.

“Y’do know that I could shoot you n’make it look like a’accident!”

Bobby’s accent had thickened so that Sara had to strain to figure out exactly what the man had said. The preceding look of absolute shock on Hodges’ face was enough to confirm it.

“Hey, you’re not the only one who knows a few tricks, Dawson!”

“What you gonna do, Dave?” Bobby bolstered. “Plant fibers on me then kill yerself?”

Oh dear lord.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Hodges frowned. “That was just mean. I…”

There was only one excuse for an argument like this.

“Bobby? Am I interrupting something?”

The two men froze at the sound of the woman’s voice, although, it was actually more of a squeak than anything.

“Sara?” Bobby immediately paled. “Uh, no. You’re not interrupting anything.”

The reaction was understandable. He had just been caught having what sounded like a very personal and very volatile argument in the middle of his place of work. Not to mention that he’d just openly spilled his plans for David Hodges’ “accidental” death in the middle of a crime lab.

Yeah, that-I-have-just-committed-a-felony (or-am-planning-to) look Bobby had been adopting lately was probably more appropriate this time.

Hodges did have the tendency to do that to people. However, Sara was still in complete awe that the man had seemingly succeeded in cracking the previously believed indestructible goodwill of one Bobby Dawson.

No, it couldn’t be, not sweet, southern sugar, gentle as a kitten Bobby Dawson. Sara had officially fallen into the twilight zone.

Sara Sidle' mouth dropped open as the revelation of revelations finally fell upon her like a ton of bricks. There was only one acceptable line of reasoning to what could bring… that …out of the man.

“Sara.” Hodges frowned. “I see you’ve decided to add ease dropping in on others people’s conversations to your list of hobbies.”

Sara hadn’t even registered the trace tech’s remark. She was still staring wide eyed at the two of them.

Hodges raised a brow before walking up to the gaping woman, his frown still firmly in place.

“Sidle?” He said, finally waving a hand in front of her face. “You alright? ARE. YOU. HAVING. A. STROKE?”

Sara slapped the man’s hand out of her face. “Hodges!”

Bobby just watched the pair of them like he was the sane one. Sara of course wasn’t buying it. Something was terribly wrong here. And it definitely didn’t have anything to do with her.

“How could I have missed this?” She uttered to no one in particular.

“Okay. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Dave!”

“You two.” Sara began to clarify. “How could I have missed it?” She laughed. “You two are dating.” She grinned, gap toothed and proud.

Bobby’s brown eyes widened marginally. Hodges’ brows just inched up a bit higher.

“Say no more.” Sara continued grinning. “I’ll leave you two to your little lovers’ quarrel. But remember Bobby; you are in the middle of a crime lab. Plenty of trained observers. They make great witnesses.”

“Sara… I…” Bobby sputtered but it was no use. The Georgian sighed.

With that, the CSI snatched up her folder from the top of Bobby’s out pile and walked back out the door, stifling a chuckle when the she heard further bickering from the two men.

“An’ you owe me twenty bucks.”

“I do not owe you twenty bucks.”

“Yeah, ya do.”

“I do not.”

“YEAH. Ya. Do. I told you Sara’d figure it out first.”

“You did not.”

“I did to.”

goosie_fics @ 2006-07-02T15:18:00

2006-07-02T20:19:49Z

Fandom: Dragonball Z (Cell Games Saga)
Title: The Cursed Idle Mind and Bloody Instinct
Chapter Title: Epilogue (Fracture)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Vegeta/Cell
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi, Violence, Eventual Porn
Status: 14/14
Summary: I decided to write this after I read a Cell/Vegeta fic somewhere that never got finished. I had never thought of such an odd pairing until then. But of course the author of that story made it seem oh so obvious as all ‘odd pairing’ fics should try and achieve. So I thought that maybe I should give my best shot as well. Seeing as these two arrogant asses are my favorite characters in all of DBZdome. So, without further ado…my very first Cell/Vegeta Yaoi fic. (Gods that just sounds so…wrong. *cackles*)

She cursed herself for not seeing it before. But for all her intelligence she had been stupid. Stupid and blind. They had warned her that something was wrong. Yamcha had told her all about the man’s strange behavior. Hell, she’d seen some of it herself over the broadcast. But that had been nothing. She had smiled and told Yamcha that it was just like Vegeta to be so selfish. That he had only interfered so many times because he had wanted the glory of taking out Earth’s greatest threat himself.

“Oh but you knew better.”

Her own mind was against her now. She kicked aside a broken keyboard as she ventured further into the ruined laboratory.

Why had she been so foolish?

“You caught him. You saw him with that… thing.”

She did not want to think about it, but there was no use in fighting it now. It was the cold hard truth. Vegeta, her Vegeta had gone completely insane. And he’d been that way for a long time now. How else could it have been explained? The father of her child, she’d caught him fucking that awful man… thing… android. Whatever the hell it truly had been. And ever since the day that creature died, the man had been a behaving like a walking ghost.

Bulma had been used to rarely seeing him. As he was always locked away in that Kami damned gravity chamber. But then he would at least come and find her every once in a while for what she had begun to call congical visits. Or she would sometimes be granted his presence at the dinner table. But after the Cell Games, things had changed for the worse.

She had convinced herself that maybe the prince had been upset because of the passing of his rival. Hell, she’d been hysterical herself. It was that much more comforting to know that the man she loved was experiencing the pain of the loss as well. But even then deep down she knew. Vegeta could care less that Goku was dead.

It was that accursed creature he was mourning.

He was upset because Gohan had killed Cell, the same monster that had slaughtered his own son… their son. He was all broken up because that fucking monster had gotten exactly what he had deserved for all the pain he’d caused.

All along he had been mourning that murderous bastard.
But this of course didn’t really make any sense either. Vegeta had practically put the nail in that monster’s coffin. He’d helped Gohan defeat Cell. At least that’s what Yamcha had told her. This just didn’t make any sense at all.

Unless… Vegeta felt guilty. Did he really regret murdering that vicious creature in favor of saving the entire planet?

Even the thought seemed completely ridiculous.

Vegeta loved himself more than anything else. Of course he’d even murder his fuck buddy in favor of saving his own life.

This of course still did nothing to explain the man’s subsequent behavior.

Bulma was so wrapped up in the mess of her own thoughts that she didn’t even realize she as crying until she reached the wall safe. The beaten in plaster and steel blurring and slurring together. She’d built it tough but had known good and well that if Vegeta was ever able to locate it, all the Capsule Corp engineered steel in the world wouldn’t be able to keep the man out.

She sighed miserably and reached in her pocket for her cell phone.

“Oh Vegeta…” she sniffed. “What did I do so wrong to make you turn to that monster?”

The phone began to ring and she pressed it to her ear.

“Hello… Chichi… Is Gohan there?”

(End.)

goosie_fics @ 2006-07-02T15:12:00

2006-07-02T20:14:02Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: The Scientist
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Greg Sanders/David Hodges
Warnings: Male/Male sexing.
Status: 19 of 30 (30_kisses challenge)
Summary: Ehehehehehehe. Porn! :D

David Hodges just didn’t understand it. With all the time the man spent in front of the mirror every night, not to mention all the time he spent in dressing room after dressing room at store after store, it was a wonder that Greg Sanders had not discovered that the color that most suited him was red.

Even more awe inspiring was that even after all of David’s complaining the man still insisted on clashing blues with oranges, greens with purples, pinks… freaking pinks with grays. Who wears pink with gray anyway? What self respecting man wears pink at all? Unfortunately for David Hodges, his man, that’s who.

So after months and months of this thing Greg insisted on calling a relationship and David called many things but never boring, the older man had decided that the only way to prove to his significant other that he was right (as always) was to appeal to one of the few things they shared—his scientific nature.

Despite his generally eccentric disposition, Greg Sanders was still a scientist at heart. He was—as ridiculous as David thought the moniker was—actually what he’d claimed to be on so many annoying occasions, a mad scientist, but a scientist nonetheless. David hadn’t been hard pressed to find proof of this fact once he’d cared enough about the man to pay attention. As it happened Greg often employed his god given curiosity in his near obsessive pursuit of the perfect coffee. The man did research, tests, comparisons. He even documented. And he was just as—if not even more so—dedicated to the care of his fish. The tanks had some how managed to migrate (as well as multiply) to David’s house along with most of Greg’s belongings in the past months. Actually, David often wondered how that had happened without him noticing.

Anyway, taking all these things in account, David had decided that the only way to prove to Greg that red was indeed his color was to show him. Because, if there was one thing that was true about all scientists, it was that in the end despite all the wild theories and hypothesis—scientists only believed what they could see. And even if David plan didn’t achieve its purpose, it was still a damned good argument for putting a mirror at the foot of their bed.

“I never figured you for a voyeur, Dave.”

David momentarily paused in his single minded effort to leave a mark on the side of Greg’s neck that would last for the next week and a half to smirk at the one planted so snug on his lap. “I never figured you for the shy type.” He finally said, at once going back about the business of marking Greg for life.

“I… I’m… not… shy. I’m…modest. There’s a difference.”

David Hodges snorted at that.

Greg’s cheeks had already taken on a rosy tint, which David couldn’t help but admire, but Greg wasn’t quite where he wanted him to be yet. Sure, he was a quivering, breathless mess, with his eyes closed and his lips damp and parted—god he loved that expression—but he wasn’t quite there. So David continued his ministrations, peppering kisses on Greg’s neck and jawbone. He ran his fingers though Greg’s chaotic sand colored curls, petting him from his collar bone to his belly. The pads of his thumbs brushed over hardened nipples and tips of his fingers traced down to the thin line of hair he found there just above the erection that was hot, hard and pressed against his stomach.

Greg in turn whimpered, whined and uttered what David could only guess were Norwegian curses in his ear. He bowed his back and rocked against him—in the best kind of way, incidentally—and David continued exploring every inch of him with his hands and mouth. Strong hands wrapped around Greg’s waist, slipping around to rub up and down the man’s back. Palms kneaded the soft skin and rough scars there before he stopped to cup the other man’s ass.

David had always found it strange how Greg so easily slipped in to and out of Norwegian when they were having sex. What he founded even stranger was how much he’d come to loved it. The younger uttered what David had quickly learned to be “please” when he nipped at the jaw pressed against his mouth. He shifted their position so that Greg was flat on his back and he was hovering over him as he slipped the tip of his finger inside Greg.

“Oh fuck, Dave. Please, god… please!”

David grinned against the blushing skin, stealing at peek at the mirror before them.

There. That was it. Now that was fucking perfection.

All he had to do now was get Greg to see. The blond was much too focused on the feeling of David’s fingers inside of him and the delicious electric tingle he felt whenever his cock brushed against the other man’s skin.

But when David Hodges set his mind to something he was damned well going to do anything he had to to get it. He pulled his fingers free of Greg’s clenching warm and Greg immediately protested.

“David… goddamit. Fuck me already.”

It was somewhere between a growl and a whine and held no hint of playfulness, but David smirked up at the blushing man anyway. He grabbed him by the chin and without a word he turned the younger man’s head in the direction of the mirror.

“Look, you jackass.” He murmured.

David could practically hear the retort on Greg’s tongue but it never came. Instead Greg stared open-mouthed at the reflection glaring at him from the super polished surface in front of him. There was David… his short hair sticking in various directions, looking wonderfully flushed and deliciously debauched but then there was him… spread out underneath the other man with disheveled shaggy hair, and looking absolutely aroused and positively… red.

“I told you you looked fucking hot.” David grinned.

Greg turned back to the grinning man and frowned. “If that’s the case then why aren’t you fucking me then?”

That was definitely a Greg Sanders whine and it was disgusting how quickly David responded to him sometimes. But nonetheless, blue eyes narrowed and that smug grin slowly turned to a self satisfied smirk. And without even a hint of pretense the other man rolled his hips against the blushing young scientist, sending a spark of pleasure that shot through Greg from groin to brain, completely frying any further coherent thought.

“That had been the plan.”

Greg sure fucking hoped so but it didn’t hurt to help move things along. He answered David’s initial movement with one of his own, causing the other man to tremble in his grip. He hooked his leg around David pulling him into position and nearly sighed when he felt the blunt pressure of David cock pressing against his entrance.

“You sure, I haven’t even…” David sounded just as breathless as he felt.

“Good god, David please just…Ah!”

Greg Sanders’ whining always got results. Whether they were the best results depended on the situation but luckily in this case Greg didn’t really have much to complain about. With one well practiced movement David had pushed his way all the way inside and all Greg could do was arch his back and howl out his appreciation to the ceiling. Greg dug his fingers hard enough into the other man’s shoulders to bruise, nearly choking as the air was knocked out of his lungs. He barely heard David’s appreciative groan in response.

“Sorry… sorry.” David muttered absently.

The man of course had nothing to be sorry about, though Greg secretly found David’s apologies to be incredibly hot anyway.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Just…”

It was great when you didn’t even have to finish sentences to get your point across, because as much as he was a fan of it, talking wasted time. Precious time that could be used for fucking—like right now actually. God bless him, because David was a smart man and apparently didn’t need to be told this. He pulled completely out of Greg before thrusting back in hard. Sending Greg into pleasure induced rambling and sharp answering thrusts of his own. The whole thing quickly dissolved into a panting, sweaty, messy dash to the finish line with Greg eventually being declared the winner, though David wasn’t far behind.

They’d ended up in a tangled heap, with David lying mostly on top of Greg and Greg lying mostly underneath David.

“Y’know…” Greg began, his voice sounded tired and just a little bit hoarse. “I think you were right. I should wear red more often.” He continued, petting the sweaty hair at the nape of David’s neck, admiring the wicked image of the two of them in the mirror next to their bed.

David merely smiled in victory. He, of course, loved being right.

goosie_fics @ 2006-07-02T15:05:00

2006-07-02T20:10:07Z

Fandom: Dragonball Z (Cell Games Saga)
Title: The Cursed Idle Mind and Bloody Instinct
Chapter Title: Thirteen (Terminate)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Vegeta/Cell
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi, Violence, Eventual Porn
Status: 13/14
Summary: I decided to write this after I read a Cell/Vegeta fic somewhere that never got finished. I had never thought of such an odd pairing until then. But of course the author of that story made it seem oh so obvious as all ‘odd pairing’ fics should try and achieve. So I thought that maybe I should give my best shot as well. Seeing as these two arrogant asses are my favorite characters in all of DBZdome. So, without further ado…my very first Cell/Vegeta Yaoi fic. (Gods that just sounds so…wrong. *cackles*)

It felt so wonderful to be back. Truly it did. He was positively giddy. And he could tell that his mate was secretly pleased about this fact as well.

“Wh-Why?!” Somewhere near by, Cell could hear that useless human Yamcha stuttering. “Why is it alive?!”

There was a bored sigh from the bio-android. Of course he’d have to explain. What was the point of being perfect if every one else seemed to be oblivious of your might?

“You seem surprised!” The pale skinned cyborg chuckled. “I was too. Quite a stroke of luck on my part.”

Thus, Cell went on to explain how if the small cluster of cells that made up his “core” remained intact he’d able to regenerate no matter how little there was of himself left. And to add insult to injury, he took great pleasure in revealing the fact that he was once again at full strength thanks to the Saiyan cells that were included in his design. He also did not fail to mention that to top all of this off he had also had the great fortune to have picked up a little trick from Son Goku as well.

“I’ve learned to teleport.” He said a vicious grin twisting his features. “So I’ve come back more perfect than ever. Son Goku didn’t defeat me at all. He just made me better.”

Vegeta smirked. “That third class idiot.”

Served that fool right to have gone and done all this for nothing. The android was still in once piece and even more menacing then ever. The prince was however a little peeved about not having the ability to use instant transmission while his mate suddenly did. Cell must have picked up on the random thought and turned to him with a knowing smile.

“Patience, my prince. Once I finish off these pests we’ll have plenty of time for more play.”

Vegeta snorted in dismissal.

“Hurry up then and finish the boy. You’ve dragged this out long enough.”

Though he had no idea of the silent conversation going on between Cell and Vegeta, Krillin couldn’t help but notice that Vegeta hadn’t been phased in the least about the fact that Cell had just utterly obliterated Trunks. True enough, the prince hadn’t shown any signs of affection toward the boy since his arrival. Not a huge surprise there, but this was just too much for Krillin just to let go unacknowledged.

What the hell was Vegeta’s problem anyway?

“Vegeta! Are you just gonna stand there?!” Krillin yelled. “That monster just murdered your son!”

The prince’s narrowed eyes were on the bald man in an instant.

There was a flutter of a thought. And emotion too quickly repressed and it had thoroughly pissed the android off. His mate was hiding something from him. If the blasted weakling human would have kept his mouth shut.

Ingrained evil tendencies aside, he hadn’t meant to kill the boy. Death and destruction was what he did, but for some reason he couldn’t quite get as much enjoyment out of this kill as he usually did. Yes, the blood, the way it had arched in the air, the way the boy’s eyes had widened in such disbelief… It should have felt… differently.

Blasted boy. Blasted useless emotions!

Vegeta’s eyes were on him in an instant; there was a brief spark of understanding that passed between them and then…

“Mind you own business, baldy and tend to that heap of scrap of yours!” The Saiyan prince barked. “If the boy was half as useful as you seem to think he was he wouldn’t have been foolish enough to have been hit in the first place.”

Oh. Kay. Now that was cold. Even for Vegeta. Krillin was speechless, Yamcha and Tien’s eyes widened in horror. Piccolo on the other hand didn’t seemed at all affected. The Namekian had learned long ago not to get his hopes up when it came to the Saiyan prince.

“But, Vegeta…” Krillin tried.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Tien yelled. “You heartless bastard!”

“I knew it!” Yamcha wailed. “He’s taking Cell’s side! We’re fucking doomed. Without Goku…”

Yamcha was cut off however by a gust of wind and a bright flash of light. Gohan had powered up and he seemed to be thoroughly amused by something as well.

“Heh… I think there’s something you’re not telling us Vegeta.” The boy said with a manically grin.

Vegeta was taken back by the remark. Had little Gohan just said that to him?

The prince smirked. The boy was becoming more and more Saiyan by the moment.

“What’s so funny?” Cell interrupted. “Have you gone insane?”

“My dad died because I was arrogant. I’m glad I can avenge his death.” The boy replied. “I just wish I had killed you earlier.”

Vegeta stared at the pale skinned android and with his smirk still intact, stepped aside. “This is your show android. We are all just spectators. But do make this quick. I grew bored with all this talk.”

“Vegeta’s right.” Gohan growled as he sank down into a battle stance. “It’s time to put an end to this once and for all.”

Cell rose what passed for a brow on his armored head. “You can’t be serious?”

Gohan continued to glare at him nonplused.

“Fine, you foolish little brat. You’ll meet the same end as your father. You’ll pay for underestimating me, just as Goku did.”

Before Cell could take his own fighting stance, Gohan erupted in a blind fury. The boy bombarded the android with a flurry of ki attacks. He was blinded by rage. It seemed that Cell’s last words had stuck quite the nerve. The attack was so ruthless, so utterly brutal that the other Z fighters as well as Vegeta were forced to take cover as well. Tien and Yamcha pulled the lifeless body of Trunks behind a few remaining boulders in hopes of waiting out the attack. Krillin did the same with Android 18.

“What is he doing?!” Krillin screamed. “He’s completely lost it!”

Piccolo grunted in agreement. This wasn’t like Gohan at all. He was usually more level headed then this. This was not the first time that the boy had lost his father. There was no excuse for this type of negligence. He had taught Gohan better than that. Goku had taught the boy better than that. What was he thinking?

But as much as Piccolo thought he knew the boy, he had no clue about the depth of Gohan’s emotions. This had nothing to do with a fair fight anymore. This was revenge, pure and simple. Fueled by the rage of a Super Saiyan, despite what Vegeta had to say on the matter, the epitome of instability.

The Kais help them all.

It seemed like an eternity later that Gohan had finally reached his limit. The last ki blast was fired and the boy was breathless.

The enormous cloud of smoke and dust the attack had created was still lingering over them all. It was impossible to see anything but the steady glow of Gohan’s aura as he struggled to keep aloft above them.

“Go-Gohan?” Krillin meeped.

There was silence. The eerie type that hung in the air right before something awful happened. Gohan’s ear barely twitched but by then it was already much too late.

WOK!!!

Before he knew it Gohan’s head snapped to side, pain searing from the source throughout his entire body. The young Super Saiyan was sent flying to the side and collided violently with the earth. Sending rock and rumble up in his wake.

Cell hadn’t been phased one bit by the boy’s temper tantrum and the blow he’d just given the youth was proof enough.

“Stupid boy.” Cell said as he casually dusted off his armor. “What could you have been thinking!”

“Gohan!” Piccolo yelled and shot over to the fallen Super Saiyan.

While all this madness was occurring Cell took it as an opportunity to rid himself of Gohan once and for all. The android charged up and sent a devastating ki attack the boy’s way.

The beam was heading straight for Piccolo however, who was on his way to check on his student. Even in his injured state, the boy was still aware enough…

“No!” He groaned.

It all happened to fast to catch, but when the dust cleared. Piccolo was on the ground a ways off and Gohan amazingly was standing. But the blast had apparently done some damage. The boy’s left arm was hanging uselessly at his side, and he was now taking in large gulps of air.

“Gohan!!!” Piccolo said climbing back to his feet.

“Heh… Oh well,” Cell chuckled. “Enough fooling around. I’ve let this go on too long.”

“Don’t we have anymore senzu?!” Piccolo asked in fit of desperation.

“W-we used them all up…” Krillin said, eyeing both Cell and Gohan worriedly.

It was then that Cell began the motions for a most familiar technique…

“None of you will walk away.”

The energy the android was generating was outrageous.

“Ka…Me…”

Gohan looked on helplessly.

“Ha…”

Vegeta simply watched. The boy seemed to have given up already. Perhaps he’d been wrong about this brat as well. Useless half-breeds…

The rest of the Z fighters looked on helplessly from the sidelines.

“C-curse it…Curse it!!!!” Piccolo wailed. “I curse our powerlessness.”

“Come on Son Gohan!” Cell screamed over the roar of his own ki. “Make your last stand!”

Gohan just stared.

“…Just get it over with… I know it’s pointless to resist. I just wish I’d been able to finish you first…” The boy replied.

It seemed to Vegeta they all had pretty much resigned themselves to death. The prince’s lip curled in disgust. He couldn’t say that he blamed the boy, after Gohan had taken that blast head on to protect that worthless Namekian, the boy’s power level had dropped dramatically.

“D…Dad?!” Gohan suddenly whipped his head around. “B-but where are you?!”

“What the hell…” Vegeta muttered.

And it seemed Cell shared the sentiment. In fact, everyone else seemed to as well. Gohan didn’t seem to notice. Even in the face of certain destruction the boy continued his seemingly one-sided conversation.

“Got it!” He yelled finally before kneeling and taking that familiar stance. “Ka…Me…Ha…Me…”

Cell didn’t seem too impressed by Gohan’s newfound determination. The two of them locked eyes. Neither of them was going to back down it seemed.

“It’s no good!” Piccolo yelled over all the noise. “He can’t win! Gohan’s ki is too weak!”

Cell seemed inclined to agree and he broke into a laugh, “Die!!”

Cell finally release his super charged Kamehameha just as Gohan released one of his own. And it most definitely surprised them all in its strength. Piccolo and the others looked on dumbfounded. Where had Gohan gotten all that power? But the debate was put on hold as the two Kamehamehas met each other in the middle. The impact was enough to shake the entire earth and the Z fighters were sent back flying.

Vegeta was forced to shield his eyes from the intense glare. It was unthinkable. Gohan’s power level had sky rocketed with in moments. He was actually giving the android a run for his money. It was in these moments that seldom felt emotion began to creep over the prince. It settled uncomfortably in his chest. He grit his teeth and stood up straight.

It was fear. Fear for so many things…

Cell was loosing ground. He was forcing his power lever higher.

“What are you doing?” Vegeta asked, the strain evident even in his mental voice.

The android barely spared him an answer. “I’m winning.”

“You’ll destroy the entire planet you fool!” He yelled aloud.

“Then so be it!” Cell screamed. “I will not loose to this child!!”

~oo0oo~

He was floating there, just barely there. Chest heaving and no recollection of what he’d done. His hand was still out stretched, fingers curling in. He saw it there in front of him but he couldn’t feel it.

It was over.

Vegeta crumpled to the ground in an exhausted heap.

What had he done?

He looked around at all the shocked faces.

“He did it?” Piccolo was completely awestruck.

With that Yamcha exploded, “Yes!!!! Yes!!! He did it!!!”

Vegeta watched as the human fighter knelt down to pick the boy off the ground. Gohan’s hair was dark again much like his own. It had taken all their power to…

The Saiyan turn to the huge gouge in the earth. The exact spot where his mate had been standing not long ago.

He’d had no choice. The android had been crazed. Cell would have destroyed the entire planet the both of them included. It was simple self-preservation. He’d had no choice.

It was over. So why was that uncomfortable feeling still settled in his chest.

He stood wearily to his feet. He didn’t even notice the Namek’s approach.

“I’ll give you a hand, Vegeta.”

He grit his teeth but he hadn’t the energy for another fight. “Mind your own business. I don’t need your help. Tend to that boy of yours.”

