fearlessfan: (psych shawn & gus)
[personal profile] fearlessfan
I've seen my favorite meme floating around LJ lately, the old Post-Bits-from-Works-in-Progress meme. I love it because I get to post things without finishing stories. I almost never get to post things because I am very, very bad at finishing stories, and I welcome any chance I get to cheat.

Posted in order from the ones I'd most like to finish, or think I'm most likely to finish, to those that fell off my radar completely, either because I stopped being obsessed by the fandom/pairing, or because I ended up writing a different story altogether.

Get There, Ocean's 11, Rusty/Linus, aka The Story I Will Finish IF IT KILLS ME, if only to prove to myself that I am capable of writing more than one story in a fandom

Linus doesn't so much walk up to Rusty as he does appear fully-formed at his elbow, startling Rusty so much that he almost drops his drink.

"That's the thing with you pickpockets. You're sneaky," Rusty says, setting the glass down carefully.

The bartender gives Linus a wary look. "He's kidding," Linus says, grinning a little too widely as he folds his hands in front of him on the bar. A set of keys dangle from the fingers of his left hand. "I sell insurance. Speaking of – what kind of policy do you have on this place? There are some very competitive rates –"

The bartender walks away before Linus can finish his sentence.

"So, you're in insurance now?"

"I'm in a lot of things."

"Sounds interesting. You can tell me about it on the drive," Rusty says, and finishes his drink in one swallow before pulling the keys off of Linus's finger. "Pay off my tab and leave a nice tip, will you? I'm good for it."

"Sure." Linus reaches for his wallet.

"I'll wait for you in the car."

"It's the-"

"I'll find it," Rusty says over his shoulder.

Pennsylvania, Psych/The Office Crossover, Gus/Shawn

"So, where is this guy?"  Gus hikes his carry-on bag higher on his shoulder, looking into the crowd of people leaning against the walls near their luggage carousel, a few of them carrying small signs with names on them.

"He'll be here," Shawn says, and then gets a thoughtful expression on his face.  "Or maybe he's already here."

Gus looks through the few people carrying signs, but none of them have Spencer or Guster on them.  "Why doesn't he have a sign with our names on it?  I was looking forward to that sign."

"I know, me too!" Shawn says.  "Though he doesn't need it since he knows what we look like."

"How does he know that?  Shawn, you didn't -"

"No, I didn't put those pictures up on our website.  But I still don't know why you're so self-conscious about that shot, you look very fetching in that orange!"

"I swear you convinced me to join the swim team just to get incriminating pictures of me."

'I will neither confirm nor deny that statement."

"Anyway," Gus says.  "No one looks fetching in a Speedo."  

"I don't know, I think Brad Pitt could probably pull it off."

"Yeah, but what couldn't he?"

"So true," Shawn says.  "He even pulls off that ridiculous newsboy cap he's been wearing lately.  Anyway, this guy said that he'd seen us at the Comic Con and so he should recognize us, and the fact that he's not stepping forward makes me think that this might be a test."  

"Of the psychic abilities you don't have?"

"Shh, Gus, not so loud!  He could be anywhere!"

"Okay, let's think of the distinguishing characteristics we have - male, thirties," Shawn says, and Gus starts to scan the crowd while Shawn goes on.  "He's a salesman, kind of uptight based on the language in the report, totally into sci fi and comics - oh my God."

"What?  Do you see him?"

"No, I just realized - Gus, this guy.  He's you.  The Pennsylvania bizarro version of you."

Gus shakes his head in a dismissive way and goes back to scanning the crowd.

"No, seriously, he's you!  And I can use that to find him."

"Go right ahead.  So to be clear here, you're looking for handsome, debonair, snappy dressers?"

"Right now I'm looking for a best friend who doesn't use the phrase 'snappy dresser'," Shawn says.  "Actually, I'm not looking anymore.  I've got him."

Gus follows Shawn's line of sight.  "No way that guy's Bizarro Me."

"Totally is," Shawn says in an apologetic way, patting Gus on the shoulder before making his way over to the tall, moon-faced man by the far exit.

"Is not," Gus argues, but picks up their bags and follows Shawn on his way, as usual.

Untitled Ugly Betty fic, Betty/Daniel

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"Just my finger," Betty says, holding her hand up. "It's not a big deal."

"Let me see," Daniel says.

Henry has been gone for a while now. That's why it feels strange when Daniel takes Betty's hand; Daniel, who Betty has grabbed by the elbow, pushed out the door, and high-fived more times than she can count. It's not like he's never touched her or anything, but somehow, in that moment, it feels that way. The pressure of his thumb on the inside of her wrist, the warmth of the palm of his hand against the back of hers; it feels brand-new, like the path his finger is tracing down the side of her palm to her finger, which is still red, has never been touched by anyone before.

"Here?" he asks.

"Yeah," Betty says, and looks up at Daniel. He's looking down at her hand with an intent, unfamiliar expression. In that moment, Betty thinks, this is why so many women go to bed with him. This look. This expression.

The thought is so certain and surprising and disturbing – totally disturbing, Betty repeats to herself, totally and completely disturbing – that Betty pulls her hand away without thinking. Daniel looks up, and the surprise on his face, the embarrassment, makes Betty want to take the movement back, or apologize, but she can't.

"I just remembered," she says, into the silence. "I'm supposed to meet Hilda."

Untitled Iron Man story, eventually Pepper/Tony (I think, I never really got that far)

"Out with what?" Pepper said, not looking up from her notebook, where she'd been taking notes on how he wanted her to respond to some messages.

