Post #1

Apr. 16th, 2011 07:02 pm
fringekink_mod: Olivia, in bed and naked under the sheets (what? Totally!), eyes closed, smiling blissfully, hair fanned out on pillow (Default)
[personal profile] fringekink_mod posting in [community profile] fringe_kinkmeme
This is a kinkmeme. You may just be familiar with the concept.

If not: explicit, adult content; read at your own risk, and keep the kids -- wherever that arbitrary line is in your jurisdiction -- out. Also, please wear your seatbelt.

RULES

1. When prompting, use the comment field to jot down character, pairing, or moresome first, then the kink(s), then any other prompt elements; after a line break, you can elaborate via words, images, or links. Like so?



2. When responding, use the subject line for the original prompt (plus your title, if you have one).

3. All kinks are welcome -- sexual, emotional, conceptual, likewise all gen, het, slash, bitextual and other fic from crack to drama.

4. Anon is encouraged but up to you.

5. Mark all spoilers, mmkay?

6. Go for it!

REMINDERS

7. With a view to some prompts: Spell Check is your BFF. Don't make Alt!Astrid cry, please?

8. A kinkmeme's more than a promptmeme. Here's [personal profile] eliade's non-definitive and non-exhaustive (but pretty illustrative) List of Fan-fiction Kinks, Tropes, Clichés, and Fetishes.

9. Could you -- in the subject line or the first line of the body of text -- draw attention to the fact there's rape or non-con, major character death, underage, and/or graphic violence in your response (which is the Archive Of Our Own (AO3) policy).

Olivia/Altlivia

Date: 2012-06-15 02:43 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Peter is away on some kind of trip - Altivia keeps Olivia company

Re: Olivia/Altlivia

Date: 2012-06-15 05:09 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
writing this right now anon.

"While Peter Is Away..The Girls Will Play" (Sexual adventures pt 1/4)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-16 11:58 am (UTC) - Expand

"While Peter Is Away..The Girls Will Play" (Sexual adventures pt 1/4)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-16 11:59 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: "While Peter Is Away..The Girls Will Play" (Sexual adventures pt 1/4)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-18 01:33 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: "While Peter Is Away..The Girls Will Play" (Sexual adventures pt 1/4)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-18 02:11 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: "While Peter Is Away..The Girls Will Play" (Sexual adventures pt 1/4)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-18 09:43 pm (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2012-06-20 12:22 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Morning after with the Olivias and Peter. Two of them decides to continue the party while the third one is still asleep. I'd prefer the Olivias but any variation will do...

Date: 2012-06-20 01:57 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I might work this into my story above with PO2 if you want...

(no subject)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-20 04:23 pm (UTC) - Expand

Olivia/Olivia

Date: 2012-06-22 11:42 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The fight scene from season two turns into something more

Foursome

Date: 2012-06-22 05:14 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Peter and Olivia in a hotel room doing it at a glass door while Our!Lincoln and Liv are doing it the same way in an other one, room facing PO's direction.

Bending until nipple glass connection
Mobiles on speaker

Re: Foursome

Date: 2012-06-23 06:56 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Oh god. the prompt alone gets me all flustered and eagerly craving such a fic...

Date: 2012-06-22 05:25 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
PO/Hawaii/Honeymoon

I don't think it needs more after the pictures...

Date: 2012-06-23 06:52 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Image

(no subject)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-23 08:25 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-23 09:00 am (UTC) - Expand

PO²

Date: 2012-06-27 08:10 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
You caused us so much pain. It's time for you to cause us pleasure.

Re: PO²

Date: 2012-06-29 07:54 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
oooo I love this! Are we talking a little dominance, thing here? Liv's their pet for the evening so to speak? Or slave, rather... xD

Date: 2012-06-28 05:22 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Give Olivia Misfits Alisha's first power and let her experiment some on Peter or Liv or Lincoln or all on them at the same time.

Date: 2012-06-28 05:26 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
...and don't make her touch Walter, please. Please.

(no subject)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-06-28 07:57 pm (UTC) - Expand

Red'verse Charlie/Lincoln

Date: 2012-07-03 11:30 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Charlie Francis thought he was completely straight, until he met Lincoln Lee.

(yes, "gay for you" trope. We're all supposed to be more evolved than this, but the heart wants what it wants.)