Piccolo turned away without uttering a word and left with the others. They were all off to celebrate the defeat of the world’s greatest threat. And to use those blasted Dragon balls to set things right again. They were probably going to wish everyone back from the dead as well. Kakarot and his brat included.

Vegeta snorted, hand blindly going to his shoulder.

It wasn’t like he gave a damn one way or the other.

(to be continued…)

goosie_fics @ 2006-07-02T14:56:00

2006-07-02T20:00:34Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: I Thought We Came Here to do Laundry?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: Male/Male Sexings. Misuse of washing machines.
Status: 34 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: Wherein there is sex in the laundry room.

“Y’know when I was a kid, my sister used to lock her self in the laundry room all the time.”

David Hodges didn’t turn around and raise his brow at the sound of the voice that had seemingly come from nowhere. That brow was, in fact, raised because of what “the-voice-that-had-seemingly-come-from-nowhere” had just said.

“Come again?”

He was even more puzzled when the owner of the voice, one Bobby Dawson, suddenly broke into a fit of guffaws. Was it something he said? David’s brow raised a millimeter higher. To his credit, Bobby had tried to answer but he had quickly decided it was best to wait until the height of his amusement had passed.

“It’s just that…” Bobby’s grin widened. “Well, the reason she used to lock her self in there was that she used to sit on the washer.”

The darker haired man’s face lit up as his preverbal light bulb turned on. “Ah,” turned out to be the only thing that David had to say to that.

Bobby snickered. “Ever since she told me that,” the Georgian began as he leant against the door frame, “I’ve always wondered what was so special about the spin cycle.”

David nearly dropped the bottle of laundry detergent and couldn’t stifle his laughter fast enough. “Oh geez, Bobby.”

The blond just continued grinning at David’s shaking back and shoulders.

“Isn’t anything sacred anymore?” David managed after sobering up a bit. “Can I not even wash a load of laundry without you turning it into something dirty?”

Bobby howled with renewed amusement. “You just…you just said… load.”

“Oh for the love of…” The trace tech rolled his eyes turned back to the washer. “I swear you just get pervier and pervier every day.”

“Is that even a word? Pervier?” Bobby chuckled. “Besides, I though you liked it when I talked dirty.”

“Well, I don’t really consider…”

Before he could even think to finish what he’d intended to say, David Hodges’ mind completely shut down. The man suddenly pressed against his back might have had a lot to do with that actually. He hadn’t even felt Bobby move and before he knew it that honey sweet drawl was whispering things in his ear that had successfully turned his normally pale skin a rosy shade of pink. Though, David’s doom might have in fact been sealed by the smattering of feather light kisses on the back of his neck and shoulders.

“Now what was that you were saying?” Bobby murmured, his breath hot and moist against David’s ear.

Was he insane? How the hell was he supposed to even remember his own name when a very interested Bobby Dawson was grinding against him like that? David’s eye lids drooped a little lower, his breathing slowed and deepened as the hands that had been resting oh so casually on his hips had begun to travel to more inappropriate areas.

If there was one thing that David Hodges had quickly learned to love about Bobby Dawson, it was the man’s hands. They weren’t too big, definitely not too small and more than skilled in the art of driving him completely out of his mind. One of Bobby’s damned near perfect hands began petting him from his chest to his belly, warming the skin there, making David’s muscles tense with every pass. The other snaked around to dip past the waistband of David’s pajama bottoms. He’d been forced to use both of his own hands to brace himself against the washer as the barest touch of fingertips brushed against his erection.

“Fuck, Bobby.” He gasped.

He could feel Bobby smiling behind him and couldn’t place what he could think was so funny. It wasn’t like he was shamelessly arching into him or anything. Or maybe he was. It wasn’t like he could be held responsible for any of his actions at this point. He wasn’t even able to keep his eyes from rolling back as the sensation of the other man’s hand wrapping around his cock washed over him.

Strong, confident fingers closed around his neck, tipping his head back as Bobby pressed against him aggressively. Rough strokes timed against even rougher trusting hips and soon the washer and Bobby were the only things keeping David upright. He was groaning, cursing, pleading for more, and though he’d never admit to any of this later, letting Bobby Dawson live after the man uttered every embarrassing term of endearment his twisted mind could come up with. It wasn’t long before David was coming with a bitten off curse, trembling limbs, and a half sob as he struggled for breath.

“God-fucking-dammit, Bobby.” He half laughed once he’d regained some semblance of sanity and didn’t even give Bobby a chance to catch his own breath before David had turned around and pressed his back against the wall behind them. He surprised him with a hungry kiss which the blond more than willingly accepted.

Bobby, still hard as all hell in his own right, was anxious enough that their kisses had become sloppy and hurried. The two of them clutched at each other like this would be the first and last time they’d ever get to do something like this. Bobby rubbed wantonly against the thigh David had managed to maneuver between his spread legs as the darker haired of the two swallowed plead after plead for him to offer up what he’d be given earlier.

When David finally did pulled his mouth away it was twisted into a self satisfied smirk. Blue eyes, made darker than usual by more than a slight tinge of lust, trained on brown as David slid his hand beneath the waist band of Bobby’s pants. The blond bit his lip to keep from crying out when those long, thin digits wrapped around his length. Bobby immediately began thrusting near frantic into David’s grip as the man stroked him. He was desperate at this point, reaching forward to pull David close enough to kiss again, smothering that damned self assured smirk that had begun growing with every muttering of “please” and “David” that Bobby had managed. In fact, he’d effectively muffled any sound either of them made, even his own grunt of completion when he came minutes later, a splash of warmth between them.

Bobby offered up a happy sigh and more than pleased grin as he buried his nose in the graying hair at David’s temple. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” He breathed in the other man’s hair.

David snickered, “Of course, my hand jobs are the stuff of legend. People sing songs about them.” He said sounding as winded as Bobby felt.

Bobby laughed out right, “Oh, now those I’ve got to hear.”

When they finally disentangled themselves and pulled apart and he was lazily pulling his pants back on his hips and Bobby was still smiling goofily back at him, David suddenly remembered what he’d intended to say earlier.

“You know, I don’t really consider dirty jokes about washers and spin cycles a turn on, Dawson.”

Bobby’s goofy grin got even wider. “Coulda fooled me.”

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-19T17:43:00

2006-06-19T22:46:36Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Idle Conversation with Southern Gentlemen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: Certain stereotypes about Georgians.
Status: 33 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: David Hodges’ first shift at the Clark County crime lab is over and he needs a ride home.

So you don't know were you're going, and you wanna talk
And you feel like you're going where you've been before
You tell anyone who'll listen but you feel ignored
Nothing's really making any sense at all
Let's talk, let's talk
Let's talk, let's talk

Talk - Coldplay

When David Hodges fled Los Angeles for Las Vegas he’d left behind just about everything he owned including his car. He really hadn’t thought much of it at the time. One didn’t tend to worry about much when they were fleeing except… fleeing. However, this ignorant bliss only lasted up until the end of his first day of work at the Clark County crime lab and he found himself standing outside the building huddled under its entrance trying his damnedest not to get rained on.

Apparently he had left his umbrella in L.A. as well.

He’d been so focused on the task of listing all the useful things he’d left in his former apartment he’d have to replace, he hadn’t even noticed the man standing in from of him. Or that this man had apparently been talking to him.

“Hey!”

When he looked up he found the grinning face of the graveyard shift’s ballistics technician, Bobby Dawson. He’d been introduced to the tech at the beginning of his shift. The blond had been one of the more friendly people he’d met so far. He’d introduced himself with a handshake and a warm smile and warned David to stay as far away as possible from the break room fridge.

“You know that blood the boss man took from you earlier? He keeps it in there. I think he’s got a colony of vampire aphids or something in his office he feeds it to.”

David had blanched at the mere idea causing Bobby to smile wider and elbow him in the arm.

“Oh and besides, Greg’s egg loaf is in there. That’s stuff gets a bit volatile after two months and I’m pretty sure it’s been four.”

David remembered just staring after Bobby as he walked out and inching a little further away from that fridge. Things had been so busy last night he hadn’t run into other tech since then.

“David Hodges, right?”

David stood up a little straighter at the sound of his own name and tried to paint on at least some semblance of a friendly expression. He was the new guy and it was best not to make any bad impressions just yet. When he’d left L.A. he’d promised himself that he’d be more sociable and less caustic. “Nice, nice,” and Gentle, gentle,” had become his new mantras. Even if most everyone last night had pissed him off by constantly referring to him as “The New Guy” and not even bothering to try and learn his name. He’d taken the time to learn theirs.

“Dawson, right?”

“Yeah, but Bobby’ll do just fine though.”

The other man’s voice carried a bit as he tried to make himself heard over the sound of the rain. It was pouring out and still didn’t look like it was going to let up anytime soon. Great, just great—he must look like an idiot huddled up at the door like some rain fearing cat.

“Hey, we could share ‘til you get to your car if you want.” The ballistics tech said as he shifted his umbrella in David’s direction. “It’s plenty big enough for the both of us.”

David had been so surprised by the gesture that he’d ended up tripping on his own words.

“I… wha… no… no, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. This can’t last too much longer anyway, right?” David said, shrugging off the offer.

“Famous last words.” The blond laughed. “Now, c’mon, if you’re anything like me, you’re dog tired and ready to head home and hit the sack.”

The man did have a point, but that didn’t mean David was going to take him up on his offer. He’d have to be at the very least shoulder to shoulder with Bobby for both of them to fit under the umbrella. And that would just be… awkward. David’s distress apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed because before he knew it, the blond was rolling his eyes, grabbing on to his arm and dragging him forward.

“I see you’re the stubborn type.” Bobby said cutting his eyes in the other man’s direction and smiling.

By the time David had gotten his bearings again they were already too far away from the relatively dry safety of the lab entrance for him to make a graceful retreat backwards. It would be kind of difficult anyway with the other man’s arm draped around him and the hand on his shoulder. Bobby ensured that the two of them stayed under the protection of the umbrella (which turned out to be barely big enough to cover the two grown men) as they shuffled through the parking lot. In any other situation David would probably be sprinting back through the rain like an idiot and definitely offending the other man.

“Couldn’t have that,” he thought bitterly.

“Look, Dawson,” he tried, forcing his voice not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

“Bobby.” The other man corrected.

“Alright, Bobby,” David amended. “I appreciate the offer and all, but, I don’t have a car for you to lead me to.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Bobby half laughed. “I’d be more than happy to drive you home.”

Okay, that hadn’t gone how he’d planned at all.

“No, you don’t have to do that. I was just going to call a cab and…”

“At this time of morning? Do you know how bad traffic probably is by now? It’d be forever ‘fore the guy even made it through that mess to even get to you, let alone get you home.”

Yet another point in Bobby’s favor—David was appalled. How he was continuously being out-smarted by a man with an accent like that?

Bobby snorted and David nearly stumbled out from under the umbrella into the rain when the ballistics tech stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh… he’d said that last bit out loud hadn’t he? Damn. If the hand that grabbed his collar and yanked him back under the umbrella was any indication, maybe he hadn’t completely alienated the other man.

“So I take it you’re gonna need that ride, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Good. My car’s right over here.”

David stared down the SUV with an odd sort of trepidation. It was one thing to be nice and polite (or his unique version of it) when he was giving out results in the lab. It was a completely different thing when confined in a small space with a pushy bullet tech.

He sighed softly. He couldn’t turn and run now. That would be… rude. David rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry none Dave, we southern folk aren’t too bad behind the wheel,” Bobby winked at him. “I promise to get you home in one piece.”

The man had obviously been taking a jab at him for his earlier comment. Perhaps Mr. Dawson wasn’t as sweet and innocent as he appeared. Though, the fact that the man had opened the door for him and even held the umbrella until he got in was making him think twice.

~oo0oo~

“So you transferred from L.A. right?”

He should’ve known he wouldn’t make it through this ride without having to make conversation. “Yeah, the powers that be weren’t too happy with me out there.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he could’ve slammed his head straight into the dash board. The damned seatbelt probably would have stopped him though. And then Bobby would’ve thought he was some deranged psycho and put him out the truck… in the rain… without his barely big enough for two grown men but perfect for one grown man umbrella. So it was best he not inflict bodily harm on himself, well not right now anyway, so he just opted for clearing his throat.

“Well, it’s not like it was this huge deal.” David blurted before he could stop himself.

“Hm. Yeah, sure. I’m thinking y’just pissed off your boss with that mouth o’ yours.” Bobby grinned at him.

Hence why he hated being in enclosed spaces with anyone for an extended period of time. He had this annoying tendency to talk about things he didn’t want to talk about when the silences got to be too oppressive—that and tapping his fingers absent-mindedly.

“How about this…” David said stuffing his twitching fingers under his arms. “Let’s not talk about me,” he groused, shifting in his seat.

“Alright, that’s cool. Besides, I’ll have plenty of time to bug you in the lab.”

And with that Bobby reached over and turned up the radio.

“Where exactly in the south are you from, Dawson?”

“Oh, so we are going to talk.” Bobby said reaching for the volume on radio again.

“I recall saying that we were done talking about me, not you.”

“Ah. Okay then,” Bobby nodded. “I’m from Georgia.”

“Hmm.” David donned the smirk he’d been saving since he’d first came through the door of the Clark County labs.

“And it’s Bobby.” The blond cut his eyes in the smirking man’s direction. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just I thought that all good little southern boys listened to country music.”

Bobby snorted at that. “I listen to some country. I just happen to like R&B more.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” David smirked.

“You aren’t from L.A. are you? Y’know like born and raised?” Bobby asked eyeing the other man.

“How can you tell?”

“You just don’t seem like your from L.A. is all.”

“Well, why not?”

“I’m just saying you don’t act like you were raised there.”

“You know a lot of folks from California, Dawson?”

The ballistics tech sighed yet again as David Hodges continued to refer to him by his surname. “No. It’s just… I don’t know. I can tell. I mean, people out there don’t just blurt out anything that comes in their head do they? I mean that was your problem in the first place right?”

David’s eyes widened at the remark. Well, damn.

Bobby turned to him noting his shocked appearance with a chuckle. “Well don’t look like that. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I mean, it’s a good thing actually. At least I don’t ever have to wonder what you’re thinking about me.”

David covered his previous moment of weakness with a feeble chuckle of his own. “Why would I be thinking about you anyway, Georgia-boy?”

“I dunno. You might.”

David Hodges decided to ignore that grin.

The rest of the ride back to his apartment turned out not nearly as torturous as the beginning had been.

“You know, Dave. I don’t think you got anything to worry about. I think you’re gonna make out just fine. Just be yourself. The others will just have to get used to you.”

For once David Hodges didn’t have anything to say. It was like a weight had been lifted. He just watched from underneath the other man’s barely big enough for two umbrella as Bobby Dawson pulled off, heading to his own home and his own bed.

David grinned easily.

Maybe he would be just fine.

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-19T17:38:00

2006-06-19T22:41:41Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: A Delicate Matter
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: None.
Status: 18 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: Bobby finally names his cat.

“So how are things with you and the fur ball?”

“Pretty good.”

David Hodges smirked at the other man. He could practically hear the wheels turning in Bobby’s head. The other man rolled his eyes and continued on his way to the kitchen. Bobby knew what he was going to ask before he’d even thought to open his mouth.

“And before you ask for the seventieth time—No, I haven’t decided on a name for ‘im.”

David would have the man trained in no time.

“Jacqui thinks I should name him Maimer of Worlds, but he just doesn’t look like a Maimer of Worlds to me.”

David glanced over at the snoozing cat, its tail lazily flicked at the air. It had taken residence on an inch high stack of papers on Bobby’s dinning room table.

“More like a Maimer of Shoes if my sneakers have any thing to say about it,” Bobby went on half muttering to himself.

“I still think you should name him Lazerath.” David said grinning. “You could call him Lazy for short. It seems to suit him.”

Bobby chuckled at that. “Cats sleep a lot, Dave, I told you that. It’s not like he’s abnormal or anything.”

“Bobby, he never moves. I’ve been around cats before—my mother had one—that’s not normal. I mean, is he even breathing?”

“Of course he’s breathing!” Bobby opened up the refrigerator and gathered the makings of a sandwich.

“You sure? Don’t come crying to me when he starts stinking up the place. I don’t do dead cat removal Robert Dawson, he’s your problem.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask. Besides, the food I put out for him keeps disappearing so he’s definitely not starving. Obviously he moves. I don’t know,” He began. “Mia thinks I should name him Winchester. Y’know like the gun.”

David made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

“I could call ‘im Chester for short. What’d you think, Dave?”

“I think you should name him Lazerath.”

Bobby sighed. “You keep saying that but you haven’t said why? Where the hell does that even come from anyway?”

“I keep saying it, because it’s cool. And I heard it some where. I don’t remember.” David said gesturing wildly. “Anyway, you’re dating me not Mia and I say you should name the lazy bastard, Lazerath.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and handed David a sandwich taking a bite of his own. The two of them ate in silence for a bit before David spoke up again.

“You’re going to name him Chester aren’t you?”

Bobby grinned.

“Fine. Fine. When your cat claws his own throat out cause he can’t go on living because you gave him a dorky name instead of a cool one, don’t come crying to me.”

“Aww, Dave. That’s just mean.” Bobby smiled. “Besides, you keep saying that but you know it ain’t true. You’d baby me. You know it.”

“You wish, Dawson. You’d have brought it on yourself.”

Bobby just grinned wider and took another bite of his sandwich, nodding decidedly. “Chester.” He said around a mouthful. “I like that.”

Dave snorted and rolled his eyes. “Just so you know I’m not calling him, Chester. He’ll forever be Lazerath to me.”

Bobby laughed. “You’re going to confuse the poor little guy.”

“Why does it matter anyway? It’s not like he’d move if I called him.”

“David he moves. It’s just not when we’re around. He’s mysterious.”

“Mysterious my ass—more like narcoleptic. Isn’t that right you lazy bastard!” he yelled at the still unmoving cat.

“Chester.” Bobby corrected.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-15T16:05:00

2006-06-15T21:08:45Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Bobby-Doll
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: David Hodges/Bobby Dawson
Warnings: The rambling thoughts of a love befuddled mind.
Status: 35 of 50 (csi50 challenge)
Summary: For tobiasdominik's born day. Huzzah!

Sometimes he thinks that David knows.

Like when the night’s slow—though things are never really quiet around this place—and David pops in for a visit. The other man will wander in with one of those odd grins, the kind where Bobby can never tell what he’s up to—Bobby hates that he can never tell. David will tilt his head in Bobby’s direction and call him by his last name and Bobby will do the same—because that’s just the way it’s done. He’ll hover over Bobby’s shoulders a little too closely—it’s always too close in Bobby’s opinion—and ask him about the cases he’s working on. And good old polite Bobby Dawson will tell him everything he wants to hear—it’s just a little harmless lab banter after all.

Then there are other times when David will wander in, take a seat and just sit and watch Bobby’s every move. Make some sarcastic, oh-so-David Hodges remark and Bobby will grin and bear it all because he’s good old polite Bobby Dawson and that’s just what Bobby Dawson does.

It’s nothing really. Nothing that should have Bobby so paranoid surely, but when you’re hopelessly in love with someone every little thing they do or say means that much more. Bobby knows this. He’s been down this road before. He can see the train wreck even before he’s within a block of the tracks. He also knows that there’s no use. He can’t keep pretending that every time that David pays his little visits, every time David chooses his side of the booth at the diner, every time that David’s so close that he can feel the other man’s breath on the side of he neck, that he wouldn’t give anything to reach out and touch him just once.

It’s so stupid and he knows it. And the worst part is he’s sure that David knows all about it and is finding some sick sort of enjoyment out of it too.

He should be worried that he’s found himself in love with a man that he would think to be capable of such a thing. But Bobby’s never been a good judge when it comes to love. He likes to think that this is the reason he keeps his mouth shut and his hands to himself. The little voice in the back of his head laughs at the thought. The little voice in the back of Bobby’s head knows that he’s really just afraid of what would happen if he gave in to his wants.

Would it be so bad to reach out and grab him? What would he say? What the hell would he do?

He’s a coward and it makes him sick to his stomach.

Sometimes he is absolutely sure that David knows.

Like when those blue eyes—he loves David’s eyes—linger just long enough for it to be uncomfortable. Or when David sits just a little closer than he had the other day at the diner and Bobby has to will every muscle in is body not to tremble. Or times like these in the locker room when he tries everything he can not to look in the other man’s direction and pretend that he wouldn’t give anything for a little peek at the skin that David’s keeps hidden under those long-sleeved shirts of his.

Who wears long-sleeved shirts year round in Las Vegas? David Hodges is who. And Bobby Dawson is convinced that the man does it just to torment him.

“I was thinking, Bobby-Doll…”

Or times like these when Bobby swears he’s hearing things—they are always of course things he’d give anything to hear—like some term of endearment hurled carelessly in his direction. But of course, they are so out of character for David Hodges that he’s immediately convinced that it just another symptom of his poor love befuddled mind.

“I should take you out somewhere other than that damned grease spoon of a diner for once. Or I could just take you back to my place and cook for you. Either or. It doesn’t really matter—whatever you want.”

Or times when Bobby is damned sure that’s he’s staring slack jawed and wide eyed at the other man and David just raises a brow and tilts his head in his direction and calls him by his first name.

“What?” The other man says, a smirk the size of Texas inching up his face.

Then there are the times that he is left flustered and speechless in David Hodges’ wake. Yeah, he’s damned sure he knows then. Especially, when the other man then goes on a rant about how obviously he’d been courting him with all the attention he’d readily been giving him.

“I don’t just share my hash browns with anyone, Bobby.” he says.

The little voice in the back of his head just laughs and laughs. And Bobby is scared to death by the prospect that David Hodges could actually be serious and he hates himself for it.

But Bobby Dawson is no fool—well not entirely anyway. He knows that hating yourself is not a healthy past time.

“So?”

David’s eyes are searching and curious, without the slightest cloud of doubt. And if David can be so sure then why can’t Bobby?

So when Bobby steps a little closer and grabs the other man and plants one right on his lips, his plan is to be damned sure by the time he pulls away that David Hodges knows it for a fact.

“What I want…” Bobby says as he leans in close. “…is for you to call me Bobby-doll again.”

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-14T16:09:00

2006-06-14T21:13:27Z

Fandom: Dragonball Z (Cell Games Saga)
Title: The Cursed Idle Mind and Bloody Instinct
Chapter Title: Twelve (Detonate)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Vegeta/Cell
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi, Violence, Eventual Porn
Status: 12/14
Summary: I decided to write this after I read a Cell/Vegeta fic somewhere that never got finished. I had never thought of such an odd pairing until then. But of course the author of that story made it seem oh so obvious as all ‘odd pairing’ fics should try and achieve. So I thought that maybe I should give my best shot as well. Seeing as these two arrogant asses are my favorite characters in all of DBZdome. So, without further ado…my very first Cell/Vegeta Yaoi fic. (Gods that just sounds so…wrong. *cackles*)

He didn’t know his father. He’d always wanted to. But he had been forced to grow up without him there.

That had always sort of pissed him off.

And when the miracle of modern science occurred. The mysteries of time travel revealed to his mother and he, he’d finally gotten the chance to learn everything he could about the man. He’d memorized every detail no matter how ugly they were. His mother had warned him, told him not to expect too much, or anything at all. But he had believed, he really had. No man, no matter what or who they were was impenetrable.

He had believed.

Trunks had always known he wasn’t like his mother. Sure he had her hair, her eyes. But he didn’t… feel like she did. He wasn’t fragile or soft, small or clumsy. He was Saiyan, more then anything else.

It was when he began training with Gohan that he knew that for sure. He was like his father. He was sure of it. He didn’t care what his mother said, his father would understand him and he would understand his father. They were just alike. He’d known it. Always had. And no matter what, he would love and accept his father for everything that he was. No matter what…

But this… he had not counted on this. It was too much, even for him.

He’d figured it out easily from the way his mother had always spoke of his father, the little she had anyway. He knew he was the son that the prince didn’t want, the mistake. But he also knew that he was the boy that would do anything to get his father to care about him even just a little bit.

But… This wasn’t right… They were supposed to be alike. But… Trunks would never do a thing like this. Pride he understood. Strength, courage… (honor?)… all that he understood… But why?

He was with that monster. He’d chosen that… thing over his wife, his family, his home.

Trunks could feeling the burning behind eyes and shook his head trying to alleviate the pressure. Why couldn’t he have cared? What had he done wrong? Why did he have the bastard for a father and Gohan got the hero? What did he do wrong?!

It had to be his fault right? Him being here… he was the only thing that had been different this time. He’d ruined everything.

He watched as Vegeta and Goku struggled not far from where Gohan was trouncing the winged android. While his father was fighting viciously to get loose from the taller Saiyan’s grip he still took fervent glances in Cell and Gohan’s direction.

Gohan was winning his fight but unfortunately it seemed that the boy’s father would not. Trunks’s father’s ki was skyrocketing rapidly.

“Wha…what is he trying to do?!” He could hear Yamcha stammering somewhere behind him.