"Out with whatever's bothering you," Tony said, tapping his cue against the table. He'd been playing against himself for ten minutes now, clearing balls into pockets with every move. "You've been acting weird all day."

Pepper looked up sharply.

"Yeah, I noticed. Just didn't say anything. What's going on?"

Pepper opened her mouth and then thought better of it. "It's nothing."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"What? I have no idea what you could be referring to." Pepper shrugged and looked past Tony toward the TV hanging on the wall, showing one of the local news stations. "Oh, look, there's a natural disaster in . . . well, I can't really see, but it looks like maybe -- "

"Pepper, there's always a natural disaster somewhere. Kind of like how it's always 5 o'clock someplace."

Pepper held her tongue, but Tony saw something in her eyes. He pointed a finger at her and said, "There! There it is. That look. You have something to say, and you're not saying it."

Pepper shook her head. "Mr. Stark, you are my boss, and I am your assistant. I don't think it's necessary that you know my every thought."

"Well, no, not your every thought," Tony said. "Just the interesting ones. I have a sneaking suspicion that you're full of interesting thoughts, Miss Potts."

Something about the way he said it made her believe that he meant it, and it was easy for her to say, "Well, thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're welcome," Tony said. "Now that we've restored our nice rapport, can we return to the matter at hand?"

"Which was?" Pepper said, adopting a forgetful demeanor.

"Nice try," Tony said, smiling. "Why the cold shoulder? And I have to tell you, the Fifth Amendment doesn't apply here. There is no right to remain silent among my employees. I'm pretty sure you signed a paper attesting to that when you were hired."

"I signed a confidentiality agreement, Mr. Stark, not a document giving you the right to compel me to speak on command."

"Are you sure? Did you read all of the fine print?"

"Yes," Pepper said.

"Of course you did. That's why you're here, right? You're the one who reads the fine print."

"I am," Pepper said, and before Tony could ask her again (because she could tell he was going to), she said, "Mr. Stark, it's really not any of my business-"

"Please," Tony said. "My business is your business. My business is your job, really."

"Yes, it is," Pepper said. "And this morning, my job got off to a bit of a rough start."


Pepper shook her head.

"Oh. Diana?"

"Diana," Pepper repeated.

"Did she give you a hard time or something?"

"Not exactly. She cried." Pepper considered leaving it at that, and then added, "A lot."

"Oh," Tony said, looking thoughtful. He turned away from Pepper and examined the pool table. "So, she was upset?"

"She was pretty upset," Pepper said.

"And you think I did something wrong."

Pepper didn't have an answer right away, which surprised her. Tony seemed okay with her not saying anything, having made himself busy figuring out the angles for his next shot. When he leaned over, some of his hair fell forward, and even from a few feet away Pepper could see the muscles flex in his arms. She knew why women were drawn to him. She'd even felt it herself, sometimes; it wasn't his looks, or to be more honest, it wasn't just his looks. It was something more than that. His charm.

Pepper looked at him standing there, remembered standing next to him at a cocktail party they'd attended two weeks before. She thought of the girls he talked to, and how obvious it was what he offered them. Only a fool would read something more than passing affection in his easy charm and surprising compliments. Only a fool.

Tony stood up after finishing his move, and looked at her. "So?"

"No, I don't think you did anything wrong," Pepper said.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Pepper said. "It was just – a rough start to the day, we all have them."

Tony shrugged. "Well, most people do. I pay you so that I can avoid them."

Pepper smiled at that. "That you do. So, will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts," Tony said, nodding.

Pepper began walking away, but before she got to the door, he said, "Miss Potts?"

"Yes," she said, turning around.

"Keep those thoughts coming," Tony said. "I like to think we have an open dialogue here."

"I'll keep that in mind," Pepper said, walking away.

Four Times Robin Should Have Realized Barney Loved Her (and One Time She Did), How I Met Your Mother, Robin/Barney

“Hey, Barney,” Robin says, and then notices the pile of DVDs in Barney’s arms. “Is that The Way We Were?”

“What? No. I mean, how’d that get there?” Barney says, stuffing it into the DVD rack in front of him, even though they’re in the musicals section.

Robin picks it back up. “I hate it when these are mis-shelved. What were you doing with it in the first - oh! Did I just harsh your game?”

“My game?”

“Were you trying to pick someone up here? This is a new angle, right?”

“Uh, absolutely. I didn’t realize that was what you were referring to earlier because I haven’t heard someone call it ‘my game’ since the early aughts.”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes the rest of the DVDs from Barney. “Casablanca, Pretty in Pink, The Way We Were - you’re going for the romantic sad-sack angle. Intriguing.”

“You got it. It works with the rest of what I’ve got going on,” Barney says, holding out his arm, still in a light cast.

“Yeah, I hear chicks dig the arm-in-a-cast thing.”

“It worked for Ted Bundy.”

“Certainly someone to emulate. I hope that‘s not the first thing you bring up when you spot a likely target.”

“No, funnily enough, girls tend to kind of back away at the mention of prolific serial killers.”

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-30 05:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] krabapple.livejournal.com
I want to read all of these fics, FYI. But no pressure. :)

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-31 03:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fearlessfan.livejournal.com
Thanks, buddy!

Also, did you do Yuletide this year? I know that you've been crazy busy with school and everything, but I've loved your Yuletide stories so I was wondering if you'd taken part this year.


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January 2013


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