Date: 2012-07-04 03:41 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Olivia/Peter, glasses, whiskey, and finely tailored dress shirts.

Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 1/2)

Date: 2012-07-04 06:40 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Olivia has never done things half-way.

On a scale of one to ten, using one’s partner as her own personal BattleBot in a rooftop throwdown rates somewhere between ‘epic’ and ‘apocalyptic’.

But then, after the near-universe-rendering climax on the boat, things quiet down again. Nothing happens for several weeks, and when it does, it’s so subtle that Peter barely notices.

He’s in the kitchen putting supper together. There are still things about this version of Olivia’s apartment that aren’t completely familiar to him; the sofa’s on the wrong side of the living room, mugs are kept where the cereal used to be shelved, the bathroom door swings from the left, not the right. Minor things. Locating something isn’t exactly an insurmountable challenge. Except at the moment, the pasta’s about the boil over and he can’t find the strainer.

“Bottom cupboard, by the fridge,” Olivia’s voice comes from the bedroom, and sure enough, there’s the strainer nested in with the mixing bowls. He has to rush to catch the water from splashing all over the stove and making a gummy mess, so it doesn’t occur to him until later that he never actually asked her where it was. He writes it off as coincidence, because something like this is barely a blip on their weirdness bell curve.

~

It happens a few more times before Olivia even notices she’s doing it; she’ll hold out a pen or a soldering iron just as he’s about to reach for it, or bring him a cup of coffee only moments after the thought of actually wanting one crosses his mind. He chalks it up to spending so much of their waking (and sleeping) hours together; she’s picking up on his subtle cues in that way couples who have been together for years are known to do.

“So Walter, that’s a Caprese panini, extra cheese, and a corned beef on rye for you Peter?” Olivia asks as she grabs her coat and keys on her way to meet Astrid at the door.

“Sure,” Peter answers without looking up from the stack of files he’s sorting. “That sounds good. How’d you know?”

Olivia stops, turns back from the stairs. “That’s what you asked for, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” he frowns. “I never said anything.”

“Sure you did.” She cants her head like she’s replaying the last minute or two of conversation. “When I asked Walter what he wanted from Oscar’s. You said ‘pick me up a corned beef on rye and for the love of god, don’t let them try and use Dijon again.’”.

“I didn’t hear him,” Astrid says. “And I was standing right beside him. Peter didn’t say a word.” All three turn to Walter.

“Walter, did you hear Peter say anything?” Astrid prompts.

He blinks and removes the noise-cancelling headphones he’s wearing. “Peter’s said a lot of things today.” Astrid plants her hands on her hips. “But… but in the last half hour? No. He’s been quiet as a clam.”

Olivia shakes her head. “I could’ve sworn…” but Peter doesn’t hear the rest of it because she’s already on her way out the door.

The current case fills the rest of the afternoon with background checks and phone record requests, cross-referencing credit card statements with gas stations receipts, the more banal and unglamorous side of crime fighting. Olivia doesn’t say anything about the mind reading, and he doesn’t bring it up, but he also notices that she’s keeping her distance from him, as much as one can within the confines of the lab and its adjacent rooms.

~

“So,” Peter says later on the drive home, “that’s been happening a lot lately.”

She blows out a breath. “Peter—“

He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “Hey, I’m cool with it. You just had me thinking I was losing my marbles there a few times.”

“Okay,” she says, but he can tell she’s not.

Traffic is light at this time of day, the light cycles shifted into their evening programming, and it’s a long, quiet stretch before they stop at a red light again. Peter just lets her drive and doesn’t push her; it’s bothering her, that much he can tell, but whether it’s because she didn’t notice she was doing it, or because she can still read him at all, he’s not sure.

“Listen, Olivia,” he finally says. “You’re probably worried that I’m feeling violated by this somehow, and I just want you to know that’s not the case. It’s all been pretty mundane stuff, as far as I can tell.”

