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February 17th, 2006

xanphibian @ 06:54 pm: All. Amy's. Fault.
Laura Roslin was turning into something not quite human. She noticed it one morning while she was putting her sexay Madam President suit on. Apparently, she was sprouting wings. With black feathers, sort of raven-like. Thank the gods they retracted back into her skin when she shrugged and thought about it. It wouldn't do for the President of the Fleet to be anything but perfectly human.

All seemed to be going well until her new assistant, a cute young thing who went by the name of Dawn Summers wrinkled her nose one day and said, out of the blue, "You smell like *bird*."

"What?" Laura asked mildly. She met Miss Summer's questioning look head-on, confidence firmly in place.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Never mind. If you don't want to talk about it, I won't push. But you know, it's all fun and games until you start to *molt*."


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January 31st, 2006

xanphibian @ 02:51 am: sacred (due South, Fraser/RayV, G)
icon drabble for dark_cygnet

“Benny, did you rearrange my dresser drawers?”

“You know, Ray, there’s something rather intimate about doing things like that. I found I enjoyed myself.”

“We’re talking boundaries here, Benny. I happen to like the way things ...”

“... something sacred, almost,” Fraser continued, as if he didn’t hear a thing Ray was trying to tell him. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“There’s something sacred about the way I arrange my sock drawer,” Ray grumbled.

“Well, you weren’t here, and I thought I’d do something nice for you.” Oh, way to make a guy feel bad. Good one, Benny.

“The thought is appreciated, but now I have to spend my well deserved day off fixing what you messed up.”

“I’m sorry, Ray.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

“No you’re not. Damn it, Benny, there’s a system. A well organized ... Hey, you found a match to this green argyle! I’ve been looking everywhere for this!”

“It was in the pantry, Ray.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.” Pause. “Where was I?”

“I believe you were explaining the finer points of the filing system you have for your clothing. I believe you left off with the words ‘well organized’.”

“Oh, right. Uh, never mind. Like I said, I appreciate the thought.”

“You’re welcome, Ray.”


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January 27th, 2006

xanphibian @ 08:25 am: constant (sga, beckett/grodin, G)
for paisleyparadox

Peter leaning against/half sitting on a table, hands resting flat on the tables top, eyes closed, and looking exhausted.

Carson is worried. In the last few weeks since Peter’s miraculous appearance in the gate room, the buzz and excitement had died down. Everyone expected Grodin to be Grodin, as if his ordeal with the Wraith had never occurred. Apparently no one (save Ronon, but he didn’t really know Peter) thought he should have any long lasting, negative effects.

Carson knew better. Carson knew Peter.

“Can I get you something?” Carson asked quietly. Hesitant, because lately he didn’t really know how to speak to his friend.

Peter opened his eyes and smiled, but the expression was so obviously fake it made Carson feel sick.

“Have I told you lately how good it is to see your face?” Carson kept his voice soft.

Peter’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Not lately, no.”

“Well it is.” Pause. “I knew I ... well, that I missed you, of course. But I had no idea how much until ...” He trailed off, because he didn’t really know how to say what he wanted, didn’t know if Peter really needed to hear it.

But Peter straightened, walked over to him slowly, as if he he was aching and every step was a chore. He reached Carson and put both his hands on his shoulders.

“I thought about you constantly.” Peter’s voice was hoarse and shaking slightly.

Carson let his hands rest lightly on Peter’s forearms, not daring to do more. His eyes closed when Peter leaned in and touched his forehead to Carson’s.

“Constantly,” Peter repeated with a whisper.

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xanphibian @ 08:12 am: drabble (sga, john/rodney, established, PG)
for yin_again

Rodney sitting on the stairs in the control room with his elbow on his knee and his hand cupping his chin, fingertips resting against his cheekbone.

“Sometimes, I look at the gate and wish we’d never even stepped through it,” Rodney said quietly.

John hadn’t realized Rodney had noticed his presence.

“I could have stayed on earth,” Rodney went on, “written papers, done research there or developed new theories. Maybe proved a few and gotten that Nobel prize.” He turned and looked up at John. Motioned him to sit down beside him.

It was quiet, no one in the control or gate rooms. It was darker than usual, only a few glowing panels illuminating Rodney’s expression. He looked oddly vulnerable.

“You ever feel like that, John?” he asked. “Like maybe it would be better if we never came?”

John took a deep breath. “Yeah.” Honesty. “All the things we’ve fucked up, all the good people who’ve died ...”

Rodney’s nod was full of understanding. “Exactly. But then ...”

“But then we’d have never seen the things we have.” Glance towards the gate, then back to Rodney. “There’s been good stuff. The wild and crazy exciting stuff that ...” He trailed off, knowing he didn’t have to say the words, knew Rodney felt the same way, even when his head was full of the same regrets John had.


