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i think i'm in love,
For the heck of it, here are some couples that have taken over my brain.
Fem!Mycroft/Detective Inspector Lestrade
“No,” he interrupted her. “How are you?”
God, but his eyes hadn’t changed. Perhaps there was more darkness and wisdom that can only come from age, but the inherent kindness and oh, blast it, decency was still there. In those so clear eyes of his.
“Do you know,” she said, “that you are the only person who has ever cared to ask me that?”
“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now, kindly tell me the damn answer.”
Hannah/Evan
He could smell her. Every single inch of her. He wanted nothing more than to feel her fingers at his temples, to taste her, to, jesus christ, possess her. Take her, hold her and stroke her until she flew apart underneath him.
Evan was only seventy-five percent sure that was the wolf talking.
Christine Chapel/Leonard McCoy (Oh, come on, they're my OTP!)
At the sting of the cold water he stirred, then sat up.
"Keep still, please," I said. He was the kind of young man who recovers his faculties very quickly. He pulled himself to his feet and stood there swaying a little.
"Thank you; I don't need anything done for me." His manner was defiant, almost aggressive. Not a word of thanks—of even common gratitude!
"That is a nasty wound. You must let me dress it."
"You will do nothing of the kind." He flung the words in my face as though I had been begging a favour of him. My temper, never placid, rose.
"I cannot congratulate you upon your manners," I said coldly.
"I can at least relieve you of my presence." He started for the door, but reeled as he did so. With an abrupt movement I pushed him down upon the sofa.
"Don't be a fool," I said unceremoniously. "You don't want to go bleeding all over the ship, do you?" He seemed to see the sense of that, for he sat quietly whilst I bandaged up the wound as best I could. "There," I said, bestowing a pat on my handiwork, "that will have to do for the present. Are you better-tempered now and do you feel inclined to tell me what it's all about?"
"I'm sorry that I can't satisfy your very natural curiosity."
"Why not?" I said, chagrined.
He smiled nastily. "If you want a thing broadcast, tell a woman. Otherwise keep your mouth shut."
(excerpt from Agatha Christie's The Man in the Brown Suit. If, IF, I am in a position to do so, I may re-tell this story with a McCoy/Chapel angle in space. IF.)
Fem!Mycroft/Detective Inspector Lestrade
“No,” he interrupted her. “How are you?”
God, but his eyes hadn’t changed. Perhaps there was more darkness and wisdom that can only come from age, but the inherent kindness and oh, blast it, decency was still there. In those so clear eyes of his.
“Do you know,” she said, “that you are the only person who has ever cared to ask me that?”
“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now, kindly tell me the damn answer.”
Hannah/Evan
He could smell her. Every single inch of her. He wanted nothing more than to feel her fingers at his temples, to taste her, to, jesus christ, possess her. Take her, hold her and stroke her until she flew apart underneath him.
Evan was only seventy-five percent sure that was the wolf talking.
Christine Chapel/Leonard McCoy (Oh, come on, they're my OTP!)
At the sting of the cold water he stirred, then sat up.
"Keep still, please," I said. He was the kind of young man who recovers his faculties very quickly. He pulled himself to his feet and stood there swaying a little.
"Thank you; I don't need anything done for me." His manner was defiant, almost aggressive. Not a word of thanks—of even common gratitude!
"That is a nasty wound. You must let me dress it."
"You will do nothing of the kind." He flung the words in my face as though I had been begging a favour of him. My temper, never placid, rose.
"I cannot congratulate you upon your manners," I said coldly.
"I can at least relieve you of my presence." He started for the door, but reeled as he did so. With an abrupt movement I pushed him down upon the sofa.
"Don't be a fool," I said unceremoniously. "You don't want to go bleeding all over the ship, do you?" He seemed to see the sense of that, for he sat quietly whilst I bandaged up the wound as best I could. "There," I said, bestowing a pat on my handiwork, "that will have to do for the present. Are you better-tempered now and do you feel inclined to tell me what it's all about?"
"I'm sorry that I can't satisfy your very natural curiosity."
"Why not?" I said, chagrined.
He smiled nastily. "If you want a thing broadcast, tell a woman. Otherwise keep your mouth shut."
(excerpt from Agatha Christie's The Man in the Brown Suit. If, IF, I am in a position to do so, I may re-tell this story with a McCoy/Chapel angle in space. IF.)