She lets out a little huff that tells him she knows better. Peter turns so he can watch her, but she refuses to meet his eye. The light turns green and she hits the accelerator harder than she needs to, pushing him back into his seat. Peter raises an eyebrow in her direction.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not, but apology accepted.” He reaches across the center console and gently squeezes her thigh. Her muscles feel tight under his fingers. He lets his thumb sweep along the outside of her leg, just above her knees until her eyes dart in his direction for a second, then back to the road. She eases off the pedal enough that their speed falls back to somewhere near the legal limit again. “Would it make you feel better if I said you could read me whenever you wanted, as long as you’re using your powers for good and not evil?” And there’s that twitch at the corner of her mouth he’s been looking for, but it’s blink-and-miss-it quick.

“It’s just that… ” she finally says as she puts the car in park. She’s managed to find a parking spot only half a block from her apartment, but for the moment, neither of them make a move to get out of the car. “I thought Walter said that now that the levels of Cortexiphan in my system have dropped, I shouldn’t be able to do things like this anymore.”

“He said you wouldn’t be able to run around setting things on fire.”

She leans back against the head rest and closes her eyes as something crumbles inside her. “I’d hoped… now of all times…” Peter wishes he could take the words right back. She presses her lips together, and turns her head away, toward the window.

“Olivia, I’m sorry.” He reaches for her hand, laces his fingers between hers. “Here you’re worried about the baby and I’m making jokes about superpowers. Terrible ones, at that.”

Olivia rolls her head back towards him. With the car off, there’s no light from the dash for him to see her face, no way to get a read on what she’s thinking. The only sounds are their breathing and the creak of the seat as she shifts slightly. She runs her thumb along his brow.

“Peter, you’re worried too,” she says.

He thinks it shouldn’t take special powers to figure that one out.

“It doesn’t.” Then she amends. “I just thought that everything I was feeling tonight… I thought that was all me.” She leans forward until her forehead’s pressed against his. “I should have known I was picking you up too.”

“Hey, it’s not like there’s an instruction manual for these things.” He touches her cheek, moves his hand so that his palm cups the side of her face. “Well maybe the boxes of comic books I used to have growing up might have given me some insight, but I never thought I’d be identifying with Lois Lane.”

And finally, a smile, a real one, not just a ghost. She turns into his hand, brushes her lips against his wrist. “You really think of me as your Clark Kent?”

He reaches for his door handle. “You or Lincoln. It was a toss-up. The superpowers gave you away.” He’s out of the car before he can see the look she throws his way, but he can certainly feel it.

~

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-04 06:55 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-04 05:26 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-04 09:09 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-04 09:55 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-06 12:42 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-04 11:16 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Drown Out the Crowd (Olivia/Peter, Part 2/2)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-06 12:47 am (UTC) - Expand

The Playground Kiss - Olivia/Peter

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-11-29 12:50 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: The Playground Kiss - Olivia/Peter

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-11-29 01:35 pm (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2012-07-06 10:16 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Olivia meets con-man Peter in a bar.
Public sex.

Date: 2012-07-08 09:32 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Yes please.

Date: 2012-07-10 09:46 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
To say I'm not having a good time right now would be an understatement --

some Fringe porn, please? Mature, explicit, sparing no detail?

Olivia/Lincoln, ANY version, Blue or Red, one of the classics:

fuck or die; fertility rituals; intoxication; taking one for the team

Date: 2012-07-10 09:52 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Intoxicated werewolves?

(also, hahahaha, i'm anon, lol)

(no subject)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-10 09:57 pm (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-10 10:01 pm (UTC) - Expand

Red!Olivia/Red!Lincoln; sex-pollen, etc.

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-07-12 03:26 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Red!Olivia/Red!Lincoln; sex-pollen, etc.

From: [personal profile] samjohnsson - Date: 2012-07-12 03:37 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Red!Olivia/Red!Lincoln; sex-pollen, etc.

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-26 09:22 pm (UTC) - Expand

PO²

Date: 2012-07-12 01:45 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Olivia is on top more or less sitting on Liv's hipbone (depending who's turn is it) while Peter kneels behind them and fucks their pussy. Make the girls busy with each other, too...

Date: 2012-07-13 01:54 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
PO. Roleplay. Interrogation room.

Astrid/Walter

Date: 2012-07-19 11:23 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Astrid/Walter; professor/college student; alternate universe

Astrid is Walter's TA at Harvard. They bond over quantum physics and red vines but it becomes something else. Before they know it, they stumble into a romance.