He had been successful in ignoring the previous statements about the mental condition of his father but this one had slipped through during his angstful contemplation. It was a sad thing, but Trunks actually feared the same thing that everyone else did. What if his father did manage to get free from Goku? What if he did stop Gohan from defeating Cell? His own father would be signing the planet’s as well as everyone on it… his own family’s death certificates.

A terrible thing for a man’s own son to have to worry about.

But he could stop him. He could fix it. He sat by and let his father endanger them all before. Never again.

“He’s picked the monster over me.” Trunks thought. “Why doesn’t he care?”

He could stop him. He was strong enough now. There was still time. Still a chance to.

“What did I do, father?!” He started. “What did I do wrong?!”

His father wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

“I’m not like him… I will never be.”

Gohan’s ear had twitched slightly at the sound of Trunks’s screaming demand for an answer but Cell hadn’t let up his assault leaving him to only guess at the look on the other demi Saiyan’s face. But Goku had made the mistake of letting himself be distracted. The most sickening of the matter was that Vegeta had not and he used the other Saiyan’s momentary lapse in concentration against him and broke free. His ki rocketing up to that of an ascended Super Saiyan without so much as a thought. A level that was not actually that much of a threat to the senzu healed Son Goku but enough to knock him back in his stunned state.

But Vegeta now had his opportunity and was off before Goku knew it.

“Vegeta!” The spiky haired man yelled to the blurring form of the prince.

It was that moment that the lavender haired teen’s anger grew beyond his control. In an incinerating blast of golden light he immediately topped out to his maximum power level and shot off to put an end to his father’s foolishness.

“Father!” He roared and he collided with older man and the two of them went barreling into the ground. Kicking up a storm of dust and rocks.

The ground tore and caved in beneath them, their auras pushing and clashing against one another. The vision of his father was blurring before his eyes, but the anger, raw and all consuming, was winning out against the hurt. He would not cry for this man. He didn’t deserve it.

“Stupid boy! Let go of me!”

“No.” Trunks growled through clinched teeth.

“I am not asking!” Vegeta roared and uses a sudden flare of his ki to send the two of them toppling over once again.

“I will stop you, father. Even if I have to kill you, I will!” the boy snarled.

The youth’s eyes were as hard as steel. There was nothing soft there. Not like before. Vegeta knew the boy would not bend. It was a shame. The boy had shown so much promise. He’d have to kill him now. He was in his way.

“You worthless…”

Before the prince could get the words out, he and Trunks felt the drastic rise of Gohan power and turned just in time to see the devastating kick the boy had planted to the jaw of the hulking, snarling android. Vegeta instantly stopped his thrashing. Trunks looked down at the man in his grip, the prince’s pupils were pin pricks, the color in his face fading rapidly.

“Fa…father?”

“No…” It was a breathless, bare whisper. “No!” The prince wailed, thrashing and kicking like an unruly child. “Let me up! Let me up!”

~oo0oo~

It hurt. Gods it hurt!

The searing pain was slowly fading into a sagging numbness. And he knew is mouth was hanging open like an oxygen-starved fish. But he couldn’t help it. This entire situation had spun completely out of his control.

Gods it fucking hurt!

And his pride had nothing to do with it. He didn’t have pride. The good Doctor had made sure of that. He could not have his perfect creation letting something as foolish as pride get in the way of what he had to do. But he had not counted on the fear. Who would have? Androids don’t feel fear.

Something… Something was happening. The tight rollicking riot in his stomach was getting worse. He was sweating profusely, his mouth watering uncontrollably. The fucking boy…

“Wha… what have you done to me?!”

Cell doubled over, one arm clutching at his middle the other holding his hand to his mouth in vain. He could feel it leaving him. Slipping away from each layer of his skin. Retreating back inside to something…

“No.”

“No!”

Their screams of denial had been simultaneous. He could hear his mate’s tortured wail even over his own. He was so weak… it was leaving him. What had that blasted boy done to him?!

The pressure grew worse, he could taste the bile on his tongue, something much too big pushing it way up and out of him. It ended with a gush of fluid and a sickening thump.

And there she was. He’d lost her. It was lost to him now. The blasted brat had just cost him everything…

Perfection was lost.

“Is that… Is that Eighteen?” Krillin meeped.

Dimmed crimson orbs stared down, unblinkingly at the form of Android 18 lying on the ground right in front of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Even though the boy was right there. It didn’t matter… It was gone… all gone.

A wretched wail ripped it way up through his ruined throat.

And then the fear returned along with the pain. Unspeakable pain…

“He’s… reverting back to his Imperfect form!” Piccolo informed everyone.

This wasn’t happening. All this time wasted because of some miserable Saiyan mutt.

His body twisted and throbbed. His muscles growing too large and cumbersome, his tail lengthening and protruding form him back. His skin darkened from chalk white to putrid green all in the matter of moments. He was now forced back into his secondary form. Doomed to draw only on the life energy of the all the people he’d absorbed and the lone Android 17.

He was relegated to this flawed existence. He would not let it end this way. But what could he do now?

He could feel them all watching them waiting to see what he would do now. Vegeta… he knew that the fear the prince was currently suffering through was his own. But the way he was looking at him. He could see the prince’s utter disgust with him. His heart sunk… a flash of disappointment he could not hide in time slithered through. It didn’t matter now. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about that a the moment.

The half-breed was looking at him. A self-satisfied smirk on his young face.

“Heh… figures.” Gohan scoffed. “I guess that’s it for you then.”

“No… I… won’t…” he grimaced at the sound of his own voice, garbled and hoarse as it was. “I won’t accept this!!!”

“Oh but you will.” The boy smiled menacingly and stepped towards him.

“No, you stay away from me! You… you monster!”

The smile grew on Gohan’s face. “Look who’s talking.”

~oo0oo~

It all had happened so quickly. One minute he was being pinned to the ground by his idiot future son and screaming at the top of his lungs in fear… fear the suspiciously didn’t feel like it belonged to him, but real fear just the same. The next, he was sitting Indiana style on the dusty ground staring at Kakarot and his crew of cronies, staring at Gohan who was staring at his mate. His mate, who now happed to be the size of a small planet was chuckling about how he was going to blow up the entire planet because he was pissed that that little bastard of Kakarot’s had handed him his ass.

*Sigh*

It was great that he was feeling a little bit more like himself because now he could really appreciate the ridiculousness of the situation.

The bond was going to be the death of him… literally. Maybe it was for the best. So Vegeta just sat there and waited.

He just sat there and watched as Gohan cried like some sort of wounded animal when he’d realized that he’d fucked up and let the android get the upper hand. He just sat there and watched when Kakarot had stepped in and saved his son along with the rest of the planet. He just sat there and watched when the third class idiot of a Saiyan disappeared into thin air with his mate. He just sat there… and said absolutely nothing when his rival and his bonded mated disappeared leaving him behind to have to deal with the annoying screams and cries of the people left behind.

He should have been pissed right? He should have been sad, right? He should have felt… something… at least. Right?

This was certainly anti climatic.

The prince just stood up in the sand and watched in a sort of detached interest as the little bald monk finally released the death grip he had on the girl android and walked over to the crumpled form of Kakarot’s brat who was bawling his little eyes out. If he remembered correctly, which he usually did, the little half-breed should be used to his father dying on him by now.

He turned from the sickening display of emotion with a look of distain. Though, it was odd that he himself didn’t quite feel… anything. This mate was dead; at least he thought so. He should feel something. Not that he would let everyone else know he did, but…

He could feel eyes burrowing into the back of his eye and turned around to the angry face of his son. The blue eyes were just screaming: “This is all you fault!”

Of course it wasn’t. It was that stupid android’s fault.

His… stupid android’s fault.

“Stupid boy, if you would have just let me stop him, this wouldn’t have happened.” Vegeta growled at the boy.

Trunks’s eyes widened in disbelief.

But before the boy could retaliate, something started. The air around them all began to churn, the sky darkened and then…

“Th… That ki…” Vegeta muttered in a state of shock.

“It can’t be!” The lavender haired youth yelled.

It was the last thing the boy got out before the energy beam tore through his chest, sending an arch of blood and shards of armor flying. Trunks was thrown to the ground with a violent thump. Then that voice, he knew that voice anywhere.

“Who did I hit?” The accent was back. That accent he had grown so found of. “Ah Trunks…”

Vegeta didn’t even try to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His mate was back, in all his perfect glory. He should be happy… right? He was… Elated actually.

But why did it feel so… wrong.

(to be continued…)

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-14T16:05:00

2006-06-14T21:07:56Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Randomness and You
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Greg Sanders/David Hodges
Warnings: Really, really vague mentionings of sex and one really, really bad nickname.
Status: 8 of 30 (30_kisses challenge)
Summary: Greg never stops talking. Ever.

He’s a mixture of exhausted, sweaty, and content.

“I am going to hurt you.”

“Promises, promises.”

Nothing is going to kill this buzz.

“I’m not kidding, cut it out.”

The older man is barely able to stifle a most undignified giggle, but he slaps the younger’s hand away any way.

“It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish.”

“I am not ticklish. You’re just annoying the hell out of me.”

Lies.

“Oh, so you always burst into girly laughter when some one is getting on your nerves?”

He doesn't laugh like a girl.

However, the other man doesn’t even receive a response to that, just a half hearted glare from tired blue eyes. Greg Sanders snickers and continues to trace random patterns on his partner’s stomach.

“I wore you out.” He snorts.

“Shut up.”

“See. You can’t even snark at me properly.”

“Shut up!”

“Look at you.” Greg is laughing out right now and David is obviously oblivious of the fact that he’s blushing.

Greg’s hand is slapped away once again as David turns over to his side abruptly, trying his best to ignore the blond’s laughter. Greg on the other hand only finds this even more amusing. In fact, he nearly rolls out of the bed in a particularly irritating bout of snorting laughter.

“Would you shut up?! I’m trying to sleep.”

Geez, that was lame.

“God, can you hear yourself? You’re not even trying.”

“It wasn’t that good. I’m just tired, you know, FROM WORKING.”

He's lying. It was definitely that good.

“You know, Dave, I don’t think that’s what it is.”

David’s only response to this is the sigh of a man who has completely given up trying.

“You know what I think it is?”

“Not really.” This is muffled of course by the pillow that has been placed over David’s head.

“I think I broke you.”

“Good lord…”

“Yep, David Hodges, I’m sorry to inform you that you just can’t handle Gregory Hojem “Spank Master MC” Sanders. You, my beloved, have been broken.”

This last statement was punctuated by the sound of Greg Sanders’ hand smacking David Hodges’ ass.

“I’m seriously going to kill you…” That declaration would have been a little more threatening if it hadn’t been interrupted by that yawn. “…when I wake up.”

Greg puts on his best pout and snuggles and kisses his bed mate. “Awwww, of course you are.”

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-14T15:52:00

2006-06-14T21:00:18Z

Fandom: Dragonball Z (Cell Games Saga)
Title: The Cursed Idle Mind and Bloody Instinct
Chapter Title: Eleven (Seethe)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Vegeta/Cell
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi, Violence, Eventual Porn
Status: 11/14
Summary: I decided to write this after I read a Cell/Vegeta fic somewhere that never got finished. I had never thought of such an odd pairing until then. But of course the author of that story made it seem oh so obvious as all ‘odd pairing’ fics should try and achieve. So I thought that maybe I should give my best shot as well. Seeing as these two arrogant asses are my favorite characters in all of DBZdome. So, without further ado…my very first Cell/Vegeta Yaoi fic. (Gods that just sounds so…wrong. *cackles*)

Something deep down told him that he should have known this was going to happen. But he had been so sure he was right about Vegeta.

Although really, how did he ever really come to that conclusion? It wasn’t like Vegeta ever made it seem as if he cared about anyone. Goku hadn’t even known that Bulma and Vegeta were together if it wasn’t for Mirai Trunks coming back and telling him that he was their son. Though, the boy really had no clue himself how the two of them had ended up together. But Trunks was all the proof either of them needed. Yet even after the prophecy of the boy’s birth had come to true, Goku still couldn’t tell that Vegeta had ever cared for Bulma. The emotion was even less visible in Trunks’s case.

So you could understand Goku’s utter astonishment at what had just occurred.

Vegeta had just saved Cell. That he was sure of if only for the look of utter betrayal that now marred Mirai’s face. His wide blues eyes had yet to blink.

Now Goku wasn’t near as stupid as some people liked to believe. He was fairly capable of putting facts together and coming up with reasonable conclusions. So here were the facts. He’d found Vegeta naked in the woods a few days ago where he and Cell were supposed to be training. Right. He’d smelled sex and even asked Vegeta if he’d and Cell had done it. And then the prince had laughed and leered at him. Well, he usually considered a response like that as a yes. The next day he’d found Cell (covered in the blood of the king’s army) and the guy had completely lost it on him and practically begged him to tell him where Vegeta was.

Yes, those were the facts.

There was only one conclusion one could come to, right? Cell cared about Vegeta. And apparently Vegeta felt something in return.

Though even with all his unknown intelligence Goku had refused to believe it. Vegeta had to have been just horny of course. That some times even happened to him when he was training. He’d figured that it was a normal Saiyan thing. And Cell was part Saiyan right? So Geta had just slept with the android because he was… um… attractive.

As much as it bothered Goku to admit it, it was true.

What did Cell have that Bulma didn’t? Really, I mean for one, she was beautiful. And for two, she wasn’t a genetically engineered bio android who lived off of the essence of human life until it reached the point where it was capable of destroying the world.

There was absolutely no competition…right?

But maybe that’s what Vegeta liked about Cell. There had been a point when the prince had wanted to destroy the earth. Even kill him. Cell wanted those same things. Maybe the earth reared Saiyan was wrong about Vegeta. It seemed clear enough to him that the man was capable of caring for another person. (In Cell’s case he used that term loosely)

“No, Goku that’s not right. Cell’s a person. Just and evil one. And you must remember that it is not his fault that he is the way he is. It’s Dr. Gero’s. That evil scientist programmed him to kill people.”

Goku’s conscious scolded him for thinking such thought in the first place. Oddly enough it sounded a lot like his Grandpa Gohan.

The Super Saiyan dropped his pronounced frown just long enough to give a defeated sigh. He probably end up having to use force to keep Vegeta from getting in the way again.

He really didn’t want it to ever come to this between him and the prince again, the guy would probably try to kill him.

~oo0oo~

Cell grinned at his mate’s expression. The little prince was watching intensely with dark narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. The android mentally sent how grateful he was for his lover’s assistance but the Saiyan’s frown only deepened. Vegeta growled low his throat and walked further away, finding a spot off from the rest of the group.

Cell shook his head slightly and turned back to the task at hand. He sneered in Gohan’s direction.

“Now that that’s been taken care of… let’s get back to the show, shall we?”

The young Super Saiyan was still kneeling on the ground. He was on the verge of tears caused by his utter frustration with his enemy.

“Umm, let’s see…” Cell said turning toward the cliff edge where the Z fighters were assembled. “1…2…3…4… 6 in all… all right…”

“Now what’s he doing?!”

Vegeta’s question was probably exactly what everyone else was thinking. It didn’t take long for them to get their answer however, because before everyone eyes Cell did the unthinkable…

“Oh many god!” The newscaster shrieked. “Cell has just produced six little monsters from his back!”

“What…Are those?!” Piccolo growled.

“Go Cell Juniors. Those six atop that rock are your targets.” The bio android spoke to his little minions. “Make them hurt. Kill them, if it makes you happy.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened in shock, and the grin on Cell’s face couldn’t have been wider.

“I trust your son is up to the challenge, Vegeta?” He asked, an eye ridge rose in question.

The prince’s sneer was the only answer he got. The android turned around just in time to see his Cell Jrs. move in for the kill.

“Watch out!!!” Goku screamed. “These guys are mean!”

“It’s pointless. You can’t win.” The android chuckled. “They may be small… but they’re my children.”

~oo0oo~

Gohan watched in sheer horror as the little Cellings attacked his friends. They didn’t stand and chance and he knew it. His own father was having trouble with the little bastards. He winced as one of the Jrs. lit into Yamcha, easily breaking the man’s arm. Krillin was being pounced across the field like he was nothing.

“I’m sorry everybody…” He could hear his father say. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

No…no, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were all going to die and it would be all his fault. His father had put his trust in him and he’d failed. He wanted to beat Cell. But he didn’t know how. Where was his great power when he actually needed it? All this supposed strength didn’t do him any good if he couldn’t use it to save his friends.

~oo0oo~

“You’ve got to be kidding…” Hercule stuttered. “Cell is right next to him!!”

“You’re the world champion, aren’t you?” Android 16 said, his voice even more distorted then usual (being disembodied sort of did that to you). “Don’t you want to help?”

The newscaster butted in front of the world’s martial arts champion. “Hercule is a human champion! Th-this is a battle of freaks!!!”

Hercule’s face hardened suddenly. “All right!” he erupted. “I’ll do it!”

“Hercule, don’t!” the new reporter shrieked. “You’ll be killed!!”

“Shut up! All these no-names are out there fighting.” He yelled. “I’ll be a laughing stock if I, the champion, ran away!”

~oo0oo~

Cell’s cackling only increased with every blow his Cell Jrs. landed.

“P-please stop…”

The android’s ears perked up at the sound and he turned toward the source.

“I’m begging you.” Gohan said, tears dripping down his dirty face.

Cell smiled cruelly and turned back around with out saying a word to the boy.

“Alright Cell Jrs, enough fooling around! You can kill them now if you want!” He yelled.

Gohan eyes widened. He couldn’t believe his ears. He’d begging that bastard! The eleven year old was shaking in rage. He was barely keeping it together. That was when he got the surprise of life, Android 16’s head rolled up to him out of nowhere.

“Th-the android…” He gasped.

“Son Gohan,” Sixteen began. “It’s not a crime to fight for good. There are some who will never listen to words. Feel the anger… set your passions free… I know how you feel… but you don’t have to hold back.”

“Good advice.”

The deep booming voice of Cell snapped Gohan out of his trance but only briefly.

“But I’m trying to do this my way.” Cell growled.

Android 16 ignored him and keep up his encouragement.

“The wild animals and the forests I loved… Don’t let them be destroyed…Protect them for me…”

Gohan’s tears began to flow more freely. “I…I ca…”

Crunch!

Before the boy could even mutter the words Cell brought a heavy foot down on what remained of Sixteen.

“Mind your own business… Rust bucket!” The other android snarled.

The change was instantaneous. Gohan had gone from a snivelingly frightened little boy to an outraged, bloodthirsty Saiyan warrior in the span of seconds. Cell was even taken back by the sight of the boy. The android’s already large eyes widened even more.

“Wh-What?!” Vegeta gasped his eyes widened as well.

“He’s… changed…” Cell muttered

Gohan stalked toward his enemy, his power pulsating in the form or streaks of electricity about him. His formerly spiky hair stood up even higher in jagged peaks of white gold.

“Now you’re in for it…All of you.” Gohan said evenly. His boyish voice now more ragged.

“So… You’ve finally shown your true form!! This… should be interesting…” Cell said, a smug smile flittering across his pale features.

There was small gust of wind and the android found that he was bare handed. Gohan had snatched the bag of senzus from his hand with out him even detecting it.

~oo0oo~

Cell and Vegeta watched similarly dumbfounded as Gohan proceeded to beat the living hell out of the Cell Jrs. with ease. The young Saiyan’s assault was brutal and even Vegeta was impressed. Cell growled in frustration and left his lover to watch the carnage alone.

“That serves you right Cell. It’s over…” Goku smiled weakly form the spot where he’d fallen.

Vegeta turned to the fallen Saiyan, a look of outrage on his face. He turned back to the stare off that was going on between his mate and Gohan.

“I… I can’t believe this… It can’t be happening…”

“Don’t get cocky, boy.” Cell growled. “You don’t really think you can beat me.”

“What do you think?” Gohan replied.

“Arrogant little snip.” The green armored android scoffed. “Well, then, let me show you…Heh… my true, terrible power.”

With a warrior’s yell Cell unleashed his ki reserves. The force of it knocked everyone else back. Vegeta braced himself against the onslaught but he was not surprised by it. He’d known since they had consummated their bond what his mate was capable of.

The android aura stabilized finally and he glanced around, reveling in the looks of fear he found.

“Well?” He said with a grin. “Now you know!”

“Whoppee.”

Cell laughed at the boy’s flippant response and charged. The abrupt movement had even surprised Vegeta, but amazingly Gohan had dodged the attack. Cell growled and unleashed a fury of lightning fast blows, none of them hitting their marks. But Gohan’s did.

Cell head was ripped back by a well place uppercut and the bio android was sent back staggering and bleeding profusely from his mouth.

“Im-impossible…I can’t have been hurt…by just a couple of punches…”

Vegeta just watched. There was not much he could do for his mate now. He’d gotten his baka self into this mess, he’d have to get himself out.

“You… little…” Cell snarled.

Gohan poignantly ignored the threat and continued to advance on the android. Cell tried a few more kicks, all of which Gohan avoided easily. And with a yell, Cell was sent back flying with one of the boys own. The android skidded to a halt a few meters away. Wearily he got back to his feet…

“He’s actually stronger than me… I never thought… such a being could exist in this world.”

A demented and bloodied grin grew on the android’s face, making Vegeta nervous.

“Heh…But that doesn’t mean I lose.”

Gohan and Vegeta watched numbly as Cell ascended rapidly into the air. The familiar chant however, immediately knocked the prince from his reverie.

“Ka…Me…Ha…Me” Cell’s voice boomed thought out the canyon. “Yes!!! A Kamehameha at full power!!!” the android cackled crazily. “Dodge and the Earth will be pulp!”

The screams for the Z fighters were nothing but white noise to Vegeta. He merely stared on shock.

“Haaaaaa!!!” The Kamehameha was released.

“He’s…he’s gone insane.” The prince muttered. He turned to Gohan, his eyes narrowed. “Stop him!” He snarled.

Gohan didn’t even blink in acknowledgement. But Vegeta was able to hear him over the roar of Cell’s attack.

“Kame… Hame…” it began as nothing but a whispered that soon exploded into much more. “HAAAAA!!!!”

The force of the competing attacks created a dust storm. Vegeta was forced back and he lost sight of both of the fighters. The storm soon died down to nothing and he was able to focus again.

There in the sky was his mate. Well, what was left of him anyway.

“That shrimp fired an even bigger Kamehameha…” He gasped before falling to the ground.

His mate had not been able to over power the boy and had suffered greatly for it. He was missing both his legs and one of his arms, his armor was cracked and burned. It also seemed that Vegeta was suffering for the failed attack as well. The prince could no longer feel his legs and he felt as if his own arm had been burned from his body. But they were still there. It had to be the infernal bond. The flame haired prince fell back into the churned sand panting desperately for breath.

“Cell… you fucking idiot.”

Gohan hadn’t even noticed the Saiyan not but a few feet away from him. He was too busy admiring his handiwork.

“Gohan, what are you doing?!” Goku screamed. “Finish him!”

“No, dad.” The boys smile menacingly. “I don’t think I will. I want him to suffer. Suffer just like he made everyone else! He deserves it after everything he’s done.”

“Wh…what did you say?” Goku said. He was shocked as shit by his son’s response that’s for sure.

Before Goku could say another word, Vegeta screamed in pain. The answering snarled was echoed up above. Cell was regenerating.

“Y… You are… Gonna pay!!!” Cell roared

And before everyone ones eyes the android’s power rocketed and he tripled in size. He landed on the ground with a thundering stomp, cracking the ground beneath him.

“I will never…” He began as he advanced on the blond boy, seething in pure unadulterated rage. “Lose to and thing like you!!!”

Cell dug a trench in the ground with a power-laced punch. Gohan was able to dodge it with out much effort at all. The new, though apparently not improved Cell howled in frustration and turned to attack again. But someone got in his way…

“Stop this immediately!”

To say everyone jaw dropped would be an understatement.

“Vegeta!” Goku screamed.

The prince only briefly glanced in the third class’s direction but refused to move out of Cell’s way.

The hulking version of his mate stared at him in outrage. The prince took in the sight with a disgusted sneer. The android was a least three time his normal size. Huge muscles bulged outward; leaving no trace of the lithe creature he had spent the last few days with. The android’s large eyes, ones that Vegeta had oddly enough become quite fond of watching were now hideously blood shot.

“You’re being stupid!” The small prince said tersely. “Stop this now! There is no way you can win in this form!”

Cell’s eyes narrowed. The only thing he could decipher from the prince’s words through his hazy rage was that he wanted him to give up.

“I will not let that… thing… win!” The bio android screamed.

Before Vegeta could push the words out of his anger restricted chest, he and said chest found themselves thrown a quite a few feet away and pinned underneath an extremely pissed looking Kakarot.

“Vegeta, want in the hell do you think you’re doing!”

(to be continued…)

goosie_fics @ 2006-06-14T15:25:00

2006-06-14T20:47:28Z

Fandom: Jak and Daxter (Post Jak 3)
Title: Pretty Boy
Chapter Title: A Boomer of a Plan
Rating: R
Pairings: Jinx/Jak
Warnings: Jinx’ mouth, cause he should definitely not be allowed around impressionable youth. And Jak’s raging hormones, cause he definitely shouldn’t be allowed around drunken boom-boys. *nods sagely* Shounen ai themes.
Status: 4/?
Summary: Jinx is drunk and even more talkative than usual. The secret of the blast bot is revealed…among other things. [Set after Jak 3]

“Jinx?”