John put his arm around Rodney, pulling him close. “And if we hadn’t come, we’d never have gotten together.”

Rodney’s expression changed lightning fast, like it did when he was working something out in his head and suddenly came to the solution to a crisis. He smiled.

“And that’s worth it all?” Soft voice, only a hint of doubt.

“Fuck, yeah,” John said, and pulled Rodney in for a long, intense kiss that defined everything he felt.

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xanphibian @ 07:56 am: pout (chase/foreman UST, mature)
For crmsonhue

Chase is so pretty, sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s pouting or just looking good. Foreman loves it when he pouts, though, loves the way his pink lips curl down, looking so goddamned inviting, like Chase is just begging to be pushed down on his knees to swallow Foreman’s cock.

And those eyes – Christ. They’d look up at him with insecurity and worship, then flutter closed as those lips worked their magic. Foreman hasn’t overlooked Chase’s pretty boy oral fixation, either. Pens and fingers and all that biting and licking his lips – the kid’s a wet dream come to life. Forman imagines gripping that blond hair tight in his hands while he fucks that needy mouth, can almost hear the whimpers and groans Chase will make.

“Dr. Foreman, as much as I enjoy watching you lust after your colleague Dr. Chase, here, I think you should take a break and try to pay attention to the case,” House snaps.

Chase’s blush is so appealing against his pale skin.

Foreman clears his throat and concentrates on the differential diagnosis. There’ll be time for Robert Chase later. Oh, hell yes, there’ll be plenty of time, judging by the flustered, fallen angel expression on his face.

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January 24th, 2006

xanphibian @ 11:05 pm: #17 (SGA, Rodney/Ronon friendship/preslash)
for stungunbilly

Defining Theories


Rodney was, by definition, observant. In his career, he had to be. Lately though, his observations had to encompass so much more than rest-mass energies and phase transition temperatures. Sometimes, he forgot this. Sometimes, he became too wrapped up in his work to notice what was going on around him.

Or who was following him. But once he did notice that Ronon was trailing after him like a shadow, Rodney decided on the ‘ignore him until he goes away’ approach to interpersonal relations. But after a week of it, he finally snapped out, “What are you doing? Are you stalking me or something?”

Ronon shrugged and didn’t answer. Rodney went back to the ignoring.

After two weeks, Rodney had gone back to oblivious. Well, not so much oblivious as used to having Ronon around. The other man never actually got in his way, or said anything stupid, which was more than Rodney could say for about ninety percent of the scientists he couldn’t ignore.

It surprised him when, after following behind and lurking on the sidelines for so long, Ronon started asking him things.

“What’s a ‘big bang theory’?” was his first question.

Rodney blinked. Then he went into a long, rambling explanation about infinite, closed, and expanding universes, smooth vs. clumpy, Lemaitre and Einstein. As he finally wound down from what could only be called a rant, he inserted a few choice words about steady states, Gamow, and Bondi.

Ronon grunted and nodded his head, as if he’d understood every word, which Rodney highly doubted.

“Pretty stupid idea, huh?” Ronon asked.

So maybe he’d gotten the gist, at least.

Rodney nodded his head, lips tight. “Remind me to tell you about plasma cosmology some other time.” He had no idea what made him say it, except that maybe he liked having someone to listen to him without getting that glazed look in their eyes.

“I will,” Ronon said with a nod.

The next day, the question was about McDonalds, corporate takeovers, and Amazon.com. The next, he wanted an explanation of black holes, followed by the history of film noir.

“What’s a phlebotomist?” Ronon asked while they were walking side by side in the field. Rodney told him while taking scans of the area, and Ronon shuddered. “I hate needles.”

Rodney teased him about that one for days and days.

One late night, Rodney was resting his head against a lab table, his mind too tired and numb to get any more work done. A heavy, warm hand rested on his back for a moment, then withdrew.

Rodney sat up and blinked tiredly at Ronon’s frown. “What is it?” he mumbled.

“What’s ‘PMS’?” Ronon asked.

Rodney narrowed his eyes. Maybe it was the lack of sleep making him crankier than usual, but he snapped, “Why do you keep asking me these things? Don’t you have someone else you can pester?”

Ronon looked surprised. “You’re the smartest person in the city,” he pointed out. “I figure you know just about everything about everything.”

Well, that was nice to hear for a change. Rodney nodded and tried not to look too pleased. “And you’re not as big an idiot as I thought.”

Instead of scowling -- which was the type of reaction that sort of comment usually got Rodney -- Ronon snorted with laughter. “And you don’t ...” He cut himself off and appeared to be looking for the right phrase. “You don’t ‘mince words’.”

Rodney sat back in his chair and regarded the other man thoughtfully. Ronon looked completely at ease with him. He was leaning against the lab table, one arm on the surface, smiling just a little.

“You don’t think I’m too ... abrasive?” Rodney asked slowly.