Date: 2012-07-24 05:08 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Anna Torv/Jaime Murray; anything

I don't care what it is, I just want to read this.

peter/olivia

Date: 2012-07-30 01:04 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
we're both thinking of someone else, but that's okay

Re: peter/olivia

Date: 2012-08-15 12:46 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Olivia’s eyes are closed.

And that’s okay, it’s not like Peter minds the idea that she’s too overcome with passion to keep her eyes open. Except that Olivia usually watches him while they’re making love and doesn’t often close her eyes except at her climax, when all her nerves fire off with pleasure and her eyelids flutter shut. Peter knows this like he knows the rest of her responses. He’s made an intense study of the subject, looks forward to a lifetime of learning more.

But now Olivia’s eyes are closed, a faint smile on her face, and he’s always too curious not to ask. Peter braces himself on one arm and brings a hand up to brush across her cheek. “Falling asleep on me?”

“Never,” she answers immediately, the internal *squeeze* she gives him seconding her assertion, and opens her eyes. There’s a faint blush on her cheek, though, warm under his hand. “Just enjoying the moment.”

“You were somewhere else, though,” he guesses, and the blush deepens.

“I was...oh, Peter.” Olivia draws him down, her lips brushing against his. “Tell you later.” She rolls them effortlessly, grins down at him from her new position, and sets a pace that leaves him breathless and in short order, completely incapable of thinking at all.

But afterward, when they’re all clean and dry and snuggled together in bed--ostensibly to sleep--he can’t help but ask again.

Olivia, being Olivia, doesn’t obfuscate. “I was thinking about Lincoln.”

The warm flush that runs through Peter definitely isn’t a normal response. “Normal” would be jealousy, or anger, or--

But no, he’s mostly intrigued. And Olivia knows it, the smile in her eyes a testament to her surety.



[just a drabble. anyone want to run with it, feel free.]

Re: peter/olivia

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-08-15 12:49 am (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2012-07-30 09:24 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Polivia in the rain

National Orgasm Day

Date: 2012-07-31 05:52 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Apparently, July 31st is National Orgasm Day! Did you know that? I did not know that.

How does the Fringe team celebrate? Individually, or together? And if they miss the day, how do they make up for lost time?

ORGASMS FOR YAY.

Re: National Orgasm Day

Date: 2012-07-31 06:17 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I love this! YES PLEASE! \o/

Three Girls and a Flaming Orgasm. (too much talking; not enough action)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-08-02 01:55 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Three Girls and a Flaming Orgasm. (too much talking; not enough action)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-08-02 08:40 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Three Girls and a Flaming Orgasm. (too much talking; not enough action)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-08-03 12:01 am (UTC) - Expand

Peter/alt-Lincoln -- first time, underage

Date: 2012-08-03 07:43 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Right, so I've been compulsively rereading rainer's Thor's Day (http://archiveofourown.org/works/468571), and I am craving a Peter/alt-Linc first-time like MAD. Teenage fumbling and all the emotional highs that come with it. Please, please, please, please, so very pretty please.

Re: Peter/alt-Lincoln -- first time, underage

Date: 2012-08-09 06:46 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Not the OP, just an interested party. Does anyone feel inclined to write this?

Peter/Olivia

Date: 2012-08-29 08:24 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
But more than that, no unloving words were ever spoken, and everything was held up as another small piece of proof that it can be this way, it doesn't have to be that way; if there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it heavy walls, and we will furnish it with soft red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweler's felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.

Fringe Au - In Space

Date: 2012-09-01 12:15 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
So there was a request on a tumbler site, asking for Fringe to be based in space, because everything is better in zero g.
From: (Anonymous)
He was a Sergeant in the war.

Lincoln Lee found his feet in Serenity valley and walked out of the desert lightened. He was missing key pieces - half of his unit for one; reinforcements that never touched down. He came out of the war with his brown coat in tatters. Others lost arms or legs, some cradled gut-shot, gasping each breath, mingled with the dirt and tears and the blood that ran sluggish on the ground. Lincoln lost his sense of belief. Maybe even his honour. But he left Serenity hollowed out and calm; all of his rage quelled by cold space.

