Frak it! A writing meme.

[leigh57]

I was 100% not going to do this, but I'm home with a sick kid again, and I require brain diversion.

Stolen from lowriseflare, who is so much better at this than I am.

Pick a pairing from any fandom I know (24, SVU, Buffy/Angel, XF, BSG, and anything else you're aware I'm familiar with) and come up with a location and/or situation, and I will write you commentfic about the kiss that happened in that context.

I'll take the first seven (again, provided I know it well enough to write it), but I make no promises re: quality. I'm delirious!

Comments

[roseandheather.livejournal.com]

Ethan/Allison, airport, welcome home.

Yeah. :D

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

Hehe. On it!

Ethan/Allison [Welcome Home]

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

“I’ve got it. Thank you.” Ethan grasped the brown leather briefcase, struggling to push aside the irritation that sharpened the edges of his words. Ever since the health ‘incident’ (He liked to think of it in air quotes, because he could practically see them whenever anyone brought up the event.), people were always appearing out of nowhere, picking up his bags, touching his arm, violating his personal space. On a standard day he shut his mouth (hard) and dealt with it (because they meant well), but it was eight a.m., he’d spent the last fourteen hours on a plane from Seoul, and what he wanted was a glass of bourbon and eight hours of sleep, not coddling from some aide so new Ethan could barely remember his name. Mick? Mike? Mack? He rubbed his finger over the smooth leather handle of his bag and took a deep breath, exhaling the transient animosity. He had to make it through this entire day (complete with a cabinet meeting at noon and what was sure to turn into a shouting war with the Joint Chiefs at two) before there was any chance of scoring bourbon and a pillow.

He stepped out the door of the plane into an assault of sunlight so bright he had to shield his eyes to see the stairs. Squinting, he noticed the president’s car idling a few yards away. He decided his eyes would have to cope and put his hand on the railing instead (he didn’t plan to trip in front of either Allison or the Noxzema-faced newbie). His own reflection shone in the tinted windows as he strode over and pulled open the car door.

“You made it.” Allison slipped off her glasses and looked up from the stack of papers on her lap. The back of the car smelled like her, a collision of lilac perfume and that weird cinnamon toothpaste she loved.

“Barely,” he muttered, reaching for his seat belt. “The North Koreans aren’t budging.” He slotted his briefcase into the space between his feet. “I’m worried if we push them harder at this point, they’ll walk. But if you want me to go back, I can talk to Jeff and put together a group-”

“Ethan.”

“Yes?”

“You told me all this on the phone half an hour ago. I’ve got a staff meeting as soon as we get back to the White House. Do you really want to talk shop for the whole drive?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “No.”

“Good.” She reached for his hand, her thumb running over the skin on his knuckles. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you ever nap? You were emailing me at 4 a.m.”

He squeezed her hand. “You know I can’t sleep on planes. Besides, what’s the new guy’s name? Mack?”

She laughed. “Mick.”

“Mick. I don’t think he’s human. Shannon says she’s heard he sleeps, but only rumors.”

“You’re doing it again.” She looked at him, her expression warm. Amused.

“Sorry.” He could hear the low hissing drone of news interrupted by occasional static that floated from the surrounding speakers. “I’m still getting used to-”

“Dating the president?” she asked, raising her eyebrow just a little.

“Yes.”

“Well, until we get out of the car, forget I’m the president.” She pressed her head back against the navy leather seat and fixed him with that expression that inevitably caused him to lose when they played cards.

“Okay.” He leaned forward (ignoring the hard edge of the seat belt that cut into his shoulder), and kissed her, sting of her cinnamon toothpaste on his lips. She put her hands on his cheeks, and magically he forgot that he’d been tired or irritated. He shot a glance at the driver, who remained stone-faced, staring at the motorcade car ahead. “Like that?” Ethan asked. He pulled her hand into his lap and wrapped both of his around it.

She smiled, her face flushed. “Exactly like that.” She squished herself into the corner of the car and rested one stocking-covered foot on his knee. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“So am I.” He wiggled the knot of his tie, looser. “What do you want for dinner?”

Re: Ethan/Allison [Welcome Home]

[roseandheather.livejournal.com]

Holy fuck. You are never escaping my Ethan/Allison prompts. Ever.