Jinx had been more than sociable the whole ride back to his place. He’d been rambling on about things Jak could not even begin to understand. The younger male could only guess that it all had something to do with explosives and blowing up things in general. And although this line of conversation seemed perfectly enjoyable to the blond bomber, this along with random bouts of snort-induced giggles left Jak just a little anxious to get Jinx home.

Jinx paused to break into one of those annoying fits right in the middle of very colorful explanation of the difference between “plain ol’ TNT” and eco-fueled explosives. This, of course, was in regards to the sheer amount of kinetic energy they could produce, he pointed out. Jak just wondered exactly what was so funny, but had refrained from asking. And now here they were standing outside of Jinx’ front door while the older man stared blurry eyed at the keypad.

“Um… you need some help?”

Jinx just muttered something incoherent before pressing in the code a little slower and a little more forcefully than necessary. Jak just pretended not memorize the sequence.

“Ah, home sweet hole in the wall.” Jinx chuckled and attempted to head up the stairs.

However, the crafty slabs of wood seemed to be more than a match for the inebriated man. Luckily, Jak was right behind him. Jak sighed and hoisted the man up, slinging one of Jinx’ rubbery arms over his shoulders and securing an arm around his waist. They made their way up the stairs and into the apartment at a leisurely pace, Jinx giggling all the while.

Jak noticed that Jinx’s skin seemed that much warmer in comparison to the cool night air. The smell of heated metal and sulfur still clinging to his to him; Jak thought that maybe he shouldn’t have been so fond of the odor. Jak also thought that maybe he wasn’t so ready to leave the other man’s side.

Dark had made him more sensitive to scents. The ability had been helpful most of the time, but in this case, it was becoming more of an annoyance. Smells brought back memories, memories that prompted a warm tingle in his belly. His legs were feeling heavier. If this was any indication of his impending doom, Jak had to drop Jinx off on the nearest available surface as soon as possible. It wasn’t wise to keep the man so close for too long. He might do something he’d regret… Again.

As he dragged Jinx across the room, Jak narrowly missed sending them both flailing to the hard wood floor and other such nasty looking bits of junk littering the torn linoleum. But as luck would have it they made it over to the bed where he gracelessly deposited his intoxicated burden.

“Jinx… is this even safe?” Jak asked, looking around the apartment for the second time today. The place looked even more cluttered in the dark. The glow the streetlights outside had wormed through the rotted wood that barred Jinx’ windows giving him barely enough illumination to make the other man out in the shadows. Jinx was looking back at him intently or as intently as the liquor in his bloodstream would allow. “What was I thinking?” Jak started, rolling his eyes. “Of course not.”

Jinx began unbuckling his boots. “Ah, Pretty-Boy, you think I’m dumb or sumthin’? Don’t get it confused, sugar. Dumb people don’t last long ‘round explosives!” At that he burst into another fit of obnoxious giggles, kicking off his boots before leaning back on the worn bed. Jinx sighed when the hilarity, that obviously only he’d been privy to, had passed. He then set about peeling off his gloves and slinging them to the floor, pulling loose a descent sized blade he usually kept tucked against his forearm.

Jak watched him go about the motions of undressing with lazy interest. He couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face. He wanted to stay, but he knew he shouldn’t. Last week had been good, very good, but it had been a fluke. There was no way he’d be giving Jinx a chance at a repeat performance. No matter how much he’d been thinking lately that it might not be that bad of an idea.

“I’m leaving,” Jak grumbled turning to head for the stairs.

“Hmm...” Jinx huffed lazily. “I though you wanted to hear how I caught that damned blast bot?”

Jak stopped in his tracks and turned around. He couldn’t deny that he was interested. Precursors only knew why.

Jinx was sitting up again on the edge of the bed, his arms stretched behind him, propping him up. “It’s a hell of a story, Pretty-Boy. I promise.” The blond grinned at him; Jak couldn’t tell if it was just sloppy or debauched. But he was leaning toward the latter. It was in the body language, Jak had seen the man in action enough to know. Not that he’d taken up the habit of watching the man. It was just the way his legs were spread; the way his shirt hung off is body. The bottom hem hiked up just enough to give Jak a view of a pale strip of skin. The top right bit slouching to the side giving him a better view of that bruise on Jinx’ shoulder. Jinx winked at him and patted the empty spot next to him on the bed. “C’mere.”

Jak sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. He was going to regret this he was sure. There was just something in the way Jinx had said that last word. Despite himself, his feet were moving and they weren’t heading for the stairs anymore.

Jinx grinned at him and he ignored it, taking a seat where the older man had directed him and glancing at him when he didn’t start right away. The blond cleared his throat, rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and scratched at his stubble-ridden chin in thought.

“Lesse… The first time I tried to snag one of those bastards…”

“The first time?”

“What?”

“Its just that I figured that since you’re so…” Jak cut his eyes in Jinx’ direction, smirking, “talented… you captured it the first time.”

A brief chuckle, “Naw… A true pyrotechnics tech…techni… whatever…”

Jak chuckled this time, Jinx glared at him and continued. “…Takes advantage of a little thing I like to call trial and error.”

Jak stared skeptically.

“Fine I’ll skip those parts.”

Jak raised a brow.

“You wanna hear the story or not!”

Jak opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it.

~oo0oo~

“Um… sir?”

“…”

“Sir?”

Jinx turned away from the chaos in front of him and frowned at the rookie Freedom Guard. “What?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be so close?”

Jinx raised a brow.

“I’m supposed to be protecting you. It was just a suggestion.”

Jinx rolled his eyes. “Look, kid, I don’t need to be babysat. ‘Specially by you…uh…”

“Knox.”

“Knox.” He added with a sneer. “Tattooed Wonder didn’t tell ya what I’m ‘pose ta be doing out here?”

Knox just looked confused. “Um… I though you were supposed to be studying the blast bot?”

Jinx stood up dusting off his the front of his pants. Plucking his cigar from his mouth, he blew smoke in the rookie FG’s direction. The kid choked back a cough prompting a bawdy laugh from the man. “Figures.”

The young FG just stared at him.

“Look, just stay outta my way.”

Lately, the industrial district had become a hot spot for the Krimzon Guard bots. Whoever was building these bots had the death and destruction thing down to a fine art. Now Jinx wasn’t all that keen on the death bit, but the destruction--all the casualties aside--was quite impressive.

Okay, so “quite impressive” was an understatement.

But what red blooded man didn’t get a hard on at the sight of ten pounds of mid grade yellow eco armored to the teeth and on legs trudging down the middle of Industrial Boulevard?
Jinx licked his lips.

It was a shame he wasn’t going to be able to keep him. Sighing around his cigar, Jinx went for his bag and pulled it over his shoulders.

“Hey kid, tell the boys in blue down there that everything is set up and ta get tha hell outta there, eh.”

Jinx and the kid had been following Jinx’ chosen target from rooftop to rooftop for the last twenty minutes. If his calculations were right that big boy was set to blow in another ten. He was going to have to make this quick. The blond bomber stepped up on the side of the building already starting out on the thin metal grating hanging over the street below. It was going to be a rough landing even if he did aim it just right.

Looking up from his comm unit, Knox was shocked to find his charge already preparing to jump for it.

“Sir! Sir! Wha…what are you doing!” The red head was half way on the railing. Jinx was already leaning over the side dropping some strange little device down directly on top of the bomb bot. Both Knox and Jinx’ eyes locked on the blast bot and the device hit home. The magnetic device stuck firmly to the huge twin gun barrels on top of the killing machine. The blast bot shuddered a bit as the usually invisible electromagnetic field flashed briefly before disappearing again.

“Eh, kid!” Jinx looked back up at Knox with sneer on his face, “What did I tell you? My name is Jinx.”

And with that Jinx jumped off the railing after it.

“But…” Knox groaned. Commander Torn was going to chew his ass if Crazy Bomber Dude went and got himself killed…or accidentally blew up another one of those bots in the vicinity of a group of FGs again. The rookie soldier leaned over the side of the building and watched the guy land directly on top of the bot. He was almost a little disappointed. Maybe if the guy had landed a little bit further to the right he wouldn’t have to put up with all this stress anymore.

Then of course he felt terrible for even thinking that in the first place.

Wait a minute… Had that guy actually disengaged the electro-field around that thing? Knox raised an impressed brow. Well at least the rest of the guards had gotten out of the way this time.

Truthfully, Jinx was actually a little more than surprised that that little device of his had actually worked. He hadn’t gotten the chance to test it out on an actual blast bot, seeing as the things were obviously a pain in the ass to come by. He hadn’t had any doubt that he aimed his jump perfectly. Though, he could only hope that upon hitting his landing that a.) he didn’t get the shit shocked out of him by the unsuccessfully shorted electromagnetic field or b.) get blown to hell.

Though, what did happen wasn’t completely pain free.

Jinx landed hard. His boots producing the screeching sound of metal on metal when the bottom of them scraped the steel frame of the blast bot as he tried to get his footing. Upon this scramble to not fall to his death, Jinx burned his arm on the super heated metal of the bot’s twin barrels. And though he hadn’t felt it full on yet, he’d just gained a nasty gash on his left side from a jutting peace of armor. All this aside, he still hadn’t been electrocuted or blown to bits. It had always been the smalll victories that meant the most.

The bomb’s detonation mechanism wasn’t synched in with the electric field.

Jinx clicked his tongue and grinned in triumph. Okay, sure it was a little premature. Sure, he didn’t have time to be celebrating as he only had less than ten minutes to get this behemoth open and defused, but he had been right and he quite enjoyed being right.

You could always count on the un-enterprising minds of the Krimzon Guard-- mechanized or no. If he had built this bad boy the field would have most definitely been synced with the detonation. But there was no sense in griping over something that was going to make his job easier.

Jinx inched a around the side of the bot and found that the control panel was ridiculously poorly hidden. He figured that the KGs didn’t think there was much point to hiding it when you couldn’t get within five feet of the damned death machine without getting the hell shocked out of you, blown to dust, or shot full of holes. Using every bit of his nonexistent flexibility to not only stay on the damned thing but also reach into his backpack and get a fucking screwdriver, he opened the panel. Jinx rolled his shoulders back like he wasn’t dangling 20 feet off the ground and groaned. He was definitely going to feel all this in the morning.

But he couldn’t help feeling a little giddy. After weeks of tracking these damned things he was finally going to see what these babies were made of. A satisfied grin stretched his face as the first rays of yellow eco peeked through. He hardly even noticed that the bot had stopped it clumsy scuttling and had begun its second stage assault--shooting those annoying little defrag bombs out in random directions.

Hopefully, those babies were rigged in with the big boy’s detonation otherwise he’d totally be up the creek.

He had to admit, he was more than impressed when he finally realized how the whole boom bit of big boy was set up. He would almost admit to it being… ingenious. The yellow eco in side was half frozen. Which meant at one point it had been completely frozen. There was a heating mechanism that melted and then boiled it to the perfect temperature until it combusted in waves of heat and lovely destructive energy.

Jinx almost sighed.

It was a beautiful fucking thing.

It was a damned near perfect timer.

Luckily, Jinx had been prepared even for this scenario. Yellow eco didn’t just freeze just because you dropped the temperature. This state required that you add something to the substance…contaminate the mixture. But in order to refreeze it-- thusly defusing the boom bit of the bot-- all he’d need to add was a little ammonium nitrate.
It all came down to a simple endothermic reaction.

After getting the newly frozen block of yellow eco out and secured in another container the timer was unless. In response, the mini bombs died in a pathetic display as the irritating beeps fizzled into nothingness.

There was a cautious silence for a moment as the Freedom Guards filed out from their hiding places, stopping to stare in shock.

“Okay, boys.” Jinx grinned down at them from his perch atop his new tamed toy. “Let’s pack this baby up,” he said and he knocked on the lifeless mass of metal. It was then that the behemoth collapsed taking Jinx down with it.

The FGs snorted and broke into a bout of half cheers and rowdy laughter.

They were a bunch of ungrateful bastards.

~oo0oo~

They were both lying back on the bed staring up at Jinx’ cracked ceiling, their legs dangling off the end.

“You’ve gotta be drunk.” Jak mused, thinking there was no way that a sober Jinx would have included that last bit in his grand tale.

Jinx turned his head and muttered. “What was that?”

Jak smirked, “I said that blast bot was full of yellow eco?”

“Yeah,” Jinx said. “S’not the good stuff though. Didn’t see no need to keep it. So I passed the savings on to you and Commander Pussy-Whipped.” He added with a chuckle.

Jak snorted, trying in vain to hold back a bark of laughter. “How’d you know that?” This was definitely not a normal response for Jak, even the teenager was aware of it, but he just wanted to know was all. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was suddenly so interested in knowing more about Jinx besides what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure why Jinx’ knowledge of yellow eco had suddenly become so fascinating.

“Know what?” Jinx yawned. The alcohol was burning its way out of his system leaving him feeling sleepier and sleepier by the moment.

“That the yellow eco wasn’t any good?”

Jinx didn’t answer right away; this of course piqued Jak’s interest even more.

“I dunno.”

“But how’d you know the difference? You test it or something?”

“No.” Jinx was starting to sound annoyed… tired and annoyed. “What’s with all the questions, Blondie?”

Jinx had turned over on his belly, giving Jak a nice view of his ass. He’d never really been interested in asses much before but suddenly he was having a change of heart for some reason. But Jinx’ very interesting ass aside, there was something else drawing his attention now, something written on the small of Jinx’ back. Jak had reached out had grabbed the man’s belt before he knew it, pulling up his shirt further to get a better look. It was a tattoo, an odd collection of letters and numbers. Jak ran a finger over the raised skin not even noticing the shudder this brought. Jinx settled back down in to the mattress, sighing contentedly and looked back at him over his shoulder.

“Don’t tease, Pretty-Boy.” Jinx looked almost pained.

“What does it mean?” Jak asked innocently.

Jinx crawled up further on the bed and turned back over, settling down and getting comfortable.

The sound of empty boots hitting the floor of the ratty apartment was almost loud enough to make Jinx wince. Moments later, the bed shifted as Jak made his way up. Soon he was leaning over Jinx, who was just too tired to care.

Jak just wondered why it had suddenly become so necessary for him to be closer to the other man.

“Hmm?” Jinx smiled sleepily.

“What does the tattoo mean?” But Jak’s eyes were more focused on something else at the moment. He pressed his gloveless palm against Jinx’ right shoulder, fingers lightly tracing the ring of indentions that had failed to heal much in the last few days. In doing so, something heavy settled in his chest. He was strangely proud that Jinx was still wearing the proof of their last encounter. This pride was quickly turning into something else however-- something warm and tingling and slowly making its way down.

Jinx chuckled. “Something tells me you don’t really want me to answer that right now, Pretty-boy.”

Jak’s curious hand was already working its way underneath Jinx’ shirt. The older man arched shamelessly into the touch. Jak smirked. Oh, how the tables had turned.

goosie_fics @ 2006-05-02T01:49:00

2006-05-02T06:54:04Z

Fandom: CSI
Title: Hot-n-Spicy Strawberry Cheesecake
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Nick Stokes/David Hodges
Warnings: Crack!fic. Mpreg. Spoofiness. Run. Now. While you still can.
Status: One-shot (sequel potential)
Summary: “Nicky, sweetheart… men don’t get pregnant.”
A/N: I’m a horrible person and I don’t deserve to live. *laughs* But seriously, everything about this is wrong but hopefully it’s funny enough to make up for it. I just could not resist getting David Hodges pregnant. C’mon! You know you want to read this. Though, I’m disturbed that I seem to have written this as a Nick/Hodges fic and not a Greg/Hodges fic. I blame helena_eternal. Yep, all her fault.

It had been a calm, quiet night in the morgue--as most nights in the morgue were. David Phillips hummed to himself as he washed the body in front of him. Sara had been by earlier and that was always nice and it even seemed as though he might get to leave earlier than usual. Of course, that was perfectly alright with him too.

Yep. Everything was calm and peaceful. No surprises tonight. Nope. Not a one. Though, this only lasted until David Hodges--y’know that rude guy from the trace lab--barged through the door looking like he had a mountain lion in his heels. When the older man caught sight of him he immediately straightened up, however.

“Phillips.” He said offering a tight nod.

“Hodges.” David P. said just as stiffly as he raised a brow.

“Doc around?” The other David asked glancing around the corner.

The lab tech almost looked anxious about something.

“No. He’s gone for the night.” D.P. replied. “I’m just finishing up here and then I’ll be heading out too.”

“Oh.” David nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, rocking slightly on his heels. “Well. Fine then.”

And with another curt nod Hodges was gone.

“Well… that was strange.” David Phillips sighed and went back to his work.

*******

[8 weeks, 2 days]

“Nicky!”

“C’mon Cath. It’ll just take a minute. Promise.”

“Okay. Okay, fine! What going on?”

Catherine Willows had just been on her way out. It was the end of shift and she wanted nothing more that to go home, kiss her daughter good morning and crash. But the expression on Nick Stokes’ face was enough to tell Catherine that what ever he’d practically dragged her across the hall for was important…

“Okay…Well…”

…and juicy if the blush the man was sporting was any indication. Catherine raised an elegant brown in question.

“Catherine.” The sigh was rather dramatic. “Don’t look at me like that, alright? This is embarrassing enough without you giving me the Griss brow.”

“Sorry, force of habit.” She hadn’t been able to help the grin though. “Now come on, spill!”

Nick was slightly disturbed to see the piranha gleam in Catherine's eyes turn on him instead of your randomly-placed lab flunky. But nonetheless, he took a deep breath and glanced around the empty conference room before he turned back to her and looked her straight in the eye. “How did you know you were…” He frowned suddenly as if he didn’t want to say the word. “Expecting…y’know, with Lindsey?”

Blue eyes widened of their own accord and Nick groaned.

“Cath.”

“Wow… wait, I’m just surprised. I mean you do have sisters right? I’m just a little… I don’t know…” She really hadn’t meant to laugh. She quickly adopted a more serious expression to cover it up. “Nick, have you potentially knocked someone up?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here, alright. Can we not go there just yet? Please?” He really looked stressed about the whole thing. “Just… how did you know?”

“Well,” she began, trying to take the situation seriously. “There are these things called pregnancy tests, Nick.” She narrowed her eyes at the other CSI. “Your parents really didn’t explain this to you?”

“Yes, of course… God. We’ve already…” Nick groaned, drawing a hand over his face.

“Look, Nicky...” She really shouldn’t have had to have this conversation with a grown man. It was just wrong. “If you’re not happy with the situation maybe you and your lady friend should’ve…”

“Ha! Lady friend…” Nick barked out a breathless laugh before Catherine could finish. “Oh if only it were that simple.”

Nick forced the frown off his face, but his expression was still all business. “We’ve done the pregnancy test thing already.”

“And?”

“And it was positive.”

“Well there you have it.”

“Cath, look, it’s impossible!” Nicky seemed to be pretty adamant about this fact.

“Well it would seem that it actually is possible, Nick.” Cath said firmly. Although, she couldn’t believe Nick was behaving like this. She’d always taken him for a stand-up kind of guy. The type that would accept a child even if it wasn’t his own just to keep the mother happy, but this… “Look, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted to hear Nick but…”

“No you don’t understand. There’s no way that…” Nick sighed in defeat and collapsed in the nearest chair. “This isn’t happening,” he half muttered to himself.

Okay, she was worried now. She took the seat closest to her colleague. “Nicky… c’mon. Really this is not the end of the world. Don’t you want kids?” When she didn’t get a response she trudged on. “Look, if you don’t believe the test go to a doctor for Christ’s sake!”

“He’ll never go to a doctor.” Nick moaned.

“Then…”

Time frozen for just a few moments then and for once Catherine Willows was speechless. “Wait… What?! Did you just say he?”

“…”

“Nicky! My god… are you?” Catherine could barely contain herself. “What did your parents tell you exactly?!”

“I’m being serious here, Catherine!”

The look on Nick’s face was almost enough to convince her. Well, if the mere idea of a male being pregnant weren’t absolutely ridiculous it would have. She hadn’t even had the time to process the fact that Nick Stokes was apparently engaging in sex with said male.

“Nicky, sweetheart… men don’t get pregnant.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He hissed.

Catherine was at a complete loss. She opened her mouth, closing it again when words continued to fail her.

“Look, I know guys don’t get pregnant. But apparently this guy’s body doesn’t know that. I just… I don’t know. But he’s sick all the time and he’s been having these… mood swings… so as a joke I brought home a pregnancy test and he took it just to spite me and it came back positive and I just… I don’t know what the hell is going on!”

“You’re being serious?”

“Yes! God… look, just forget I said anything, okay.” He stood up heading for the door.

“Nicky, wait…wait!” She was going to tell him that maybe there had been some mistake. Maybe whatever had this mystery guy of Nick’s so sick could have made the results of the test funky. Maybe she should even suggest that they should take another one to be sure… she couldn’t believe she was even considering humoring him on this. It was just impossible.

The dark haired man turned around with an exasperated sigh. “Look, its fine if you don’t believe me. I don’t believe me. It’s cool. We’ll figure this out. Just… keep this between us okay?”

Catherine was completely dumbfounded. “Uh… alright.”

“Thanks.”

She watched as Nick walked out the door.

“Good luck.”

*******

[8 weeks, 6 days]

“Positive.”

He picked up another. “Positive.”

Nicky sighed. “David…”

There was a snicker to the left of him, barely contained chuckles.

“Positive.”

The other man finally exploded into undignified hysterical laughter.

“David!” Nick groaned.

*******

[10 weeks, 6 days]

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Otay… why are you in here agan?”

“How is it possible that I’m the last person in the lab to know?!”

David removed the bloody tissue from his nose before speaking this time. “Seriously, Jacqui, this is the Men’s room.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” She said narrowing her eyes at him. “I don’t care about that right now.”

“I think Dawson over there might mind.” David said motioning to the blond over at the urinals.

Bobby Dawson looked over his shoulder at the two of them before waving and smiling at Jacqui. “Hey Jacqui, I’ve been trying to catch up with you all day. Funny meeting you in here, though…” he raised a brow. “…actually.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Well I think I found a print on that gun Sara brought in…”

“Can you two not do that here?!”

Bobby and Jacqui stopped to stare at David.

“Do what?” The ballistics tech asked innocently, still taking care of his business.

“Look, Bobby, the woman here might not know any better, but this is the Men’s room.” David began, “You know there’s no talking in the Men’s room. And especially no eye contact.”

Bobby rolled his eyes at the man before zipping up.

“Says the pregnant man,” Jacqui scoffed. “That’s rich!”

David glared at the woman before turning back to the mirror to tend to his bloody nose.

Bobby walked over to the sinks and washed his hands.

“Has it stopped yet?” Jacqui asked. She sighed rolling her eyes and offered up some clean tissue.

“My sister used to get nose bleeds all the time when she was pregnant. Never knew why. Just figured it was a pregnant thing.” Bobby said trying to be helpful.

“A pregnant thing?” David asked raising a brow.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“Well, hell Jacq,” David said wide eyed. “What did you think happened? I swallowed a basketball or something?”

Bobby un-expectantly burst into a fit of guffaws. “Well David it’s possible that swallowing…”

David paused to give the man a warning glare.

Jacqui snorted. “I thought you’d just let yourself go. I mean c’mon. It’s not like you’re a woman or anything. Pregnancy was the last thing I was thinking.” She laughed.

“I was just surprised you were actually getting any.” Bobby offered with a grin.

David gasped in outrage, violently tossing his soiled tissue in the trash. “I don’t have to stand here and take this abuse!” He said leaving the restroom. “I have work to do!”

“Don’t be like that, David!” Jacqui called after him barely keeping her laughter in check. “It’s not good for the baby! At least let me cop a feel!”

Bobby, of course, failed to keep his chortles under control.

*******

[15 weeks, 1 day]

The staring was getting just the littlest bit uncomfortable… for both of them.

“C’mon, Ish…” Nick sighed.

“I’m sorry,” the young woman said, her dark eyes shiny with mirth. She turned back the equipment she was fiddling with. “Sorry. I just know how much David hates it. I’ll have everything set up in a second, alright.”

“Thank god.” David grumbled.

Nick couldn’t blame David for being antsy. David was always antsy. His current… condition hadn’t helped much with this ailment. He couldn’t even blame Ish for staring. She was about to give her first sonogram. And it didn’t help matters that she would be giving her first sonogram to a man. A pregnant man.

“You know my professor is gonna have my ass if he finds out about this.”

“Think of it as extra credit,” Nick offered. “He can’t fault you for that.”

“Why me, anyway? I’m kicking Terrance’s ass.” She muttered. “I’m not even a doctor.”

“Close enough, woman. Now can we get this over with sometime before this kid goes off to college?” David moaned.

The UNLV pre-medical laboratory probably wasn’t the ideal place to take David for his prenatal check ups but Ish was a cool girl. She amazingly took the whole situation in stride. And she at least seemed to have an idea of what the hell she was doing.

“You do realize that when you go into labor you’re going to have to go to an actual medical facility.” Ish informed. “Y’know… with real doctors. Just an idea. If living is important to you and all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nick said. “We got ya.”