He buys a ship, names it after the biggest disaster of his adult life and declares himself Captain. Lincoln runs the gauntlet on the Outer Rim, dodging Alliance vessels and never sailing near the black hole in Sector 38. His eyes drift in that direction aimlessly. His fingers tap the location on the charter maps. He feels the pull of gravity through ten years and vast distances - a rollcall of destroyed worlds. Missing now, his planet torn apart for scientific gain. Lost, he likes it. Lincoln intends to stay lost, too. His crew comes and goes, never sticking around for long. He takes on jobs that are legal. And he takes on jobs that are less than legal. Occasionally, Lincoln will take on jobs just to spite the Alliance. Happy to be a gnat or a speck of dirt in their oiled rig.

He’s happy to mess with the Alliance’s superior technology; their double standards, and all-encompassing wealth. And so it is that Serenity gets itself into a bit of a bind, limps toward Persephone port to dump its cargo and lose it’s entire crew (in minutes, literal minutes, as if someone hollered abandon ship the second they touched down) - all except Astrid - who wears a gun low on her thigh and her beret tilted just so. She favours black t-shirts and classic design, pilots Serenity like it’s an extension of herself, calculates acceleration and sub-orbital approach with the ease of a child counting sheep. Astrid’s dark curls, bird-like bones (spacer bones – too long in zero-G – but she never tells him the story behind it and Lincoln’s mother raised him to respect another’s privacy). She maintains a no-nonsense approach to his oddities and absolutely will not sleep with him. “You’re not my type,” she declares, acidly.

“I’m everyone’s type.” He points at his hair, styled by anti-grav and sweat. He smiles at her winningly. “Don’t you see the wonder of my ‘do?”

She squints at him. “You look like a porcupine. Also, we need a crew.”

“Nyen ching-duh, we need passengers, “ Lee corrects. “Paying customers at that, plus a smidgen of respectability wouldn’t go astray.” (Young one)

“We need an engineer, an overhaul of my baby’s innards and a compression coil for the steamer.” Astrid retaliates. “Plus, the next time we’re running away from the Alliance…”

“We don’t run away.”

“The next time we’re advancing to the rear with alacrity, I’d prefer it if my baby didn’t buckle like a sardine can. She needs some lovin’, Captain. Some slow, lingering caresses.”

They spend the hot day running over Serenity’s hull from top to bottom, washing out the internal transport compartments (the other hidden transport compartments), and hunting a cough in starter engine two. Astrid fires the engine while Lincoln stands outside, one hand shading his eyes against the sun. He listens to the ship splutter. There are hens pecking at his feet, a low steady thrum of Mandarin and English rattling in his ears. The crowd presses and swells against him. Alliance soldiers maintain the perimeter of the port but the bazaar has spilled out of Persephone central and into the docking bays. Military teams sweep through the bustling activity, a ripple effect as the crowd parts for them, push into each other, then rebound.

Uneasily, he scratches the back of his neck, angles his face away from their scans.

“Wuh de tyen, ah.” (Dear god in heaven).

Annoyed, Lincoln turns, one hand resting low on his thigh. There’s a man sitting cross-legged on top of a white box, as if someone had turned a fridge upside down and he’d decided it was a perfect viewing point. His clothing is upper market, clean boots and denim, a short black jacket that’s unzipped in the dusty heat. There’s something soft about his face, too many years of easy living, Lincoln decides snidely, and his accent points toward the core worlds, Alliance, the central planets. His eyes are the sharpest part of his features.

“Did you actually arrive in that thing?” He continues, as if Serenity being space-worthy is a miracle in itself, as if Lincoln has the time or inclination to respond.

“Yep,” Lincoln says shortly and tilts his head to the left, trying to chase the niggling cough into something he can identify. “She might not seem much, but Serenity’s a thing of beauty out there.”

There being space. On the ground, she’s a little misshapen.

“I’m sure she is. Right before the hull peels away and explosive decompression cramps your day.” The stranger hops off his overly long fridge, and squints at the troops moving through the crowd. One hand remains on the box, fingers splayed protectively. His voice is a slow drawl, one hundred per cent certain of himself. “Lucky for you, I’m a genius when it comes to anything mechanical.”

“Tyen tsai, huh?” (Genius)

“Peter Castle, and to me, it sounds like your engine has a flaw in the cooling relay. Fires in space rarely end well. Want me to take a look?”

Shrewdly, Lincoln looks him up and down. They would have been on opposite sides in the war, then again, Peter looks like the type who might have dodged the war altogether.