Ha. And you said I write them well. A bonfire might burn quite nicely, but who's going to care when there's a wildfire right next door?

Re: Ethan/Allison [Welcome Home]

[marinw.livejournal.com]

*Flails*

That was great.

Re: Ethan/Allison [Welcome Home]

[adrenalin211.livejournal.com]

You know, this is so incredibly in character. I love Ethan's internal monologue, because I think this is so Ethan headspacey, right down to the bourbon and suitcase. And the Mike/Mick/Mack thing=hilarious.

I love how much she's just...trying to have a little bit of normalcy and he's so stressed and needs to vent, but she's just all... forget I'm the president. She just wants to be his girlfriend.

Only YOU can write Ethan and Allison and not make me kinda want to barf. They're sweet and mature and Allison's cheeks flush and I don't even think it's gross. So... you go. And she puts her feet in his knee and is just...trying to wind down. And he's like... finally getting the picture and thinking about dinner. Awesome job! I really enjoyed this.

Re: Ethan/Allison [Welcome Home]

[cybertoothtiger.livejournal.com]

This is AWESOME. I love your Allison and her glasses.

[adrenalin211.livejournal.com]

Jack/Renee ~ outside in the snow. Renee loses her mitten.

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

You're such a smushball;) :P SNOW!

[adrenalin211.livejournal.com]

THERE ARE FAR TOO FEW JACK/RENEE REQUESTS. Ahem. Just mine?

I want someone to post another. Because I can't post twice. That's greedy!

And yesssss. I'm a smushball. And a snowball.

[sardonicynic]

I am feeling particularly evil this morning. >:DDDD

24 ; Jack/Kate : Jack accompanies Kate during a visit to Paul Koplin's grave.

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

Bwah! Oh, I have no problem writing Jack/Kate, so long as you're aware my Kate will . . . suck:P

But here is a true thing. I do not remember who Paul Koplin is. That information might be necessary? *dies laughing*

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

S60, Danny/Jordan, someplace California-y.

OHHHHHHH.

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

Ahahahaha. Well, as I told sardonicynic, I'm totally game as long as you're game for . . . suckage! But I'll give it a shot. This kind of thing is what YOU are so much better at. You know. Things like dialogue;)

eta: Wanna hear something funny? The scenario for this one popped into my head fully formed like two minutes after I got the comment. BWAH. Oh brain that is surprising!

Danny/Jordan [California Dreamin']

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

"Danny, what the hell are you doing? You put sunscreen on her twenty minutes ago!"

He squinted up at Jordan, his hands covered in the greasy white substance he was smearing over their daughter's pudgy thighs. He pushed the fabric ruffle of Rebecca's pink and orange butterfly swimsuit aside with his knuckle. "I know. The bottle says to reapply after swimming or towel drying."

Jordan propped her paperback mystery novel open on her beach towel. "She's nine months old. She wasn't swimming."

"You took her in the water!" He rubbed sunscreen over Rebecca’s feet and she giggled, pulling them back.

"Danny. I dunked her feet in for approximately five seconds before she started screaming. Now we're under-" She looked up. "The largest beach umbrella I've ever seen. Where did you even find this thing?"

"At an umbrella store online. I made Suzanne do research. This one had the highest rating for screening both UVA and UVB rays."

"I'm not even gonna ask you how much it cost."

"Good, because you don't wanna know."

"Right. I hope you have a plan for when we all die of Vitamin D deficiency."

"Just read your book and thank me for taking such good care of your skin. You probably laid out baking in baby oil before you met me." He wiped the remaining sunscreen on Rebecca's tiny round shoulders, watching her skin pale in patches as he pressed.

Nine months into this odyssey and the strangest things still surprised him. The way it scared him to give her a bath, because she was so small and slippery and she liked to pretend the water made her cough. The sucking feeling in his chest when she screamed in the car, even though he knew she had everything she needed. The way he occasionally liked it when Jordan was gone overnight for a meeting, because he could fall asleep watching TV with Rebecca on his chest, a half-eaten bag of sour cream and onion Ruffles smushed into the couch next to him.