“Good. I’m not cutting on anyone without a license. I’m too pretty to go to jail.”

“Yada yada yada. Show. On the road.” David said motioning to his exposed stomach.

“Was he like this before you knocked him up?” Ish frowned. “Cause god, how could you even stand him long enough to…”

“Hey!”

“Alright, alright Mr. Stokes.” She cackled. “Down to business.”

It took a minute but Ish finally figured out was she was looking at enough to inform the two men.

“Ah, there we go. Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Nick, who had been previously in awe of the image on the monitor, turned to the other man in shock.

“What did you think it was, David?”

“I was still holding out for a tumor.”

“How touching.” Ish deadpanned.

*******

[22 weeks, 4 days]

About halfway into the shift and Greg found himself in the trace lab helping with the back log. Thus was the life of the only CSI level one on the team. When the nights were slow he often found himself back in the lab running his team mate’s evidence. Tonight he didn’t mind so much, actually. Besides he could never pass up a chance to tease Hodges.

The fact that the trace technician was waddling around the lab only made the situation all the more appealing. Greg could barely keep his snickering under control. It was just so surreal. Seriously, Hodges couldn’t really blame him right? The glare the man turned to give him said otherwise.

“What are you laughing at?”

The blond sobered up but he couldn’t hide his grin. “You.”

“Fuck off, Sanders.” Hodges growled. “I’ve gotten enough wise cracks from everyone else the last few weeks to last me a lifetime. Don’t you start too; I’m too tired to put up with you right now.”

The grin was immediately wiped off at the sound of David’s tone. The last bit had sounded so…worn. Now that he was thinking about it, Greg had noticed that the trace tech had been looking a little more run down than usual.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He was genuinely concerned now. Though, the two of them had never come out and admitted it, they were friends now. And Greg would never intentionally do anything to hurt David, especially not now when he was in such a vulnerable state. He’d just been joking after all. He had hoped to make David feel like everything was normal despite the abnormal circumstances. “Um… I mean… you have been seeing a doctor right?”

Hodges sighed and continued staring down his microscope. “As if Stokes would let me not see one,” he said with a sneer.

Greg smiled at that. It’s good that Nicky was looking out for his overly stubborn friend. But he’d expect no less from Nick of course. “Hey Dave…”

Before Greg could finish his thought, David shocked him by stopping cold. His blue eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and Greg immediately rushed over to the other man.

“Whoa! Hey, hey… you alright Dave?!”

The look on David’s face was indescribable. “Uh… yeah… sure. I… I’m… fine.”

Greg couldn’t help but be little skeptical after all that, the look on David’s face had yet to fade. “What... was that?”

“It… just moved.” He muttered staring down at his stomach.

Greg’s eyes brightened immediately putting two and two together. “Yeah? Seriously?!” His hands were on Hodges’ stomach before he thought twice about it. “I wanna feel!”

“Sand…” The indignant snarl died in Hodges’ throat when he felt the little bundle of joy move again, Greg’s mouth to dropped open in shock.

“Oh… oh… wow.” Greg started, grinning madly. “There really is something in there!”

“No, Greg. It was all just a clever ruse. I actually just swallowed a watermelon seed.” Hodges said rolling his eyes.

Greg was still smiling like a mad man, until he suddenly realized his hand was still on Hodges’ belly and quickly removed it. “I mean… whoa! This is soooo cool! I’m really gonna be an uncle!”

“Yeah. Cool,” David deadpanned before turning back to his work. “And who said you were going to be an uncle?”

Greg completely ignored David’s statement, grinning anyway. Even if David could refuse him Nick couldn’t. His face suddenly turned serious as another thought hit him.

Hodges had to have eyes in the back of his head. “What?”

“I mean I know this whole thing is breaking all the laws of nature and science… and… everything but… there has still gotta be…” He sighed. “I mean…” He tried again motioning toward Hodges’ protruding belly. “Where… exactly… is it? Y’know… in there.”

Turning around, Hodges smirked at him humorlessly. “Oh, that’s the fun part.” His smirk grew to a tight grin. “It would seem that for yet another unexplained reason I’ve grown a uterus.”

Greg just stared, though none of this should have really shocked him at this point.

“Same thing I said.” Hodges finally said, turning back to his work. “Do yourself a favor Sanders, don’t ever have hot, kinky sex with Nick Stokes. No… wait. Please do, so that you may share my pain.”

Greg stared a little while longer before grinning evilly.

Hodges’ eyes were still focused on the task at hand; he didn’t even turn to acknowledge Greg’s expression. “I can feel you grinning behind me Greg. I’m serious. I’ll set Nick and his super sperm upon you. You’ll rue the day.”

“Yes, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of ruing on my part.” Greg chuckled. “It’s just…Are you lactating Hodges?”

David nearly dropped the evidence he was processing.

“Get out of my lab!”

*******

[26 weeks, 2 days]

The ride back from the crime scene was surprisingly uncomfortable. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that Warrick was staring at him…grinning. Nicky frowned.

“Cut it out man.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Seriously, cut it out.”

“C’mon man.” Warrick grinned wider. “You actually expected me not to tease the hell out of you about this?”

“Well, yeah.” Nick sneered. “Besides, grown men don’t tease.”

Warrick just continued staring and grinning. All that was missing now was a monocle and the sharp teeth.

“Rick!”

“You… got Hodges…pregnant.” Warrick was barely containing his amusement at this point.

“Shut up!”

“I always knew there was something strange about that guy, but man!”

“That’s it! You’re walking.”

Warrick cackled. “You’re even having sympathy mood swings!”

*******

[30 weeks, 3 days]

Seven months along and the cravings had finally kicked in. Of course the morning sickness had only just worn off. He’d been informed by various members of the opposite sex that this wasn’t completely normal. But Hodges was just so happy he was able to eat anything at all without it making a surprise reappearance that he didn’t quite care what the hell it actually was. He was on his lunch break sitting with Greg and enjoying a few hot wings dipped in a strawberry cheesecake. Greg, being new to this whole pregnancy thing, was appalled at Hodges’ happy munching. David, of course, noticed this development.

“What?”

“Um... that's gross.”

“Shut up!” The trace tech tried his best to make it seem like he didn’t care, but Greg couldn’t help but notice that the man’s munching had become less than enthusiastic.

“Geez, someone’s testy today,” Greg muttered. “Thank god I didn’t knock you up.”

Hodges looked up in utter outrage. “I thought we’d agreed to never speak of that time again, Greg.”

“Aww… c’mon, Dave.” Greg turned to give him a lecherous grin, waggling eyebrows and all. “You know that one night with Greggo and you’re never the same. I’m surprised you’re able to keep from driving over to my house in the middle of the day and begging for some of that…”

“What’s up Greg? Hodges?” Warrick greeted, pausing as he made a beeline for the fridge to notice the tech’s lunch. “What the hell are you eating?

“Can’t a pregnant man enjoy a little cheesecake and hot wings without all the drama?”

Greg smiled, “Sure, if it wasn’t completely disgusting and completely abnormal.”

“Look, I can’t help it.” The expecting male said as he pointed to his swollen tummy. “It’s this thing. It wants what it wants. I gave up fighting it months ago.”

Warrick plopped down at the table with his lunch. “Thing?” He asked with a grin of his own.

Hodges just stared at him like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah, thing. You aren’t really under the impression that this is a human child are you?”

Warrick snorted before bursting into brief bout of laughter. “As strange as this whole thing is. Yes. I had considered that child growing inside you to be human. I mean it is Nick’s. Right?”

Hodges glared in the man’s direction as he dropped a bare chicken bone back on his plate. “And after all…” He began as he once again motioned to his protruding belly, “…this, you still think that Stokes is human?”

Greg chuckled before he but in, “Hey man. You're the one with the uterus. You're looking like the suspicious one here.”

“I didn't have a uterus before!” Hodges clarified.

“How do you know?” Warrick snickered. “Does your doctor make it a habit to check for a uterus? That would have to mean they expected you to be some kind of freak of nature or something.”

Greg suddenly adopted a professional tone. “Ah Mr. Hodges, good news: the tests show you’re all clear when it comes to STDs and such but it would seem that you have randomly grown a uterus. Now don’t you fret we’ve been preparing for this day for quite some time now and I’m sure that you’ll be able to manage it. Let’s just get you set up here with a prescription for birth control and have you on your way.”

Warrick nearly fell out of his chair laughing, prompting Hodges to send a murderous glare in both their directions. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much Sanders. I’d be careful about the coffee I drink from now on if I were you.” Sadly, Greg didn’t seem at all phased, as usual. “Anyway, I'm telling you. It's Stokes' fault I have a uterus! He's an alien or something.”

Greg nearly choked on his soda laughing and Warrick hung his head and grinned. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

Hodges just calmly began to suck and lick each finger clean. Greg was just about to add a few more comments but Nick’s unexpected entrance threw him off. The suspicious quiet made the Texan wary.

“O. K. What did I miss?”

Hodges just looked at the man and went back to innocently licking his fingers clean.

“Oh nothing,” Greg smiled, “Just Hodges here telling me and Warrick about how you chose him to be the vehicle in which you are to perpetuate your alien species.

“Yeah.” Warrick smirked. “You Martians must be hard up for tail, man.”

“Oh god, David. Not the alien theory again.” Nick shook his head but his grin gave away his amusement.

“Well why not?” Hodges said calmly. “It’s true isn’t it?” He looked up at Nick from between narrowed lids. “And besides, Brown,” he said, turning to the other man, “It’s not like you can blame Nick and his race for choosing me after all.”

Greg snorted at that, “Yeah sure. Who wouldn’t bet the continuance of their very gene pool on a bitter, middle aged gay man? I mean c’mon. The logic in that is flawless.”

Warrick howled with laughter.

Hodges gave Greg yet another death glare. “When this thing is born I’m siccing it on you first, Fun-boy.”

Nick sighed and took a seat next to David. “Alright guys, enough of this. I’m not an alien…”

“It’s okay if you are, Nicky.” Greg took on a solemn expression. “We’re your friends. We’d love you no matter what.”

“Greg!” Nick laughed. “The baby can hear you,” the dark haired man said as he reached over to rub Hodges’ tummy and completely ignored the other man’s fierce look.

It was brief however, being that David was unable to resist the chance to correct anyone. “Actually that’s not true…”

“Reading up, are we?”

The four men were startled out of their conversation by the entrance of Gil Grissom. The man had apparently been listening in on their conversation for while now if the grin was any indication. But he didn’t comment directly on it.

“That’s very responsible of you Hodges. Nick, you should probably be reading up too.”

“Wait a minute; did you just compliment David, Griss?” Greg said grinning insanely.

Gil paused a minute seemingly thinking it over. “Well… I guess I did.” He finally said.

David’s reaction was completely unexpected. It began as a barely audible sniffle. And before anyone knew it the man was up on his feet and fleeing the room faster than any man carrying that many extra pounds should with a half sobbed excuse.

The four remaining men stared at each other dumbly.

“Whoa,” Greg said simply, having finally found the words the others couldn’t.

“Those hormones are a bitch, huh, Nicky?” Warrick snickered. “Oh yeah,” he added and reached over to pat his friend on the back. “Congratulations, man.”

Gil chuckled.

*******

[34 weeks, 4 days]

He was in his eight month when he had picked up the odd habit of walking around the house completely naked. It had been a bit of a shock, but at this point David Hodges didn’t really give a damn about what shocked Nick Stokes or not.

On a good day David could be convinced to at least where a pair of pajama bottoms. Luckily for Nick it happened to be one of the good days. David was currently toddling around the house eating a bowl of Spaghetti-Os (to his unending shame) and crushed Oreo cookies (to Nick’s unending disgust). His wandering had led him to the bedroom and passed Nick’s open closet—an open closet that contained a full length mirror on its door.

What kind of self respecting man had a full length mirror in his closet anyway? It only reminded David of how much of a whale he’d become. The male tilted his head to the side, taking in the image of himself bare foot and pregnant. He nearly laughed out loud.

Even after eight months, it was still just completely ridiculous.

He turned to the side to get a better view. And that’s when he noticed that he had an audience.

“Aww don’t frown like that,” Nick said, grinning. “I think you’re adorable.”

The spoon stopped half way to David’s mouth, the man’s jaw dropping at any suggestion that he, a grown—albeit pregnant—man could be anything pertaining to adorable.

“Are you high?” David said dropping the spoon carelessly into his bowl. “I’m a land mass. If you look outside you’ll see a group of people carrying flags in hopes of claiming me in the name of their respective nations.”

Nick just grinned and suddenly there were a pair of warm hands on David’s ridiculously large belly and a stubbly chin on his sholder.

“You don’t have to worry about them,” Nick murmured.

“You’re not going say something sappy about how you’ve already claimed me are you?”

“See, look at that. You’re reading my mind. That’s proof that we’re meant to be together.”

David just rolled his eyes and took another bite of his dinner.

“That’s really disgusting Dave.”

“Tell that to your spawn.”

*******

[36 weeks, 6 days]

“So. What’s it like?”

Honestly, David Hodges really had no clue why Sara Sidle was in his living room. Sitting on his couch, watching him sitting in Nicky’s recliner watching Jeopardy or whatever the hell was actually on television. He vaguely remembered her saying something about a belated baby shower gift (as if he had actually let Jacqui go through with such a ridiculous thing) when he’d opened the door for her.

David just turned to the woman and raised a brow. Sara, being the intelligent woman that she was, took this as proof that she should elaborate.

“Y’know,” she said, motioning to his midsection (Why they all did that when referring to the apparent human child in his newly grown uterus he did not know. As if he wasn’t aware that he was pregnant.), “Being…with child?”

“Eh,” David replied. “Apparently you get fat, eat weird food concoctions that would normally turn your stomach, the smell of eggs makes you nauseous and you get gifts that people claim are for you but are a few sizes too small.”

“Ah.”

David turned off the television and looked to her with a bored expression. “Wanna buy me food?”

Sara smiled. “Sure.”

*******

[38 weeks, 4 days]

“David!”

He’d never seen Greg’s eyes so big. “You’re…like… crushing my arm.”

David just stared. He was gritting his teeth and doing his damnedest to keep some dignity in this completely undignified situation and all Greg could complain about was his arm. The man didn’t know true pain. True pain was having some alien life form (he didn’t care what Nick said, there was no way he wasn’t an extraterrestrial) try to claw it’s way out of your abdomen.

“Ow…ow…owww. David please!”

“Fine, girly-man.” Hodges bit out releasing Greg’s arm. “Where the hell is Nick?!”

“Yes, let’s find Nicky,” Greg said finally getting David in the car and closing the door. The younger man shot around to the other side and jumped in. “He’s the one you should you be directing you labor-induced rage at, anyway.”

*******

[38 weeks, 4 days, 1 minute, 13 seconds]

“Stokes.”

”Nicky!”

“Greg? Hey! What’s up…”

”Look ya gotta…

There was then the sound of the phone on the other end being snatched away and then the barely audible declaration of someone that was either extremely pissed or in a great amount of pain or both.

“Wha…who? David? I’m sorry honey, I can’t…”

”I said I’m going kill you then cut off your…”

“Oh, yeah okay! I’ll… I’ll be right there, okay! You’re on you’re way to the… David… calm… honey the baby can hear you. Yeah, okay babe… I’ll even bring you the knife… I am not patronizing you. Just… Don’t… um… just wait for me, okay!” Nicky was halfway out of the lab door before he thought to shout back to Catherine. “Oh… oh Cath I gotta…” he paused to point to the phone. “David, he’s…”

“Nicky. Go. Please.”

“Thanks!”

Catherine at least had the decency to wait until Nicky was out of ear shot to collapse into a fit of giggles.

*******

[38 weeks, 5 days, 4 hours, 26 minutes, 9 seconds]

“Oh. It’s you.”

David looked up from the little bundle snug in his arms only to find Greg Sanders standing at the door grinning.

“Hey there. So, I hear I’m the proud uncle of one of, in the words of Bobby Dawson, the most gorgeous little girls this side of the Mississippi. Hodges, man, how did you pull that off?”

“Har. Har. Sanders.”

David’s tone would have almost been convincing if he hadn’t been sitting in a hospital bed seemingly unable to take his eyes off his newborn daughter. It was too cute a scene for Greg to be even the least bit offended by the man’s words.

“Oh by the way, Dave,” Greg said whipping his digital camera out of nowhere. “Say Cheese!”

The flash was enough to startle the other man out of his reverie and glare at the grinning blond.

“I haven’t forgotten, Gregory. As soon as this kid can walk, it’s your doom.” David grinned sweetly, before immediately returning his attention to the little girl in his arms.

Nicky just stood off to the side of his newly formed family, his proud papa smile firmly in place. “C’mon Greggo, this is a blessed occasion. Enough with the wise cracks, besides, you can help us out here.”

Greg raised a suspicious brow. “How so… I mean she’s here already. I’m not cutting any umbilical cords.”

“No, no, man. All that’s taken care of.” Nick laughed.

Greg’s eyes widened suddenly as his smile became manic. “Owww…” The grin was then immediately replaced with a frown. He rubbed at his chin and struck a mobster-esque pose rattling off an impressive Don Corleone impression. “Do I get to be the godfather?”

“Oh dear god. We’re not really letting him be the godfather are we?”

“Hey, you wanted Jacqui and I was going for Warrick… Greg’s the middle man remember?”

Greg gasped in mock outrage. “I was a compromise!” But his cheeky grin was back moments later. “Hey I’ll take what I can get,” he said, scooting closer to the bed where Hodges and the baby were resting. “Let me see, let me see.”

“God, first Jacqui now you. I’m sure the kid’s tired of all these strange people gawking at her like she’s some attraction at a zoo.”

Greg pouted childishly. “Aww c’mon Hodges. Be a proud mama. Let me see the fruit of your and Nicky’s loins.”

David was unable to keep the horrified expression off his face as he pulled his child away from the other man’s wiggling fingers. “Don’t you dare speak like that in front of my child.”

“Hey now, you two you’re gonna scare her.” Nick tried to be firm but his smile was giving him away.

“Awww… she’s fine, Nicky. Isn’t that right?” Greg said reaching out to touch the girl’s soft brown hair. “You got Stokes and Hodges blood in you. This kid’s unshakable.” His grin turned into a more thoughtful expression. “Actually… What did you guys decide to name her?”

David rolled his eyes at that.

Nick just frowned. “Well, y’see, that’s the thing. We can’t seem to come up with anything.”

“That doesn’t make my ears bleed or mark the poor kid for life.” David added helpfully.

“Well, David, it’s not like you’ve even suggested anything.”

“Maybe you guys should just wait and see. Y’know, see what fits. She’s only a few hours old. Get to know her and see what name seems to suit her best,” Greg said as he was finally able to sneak the little girl from David’s grip.

“Great. So for now she’s just the Stokes-Hodges kid.” David griped.

“Stokes-Hodges? I was thinking more of Hodges-Stokes, Dave.”

David looked horror-struck. “What? What are you talking about? That doesn’t even flow properly. Besides I’m the one that carried her around inside of me for the last nine and a half months. I think I should get to decide what order her name’s in.”

“David, the mother’s name is never the last name. It’s traditional,” Nick argued.

“Nicholas Stokes, not only is that a gross untruth, look around, is there anything traditional about any of this? I, for one, am a man and you just referred to me as the mother of your child.”

“Well, David, you are.”

“And that is neither traditional nor normal, ” David replied.

Greg snickered.

“Okay. Okay fine. Stokes-Hodges it is.” Nick pouted.

“Oh god, don’t do that!”

“What?”

“That!”

During the course of this highly entertaining discussion Greg was able to wander off with little Miss Stokes-Hodges. But not before David gave him a momentary glare though seemingly allowed it.

“Don’t worry, kid, you got a pair of good guys to be your parents.” Greg said to the little pink bundle in his arms. “And look at that, you got your mom’s eyes kid.” He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially grinning all the while, “Lucky you.”

End.

goosie_fics @ 2006-05-02T01:46:00

2006-05-02T06:48:02Z

Fandom: Dragonball Z (Cell Games Saga)
Title: The Cursed Idle Mind and Bloody Instinct
Chapter Title: Ten (Eviserate)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Vegeta/Cell
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi, Violence, Eventual Porn
Status: 10/14
Summary: I decided to write this after I read a Cell/Vegeta fic somewhere that never got finished. I had never thought of such an odd pairing until then. But of course the author of that story made it seem oh so obvious as all ‘odd pairing’ fics should try and achieve. So I thought that maybe I should give my best shot as well. Seeing as these two arrogant asses are my favorite characters in all of DBZdome. So, without further ado…my very first Cell/Vegeta Yaoi fic. (Gods that just sounds so…wrong. *cackles*)

“You what?”

His voice had been so very calm. Much to his own surprise. Though he had never been one for letting his emotions get the better of him. Well, most of the time anyway. But what he’d just heard had most definitely pushed him to his limits. He’d almost fell completely from the sky.

“I said, I give up.”

Ok. He had not been mistaken. Though he did feel quite stupid at the moment. And he had thought that the man had had some sense. What exactly had he been thinking?

“And just what the hell does that supposed to mean?!”

Goku’s eyes widened in response, his face flushing red slightly, a confused expression flittering over his features.

“Um…it means that I give up, Cell. You win. I can’t beat you.” The Saiyan uttered slow and deliberately.

Well this was certainly anti-climatic.

“You can’t just give up, Goku.”

Cell’s tone had been one of barely contained annoyance. But the Saiyan couldn’t possibly expect him to take him seriously, could he?

“Why not?” Goku asked innocently. “Since you changed the rules, it became sort of a free-for-all, didn’t it? That means that the only way to lose is to die or concede defeat, right? Well then, I concede defeat.”

The android couldn’t help the growl that gurgled from his throat. Perhaps the man wasn’t so stupid after all.

“Fine… Goku. But since you insist on being such an utter coward, then you alone have the destruction of the Earth to bare on your shoulders.”

“Oh no, the tournament’s not over yet.” Goku quickly cut in.

To this the bio android scoffed accordingly.

“Who could possibly be a challenge to me now that you’ve turned tail and ran?”

An extremely uncharacteristic smirk graced the Super Saiyan’s face.

“Oh, I didn’t turn tail, Cell. I was just breaking you in.”

The android’s eyes widened a millimeter in a brief fit of outrage. But it quickly passed. Who in their right mind would be offended by such a fool as this?

“Breaking me in?” a smirk of his own. “For who pray tell? Trunks? Vegeta? Piccolo? Heh, none of them stand a chance against me. Even now, in my… slightly winded state.” A wicked grin.

“I’ll tell you. But… you have to promise that this match will be the last…No matter what. Whoever wins this round wins the tournament.”

What passed for an eyebrow on Cell’s helm covered head raised in response. But if Goku was promising someone even stronger than himself, how could he pass up the chance. Though where exactly this mystery fighter was going to appear from eluded him. Goku had never lied to him before though. Besides, what could it really hurt? He’d already proven that he could decimate this planet with merely a wave of his hand. He could afford a bit more playtime.

“Very well. I accept your terms, Goku.” Cell finally said. “Now stop stalling and tell me who this mystery savior is.”

The grin on Goku’s face was slightly disturbing. What was it with these Saiyans? Cell swore that he’d never understand them. But the icy chill that went up his spine could not have possibly been real.

He cut his sight to the cliff side. His eyes resting firmly on the flamed haired prince, he couldn’t help the grin.

“Are you worried, my dear Vegeta? Now, now, I told you. Nothing to fear.”

His perfect form was alive and buzzing with energy. He’d just fought one of the best battles in all his life and had bested the great Son Goku. And now he would even get the chance to test his skills further.

“Good, because if he loses, there’ll be nobody else who can beat you.” Goku said in return. “But I know after trying my hand against you… that he can beat you.”

“Humph…”

“That’s why I’m leaving it all…”

Goku turned to the cliff edge,

“To you… son!”

“Wha…”

“That’s right!” The Super Saiyan hero yelled. “You’re up Gohan!”

~oo0oo~

“Gohan?!”

Vegeta had never been privy to simultaneous screaming in his head before. And upon his first experience with it, he found that it was actually quite painful. That plus the horrendous screeching of everyone else that happened to not be his mate only made things worse for his poor ears. He’d have a headache for weeks after this day of hell.

While it did start off somewhat promising, the boy had shocked everyone with his power level, that idiot Kakarot hadn’t seem phased at all. Gohan’s ki was even stronger then his own, Kakarot’s even. It was unbelievable the amount of energy that was oozing out of the runt’s body.

But of course it all ended in disappointment. It always ended in disappointment.

The boy was weak. His human half had gotten the better of him.

~oo0oo~

For a few moments things has seemed promising. The behavior of these people only got stranger by the moment. Son Goku had offered up his own son. And to make things even odder he’d given Cell a senzu bean.

“Cell’s exhausted.” He’d told his bald little friend. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

“Indeed.” Cell scoffed as he watched the pile of rubble with lazy non-interest.

According to Goku, somewhere underneath that mess his son was still breathing. The boy had put up a descent fight despite all his flaws. But in the end, even after the impressive light show Son Gohan had been nothing but an absolute joke.