“You have a flight engineer’s certificate to back up that claim?”

“Not on me, and not under the name Castle.”

Which is more of an admission than Lincoln was expecting. He blinks rapidly, surprised. Peter’s wound a little tighter, probably has to do with the proximity to the troopers. Lincoln might have missed out on the fancy school, the bright education, he might have grown up farming rather than studying but he’s good at noticing the tics in people. Peter’s face remains expressionless, his hand presses against the box.

“What’s in it?”

“A whole lot of mind your own business. Look, I fix your engine and you bring my cargo onboard and out of the sun, quick as you can. If you’re happy with my work, I’ll trade repairs for passage.”

Lincoln can’t spot a weapon on him. There’s a part of him that wants to linger, see what would go down if the troopers scanned Peter for Identification. There’s a part of him that’s pissed at the sheer arrogance, too, and there’s sport to be found in dislodging a person’s confidence. The problem with that scenario is the Troopers would scan Lincoln for his identification too, and it could get messy, fast. Names are fluid around here, forever changing, but ID scans bring everyone to light, and Lincoln spent long days in internment camps, waiting for processing after the war came to an end, he could do without the attention.

“Come aboard, if you fix the relay I’ll consider it, dong ma?” (understand)

“Understood.”

Lincoln uses the anti-grav’s to haul the box inside Serenity, because it’s a heavy fucker and neither one of them want to do their back in. Peter stands just inside the ship, out of sight of the troopers and in clear view of Lincoln, watching him intently, and yeah, bartering trade skills aside, there’s not a lot of trust going on.

“So for the cargo manifest, what do I note it as? Underwear? Explosive materials? One and the same?” Lincoln seals up the back and turns around, feet echoing in the caverns of the hull. Peter double-checks the controls briskly, squatting beside the box before he stands up.

“Put it down as a fridge full of beer.”

“I’m definitely breaking into it, now.”

“Good luck with that.” Peter says evenly, unimpressed.

Arrogance. “I’ll take you to the engineering room.”

“It’s a Firefly class 4, a mid-bulk transport with an enhanced graviton accelerator core and a 4 Blue Sun EVT29-400 pulse feedback generator. It has a crew capacity of eight, passenger capacity of thirty-six, and given how you’ve skeletoned the lower levels, I’d say you’re more into actual livestock than people.” Peter’s eyes cut toward the left wall. Lincoln feels himself bristle, hand inching toward the gun, tension riding through his shoulders. “Maybe other stuff, too. Point is, I know my way around your boat. Engine rooms two levels down, third left, no need to escort me anywhere.”

“Oh sure, I love to leave strangers to wander around my ship unescorted!” Lincoln opens his mouth to holler only to have Astrid interrupt from above.

“Here.” Unnoticed by both men, she’s sitting on the upper catwalk, legs dangling off the edge and her arms folded on the railing, chin resting on top. “What’s this?”

“Crew.” Lincoln says shortly. “I want to drum up some passengers, unlike Mr. Castle, I prefer people over livestock…in so many ways. Take him below for me, xiao meimei?”

“It’s Astrid,” she corrects stubbornly, and smiles at their guest. “You recite specs very prettily. I hope your repair work is just as good.”

Peter cranes his neck to look at her. “Lets find out then.”

The second they’re out of sight, Lincoln’s all over that box like an Orison hooker.
He tries every code-breaking skill he has, punches in numbers and combinations, sticks his fingers into every gap and seam. The box hums merrily, refusing to open its secrets.

“Boss?” Astrid says over the comms after some time, her voice diffident.

Irritated, Lincoln sits back on his heels, stumped, and slaps his palm against the stupid box with its stupid lock. “How is he?”

“Jen duh sh tyen tsai.” (An absolute genius)

“Huh. That’s exactly what he said.”

“She’s humming, Captain. Serenity’s humming; it’s like music to my ears. I think we should keep this one. Can’t you hear Serenity telling you to keep him?”

Serenity’s whispering the two of them (potential three) will die of starvation mid journey if he doesn’t get some paying passengers onboard. “What’s the ETA?”

“We could make space-fall by tonight.”

Lincoln rests his forehead against the box and says to no one in particular. “He really is in a hurry to leave.” The box is a bust. Astrid always had better luck at code breaking than Lincoln. “Alright, don’t let him out of your sight, and keep him away from the aft smuggling compartments. I’m gonna find us some customers.”

