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fringe_kinkmemeThis 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'seliade'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).
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
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).
no subject
Date: 2011-04-18 09:26 pm (UTC)In my canon, I like to think the trio from the alt!verse are/were lovers. They'll go to any means to protect each other... + the baby! ALL/ANY KINKS WELCOME!
In Thirds (post-Immortality)
Date: 2011-05-18 11:22 pm (UTC)Charlie leaves Lincoln to deal with the paperwork. Boss’ prerogative and all. That’s why Charlie never wanted to be in charge. He’s wound up, twitchy with spent adrenaline, so he makes his way to Lincoln’s apartment and lets himself in, if for no other reason than he figures (hopes?) both Lincoln and Liv will end up there eventually.
With Lincoln, he has no doubt. They caught the bug guy and nobody else died. There’s no reason to burn the candle at both ends tonight.
Liv, he’s not so sure about.
He’d used his Fringe Agent status to bully the hospital admissions clerk into confirming that, yes, an Agent Dunham had been admitted, and that she was listed as stable. Aside from the brief message from Frank (they gotta do something about the crappy reception on those earpieces) telling him that she hadn’t been dosed with beetle larvae after all, that’s all he knows.
Actually, Charlie thinks, there’s a lot of things about Liv he doesn’t know lately.
He hadn’t bothered bringing it up with Lincoln again, but something still feels off. He knows that this thing they have shouldn't work, should be tenuous at best, but somehow they're actually stronger for all it's quirks and jagged puzzle-piece edges. They need each other. Charlie worries that when Liv broke and Lincoln got burnt, a few few pieces were put back crooked. None of them have actually recovered, even though the shrinks have said otherwise.
Charlie’s in the fridge, reaching past the near-empty jar of mayo and looking for something a little stronger than water or flat 7-Up when the front door slams shut.
“It’s in the freezer.” Lincoln tosses his jacket at the back of the couch, misses, and doesn’t seem to care. The guy looks wound up tight enough to herniate himself.
“Read my mind.” Charlie pulls the clear bottle from underneath a bag of frozen French fries, and grabs a pair of spotty tumblers from the dish rack. “Any news?” he asks, pouring them each a generous couple of fingers.
Lincoln fills him in and Charlie slops the rum over the back of his hand. “Shit," is all he has to say.
Charlie’s always insisted on being careful, (even went as far as using his spiders as an excuse; they all knew it was bullshit but they never called him on it) always knowing that if something happened between the three of them, it would be Liv who'd pay the highest price.
He wonders which one of them she’s going to shoot first.
Turns out, neither of them.
Her key scrapes in the lock sometime after midnight. Charlie rubs the grit from his eyes and drops his feet from the coffee table. He’s slower than Lincoln, who’s on his feet already. He doesn’t think Lincoln’s sat for more than thirty seconds straight since he got home, but Charlie’s head was getting heavy after the third drink. This isn’t the first all-nighter for him this week.
“Liv-“
“Hey,” he says before Lincoln can get another word in. His throat feels all scratchy and rough from the drink and not enough sleep, but he figures it’s nothing compared to the day she’s had. “Let her take her jacket off before you pounce.” Though he can’t blame Lincoln for being worried.
She plasters on a smile because she thinks that’s what’s expected of her, but the smart-ass comeback isn’t there. She sheds her jacket, lets her bag and keys land where they land, and sinks down into the sofa beside him with a “Hey Charlie”. Charlie watches her, tries to pick up the clues he’s been missing, the signs that something about her is different, but all he sees right now is how stiffly she’s moving. Liv fell almost a story and a half through that rotten floor; it’s a miracle that all she’s got are a few bruises. She’s going to be hurting tomorrow if she isn’t already.
“What are you doing here Livvy?”
She rolls her head towards him. “What are you doing here?” She looks tired, red-eyed, and he knows her better than to ask why she’s not at home with Frank right now.
But Lincoln can’t help himself. The guy can’t not ask questions. It’s what makes him a good investigator; but it also makes Charlie want to cuff him sometimes. Charlie’s always found that the answers come easier when he’s listening for them. He just has to find the quiet.
“I convinced the docs I’d get more rest at home in my own bed,” Liv tells him, not exactly dodging the question. Charlie stretches an arm across the back of the sofa and doesn’t point out that this isn’t technically her own bed. She uses the opportunity to weasel her way closer and sinks heavily against his ribs. Lincoln plants himself in the space she’s just freed up.
She stretches her legs across Lincoln’s lap and Charlie feels her sag, like she’s finally letting go of the last of the tension that’s been keeping her upright. Lincoln rubs a thumb up and down her calf and seems to come down from that high-pitched vibration that’s been driving him since he pulled a gun on the bug guy, to something closer to a sub-sonic oscillation, soothed somewhat by their pieces all falling into the right places.
