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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.)
no subject
Thank god he's not his father.
"William."
"Coleen."
Her glare is impressive. It's not evil, or full of death, but there's the definite promise that his life will be a living hell if he doesn't spill his guts and right now.
"What is going on, Will?" She leans back and crosses her arms over her chest before popping the eyebrow. "Because if I didn't know better, I'd think that you really don't care for Len's new girlfriend and her family."
There are days when he wishes he'd never heard of the CIA. That he'd remained in his business program, made buckets of cash, and never seen the inside of a single government office. Today? He's stupidly grateful for their training.
"Coleen, that's not it at all." Sighing pointedly, he slumps back across his couch arm and forcibly makes himself relax. Stare up at the ceiling and allow some general exacerbation to show. "I just..."
"Just what?" He can't see her, but the general underlying note of pissed hasn't altered.
Pulling out vaguely cranky puppy eyes #3 - the most actually innocent of all the puppy eyes - he quirks a lip. "I just wasn't expecting them to be here."
"Duh, idiot. It was a surprise."
Ladies and gentleman? Coleen McCoy; most sympathetic spouse of never.
Deciding it was better to risk life and limb in the pursuit of forgiveness, he reached over and tugged her so she landed half-sprawled across his chest.
Ignoring her indignant squeak, he tucked her around him, and kissed her. Putting all the frustration and fear and love he could muster into it. Coleen must have picked up on it because it didn't take too long for her to respond.
They're both breathing heavier when he finally pulls back. Tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and rests his forehead against hers.
"I was looking forward to this time with you and my parents. It's strange to have new people around, even if they're nice."
His wife stares at him for a minute. She can tell he isn't lying - which he's actually not, so, yay there - and nods once before running her hand up his cheek. She kisses him softly again before bumping his forehead with hers.
"Fine, but stop glaring at Ivan and Victoria. It's rude."
Taking a deep breath, Will lets it out through his nose. Promises himself that Marvin Boggs is never babysitting, but that Moses would probably be a pretty good teacher. If you can't beat 'em, mitigate the damage, right?
"Yes, dear."
"Oh, you're so paying for that later, asshole."
-fin-
no subject
Coleen McCoy; most sympathetic spouse of never.
I love Coleen! She's a BAMF in the best of ways. God, having to put up with Will? She's a saint!
If you can't beat 'em, mitigate the damage, right?
Ahahahahahahaha! Yes!
Any time you feel like letting this 'verse out to play, feel free! *squishes*