There’s a pause before Astrid asks. “What were you doing for the last few hours?”

Lincoln gives the box a sour look and opens the back of the ship to head out into the bazaar. “Tempting Pandora.” Lincoln comes back with two people: a red-headed woman with a number of years behind her, hair striking and her eyes like diamonds; as with Peter, she speaks with the diction that indicates the Core worlds. And a dusty cowpoke, face weathered by too much sunshine. He’s polite, keeps his eyes downcast, and has a scar bisecting the side of his forehead, shaped like a question mark, or the number 2. He’s armed and doesn’t bother to hide it, a lean shadow of a man. Astrid and Peter re-emerge from the lower levels and Lincoln makes the introductions while everyone’s gathered together. “Nina Sharp and Nick Lane, I’d like you to meet my second in command, Astrid Farnsworth and our new engineer, Peter Castle.”

“Nice to meet you.” He’s ditched the inflection, no longer Alliance but pure Browncoat. If Lincoln didn’t know better, he’d say Peter came from one of the fringe worlds, Bunos or Mei Shei.

“A pleasure,” Nina agrees. Nick merely nods.

Astrid catches Lincoln’s eyes, one eyebrow raised.

Lee runs through the dos and don’ts before they take off. No running with pistols, all weapons locked in a safety-box until land-fall, which levels of Serenity are available for use and which levels are strictly off limits, meal-times, and which bunkers are assigned to whom.

The kitchen is communal, and everyone pitches in, passing plates back and forth when Serenity’s course has been loaded in.

“I was twenty-one when I decided I didn’t want children,” Nina says evenly. “Of course, at that age people look at you cock-eyed if you say such a thing – it’s easier to say ‘I don’t want children now, but it might change in the future.’ It stops wasteful arguments, at least. But it didn’t change the fact that I had no intention of having children, or being married for that matter. Early thirties and people ask more frequently, when are you going to marry, nobody likes to be alone, they assume you’re lying with whatever answer you provide, and they’ll say your lying right to your face. By late thirties, everyone just assumes your gay.” Nina smiles faintly, mockingly. “I wanted to run a company. I wanted to live my life on my own terms. Some people are naturally suited to parenthood and some people aren’t. Given the amount of child abuse, spousal abuse, divorce rates and societies expectations, the pressure to conform is absolutely the most damaging element out there. A woman who decides she doesn’t want children shouldn’t be subject to debate, or pithy remarks of sympathy. Maybe she should be congratulated for knowing her own mind.”

“And now?” Astrid asks.

“Now I’m sixty, no one gives a gos se.” And Nina raises her wineglass in salute. “I’ve built my empire. Suitably, I think it’s time to see the Outer Rim.” (crap)

Peter is the first to leave, he goes downstairs to check the environmental’s on his cargo for a final time, then retires to his quarters. “Xiao meimei,” Lincoln says, as soon as everyone else has left the kitchen and it’s only him and his second staring at the cargo bay. “I have a job for you.”

“It’s Astrid,” she corrects.


Re: Fringe Au - In Space - Eventual threesomes, Fringe/Firefly mash-up

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-01 12:57 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fringe Au - In Space - Eventual threesomes, Fringe/Firefly mash-up

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-02 08:16 am (UTC) - Expand

Walter/September

Date: 2012-09-01 12:28 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
September, the Resistance, his 'unexpected' death. Plz.

I think he's adorable and so ignored D:

Date: 2012-09-09 07:32 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Olivia/Altlivia, mirrors.

Red!Lincoln/Red!Olivia, breast-feeding

Date: 2012-09-18 06:06 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Linc and Liv have a baby and Liv's breasts get significantly bigger. During one of her breast-feeding sessions Linc can't stop staring at her and asks if he can feel her other breast. And maybe taste it.

Red'verse team, celebratory sex

Date: 2012-09-20 08:49 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Because I just rewatched "Amber 31422." Lincoln and Charlie double-team Olivia, both still freaked out at how close they came to losing her.

Re: Red'verse team, celebratory sex

Date: 2012-09-20 08:57 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
WANT! :)

Re: Red'verse team, celebratory sex

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-21 02:24 pm (UTC) - Expand

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