This stillness feels easy, like a long, slow breathe. Charlie finally stops thinking about what they would’ve done if they hadn’t been in time, if they’d lost Liv, but that just opens the door on a whole other set of concerns.
“You can stop worrying,” she says sleepily, as if she’s read his mind. Or Lincoln’s. “It’s not yours.”
Lincoln’s hand stills and Charlie swears the guy’s face falls just a bit. He glances over at Charlie, but Charlie just gives him a slow headshake that he hopes comes across as ‘don’t push it right now’. They’ve all got their issues and Lincoln’s crush is no secret, not to Charlie, but they make this work, keep each other checked and balanced.
Lincoln gets the hint. He pulls a blanket from the armchair and drapes it across Liv as her eyes slip shut. Charlie lets his hand drop to her hip, feels her shift once more, then settle.
“Wasn’t worried,” Lincoln says as his hand finds her leg again, but she’s already breathing deeply. Asleep.
Charlie’s got questions, lots of them. Like what really happened after her break and why she’s keeping secrets from them, but he’s not going to get answers tonight. Maybe, not at all. Doesn’t matter. As long as they still fit together somehow.
Re: In Thirds (post-Immortality)
Date: 2011-05-18 11:46 pm (UTC)Now this is a thing of beauty. Wonderfully written and underscoring Charlie's thought processes within the tightness of their 3-man-unit. Adored.
Re: In Thirds (post-Immortality)
Date: 2011-05-19 12:00 am (UTC)Re: In Thirds (post-Immortality)
Date: 2011-05-19 12:26 am (UTC)Re: In Thirds (post-Immortality)
Date: 2011-05-19 12:53 am (UTC)Re: In Thirds (post-Immortality)
Date: 2011-05-19 02:03 pm (UTC)Zeppelins and Alligators
Date: 2011-06-23 04:27 pm (UTC)They usually took turns with the middle of the night feedings, but between work and her mom and the nanny and the universe falling apart, this was sometimes the only time they had together. In the quiet dim-lit space of her apartment at 2:30 in the morning, it finally felt as if the four of them were alone and safe. They could be their little cobbled-together family without any prying eyes on them.
Charlie was sprawled on the couch across the room, with Henry settled on his chest, one of his hands resting on the baby's stomach to keep him from rolling away. Henry was awake, not quite fussing yet, kicking at his blanket until Charlie pulled it away. Henry promptly stuffed one of his feet into his mouth, cooing contentedly as he gummed his own toes.
She grinned when Lincoln came in from the kitchen, bottle in hand. "You're too slow. He's resorted to cannibalism."
"Can't have that."
Lincoln's hair was sticking up in random directions - more random than usual. His Brooklyn Lions t-shirt was wrinkled and worn, crimson washed gray in the low light of the room. He looked disheveled and happy when he scooped Henry up off of Charlie and held him with one arm, offering the bottle to his grasping hands. It was something Olivia thought she'd never get tired of watching -- Henry's little body cradled against Lincoln's. She tried to freeze the image in her mind, commit to memory the warmth that spread through her at the sight, liquid and languid. Charlie was smiling up at Lincoln from the couch, and that was good, too -- that sleepy and content look he got when they were alone.
Olivia pitched her voice low, not wanting to break the stillness of the room when she asked, "You want the chair?"
Lincoln dragged his eyes away from watching Henry and smiled at her. "Sure, unless you want the baby."
She shook her head, pushed herself out of the chair. Charlie sat up and patted the cushion beside him. She slumped down on the couch, resting her head in his lap, and sighed when he pulled a blanket over her. He smoothed his hand over her hair, stroking in time with the slow rhythm of Lincoln rocking Henry. His voice was a low rumble when he said, "Go back to sleep, Liv."
"Mmm." He was right; she should sleep. She was operating dangerously close to the point of exhaustion. She didn't want to close her eyes, though.
Lincoln was whispering a story to Henry, something about alligators and zeppelins. He was grinning, making little growling and chomping noises and Henry's eyes were intent on him. Olivia's throat felt tight. Lincoln's eyes flicked up to hers and his expression changed, the smile becoming softer, vulnerable, and it made her chest hurt how much he loved her son. Charlie's hand went still for a moment, then he squeezed her shoulder. Lincoln turned his attention back to Henry as the baby gurgled happily, reaching for Lincoln's face and grabbing his chin.
Olivia let her eyes close, let the steady sound of Charlie's breathing and Lincoln singing softly ease her into sleep.
Re: Zeppelins and Alligators
Date: 2011-06-23 05:54 pm (UTC)Re: Zeppelins and Alligators
Date: 2011-06-23 06:07 pm (UTC)Re: Zeppelins and Alligators
Date: 2011-07-28 03:23 am (UTC)