He glanced at Jordan. "You did, didn't you?" he asked, handing the baby an electric blue shovel. She pounded the back of it into the ground, sending sand flying.

"Shut up and see if she wants some of these." Jordan held out a Ziploc full of chocolate Cheerios.

"Of course she wants them. You bought the chocolate ones. Now when I try to give her plain she'll start yelling. These don't have as much oat bran either." He took the bag. "What'd you do with the sanitizer?"

"I cleaned her hands ten minutes ago!"

"The sand toys were in the back of the car . . ."

Jordan shook her head, rummaging through the beach bag until she found the bottle of green gel. "Here. You do know this stuff absorbs through the skin, right?"

He stopped mid-squeeze. "Seriously?"

"You are way too easy." She picked up her book and put on her shades, smiling.

Danny grabbed a plastic waterproof book with a blue flamingo on it and knelt down next to his daughter, watching as she shoved what he thought might be too many Cheerios into her mouth. "Becca, the people who wrote this book did it wrong. Flamingos are pink. In fact, the pinkest flamingos are the healthiest ones because the deep pigment means they're getting enough beta-carotene in their diet." She shoved a few slobbery Cheerios in his mouth.

"Why do you know all this insane stuff?" Jordan knelt beside him, digging into the open bag of cheese balls.

"I looked it up when Matt bought her this stupid factually incorrect book."

"Matt understands the importance of imagination." She smirked.

"I happen to have an incredible imagination," he replied, raising his eyebrows twice in rapid succession.

"I know you do."

She scooted over, shoving a mound of sand onto his thigh, and kissed him. Her tongue touched his, cheeseballs and saltwater, and for a second he forgot that he was supposed to be making sure the baby didn’t put a handful of sand in her Cheerios or start crawling toward the water. Jordan let him go, picking up the bag of cheeseballs as she settled herself back in her beach chair.

“What was that for?” He automatically stopped Rebecca from rescuing a Cheerio she had dropped in the sand.

“Nothing. I’m glad you took the day off.”

“So am I.” He buried his toes in the sand and found the green rake. Adjusting Rebecca’s hat, he began to level the sand beside him in preparation for the perfect castle.

[lind-saay.livejournal.com]

Munch and Fin. Rooftop of the precinct, 3am.

[lind-saay.livejournal.com]

(I'm kidding. Unless you really want to write it, in which case, yes, I want to read it.)

[century-fox.livejournal.com]

Awww, who's sick? S or N? :( I hope whichever one is sick gets better really soon! *sends immune system-boosting thoughts*

As for the meme, I want to request Jack/Renee but I can't think of a prompt right now >.> Can I give you a free space where you can write whatever you want? :P

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

S is sick. He just has a fever and usual upper respiratory infection stuff but argh, enough already, you know? I should not whine. It could be so much worse. Thanks for the good thoughts!

I'm so cracking up. You want me to prompt myself? Well I can probably do that! *smushes you*

[adrenalin211.livejournal.com]

Can I suggest a prompt for your filler space? *is greedy*

What about... Jack/Renee 25 acres of vacant land?

[marinw.livejournal.com]

Muldner/Scully on board the flying saucer

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

Wait. Really? I mean I'm happy to write Mulder and Scully, but I'm not sure I can pull off flying saucerness . . .

[xbedhead.livejournal.com]

So...I think there are only SIX! Are there? Sometimes the sunburn takes away my ability to count...

Jack/(was gonna be mean and give you Diane, but...)Renee; Jack in handcuffs.

Was trying to think of something creative for Renee to be doing, but my mind got stuck on Jack in handcuffs....

[leigh57.livejournal.com]

Sunburn is bad for your skin! You're gonna make me go all mom on you:P

Uh, I'm supposed to write Jack and Renee making out while Jack is in handcuffs? THAT IS INTERESTING. But okay! I will absolutely give it a try. I just wrote one of the Jack/Renee prompts and it went all twelve thousand shades of a different direction than I expected, so that was weird.

*is also stuck on image of Jack in handcuffs*

p.s. Thank you for not giving me Diane. I know you love her, but she's always screaming!

[mulefa.livejournal.com]

A very natural place for anyone's mind to get stuck