However, just as Cell was about to turn around and scream yet another challenge in Goku’s direction he was met with quite the surprise. Son Gohan. He was still breathing… Well would you look at that.

The battered boy seemed to be pretty steady on his feet. And he was even coherent enough to rattle off some nonsense about not wanting to fight him because he’d kill him. Yeah right. But he seemed to be pretty confident in the fact. He’d mentioned something about some supposedly incredible power that was lurking inside of him. And if he…Cell that is… was so desperate for a good fight then all he had to do was severely piss him… Gohan… off and he’d get it.

Do tell.

Well, now things were certainly getting interesting.

~oo0oo~

The torment had begun innocently enough, though nothing too out of the ordinary for the bio android. After an extremely lucky kick (the god of this pathetic planet must have felt sorry for the boy), he’d proceeded to trounce little Son Gohan. Even wrapping his arms around him and cracking a few of the boy’s ribs with one Piccolo’s favored techniques for good measure. But it seemed that all of it was in vain.

Son Gohan could not be reached that way. His own pain, while it would have been more then enough for Cell, it had not been quite as effective in pissing the eleven year old off.

Eleven years old. Cell had to scoff at the thought. The situation was laughable. He, the mightiest creature in the known universe, was fighting an eleven-year-old child. Utterly ridiculous.

But curiosity was apparently something not even the good Dr. Gero had taken into account during his creation. And it had certainly gotten the better of Cell. It didn’t matter though, even with this amazing power the boy spoke of there was no way in hell that he would stand a chance against him. But there was always the chance that the boy would put up a descent fight.

Anything was better then this travesty that he was being forced to suffer through now.

So after finally coming up with a particularly brilliant plan to get the real Son Gohan to show himself. Cell proceeded to scare the living day lights out of Goku’s little nose less friend (thank god he didn’t take after that midget) by snagging the bag of senzus right out his hand.

And of course the little half-breed had something to say about that. The boy talked too much if you asked Cell. But he’d put up with it… if he had too. He’d be silencing the little brat for good soon enough anyway.

“What are you doing?!”

Cell could only laugh at the youngster’s obliviousness.

“Isn’t it obvious, Gohan? I’ll do anything to see the power of your unleashed rage! As long as you bottle it up, your friends will suffer!”

“Please, don’t.” Gohan pleaded as he lay on the ground, nearly in tears.

Begging. How easy it was for him to get the child to beg him to stop. I mean, he had apparently been raised by weaklings. Sniveling cowards, every last one of them. Why would anyone be afraid to unleash their own power in fight?

“I…I don’t know how to control it myself!” the young Super Saiyan continued. “That’s why I can’t do it!”

As if he really gave a damn.

“…And that’s why I’m going to make your friends suffer.” Cell said annoyed.

Insert ridiculously slow battle charge here. Gods the boy was pathetic.

“If you’re going to get mad, do it for real!” Cell roared as he booted Gohan into the rumble he’d previously emerged from.

And that’s when it happened. Something totally unexpected, though Cell would have never admitted to it. He had been taken completely off guard. I mean, really, who in their right mind would have ever thought that Android 16 would have the nerve to pounce on him like some deranged affection starved teenaged human fan girl?

Well this was… embarrassing.

It seemed by the sound of things that everyone else was just as stunned as he was.

Oh gods and now he had to listen to that horribly droning voice up close and entirely too personal.

“Forgive me for sacrificing all of you!” The idiot android yelled. Even his words lumbered just as badly as he did. “I’ll have to blow myself up along with Cell!”

Just fucking great. Hadn’t he had to regenerate himself enough today? I mean when Goku had blown the top half of him off it had been a surprise to everyone that he’d been able to bounce back unscathed.

Hadn’t this idiot been watching earlier? He was going to kill all of…

Not a moment later Cell found himself staring up at the disturbingly smoke filled sky with a rather nasty crick in his neck. He sat up quickly of course trying his very best not to look around like an idiot and whip his head around rapidly trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

It was deathly silent and for just a moment he’d thought that Sixteen had actually gone through with it and blown himself up taking every one else with him.

~oo0oo~

It was as if everything within the span of those few minutes had happened in the style of one of those horrid action scenes in those stupid earthling movies. He’d not even had a chance to fully identify the feeling that had suddenly washed over him. All he could remember was that Kakarot’s brat had been getting his scrawny tail whipped by Cell. The bastard android had even come and snatched the bag of senzu beans right out of ol’ chrome dome’s hand.

That moment Vegeta remembered had been particularly amusing despite the circumstances.

The Saiyan prince also remembered that hunk of metal, Android 16 pulling the most idiotic move he’d ever seen in all his life. He’d surprised Cell and caught him in a bare hug. Then he started screaming about blowing himself up and taking everyone with him. Including Cell.

His mate.

Sigh

He should have known it would come to this.

If anyone was going to kill that arrogant son of an android bitch, it would be him.

Thus the world had flashed a blinding shade of red eventually ending with him standing down in the field of battle chugging for air and his head spinning. He glanced at the ground about him and found it littered with scraps of metal and computer chips. And there, lying not ten feet away was the head of the one who had dared even think of touching his mate. Before he knew it Vegeta was kicking the heap of scrap clear to the other side of the barren field of dust.

A sneer painted the royal face as he watched the decapitated cranium bounce off the side of the cliff and tumble to the ground. Finally, he turned his attention back to the stunned crowd.

Son Gohan sat on his knees gaping. The rest of Kakarot’s precious Z fighters weren’t fairing well either. Though, Kakarot himself had managed to keep his mouth closed a frown planted on his stupid face. None of their reactions fazed the small prince at all. Not even that of his own son. There was but one that had caused the barest flutter of emotion, the one belonging to his mate’s.

Cell looked upon him with a slight smirk.

An odd sort of pride lingered. He’d protected his mate. It was only natural.

“My hero.” Cell finally said a huge grin blooming on his pale face.

Vegeta found that he wasn’t upset about it in the least.

(to be continued…)

goosie_fics @ 2006-05-02T01:34:00

2006-05-02T06:40:11Z

Fandom: Jak and Daxter (Post Jak 3)
Title: Work
Chapter Title: Perfect Situation
Rating: PG-13
Paring: Eventual Jak/Daxter
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, OCs,
Status: 6/?
Summary: Set after Jak 3, so there will be spoilers. Jak learns that his best friend is not as happy as he seems and aims to change it. Only, the remedy comes at a higher price then Jak had originally realized. And with the presence of Haven’s supposed new hero, he finds that Daxter’s life is a lot harder then he could have ever imagined. (OC alert. Yaoi alert, in later chapters. Slightly AU.)

That familiar tingle was at the back of his neck. The one that told him that Daxter was sitting there behind him with a huge grin on his face. Jak looked up into the mirror in front of him and confirmed this inkling. Sure enough he found that Dax was in fact grinning. It was one of those odd little ottsel grins. The type that you couldn’t quite tell if it was teasing or appraising, Daxter often didn’t seem to distinguish between the two anyway. But this didn’t keep it from annoying the hell out of the blond.

Jak rolled his eyes.

“Whoa-ho-ho!” Daxter started. “Someone’s lookin’ migh--tee spiffy!”

Jak groaned.

“Oh, Little Miss Governess is gonna cream her pants when she sees ya in this get up, Big Guy!”

Daxter was trying his best to hold back his laughter but it didn’t seem to be panning out. Jak’s tolerance meter upped a notch.

“Shut up, Dax.”

There was a muffled snicker, “Oh cool it. I’m giving you a compliment. And what have we discussed about my giving you compliments, buddy?”

The blue eyes reflected back at him by the mirror narrowed, the owner’s lips pressing into a thin line. Dax waited.

Jak sighed, “Fine Dax, thank you.”

“That’s better.” The ottsel grinned in triumph. “Now… you got the sash all wrong!”

“It’s not a sash!”

But it was a pointless remark; Jak already knew his friend would just ignore him. Besides the ottsel was too busy balancing on his shoulder and adjusting his so-called ‘sash’ to pay him any attention at the moment.

“There, all dolled up for the ladies.” Dax laughed.

Jak chose not to comment as usual. But he did take time to scrutinize himself in the mirror. One thing he knew for sure was that he was glad he didn’t have to wear that armored monstrosity that the Freedom Leaguers used to sport during the war. There was no way he was putting on that stuff. He wouldn’t be able to move, let alone protect Ashelin.

It was more of the style that all the troops were wearing now. The thick leather armor padded material was a bit restricting but not more so than his precursor armor. He would make do. It was just for today anyway. And Daxter had already adjusted to the absence of his shoulder guard/perch.

Though the gloves were going to be a pain, he could already tell. He raised his hand up and stared at his dark gray clad palm and black covered fingers. Jak made a fist and then flexed his fingers, trying to loosen the material. He wasn’t used to having his fingers covered. It might pose a problem with his morph gun.

“It’s just a little leather. It won’t stop you from getting to the trigger in time, pal.” Daxter piped up. “Stop worryin’ so much. This is gonna be a cakewalk. Ain’t no disgruntled Havenites can hold a candle to the baddies we’ve faced, buddy boy.”

“I guess.” Jak groaned. “It’s just…” he fidgeted a bit with the collar of the uniform, “…uncomfortable.” He muttered.

He felt stupid complaining about clothing. He’d dealt with considerably worse discomfort. Try itchy, filth ridden prison clothes. Or sand filled boots and leather goggle straps super heated by the desert sun.

Speaking of goggles…

Jak reached for his beloved pair but was told off before even he got them from the bed.

“Nu-huh, buddy. Not part of the dress code.” Daxter chuckled. “Besides, they seriously clash. You’ll lose all that sexy ‘Man in Uniform’ appeal.”

Jak rolled his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Fine.”

“Good boy. Where would you be without me, huh?”

“Y’know,” Jak grinned. “I don’t think ottsels are a part of the uniform either.”

And with that the older boy plucked his squirming friend off his sholder and tossed him onto the bed.

“Oh no way, pal!” The ottsel screeched. “WE… were assigned this job! I’m comin’. You’d be lost out there without me anyway.”

Jak’s grin grew wider.

“Fine but if we’re gonna break dress codes we might as well go the whole nine yards.” He said as he swiped his goggles off of the bed.

Jak’s grin grew smug. He was damned smooth. And after sliding the goggles on in place, he admired the finished product in the mirror.

“I guess it’s not too bad.” He muttered.

Daxter sighed, “Bend, stretch… do something! It’ll loosen the leather some.”

Jak complied, wrenching his arm over the opposite shoulder and spreading out his legs.

“Touch your toes.”

Once again, Jak complied.

“Lovely view.”

“…”

Jak whipped his head around and glared at his friend, still bent over, but after seeing the look on the other’s face he quickly stood upright.

“Dax…”

Before he could get another word out, the sound of an electronic beep filled the small room.

“Hold that thought buddy boy.” Dax said with a wave of his finger and snicker.

The orange one scuttled off the side of the bed and began rooting through the pile of discarded clothes in the corner.

“Phew… make sure to wash these bad boys before you put them on again, huh, pal.” Dax said with a grimace.

Jak just glared.

Small furry fingers flew over the keypad of the communicator with practiced ease, typing in the familiar passcode. The device left his hands and floated in front them both miraculously growing more then four times its normal size.

“What’s taking you so long?” A gruff voice barked.

The static cleared a little more revealing the eternally annoyed face of Torn, who was abruptly shoved over to reveal a smirking Ashelin. There was a hoarse chuckle, Torn’s, as the comm device floated around circling Jak.

“Not bad.” Ashelin voice crackled over the unit.

“It’ll pass. But those goggles…” Torn began.

“Can stay.” The governess finished.

The brunet grunted and rolled his eyes. “Get a move on Jak, we don’t have all day.”

~oo0oo~

A sopping wet chunk of hair slid into his line of vision. Vergil sighed and pushed the strands of blond out of his way. He hated being wet just as much as he hated being cold. So as it was cold and raining out (well not exactly raining, more along the line of drizzling), one could imagine that he was not having the best of times.

Though, he might not have been as comfortable as he would have preferred, he was in a preferable position. Ever since that little excursion in the Wasteland he and his remaining teammates had been give a few C level assignments. It would seem that Commander Torn had been impressed that they had managed to live through it all and had decided that they deserved a bit more respect. Not much more respect, mind you, but it was nice that he and Davis weren’t getting stuck with the Strip Mine detail anymore (a D level assignment). Especially since Davis seemed to have no respect for the laws of nature and eco potency when introduced to defrag grenades.

Vergil gripped his gun a little harder in remembrance. But he did immediately regain control of himself. It wouldn’t do for him to fuck up the first semi decent assignment he’d been given in… Ever!

People always used to ask him why in the hell he’d asked to be paired up with Davis in the first place. Admittedly, at first it had been out of pity. The guy did happen to be one of the most loathed recruits in their whole squad. He had figured Davis just needed a partner that was willing to work with him and not yell at him every time he made a mistake.

If only Vergil had known what he was getting into ahead of time.

It had begun inconspicuously enough. There had been a hesitant knock on his dorm room door and he had opened it to find a shaggy haired, scrawny, excuse for a new recruit standing behind it.

Not that Vergil had been a veteran himself. He had only been in the Guard for about six months at the time. But Davis had just screamed green. He was pale and had a pair of sunken in emerald hued eyes that seemed too large for his face. Something about those damned raccoon’s eyes just screamed, “Take care of me!”

And Vergil had fallen for it. It didn’t help his resolve much either that the whole time the boy had been standing there, his ex-roommate/partner was pelting him with his own belongs and cursing his very existence.

He really should have known better.

From that day forth, Vergil’s career had continuously gone down hill. Being that he had quickly become Davis’ ‘longtime’ partner, he became synonymous with the other boy. When Davis did something stupid, his name went right along with it.

“Well, you should have stopped him, Vergil.”

“Well, you are his partner, Vergil.”

“You know better, Vergil, how could you let him do that?”

But they just didn’t understand. Davis was not one to listen to reason most of the time. Especially when he was worked up, which turned out to be most of the time. It was just his nature, Vergil learned soon enough.

Davis was just a bit… over zealous. That was all. He just was a bit too focused on proving himself. Unfortunately, so was Vergil. This, as to be expected, lead to some awesome clashes between the two.

They fought physically and quite a lot.

And though, Davis had never been able to win a match, Vergil was always the one that suffered the most because of them.

Vergil sighed, his head dropping down further, his long bangs sliding back over his face. There was a groan from the side of him and then a wet glove reached over to fumble with some at the back of his neck.

“These things come with those for a reason, Verg.”

The blond smirked and let the other pull the hood of his raincoat over his head. He turned to his right and all he could see of the hooded figure next to him were those damned raccoon eyes, the green irises darker than usual in the low light.

“We should be inside the mansion,” Davis grumbled. “That’s where all the action’s gonna be.”

“What makes you think there’s even going to be any action?”

Though, Vergil had to admit sitting on the roof of the government building, in the cold, across from the governess’ (formerly Count Veger’s downtown dwelling) was not his idea of being upgraded. There had not been anything to suggest that there was something brewing in the mix. Usually there were death threats before the governess had one of her big meetings. And there had sometimes been the occasional ill-fated assassination attempt. The last guy had been caught before he even left his house. But there hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary to warrant the need of all the Guardsmen placed around the perimeter.

She was just talking with the Wastelanders. What was the big deal? It was just a trade meeting right?

“Don’t be stupid, Verg. Something big is about to happen.” Davis muttered, eye focused on the building in front of them. “And we’re gonna miss all of it sitting up here in the rain like a bunch a’ idiots.”

Vergil sighed. If something big was about to happen it was probably best if Davis stayed right where he was.

~oo0oo~

Most of the time, it was just barely noticeable. He could clamp down on the odd twinge in his gut and push it aside. Stop his face from twitching that littlest bit before he or anyone else was the wiser. It was barely a thought anymore. Torn had become a master at this little game. But the longer he played it the more difficult it became to even care about his technique anymore.

Jak’s addition to it had not helped matters much either.

With a quiet sigh, Torn leaned back against the wall behind him and growled on cue when the rat said something stupid in his general direction. Fortunately for him however, Daxter was also more interested in the exchange going on between the lovely red haired governess and Jak.

Not that Jak ever said much, but it was more about what was going unsaid, the little things that to Torn’s complete frustration he could not help but notice.

Like her hand on his shoulder, the way she looked at him… that stupid blush of his.

Stop. It.

And it was gone. Sighted. Targeted. Fired upon and destroyed.

So Torn just cut his eyes in their direction, forced his mouth into a smirk and said something condescending. Kept up the act seamlessly or so he had thought. That was until the rat turned to him with one of those irritating little rodent grins.

“What’s with you, Tattooed Wonder? Nervous? A little bubble in yer guts?”

Torn clenched his teeth and turned his custom scowl on full force in the ottsel’s direction. But Daxter’s grin didn’t waver. It never did.

“I don’t have anything to be nervous about, rat. This place is as secure as it’s gonna get,” Torn sneered.

“Yeah, I saw your boys out there. Quite a few of ‘em too.” Dax said glancing over his shoulder. “As you well know there won’t be no need for ‘em, not with me and Jak here to save the day. Yep…” the ottsel went on as he smoothed down the fur on his arms.

“Am I right, buddy o’ mine?” Daxter said nudging his bony elbow into the side of Jak’s head before jumping onto the table in front of them. “We’ve taken on hordes of metal heads without the help of any Freedom Guard lackeys. Besides we dealt with crazy political types before. And y’saw what happened to the last guy.”

Off to the side of Torn, Samos groaned in annoyance. As per the usual, Daxter had just said something he disagreed with.

“We don’t expect Jak to do all the work, Daxter.” The sage said stepping forward and taking a seat. “It is about time this city began to take matters into its own hands. But it doesn’t hurt to have you here, my boy.” He nodded in Jak’s direction.

“Plus, the uniform suits you so well.” Ashelin smirked as she turned back to Jak and ran her hands over the green haired boy’s leather clad shoulder. “Maybe we can convince you to wear it more often.”

Torn sighed and rolled his eyes. It fit him well he had to admit. But Jak could wear rags and still look good.

“Uh… I don’t know.” Jak muttered. “I kinda like my old clothes better.”

Jak nonchalantly shifted his shoulder just enough to for Ashelin’s hand to leave it. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Torn had.

The tips of the tattooed man’s ears twitched. He heard Daxter move on the table. Heard the sound of the rat’s tail as it thumped once lightly against the metal. He saw the perking of the small ears.

The commander’s eyes narrowed and that smirk of his turned smug when Daxter skittered across the table and hopped onto the very shoulder Ashelin had been fondling. The ottsel leaning into the green-blond spikes of hair and nonchalantly twined his fingers in it, he went on chatting like nothing odd had happened.

But Torn had seen it all.

He’d seen the way Jak had tensed when Ashelin had touched him. That little twinge in his face, just as Daxter had.

It made him feel better that he wasn’t the only one that was a feeling a bit… overprotective.

Jak cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his uniform for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “I just want to get this over with. When’s Sig going to get here?”

~oo0oo~

The rain had stopped for the most part, but the sun still had not come out. It was still dark and gloomy out. The sparse grumbles of the other lower level soldiers were starting to grate on Davis’ very fragile nerves. He sighed loudly and glanced over at his partner.

Vergil slowly turned in his direction, storm gray eyes looking just as bored as Davis felt.

“Fine,” the older boy said flatly. “We’ll go.”

“Thank the fucking Precursors.” Davis muttered.

Sadly, it wasn’t difficult for the two of them to sneak away from their posts without their superior noticing. One of the main reasons for this was that they were new to this group and the commanding officer had not even bothered to learn their names let alone their faces. Also, most of all the others were too busy chatting quietly or dozing off to care what the two of them were doing anyway.

In silence they slipped over the side of building past a nodding guard and two others who sat and chatted of woman and booze. They walked past a few soldiers and barely tilted their heads in greeting and weaved between the traffic of the surprisingly many citizens that dared to venture out in such miserable weather.

“This is so fucking stupid!” Davis groaned. “Torn picked that group of rejects to watch the perimeter? They wouldn’t have noticed if the fucking building caught fire!”

Vergil said nothing as usual. It was pointless to interject during one of the other boy’s rants anyway.

“I told you all of the action was going to be inside. That’s where the boss put all the top guys. He’s expecting an inside job. I guarantee it!”

Vergil rolled his eyes but before he could open his mouth he found himself being pushed roughly to the side.

“What the hell?” The blond stumbled as he was shoved almost falling into a bunch of trashcans over by the alley.

“Hey! Watch where the hell you’re going!” Davis snarled, grabbing Vergil’s arm before he went down. “Fucking loon!”

Truthfully, neither of them had any idea of who to direct their rude comments to. The figure that had just shot in between them had been but a blur of dark cloth and it was gone before they had the chance to turn around.

“Forget about it,” Vergil said straightening up.

They both immediately turned to the building across the street from them.

“So what’s your brilliant lie this time?” he continued.

Davis laughed. “Just play along, alright.”

Once again Vergil rolled his eyes. With that they both made their way across the road and true to form the Elites were on them in minutes.

“What’s your clearance?” The first one said gruffly.

Even though his visor and mask Vergil could see that the man was annoyed. Davis’ reputation had once again preceded him. So the blond just waited to be found out. It was inevitable. There was no way they were going to get passed these guys. He cut his eyes in the direction of his partner, awaiting the expected wrong answer like the rest of the guards here.

“Um…” Davis started.

The Elite rolled his eyes.

“Well, lean in!” the dark haired boy said, his exasperation more than apparent. “You don’t expect me to yell it, do you? It’s top secret!”

“Fine!” he growled.

Davis leaned in close, “Alpha 157-92 Charlie Code 194. The ottsel sleeps at midnight but not unless he’s had his whiskey.”

“Entry granted.” The Elite begrudgingly said and stepped to the side.

Vergil gaped but was grabbed and dragged inside before any of the Elite guards could notice.

The sound of the front door closing behind them was like a death sentence.

“You’re going to get us killed.” Vergil muttered numbly. “How the hell did you do that?!”

“Shh!! You’re making us look like rookies!” Davis growled. “And I’ll tell you later.”

“We are rookies!” Vergil whispered harshly. “And you’ll fucking tell me now! How the hell did you do that?”

“Knox.”

“Knox?”

“Knox.” Davis nodded.

“He…”

“Yes. Now shut up, I’ve already told you too much as it is.”

~oo0oo~

Sig seriously was never going to get used to these sorts of things. When he’d taken the role of acting King of Spargus he had expected to have to deal with Haven on a political level. Since during Golden Boy’s campaign to save the world ended up with the former big wig of Haven City getting himself killed, now he had to put up with the new governess’ newfound interest in his city.

Though, obviously he would much rather deal with Ashelin than her deranged lunatic of a father. All these truths aside it still didn’t mean that Sig had to like his current lot in life. It was just another case of if he didn’t do it, then who else would?

And why did that sound so familiar?

Here he was on his way to some god forsaken trade talk. And what the hell were they even supposed to be trading? He hadn’t even understood that stuffy long-winded paperwork Ashelin had sent him. The woman was a piece of work that was for sure but there was just no way she’d written that bullshit herself. Unless she’d taken a crash course in bureaucrat-ese or something, though it wasn’t like this was anything new. Like most Wastelanders, he still found it hard to trust anyone from Haven, friends of Jak or not.

Sig didn’t see how that boy could keep going back to those folks after all the crap they’d dragged him through. And if this little sit-down didn’t pan out to have anything remotely benefiting his folks he was high tailing it out this smog pit as fast as that transport would take him.

The Wastelander sighed before stepping out of the carrier, right in front of the steps of Count Veger’s old residence. He smirked at the irony of it all and glanced over his shoulder as his rotund companion stepped off behind him.

“Well, i’nt this nice?” Kleiver began with a mocking grin, prompting the dark furred ottsel perched on his massive shoulder to slouch dismally. “Home sweet home, ey, my little chum?”

Sig tried his best to keep a straight face in response to Kleiver’s words to his ottsel ‘friend’. Though to his credit, Veger did not take the bait. It would seem months of this had actually taught the man better after all.

They met in the quite spacious study. Sig couldn’t help grinning, he already knew upon taking sight of the group that this was definitely going to be anything but boring. He’d never been so happy to lay eyes on Daxter since he’d met the ottsel. And what the hell did Jak have on?

Ashelin was the first to approach him along with Jak. They both looked happy to see him, maybe Jak more so than the governess but you never could really tell with her.

“King Sig.” Ashelin said as she extended her hand to him.

“Governess.” Sig said taking it and giving it a firm shake.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up.” Jak smirked.

“And I see you brought some friends.” Daxter started.

Sig didn’t even have to turn his head to tell who the ottsel perched on Jak’s shoulder was talking about. He just smirked and waited for the entertainment to begin.

“So Vegan, how’s life treating ya? Ol’ Kleiver there giving ya the sun parched life I’m sure.” Daxter added with a mischievous grin.

Jak said nothing as usual, but the smirk on his face was comment enough.

“Your juvenile barbs will not provoke me, dear boy.” Veger replied. “I am beyond such pettiness. I have accepted my current lot in life as retribution for past… transgressions.”

Daxter crossed his arms over his scrawny chest and thumped his tail in annoyance. “Yeah whatever, Count whateveryournameis.”

Well that hadn’t been like Daxter at all. Jak looked over to his friend and gave him a weak smile.

“Well, I suppose we should get to the reason why we’re here.” The governess said as she made her way to the table.

“Ah yes,” Samos said retaking his seat. “There is much to discuss.”

“My dear governess might I say, before we begin, that you have been doing a wonderful job with this… grand city.” Veger piped in.

This comment did not fail to get a bewildered look from the red head as well as the room’s other occupants.

“Why is he even here?!” Torn growled.

“He’s my best chum, he is.” Kleiver said with a snide grin, patting his furred pal on the very top of his head.

“Torn…” Ashelin started.

That was when the room shook violently, the lights flickering.

Torn’s comm unit was out as soon as he could get steady enough to whip it out.

“What the hell is going on down there?!”

“Sir! I’m not sure!” came the response from the other end of the communicator.

There was a brief pause from the other end and the sound of men yelling back and forth to one another.

“Sir. It was one of our Hellcat cruisers! It came out of nowhere. It barreled through the south wall. There must have been…” A hacking cough, “…some type of smoke bomb.”

“The driver?”

“There doesn’t seem to be any one on board, but…”

“Well who the hell was driving it then?!” Ashelin said running to Torn’s side and speaking into the comm. “Secure this house, soldier!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

There was another loud crash then as the building took another foundation-weakening shake. This time the lights did go out.

Samos was the first to comment. “By the Precursors! What in Mar’s name is going on down there?!”

“Col? Col!”

The generator kicked in causing the blue back up lights come on in finally.

“M-ma’am?!”

“What was that?” Ashelin demanded.

“A… another cruiser… through the northern wall. There were causalities, ma’am… I… “

Col’s report was interrupted by the sound of gunfire…

“Looks like we got company, cherries!” Sig said a huge grin crinkling his face.

Jak already had his morph gun in hand.

“Finally!” Kleiver grinned as well cocking his own weapon. “Ya’ve been hogging all the action for yerself I see, Govie?”

Ashelin’s sneer was all he got in reply. He ignored it of course, only sparing Veger a glance.

“Oh bother.” Veger groaned as he shifted to a more secure posture on the big man’s shoulder. Kleiver pushed his way thorough the crowd of FGs huddled in front of the door.

“Outta tha way, rookies. Big Poppy’s comin’ through.”

Sig was right behind them.

“I’m going out there.” Torn said un-holstering his pistols and heading for the door.

Jak made his way after him.

“Hey. Hey! Big guy!” Daxter squeaked. “We’re supposed to be Sweet Stripes’ body guards right?”

Jak gave the ottsel a weary look.

“Well, don’t we need to be as close to her body as possible to do a good job?!”

The older boy growled in annoyance.

“Jak!” Torn said before heading out the door. “Stay here!”

“What?!”

Obviously, Jak was not happy with the order but Torn and the others were already out the door.

“Jak, perhaps Torn is right, at least for now anyway. We don’t know for sure what is going on down there. And until we do you must protect Ashelin.” Samos said as he tried to get Jak to stay put.

Jak’s ears twitched, which meant that he had heard the sage. Though by the way his fingers were restlessly gripping his gun it was clear that he didn’t like what had been said. Ashelin was by his side not a moment later; her hand was on his unoccupied shoulder, her own pistol in the other.

“Just give them a few minutes, Jak.” She said calmly. “I don’t like being left out anymore than you do.”

~oo0oo~

Sure enough the bottom floor of the building was full of smoke and the noxious cloud was quickly making its way upstairs. Torn had been forced to pull his scarf up over his nose and mouth to keep from suffocating from it. But he had nothing to shield his eyes, leaving them stinging and watering.

The bottom portion of the staircase had been taken out by the second Hellcat cruiser and forced him, Sig and Kleiver to hop over the railing to make it to the bottom floor. How Kleiver had managed was beyond him but Sig and the man had long since made their way down the path.

He was currently on his own, with a handful of FGs that had been standing in the hall outside the study door. Torn could barely see his hand in front of his face let alone where the elites were and who or what they were so insistently shooting at.

He spoke into his comm, “Has the enemy been sighted and confirmed?”

“Um…” It was Col on the other end once again, Torn’s second in command for this mission. “Well sir, we’re not sure on either count but I am sure that who… or whatever it is beating the living hell out of us!”

“Armed?”

“N…no sir… well…”

The connection fizzled loudly with static. That was when the blue lights pulsed harshly and an arc of electricity flared from the bulbs right in front of Torn’s very eyes.

“I’m not sure, sir. It seems as if it’s some kind of high powered electrical weapon… but we haven’t gotten a visual on the suspect let alone gotten a glimpse of that they’re packing.”

“So that would mean you don’t have a count either?”

“Sorry sir.”

During this highly enlightening conversation, Torn and his troop had been clearing every room they could find and coming up with nothing more then the occasional grouping of confused and pummeled FGs.

“What’s going on down there?!” Ashelin’s voice broke impatiently over his comm.

“We…”

But before he could get the words out there was a burst of blue in front of him and the air knocked out of his chest as he went careening back through a door.

Torn had ended up the floor; luckily for him his head had just missed the toilet as he’d apparently ended up in a bathroom. Unfortunately, however his head had not been lucky enough to miss the linoleum.

“What the fuck?!” Torn growled as he leapt back to his feet, the room swayed.

By the time he’d made it back to the hall, the group of FGs that he’d kept with him had already fallen in the face of their seemingly invisible enemy.

“Torn!” Ashelin’s voice once again crackled from over the comm.

Torn was too busy at the moment to say anything more than, “Tell Jak to stay put!”

Then there was a sparkle of electricity and the sound of cloth cutting through the air as what felt like a booted foot connected with the side of his head. This time the hard wood floor was his cushion. He’d amazingly been able to hold on to his gun, but this was beginning to be annoying. Though he was never one for making excuses this fucking smoke was becoming a pain to function in. He should have been able to dodge that kick however. He’d heard it a mile away.

And a booted foot landed on his left hand making the gun in it useless.

“Just stay down,” a muffled voice said.

“Yeah, right,” Torn growled, pulling up the other pistol and shooting blindly.

The foot was gone by then however along with sound of cloth on air.

“Torn!”

That voice he did recognize even beyond its muffled state.

“What the hell are you doing down here Jak!” Torn snarled, as he got to his feet. “We’ve got a situation here! You’re supposed to be protecting Ashelin!”

“She’s the one that sent us down here genius!” Dax was the one who answered. The bottom of his face covered with a piece of yellow cloth. This was also the first time Torn had ever seen the ottsel use his goggles.

“What?! Where the hell is Sig?”

“I dunno.” Jak said, looking around suspiciously. He was also donning his goggles and had a ripped piece of his uniform’s sash over the bottom half of his face. “We haven’t run into him yet.”

“C’mon. We need to get back upstairs.”

“What’s going on?” Jak asked.

“There’s some guy running around here kicking our asses, is what!”

“Just one guy?” But he and Dax took off down the hall before Torn got a chance to say anything else.

“Jak! Godammit!” Torn yelled.

He gave up with a snarl and bounded down the hall after them.

~oo0oo~

At this point only a handful of Freedom League guards stood between Ashelin and certain doom. She and Samos were currently using an over turned desk as cover.

“This is ridiculous!” The governess snarled, furious that something like this was happening.

She was also more then a little peeved that she had been forced to run and hide when all the fighting was going on outside that door. She had never been the type to let others do the fighting for her. But with her position as governess came responsibility. She could not be the reckless lieutenant commander she had once been.

She and Torn had taken every precaution to ensure that this meeting would be safe. Or so they’d thought. They had closed the hover zones for blocks around this building. Only FG vehicles were allowed through, though in the end it had not done much good. The enemy had just used their own vehicles against them.

The red head had gone over every possible mistake they could have made.

Maybe they should have closed off the streets completely. Kept the civilians off the streets altogether? But there had been something about that option that had not set well with her. It seemed too much like something that would have happened during her father’s rule. She could not risk it.

Ashelin sighed in frustration. Even if that meant that she had to die then so it must be. But she was tired of waiting and not knowing what was going on. She activated her comm unit.

“Torn!”

The commander’s voice crackled over the device. “Tell Jak to stay put!”

Well it was too late for that.

Jak had been harder to convince to stay out of this fight then she had. Besides, what use was it to keep him away from the fight? Jak was the best soldier they had.

The door was being covered by three FGs as well as herself. Behind her, a pair of FGs outside covered the only window in the room. She heard the shooting outside that door. She’d also noticed that it was now few and far between. Either they were winning or the battle would soon be over. Or they had lost. Either way she believed she would know soon enough.

“Who could be behind this?” Samos muttered absently.

“We had hoped that Sig had a clue, remember?” Ashelin replied, occasionally taking her eyes off the door and glancing at the window. From the sound of things we might find out soon enough.”

The room shook with the force of what seemed like another explosion that not only took out the FGs stationed out in the hall but the door to the study and the FGs inside as well.

The FGs outside the window were inside in a second’s notice but they were no match for the sudden blast of electricity that filled the room sending them right back out, leaving Ashelin and Samos to fend for themselves. Ashelin was up on her feet and searching for a clear shot the moment the electricity gave her the chance. But the smoke filling the room was making it difficult.

“Miss Praxis, I presume.” As voice asked and Ashelin was on her back and unarmed before she could blink.

The desk they had been using for cover was ripped away suddenly smashed against the frame of the door, too wide to continue through it.

“Your Freedom Guards are quite well trained for lackeys.” The owner of this voice laughed and it was quickly becoming evident that the voice was feminine.

Whoever she was, she had kicked her square in the chest and Ashelin had barely gotten a glimpse of her.

“Who the hell are you?” Ashelin said in between coughs. Samos was at her side helping her to sit up.

“Oh, I’m just a lonely little girl looking for some fun. A very nice man directed me here. He told me you’d give me a good time.” This statement was followed by another overly amused chuckle.

The would-be-assassin in question was fairly tall; cloth and a pair of goggles covered her face. They only thing they could make out in the hazy room was her head full of short, prickly, blue hair.

“What d’ya say Ashey-baby?” A gloved hand fingered the hilt of what looked to be a pretty nasty looking blade sheathed at the mystery woman’s side. “Ya gonna give me a show?”

And that was when Ashelin snapped. Being responsible was going to get her killed; she was not going out like some coward.

The blue haired woman blocked the first swing for her head. As well as the subsequent kicks and punches, in fact, she matched the governess move for move.

~oo0oo~

“Oww!” Davis sat up bolt straight. His hand instantly shot up to cradle his bruised and busted face.

Next to him Vergil grunted and rolled onto his back. “I blame you for this,” the blonde groaned.

“Shut up and come on!” the younger said, hobbling to his feet and grabbing his gun. “He went this way!”

Davis was already half way down the hall.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kiddin’ me!”

~oo0oo~

The issue of there no longer being any stairs to climb up to get the third floor was quickly put to rest by a little light eco and Jak’s new found wings. Torn had not been pleased with the flight but it had gotten him where he needed to be. And the FG Commander was off and running seconds after his feet hit solid ground once again. As the two of them rounded the corner, the sounds of all hell breaking loose assaulted their ears.

Jak and Daxter were right behind him.

“Ashelin!” Torn called out.

“Sweet Stripes!” the ottsel yelled and then turned to his companion. “See! I told you we shouldn’t have left her!”

Jak just grumbled something under his breath and continued headed for the door, which had been blocked during the apparent epic battle going on inside by a huge desk. The blonde took the route that Torn had taken before him and leapt over it landing in the heart of utter chaos. Inside Ashelin was on the floor being covered by Samos and a Freedom Guard. Torn and another guard were surrounding the person that Jak assumed was responsible for all of this.

“It was seriously just this guy?!” Daxter screamed in disbelief.

Torn, Jak’s and the FGs’ guns were all trained on the intruder.

“Gal,” was the assassin’s only response to this. “It was seriously just this… gal.”

“Well!” Daxter said standing up a little straighter and cocking a brow. “You new around these parts Toots cause ah…”

“Dax.” Jak groaned.

“Who are you?” Torn asked his jaw set. The calm of his voice was almost convincing.

“Yeah, who sent you?!” One of the FGs added.

“Yeah… who…” Torn started. “Davis?!”

Davis saluted. “Hi, sir!”

Vergil groaned, “Oh for the love of… It was his idea, sir!”

Torn lost his last thread of patience, “Whatever!” He returned his attention to the intruder. “You! I asked you a question!”

The blue haired woman scoffed. “You’re kiddin’ me right. I’ve kicked your entire squadron’s ass and you think you four and your little pea shooters are scaring me?”

“Five.” Ashelin said standing up and aiming her gun. The governess was a bit worse for wear but she was functioning.

“Don’t move.” Jak said.

At that moment his eyes locking with the woman’s, there was a brief flash of recognition between them.

“I’m not giving up. And I advise you not to shoot.” She finally said with a smug grin.

Jak lowered his gun.

“What are you doing?!” Torn growled.

Daxter was even puzzled. “W…what are ya doin’ big guy? I don’t think this girl’s the type you let yer guard down on.”

“Don’t shoot.” Jak said finally. “She’s channeling blue eco. She’s been using it somehow to create a shield.”

“Yes,” Samos said from his placed behind the overturned sofa. “Jak is right. I can feel the energy around her.” Samos added a hint of astonishment in his voice.

“What?!” This was the chorus from the rest of the room’s occupants.

“That’s why we haven’t been able to so much as touch you!” Davis alleged angrily.

“Damn.” The eco channeler chuckled. “You guys are good. Ah well, I guess that means fun time is over.”

“Everybody get back!”

Just as the words left Ashelin’s mouth, another flare of blue eco filled the room pushing everyone back crashing violently the surrounding walls. Unfortunately, Jak, who was the closest at the time, took the brunt of the attack, and was sent back through the desk in front of the door. Splitting it in half, he and Daxter created quite an indention in the wall out there.

Torn was the first to sit up afterwards watching as the assassin made her way toward Ashelin and Samos.

“You crazy bitch!” Davis screamed as he tried in vain to stand up, only to fall back on his ass in his rush.

Suddenly there was another charge in the air, one much darker than the one before it. The blue haired woman’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide in surprise. At the moment the enraged snarled was the only warning she got before Dark Jak tore into the room.

The swathed warrior had only missed being ripped to shreds by Dark Jak’s first attack by but a hair. From that point on it was an all out free for all. It was taking massive amounts of both of the fighter’s eco reserves to keep up the mind-boggling match, neither of them remaining unscathed.

The bystanders had to scramble to just to stay out of their way.

In a final move of desperation as well as opportunity, the blue eco assassin unsheathed the blade from her side.

“Hey, Darky! Watch out fer that…” But Daxter didn’t even get a chance to finish the warning before Dark Jak was forced to dodge the first swing.

The girl growled in growing frustration, getting off a kick but Dark’s claws made her pay for it.

Her scream of pain was all the distraction that was need however because someone took the initiative, unleashing a well aimed flash grenade. The light temporally blinding the woman long enough for Davis to land a particularly vicious blow with a chair. The girl never knew what hit her flailing back through the already shattered study window. Davis and Torn ran for the window in attempt to go after her but cleared out just before being mauled by Dark Jak.

“Jak!” Samos yelled after him, but the boy was already through the window.

And in the midst of all that chaos, Daxter had amazingly lost his grip on his friend’s shoulder. Collecting himself from a heap on the floor, the ottsel was the first to make it to the shattered window. Dax struggled to make sense of the crowd of panicking civilian below and scrambling FGs, but neither of the eco combatants were anywhere to be found.

Torn was on his communicator as soon as he got the chance. “I need medical assistance! And be out on the look out for Jak! He’s gone Dark! He’s in pursuit of the bitch who caused all this…” Most of his attention was now focused on an unconscious Ashelin. “Fuck! Just find both of them!”

goosie_fics @ 2006-05-02T01:30:00

2006-05-02T06:31:28Z

Fandom: Dragonball Z (Cell Games Saga)
Title: The Cursed Idle Mind and Bloody Instinct
Chapter Title: Nine (Commence)
Rating: R
Pairings: Vegeta/Cell
Warnings: Shounen ai themes, Yaoi, Violence, Eventual Porn
Status: 9/14
Summary: I decided to write this after I read a Cell/Vegeta fic somewhere that never got finished. I had never thought of such an odd pairing until then. But of course the author of that story made it seem oh so obvious as all ‘odd pairing’ fics should try and achieve. So I thought that maybe I should give my best shot as well. Seeing as these two arrogant asses are my favorite characters in all of DBZdome. So, without further ado…my very first Cell/Vegeta Yaoi fic. (Gods that just sounds so…wrong. *cackles*)

The past few days had not been all that eventful. Well if you didn’t count the fighting, brutal and savage as it was. He had not fought like that since his fight with Kakarot and his friends during his first trip to Earth. Then there was the sex, which most of the time even rivaled their sparing in its ferocity. And then, of course, there was the snuggling. Which had taken a lot of getting used to on Vegeta’s part.

For the life of him he could not understand the android’s need to nuzzle him after they fucked. For Kami’s sake, the idiot was ten times worse then the blue haired onna had ever been. With Bulma it had only taken one time of him shoving her violently out of his bed and the woman had gotten the picture. But it was another story all together with the great white baka. For at the time being, the prince just was not strong enough to shove Cell anywhere.

Vegeta had assumed that it had something to do with the amount of Kakarot’s DNA that Cell possessed. He’d even gone as far as to ask the other man why he insisted on such an annoyance. To which the android only replied with snuggling him even more, if that were at all possible.

He was positive at that point that Cell wasn’t even sure why he did it. It being such an obvious abnormality in the creature’s usual behavior and all. Not that Vegeta had paid enough attention to the android as to get a decisive idea as to what actually was normal behavior for him. All in all however, it all had been a tolerable experience. Well once he’d regained his position as the dominant in the scheme of things anyway.

Power levels aside, the prince of Saiyans was not going to be the bitch in any relationship. Not that what he and the android had was an actual relationship or anything.

Nonetheless the steady routine had put the prince in a strange state of tranquility. He was never tranquil. Peace was for the weak. Peace caused one to lose their edge and have things that normally would have been quite apparent sneak up on them and cause unwanted surprises. Vegeta hated surprises even more then he hated tranquility.

All things being equal, Vegeta had still been taken by quite a great deal of surprise when he awoke this morning. This had occurred once his mind had realized what his body had already known for quite sometime. He was cold. He hadn’t been cold in the morning for almost a week. The android was curiously nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t have been anywhere in Capsule Corp, though the woman did know about the android’s presence.

That moment had been one of absolute hilarity. Bulma had caught the two of them in a decidedly compromising position. Vegeta had actually been surprised that it had taken the normally extremely nosy scientist so long to come looking for him. Especially with all the noise he and the android had been making. Not to mention the fact that the mattresses of many of CC bed’s had gone missing. (They had continuously gone through those pretty quickly once they’d demolished the bed.)

The look on the woman’s face had been priceless. She should have knocked. Not that they would have heard her but still, it was just common decency. So she had gotten exactly what she’d deserved. Luckily, because he had not intention of taking care of the wailing brat of his in the near future, (well not until it could at least walk) Cell had taken the intrusion all in stride. Not even trying to blast the nosy onna into the next dimension.

The woman had come to the room earlier this morning to ask if he intended on entering the android’s silly tournament. It had been then that he had noticed what day it was and why it was that Cell was missing. He’d actually kept to his idiotic word. He actually intended to have those stupid games.

Thus Vegeta found himself shooting toward the location of Cell’s arena with every intention of giving the big bastard a piece of his mind.

~oo0oo~

When the alleged Martial Arts Champion of World first showed up at his arena, Cell had not been impressed. The news crew however had been a pleasant surprise. Well not really, but it was still a good thing. Mr. Satan or Hercule as the newscaster called him was an embarrassment to the human race. Posing and as a true skilled warrior. Cell had no intention of wasting his time on him. But the bumbling fool seemed dead set on committing suicide. And if he had too the bio android wouldn’t think twice in granting the man his wish.

That however would have to wait, because not ten minutes after the arrival of that idiot Hercule, Vegeta showed up.

Cell felt a familiar knot in the pit of his stomach. It was the same feeling he’d had when he’d first fought the prince in his second form. The same feeling he’d had when he’d realized that he was not yet powerful enough to defeat the little bastard. He had been utterly and completely pissed. Among other things, but pissed was what this was.

The strange thing was that Cell wasn’t actually pissed off about anything. So far things were going pretty much according to his plans. It didn’t seem as if anyone had forgotten his tournament. Of course Son Goku had yet to show, but the Saiyan had made a promise and it was still early yet… It wasn’t until the prince touched down that Cell noticed the deep scowl plastered on the other man’s face. The emotion that the creature had been experiencing was rolling of the flamed haired prince in waves.

That was odd. It would seem that there were more aspects to this supposed ‘bond’ of theirs then Vegeta had previously explained. Empathy. How interesting.

Cell merely turned the upper half of his body slightly, not moving one inch from the spot his feet were planted in. He locked eyes with the prince, the mutual stare never wavering. But there was something clouding the Saiyan’s already murky orbs, something that even Cell could not decipher.

“Idiot.”

Cell could have sworn he’d heard the prince’s voice. But his mouth had not moved at all. And even over the distance between them, it had sounded so close. But the tone, the texture of the word had sounded almost ghostly to the android. Could it be… could it have only been in his head?

“What fascinating creatures you Saiyans are.” He muttered aloud softly.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Cell could not feel certain sense of vertigo suddenly. The festering pit he’d felt in his stomach and grown heavy all of a sudden throwing him off balance. He chest constricted painfully as he noticed the change in the small Saiyan’s eyes. There was a strange sense of foreboding…of dread.

But whatever for? Cell had already explained his intentions to his little prince. He had no intention of taking his life. Not if he did not need to. Could it be that Vegeta was upset because he would not be Goku’s end?

Cell attention was drawn in the opposite direction upon sensing and odd shift in the air. It was so infinitesimal that he was probably the only one to sense it. He soon spotted the approaching energy high above. Though he could not sense the energy itself it was still visible. It was Android #16. Now this was definitely a surprise.

“Bulma and the old man have restored that thing back to full power. What a waste of time.”

Cell’s eyes narrowed as the thought entered his mind. It was of course not his own. It was Vegeta again. He wondered if the prince even knew he was projected so.

“A waste of time you say?” Cell asked aloud. Turning his attention back to the Saiyan prince. “Oh, I don’t think so. Perhaps Sixteen will serve some entertaining purpose during the tournament. The more the merrier don’t you agree Vegeta?”

The prince’s eyes widened drastically before the scowl reappeared on his face. Vegeta had had his suspicions about the limits and capabilities that their bonding would inflict upon them. Telepathy was one of the first things he’d considered, so he’d erected a mental shield in defense. Although it seemed now that now even the shield could keep his…mate from having access to his thoughts.

He had been about to scream something rude at the trespassing android direction but it was then that the other Bain of his existence decided to show up.

“Kakarot.”

And he had brought the other losers along with him. Why did they even waste their time showing up? If he wasn’t able to defeat Cell what on Earth made them think that they had a snowball’s chance in hell of even getting close enough to the man to even land a punch.

“Ah, finally some true competition.” Cell said aloud. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this Son Goku.”

Vegeta was suddenly filled with overwhelming need to destroy the younger Saiyan. Not that he had not felt the need to do so on numerous other occasions but at this moment he had never hated the man as much as he did now. It was then that the truth hit him. He was jealous.

He was fucking jealous?! Jealous of what?!

Look at them, the way they were staring at each other. Like a pair of pitiful ningen lovers. He’d seen that stare before on the cover of one of those worthless romance novels the onna’s mother liked to read. But there was no way. Kakarot couldn’t possibly be interested in Cell.

“Why not? You certainly are.” There was the accursed voice again.
He could hear himself growling aloud and could do nothing to stop it.

“Uh… if it really means that much to you, I could go second.”

Vegeta snapped out of his angry thoughts only to find the man he’d been fantasizing about killing standing next to him. He fought down the embarrassed blush that threatened to bloom on his face and snarled:

“What did you say?!”

“I just asked if it would be okay if I went next?” Goku asked timidly. “I mean Mr. Satan already took his turn and well as you can see, that didn’t turn out too well.”

“What?”

The prince looked around and found that Mr. Satan had indeed taken his turn and miraculously was still breathing. Though his face looked like it had been run over by a truck. The idiot news reporter and camera man where gathered around him squawking uselessly.

“I asked you early and you never answered.” The young Saiyan continued. “I guess the guy took it as his chance to fight Cell.”

“Hn… Do whatever you want. Its not as if I care if you get yourself killed.” Vegeta barked suddenly.

“Oh okay.” Then the baka suddenly brightened. “Thanks a lot Geta!” he chirped and slapped the prince on the back affectionately.

Before the prince could regain his balance and charge up an effective Ki blast the big fool was already stepping up into the ring.

~oo0oo~

Goku landed with a tile crushing stop on the arena floor with Cell landing leisurely a few seconds behind him.

“That should do for a warm up, don’t you think Goku?”

“Yeah, it was pretty good. But maybe we should start playing for real now.”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.”

The green armored bio android watched as the Super Saiyan powered up to full. He couldn’t help the grin that grew along with Goku’s energy. He had waited so long to finally reach his perfection. Only to find that there seemed to be no one strong enough for him to test his strength with. Now there seemed to be some hope. Son Goku’s power had increased dramatically. Now he would finally be able to test the perfection he’d worked so hard to achieve.

With a mere batting of his eyes, Cell powered up to match the Saiyan smirking all the while.

Finally a true fight, he’d waited ten whole days for this. Not that he hadn't found something just as entertaining to do with his time. As his power radiated around him, he turned to see the looked on Vegeta’s face. The small Saiyan was perspiring profusely. The android smirk softened.

“Nothing to fear, remember.” He sent mentally to his mate.

The Saiyan’s eyes flashed as he locked on to his stare, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“I do not fear you.” Vegeta sent back.

“I would never want you to.”

“Shall we begin, Goku?” Cell said returning his attention to the task at hand.

“Let’s.” Goku said a fierce stare fixed only on him.

(to be continued…)

goosie_fics @ 2006-05-02T01:10:00

2006-05-02T06:23:42Z

Fandom: Jak and Daxter (Post Jak 3)
Title: Pretty Boy
Chapter Title: The Talented Mr. Jinx
Rating: R
Pairings: Jinx/Jak
Warnings: Jinx’ naughty mouth as usual, Shounen ai themes.
Status: 3/?
Summary: There’s more to the boom-boy than meets the eye… or maybe not. [Set after Jak 3]

It had been a little over a week since that night at the bar. And despite the obviously momentous occasion, Jinx had gone on with life as per the usual. Smoke. Drink. Blow shit up. Yep, the usual…well, except for the occasional fond memory. As a matter of fact, that damned bite mark on his shoulder had still yet to fully heal. Nonetheless, as previously stated, the man had gone on with his daily routines as usual.

Haven City was on the rebuild after what had been officially deemed the end of the war. Demolition crews worked double duty in Haven these days. The Metalhead city had been cleared out and was being stripped more and more by the day. Though, to be honest, Jinx would never even think of moving in even if things were straight again. But the governess insisted on making the land livable. Not that he could blame her, he guessed. It wasn’t like Haven wasn’t getting a little more cramped than usual with the apparent baby boom going on around these parts.

Young, dumb civvies, just so happy to be alive they just can’t help but to share their joy with their significant others he supposed. Meaning more babies to feed, clothe, and shelter. Meaning the need for more jobs, homes, land for growing desperately needed food. Meaning the need for making more space.

Luckily, that was what Jinx did best. He cleared the way for people.

The population boom was the natural order of things, of course. It just seemed odd that the state of the economy was actually a priority above keeping your ass from getting munched on by a hungry ‘head, for once. The annoying, wailing brats littering the streets nowadays were something he’d never get used to. He was almost nostalgic for the days of people walking the streets like zombies and brats being too few to be seen. Almost.

Thanks to Red’s stubbornness, Jinx quickly became one of the busiest boom boys in town. Not that he minded in the least, of course; jobs meant money. But the means to keep food in his belly and to indulge his other more non-essential habits were not the only things that kept him going. I mean, really, how could he resist the chance to put his gods-given talent for destruction to use and not get shot at by the boys in blue?

The far less talented members of Red’s demolition squad were having a bit of time putting a dent in the larger structures in the former MH HQ. Jinx figured as much. Metalheads had never been the easiest mofos to get rid of. It’s not like the city hadn’t been fighting the bastards for the past ‘whole lot of fucking’ years.

The unusually sturdy nature of the bastards’ hot spot demanded some more potent methods of removal. Not that Jinx wasn’t one for potent methods… but even his normal toys wouldn’t do for this gig.

This job called for something special.

Jinx liked to be close to his work. Crates and cardboard boxes cluttered the ratty little room of an apartment. Ropes, wires and cables… it was amazing that the man didn’t kill himself tripping over a loose line or something of the like and set off an explosion big enough to take out a full ten block radius. He sure had enough boom packed in the place to do it.

Some people would call him insane. Torn would probably have him shot and killed if he knew about it. Jinx, on the other hand, just considered himself a dedicated man of science. Because no matter how much others may scoff, making things go boom was indeed a calculated science. There was an art to what he did and it was one of the only things he took seriously.

Oh, he did have to crawl over a few boxes to find it. His was an organized chaos, mind you, and as such he knew exactly where he’d put it -- the metal container that held one of his prized possessions. He couldn’t have kept the grin from stretching his face if he’d tried.

He set the case down on the table as gently as he would any one of his toys. This time being the slightest bit different of course-- it was really fucking depressing that he hardly ever got to break the stuff out. Then he flipped the lid open and removed one of the glowing containers.

100 percent, totally non-chemically altered yellow eco. You just didn’t come across this stuff every day. Jinx was already tingling and he hadn’t even opened it yet. His grimy fingers curled around the lid of the canister and he almost felt like a kid again. Grin stretching wider almost so it hurt, just like when he’d got his first taste…

The obnoxious beep of his communicator should not have made him jump as much as it had.

“For fuck’s…”

Jinx snarled, scowling as he glanced over at the thing. His expression twisted into a smirk when he really did look at it however. And why shouldn’t it have? That was Pretty-boy’s number.

One of those lovely fond memories popped up, settled in Jinx’ belly and the warmth of it brought a grin to his face. He pressed the talk button and the comm sparked to life.

“Well if it isn’t Pretty-boy? You finally get tired of reliving last week with yer hand? Not the same, eh?” Jinx’s grin was manic. “Come on up. I’ll buzz ya in. I promise ya I got much better things planned for you an’ me. Guarantee ta have ya squealing my name by the start line as long as that pretty ass of yours is involved this round.”

By the time Jinx turned back to the communicator, it had grown to its full size and there floating a few inches away from him was the gaping mug of one fuzzy orange rat.

Daxter’s mouth closed. Then opened again. Beady rodent eyes, wider than Jinx had ever seen them, turned to Jak, “What the hell is he talking about?! Wait! No… No! Don’t… jus-just don’t! I don’t wanna hear it! Crimmony, I just ate!” Daxter added with dramatic gagging in tow for effect.

The comm then panned to the person Jinx’s comments had actually been directed. Jinx noted that the shade of red Jak’s face had taken on clashed horribly with his scarf. The green haired hero’s mouth hung slightly agape in shock. Daxter’s gloved paw grabbed the comm’s lens and turned back towards him, so Jinx could see him. He clutched at his stomach as his tongue comically hung out of the side of his mouth.

“Look here Mr. Congeniality, do me a favor and keep those gutter-worthy pick up lines to yerself eh?” The ottsel smacked his lips together, face frowning as if he tasted something awful. He turned to Jak and muttered, “I think I threw up a little, Jak. Oh… by the Precursors! I think I just tasted last night’s supper! Oh god, Tess’ yakow surprise was bad enough the first time I had to suffer though it.” He wailed before burying his face in the older boy’s hair.

Jinx snickered a bit before leaning in, leering, “So, Jakkie-boy, ya coming up or what? And—ah, leave the rat outside. I don’t do rodents.”

Daxter’s face contorted to something akin to complete outrage. “What?!” He screeched, “I wouldn’t let you touch me even if you suddenly grew a set of double Ds and got a face transplant, Scuzzball! And be—lieve me pal, that would have to be on hell of a gifted craftsman to make you anything worth locking my highly discriminating peepers on, Sulfur Breath!”

The blond man on the other end of the comm narrowed his eyes, grinning deviously.

“Oh, so ah… you into that sorta thing, rat boy?” Jinx said confidentially. “All a guy needs to do is buy him a set a tits and you’re willing to ignore the dangly bits underneath the skirt, eh?”

By this point, Jak was growing tired of the little exchange of wit. Daxter just stood on the boy’s shoulder, slack-jawed and trembling with rage.

All the ottsel could get out were incomprehensible squeals of indignation.

“Dax!” Jak growled in frustration. Daxter’s squealing in his ear was only making the situation worse.

The ottsel wilted at the sound of his voice, mumbling something along the lines of, “He started it…” before scowling at the comm screen and crossing his scrawny arms over his chest.

“Look Jinx,” Jak started, sounding a bit more tired than he probably should have. “You gonna let us up or not?”

Daxter balked. “We’re not seriously going in this deathtrap, are we?”

Jak cut his eyes at his furry companion.

“Sure.” Jinx chuckled and he walked over to his door to buzz them in. “Come on up.”

Just before the comm went out he heard the rat muttering, “You didn’t really let that…that thing… touch you, did ya Jak?”

Jinx snorted in amusement.

~oo0oo~

“Holy Sages! What in the heck?! Look at this place, Jak! Don’t touch anything! Ya might get some incurable disease… Or worse… lice!” The ottsel suddenly broke into a fit of scratching. “Oh god! I’m gonna need a flea dip by the time I get out of this joint!”

“I didn’t invite you up, Ratface!” Jinx snarled, before turning back to whatever it was he was fiddling with.

Jak sighed; he had the feeling that Daxter probably shouldn’t be trying to piss Jinx off at the moment. From the look and smell of this place not to mention the profession of the man who resided here, things might very well become deadly if Jinx made one misstep on that stuff he was tinkering on.

“Cut it out Daxter.” Jak groaned and stepped over an empty cardboard box.

Though Daxter did sort of have a point, calling Jinx’ apartment cramped would be an understatement. It was filled to the brim with boxes and Freedom League crates and all kinds of junk he couldn’t be bothered to name. Every window in the place was boarded up. The only light source available were the dim fluorescent bulbs swinging precariously from the cracked ceiling. The whole place smelled of stale air and dust, smoke and sweat… and something metallic.

Jak looked to the glaring ottsel on his shoulder.

“Look big guy, you don’t owe this neanderthal nuthin’. Plenty folks get drunk off their tails and do stupid crap at my parties.” Daxter stopped to grin in Jinx’s direction, although the man didn’t even turn around to acknowledge his friend. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you buddy. But you’re stifling my natural born wit here…You’re killing me!”

“Shut up, rat!” Jinx snarled, but he still didn’t turn around.

The older man went quiet again, amazingly enough. Jinx sat at the table, perched on the edge of a FG crate, bending over something he was working on. Did this guy not believe in furniture? In fact, the only real furniture Jak had spotted in the room was the wooden table and the bed against the opposite wall.

Jak raised a brow. Just what was Jinx doing over there?

It would seem however that Jinx was way more concerned with what he was working on than entertaining his guests. The man barely spared them a glance. His hair was loose and messy, hanging down a little ways past his shoulder blades. The smell that permeated the room had gotten a bit stronger all of a sudden and that light on Jinx’ table got a little brighter. Wait… that smell… it was like…

“You some sort a vampire or something, Boom-boy?” Daxter crowed, shaking Jak from his thoughts. “No like ‘a the light au natural? Hey! Just what the hell are you doing over there anyway?!”

It was about time Daxter got around to that. Jak almost thought he’d have break down and ask himself.

“Torn sent us to get you,” Jak muttered. “You’re supposed to be helping with demolition at the Metalhead city.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Blondie.”

Jinx turned around to look at him from over his shoulder with one of those dementedly naughty grins of his. Jak fought to keep down the blush that tingles on his face as flashes of that night a week or so ago resurfaced. The feel of warm tobacco-scented breath on his face and a hot hand on his… Jak dropped his head. The floor was becoming more and more interesting by the minute.

Daxter rolled his eyes, “Blargh! Look buddy there will be no hanky panky in front of the ottsel. Wait… no… there will be no hanky panky period! Right Jak?! Tell him to lay off eh?”

Jinx wholly ignored the verbal tirade and continued placing whatever it was he’d been working on into a leather satchel with a curious sort of care. All the while, he hummed a happy little tune around the cigar clinched between his teeth.

However, Daxter was determined to get his point across and defend the honor of his defiled best pal. The ottsel leapt off Jak’s shoulder and scampered onto Jinx’ worktable, puffing up his just in an attempt to intimidate the man. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” He pointed accusingly at the other blond in the room and continued, ”Taking advantage of my friend like that. He was drunk!” And then added out the side of his mouth, “And probably hornier than a snorklopine during mating season. BUT-- that still don’t give you any right to molest him against his will! Oh god! If that even is what happened?!”

Daxter turned around and looked at him, his face full of lingering hope. “Please tell me I’m wrong Jak! Please tell me you and this half man, half lurker didn’t…” He paused and shivered with disgust.

Jak paled. He didn’t actually expect him to answer that… did he?

“I…uh…”

Before Jak could even get his mind on track enough to respond. Jinx slung the leather bag over his shoulder, knocking Daxter clear off the table and onto the floor. The longhaired man strode over to him with that smile on his face again. Jak didn’t even realize he’d been retreating until his back hit one of the boarded windows. Tobacco scented breath warm on his face…

Daxter was never going to let him hear the end of this. Jak tried to focus on anything but the smirk on the other man’s face. A smirk that, mind you, was getting closer and closer to his own face by the second. Placing his hand on the wall next to Jak’s head, Jinx leaned in close enough to make Jak uncomfortable. That was when Jak noticed the huge bruise on Jinx’ shoulder, even visible underneath his bandolier. The sudden memory of what it felt like to sink his teeth into the other man’s skin and the taste of him on his tongue…

“Oh god…”

"Is that what happened, Pretty-boy?" Jinx’ voice deepened, his eyes getting darker suddenly. "A little rub and moan for a horny, helpless little boy, eh?"

Jak fought back a shudder and Jinx grinned even wider. But before either of them could make another move, a fuzzy foot was planted on both he and Jinx’ chest, forcing them apart.

“Hey. Hey. Hey!!! Cut it out! I thought we talked about this! No hanky panky in front of the ottsel!”

And, suddenly, Jak remembered why Daxter was his best friend.

~oo0oo~

After the debacle upstairs, Jak had been more than a little anxious to get out of there. Jinx had angrily removed Daxter’s foot from his person, then gave him another one of those damned looks of his and headed out the door.

The moist air of the port had been a relief compared to the oppressive odor of Jinx’ apartment. Though, Jak did still have to deal with Daxter’s distaste for the other passenger in the cruiser. Daxter had yet to do anything but glare at Jinx the whole car ride so far. And Jinx was doing a pretty good job of ignoring his friend, busying himself with pulling his hair back into a ponytail and giving Jak suggestive looks. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by the ottsel.

“I don’t know why Tattoo Face is so stuck on us bring you along.” Daxter muttered. “S’not like some other gunpowder snorting primate couldn’t do your job.”

Jak raised a brow. Daxter was being unusually mean today.

“Just cause you were a little useful during the war with that blast bot don’t make you some sorta genius or sumthin’.”

Suddenly another memory drifted into Jak’s thoughts.

“I think we've got a boomer of a plan here. You know those Blast Bots you've seen around? Well, I captured one. Don't ask. I'll show ya the scars later.”

The words came out before Jak could stop them. “Just how did you capture that blast bot anyway, Jinx?”

The blond bomb expert glanced over at him with a smug grin. Daxter just looked at him wide eyed, as if he was just shocked that Jak had said a word.

“I thought I told you not to ask?” Jinx glared at Daxter before adding. “But I might could be convinced ta tell ya later,” a wink, “I’ll even show you those scars I told you about.”

“Ugh, god! Someone put me out of my misery.”

“I though you’d never-”

“Jinx.”

Daxter and Jinx’ little verbal sparring match was really beginning to get on his nerves. It didn’t help matters either that he was actually considering taking Jinx up on his offer.

“Ah, Metalhead city!” Daxter crowed in relief. “I never thought I’d be happy to see this place again!”

~oo0oo~

Jinx had experienced infinitely worse smells than the ones lingering in the air around this place. Haven’s sewers by no means were runner up compared to what was left of the Metalhead city in regards to pure stank, but that doesn’t mean that Jinx waltzed in here unprepared. Thanks to the removal of the river of acidic waste that ran through the entire MH metropolis the smell had gotten considerably better. Jinx secured his red scarf over his mouth. The air musty and though the smell may not have been as potent that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take measures to lessen its effect.

The almighty governess had gotten some of Haven’s top scientists and even a few from out of town in to find a way to dispose of the deadly river. There was nothing left there to add to the muck or was it away, so it became stagnant and probably even more potent.

Jinx didn’t know and didn’t care about the process of removal they’d used. Honestly, he really couldn’t have cared less. All he knew was that the place was reasonably safe for human inhabitance now, and Ashelin had gotten together a sizable army of demolitionists, construction workers and architects in order to in order to make it that way.

He, naturally, had been at the top of her list. It would seem his work during the war had not gone unappreciated.

He, Jak, and the kid’s pet rat made it through the checkpoint just fine. Freedom Guards were still a constant sight on the streets of the city, but especially in full force around this site. The place may have been cleared out of nasty man eating beasts and corrosives but that didn’t make it any less dangerous to those stupid enough to stumble in.

The acid river may have been gone but it left behind one hell of a steep drop.

Jinx strolled through the site past the other workers, barely sparing a grunt in greeting here and there. He was much more concerned with other things at the moment. Kicking open the back gate of the fencing, he headed off toward the untouched area of the Metalhead city. He would need to test these explosives in an area that was uninhabited by his idiot co-workers.

Jinx remembered what this place had been like when the Metalheads had still been running it. Festering, humid, generally just a whole lot creepier. The landscape was decided less… moist. The organic surfaces had dried and cracked, taking on different shades of brown. The huge pods and vines and living walls should have dried and crumbled away, but since these were Metalhead structures, it couldn’t be that simple. The formations seemed only to harden when they died, drying and taking on the density and strength of some type of metal that none of the previously employed demolition techniques had yet to put a dent in.

Lucky for them he was fucking gifted.

~oo0oo~

“Wha… where the hell is he going?!”

Jak really could care less about finding out who was yelling behind him. He was too busy wondering what the hell Jinx was doing himself. Jak began following the older man out the back fence of the construction site and into the rest of the barren city.

“Um… Jak?” Daxter voice sounded worried, as usual. The ottsel gripped one of his hears as he leaned in muttering worriedly. “I know this place is supposed to be cleared of slobbering, razor-clawed beasties and all but… um… Can’t we go back to the part that’s… um… guarded?! I mean Boom-boy can take care of himself, right?”

Jak rolled his eyes and kept walking.

“Since when did we become his personal bodyguards anyway?! Why are we even here?!”

Jak watched Jinx intently, barely paying any attention to Daxter’s rambling. He had accompanied Jinx on dangerous missions before, watching the man’s back. This wasn’t any different than before. Except, that no one had to ask him and it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. There was nothing else to it, surely.

It was strange being in the MH city again. He’d had no need to venture into the territory since the end of the war, and stayed away mostly because all of the construction. It was eerie how quiet it was now (especially since the last time he’d been here it had been busying with beasts dead set on killing him). Well, this far out, at least; distance greatly muted the sounds of construction, at this point. He could make out the sound of Jinx muttering to himself and by the time Jak had caught up to him the man was kneeling at the base of steel pillar. Jak squinted against the light of the midday sun. He was sure that pillar had been something else completely the last time he’d been in this place. If fact, a lot of things seemed to have changed since the last time he was here.

“Damned stubborn shit.” Jinx grumbled.

“Hey, Jak this looks like one of them pod thingies… only… metal--lier.” Daxter said as he hopped off his shoulder and waltzed up to the former pod and knocked against it with fuzzy knuckles.

The short and deep clang gave Jak the impression that the pillar was indeed solid.

“Move over.”

Jinx nudged his friend out the way rudely, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a round silver ball. Bright yellow light peeked through slits along the sides. The explosives expert held the sphere up proudly, pulling his scarf down in order to give Jak yet another smug grin.

“If this baby can’t take this sucker out, ain’t nothing that can,” Jinx said, reaching up the solidified pod and placing the device at its base. “Those dumbasses were using dark and red eco mixtures.” He continued talking, seemingly to himself, as he walked past the other two. “Move yer ass Pretty-boy…” He called back over his shoulder.

The green-blond spared the pod one last look before scooping his friend up and taking off after the older man.

“Any fucking low level chemist coulda told them idiots that dark eco ain’t gonna do shit against dark fucking eco.”

“Dark eco did that?” Jak asked, finally catching up once again. Not that he was too surprised; Metalheads oozed the stuff, and dark eco had never been the most predictable substance around.

Now that they were back behind the fence, Jinx started fiddling with a remote control. The green-eyed man took a seat beside one the treads of a very large looking machine. Despite his better judgment, Jak took a seat next to Jinx and leaned over slightly to take a look at the remote. Jinx looked up at him with a grin.

“Ya wanna do the honors, Blondie?”

This was an offer Jak couldn’t resist.

“Wha…”

Jinx sighed and reached over, leaning in close and thumbed a shiny red button. Jak got the feeling he should have realized this was the trigger.

“Press it and my little baby will release a bit of red inta tha yellow. Not a good mix unless you wanna make a lotta noise, eh.” Jinx smirked at him.

Somewhere in front of the two Daxter snorted disgustedly. “I thought we discussed this?!”

Jak glanced up suddenly, brows furred in confusion.

“Don’t pay Killjoy no mind, Jakkie.” Jinx glared briefly at the ottsel before turning back to Jak with a demented grin. “Push da button.”

Jak grinned back, “Okay.”

~oo0oo~

The gig had gone as smooth as butter. The yellow eco bombs he’d whipped up had packed just enough wallop to send the more stubborn monuments of Metalhead achievement into a powered existence. He’d gotten he yellow to red eco ratio down perfectly it seemed.

The look on Jakkie-boy’s face when he pressed the shiny red button of doom had been fucking perfect. The way the kid’s eyes lit up, that grin that appeared on Jak’s face and lingered long after. It warmed Jinx’ heart to be able to provide the teenager with his first “experience”. After such a memorable event, completing the most glorious chain of reactions ever seen was the icing on the cake.

Today had been a hell of a fucking day. And though sadly the man obviously had no interest in the true gloriousness of Jinx’ achievement, the head of Red’s little demolition team was buying.

Ah, it was good to be a hero, even if it would only last for the night.

So here he was sitting in booth at the Naughty Ottsel, once again lounging comfortably and entertaining a wonderful bunch of ladies. All of which were dressed in the skimpiest outfits you’d ever wish to see.

These ladies made it a point to frequent this joint around this time of day. Not that Jinx could blame them. He wasn’t too keen on the bar’s fur-faced proprietor, but the place did seem to attract quite the clientele. Mostly city workers with pockets full of creds finally off from a hard day’s work and looking for a way to unwind. The occasional group of off duty FGs just hopping to enjoy their time off for a change, all the picture perfect target group for what this selfless ladies of strip had to offer.

Jinx, however, was quite partial to his creds and had no intention of sharing them with any of these fine young women of the boulevard…but they didn’t have to know this just yet. Besides, Jinx was savoring the looks that his horde of groupies was getting from a certain savior of the known world. It wasn’t like he was going to do any more than talk with them, but Jak didn’t have to know that just yet either.

~oo0oo~

He hadn’t been staring and he most definitely hadn’t snarled either. Jinx was just a drunken bastard that seemed to think he was worth being snarled over. He’d just kindly asked the girls to leave. Daxter was closing up and these… ladies… were holding up the process.

The girls cleared out mighty fast once he showed up, though. Not that he cared. He’d gotten them to leave and that’s all that mattered.

The bar was pretty empty now. Tess and Daxter were cleaning up the last of the glasses and tidying up. However, there was one last thing that had to be taken care of before they could lock the doors. Daxter had adamantly insisted that Jak would be the one that would have this great responsibility.

This “responsibility” was currently staring up at him from his position laid out across the booth bench. With eyes glazed over and the silliest grin on his face, Jinx was way past drunk and giggling like an idiot.

“Preeeeeety Boy,” a snicker, “Wassup?!” Jinx gave Jak a lopsided grin.

Jak sighed. “I’m taking you home.”

“Owww… sounds promisin’.”

Jinx rolled over onto his stomach a little too enthusiastically for Jak’s tastes (which didn’t take much in Jinx’ case) and crawled closer. The green-eyed man’s gaze was clouded with something Jak just chalked up to the amount of alcohol in his system. This belief further allowed Jak to ignore the hand that grabbed hold of his belt and the debauched grin he received next. And though he was quite sure that Jinx’ drunkenness could also be attributed to what happened next, it didn’t make it any less amusing when the older man slid off the leather cushion and onto the hard wood floor.

~~~~~~

[Author’s Note: Okay. I admit that I suck for taking so long with this. But I was busy with courses and other fics. And honestly I had no clue where I was going with this fic, but I got an idea now. So hopefully, this baby will be moving along at a reasonable pace now. Since I graduated college and all. I’m free! Free to write lovely Jinx/Jak-ness. *cough*]

Deleted Scene: “Jinx Finds His Beloved Yellow Eco” written by CSkerries

Jinx: ::sets Box down carefully::
Jinx: It’s time to go to work again, my dearest and most loveliest. :D
Box: ::immobile::
Jinx: ::strokes Box lovingly:: Oooo, yeah. Come ta daddy. b:
Box: ::unresponsive::
Jinx: Aw, don’t be like that. Let’s see what you have in there, huh? ::naughtily fingers Box’s locks open and lifts its lid::
Box: …
Jinx: That shit makes me so hot. 8F