Ronon shrugged. “I thought you were a little annoying jerk, at first.” Well, that was fair. Rodney was used to that reaction. “But after watching you all this time, I understand.”

“Understand what?” He was puzzled.

“You,” Ronon said simply.

Rodney was speechless.

“Now, tell me about this ‘PMS’.”

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xanphibian @ 07:49 pm: #16 (CSI, Nick/Greg)
for geekwriter143

Greg was truly a sight to behold. Nick leaned back off him and smirked, feeling pretty damned cocky as he looked his lover over.

Greg’s expression was dazed and glassy, his face flushed and shiny with sweat. His hair was sticking out at all odd angles, even more than usual. His body was marked here and there with teeth marks and wine-stained love bites. His narrow hips had emerging bruises the perfect shape of Nick’s fingers. All in all, he looked like a man well loved, who’d been fucked into the mattress for most of the day.

“What’re you grinnin’ at?” Greg’s voice slurred, hoarse from all the ecstatic screaming.

“You,” Nick said, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss on his swollen lips.

Greg gave Nick a contented, goofy smile. “What ‘bout me?”

“You look debauched,” Nick said. “Just the way I like.”

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xanphibian @ 06:53 pm: #1 (CSI, Nick/Greg pre-slash)
for 0nlymemories

Greg’s hair is something else. Nick has wanted to comment on it, several times in fact, but he doesn’t think there’s any manly way to say, “Your hair’s so cool.” Maybe if he added a “dude” or “man” in the sentence somewhere. He never says it, though.

Sometimes, Greg’s so cool that he has Nick grinning at inappropriate times, like when they’re processing a scene and scraping grey matter off a ceiling. But Greg doesn’t seem to think he’s weird, just grins back. That makes Nick’s smile even wider, because for some reason, that expression on Greg’s face lights him all up inside.

Maybe it’s not just the hair. Several times he’s found himself smiling at the shirts, the music, the Gregness in general. But he catches himself, and afterwards he feels a little awkward. Never for long, though. There’s just something about Greg Sanders that always puts him back at ease.

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xanphibian @ 05:59 pm: #6 (Farscape, John/Aeryn)
for shannigansx

John is always amazed at Aeryn. She is both tough and delicate, hard and soft. Her humor is wry, but she’s hysterically funny even without trying at times. He can’t believe he found her, still, and he thanks God and the Fates every day for bringing them together.

He knows he was born for her, and she for him. Any other explanation for this love is ridiculous.

He admits it, he’s a romantic. He just never imagined romance would be standing back to back with his wife, both of their guns blazing. Or sharing quips and endearments between the bursts of gunfire.

But romance is the quiet moments, too, when it’s just the three of them, John, Aeryn, and Little D, cozy together in their bed.

He hopes his son is like Aeryn when he grows up, but right now he’s just pink and fat and curious, blue eyes wider than anything John’s ever seen. Little D’s delicate, too, but John’s love for his family is stronger than any of them, put together.

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xanphibian @ 05:51 pm: #s 3 & 9 (SGA, John/Rodney)
#3 & 9 (combined)

for wesleysgirl and yin_again

Rodney’s lips glistened with melted chocolate, and the sounds he made were so pornographic, John’s dick was straining against the fly of his BDUs. John was grateful it was late, and they were the only ones in the lab.

“Oh, god, this is ... exceptional, Colonel,” Rodney said, his eyes rolling back like he was coming. John suppressed a moan of his own.

He covertly shifted his cock to a more comfortable position. Thankfully, Rodney was too preoccupied with his gift to notice.

“Where did you ..” Rodney said, then groaned again, rolling the candy over his tongue.

John imagined that hot slickness around his cock and whimpered.

“Wha?” Rodney said, finally taking notice. His eyes widened as he took in John’s glassy expression and obvious erection. “Oh. Oh.

John waited for the ranting, the disappointment, the inevitable disgust. But Rodney was regarding him thoughtfully, chewing slowly and swallowing his bite of chocolate.

“You want a taste?” Rodney offered.

John looked between those sticky lips and the half-eaten chocolate bar Rodney held. “No, it’s cool,” he said, surprised when his voice shook.

Rodney’s eyes grew more serious. “Come here.”

John was walking forward before he knew it.

“Lean down,” Rodney said.

John did, until he was hovering over Rodney, just inches from his face. He could smell the chocolate on Rodney’s warm breath.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “A little more, Colonel.”

And then there were lips, tongue and sweetness, and Rodney’s free hand slipping around his neck to hold him in place, as if John would back off at any moment.

Rodney hummed into their kiss, deepening it, fucking John’s mouth with that sugar tongue, and it was like falling down a well. The pressure on the back of John’s neck, that warm, strong hand, was the only thing that kept him grounded even while he was drowning.

Finally letting go, Rodney drew back a little in his chair. John licked at his kiss-swollen lips and tasted chocolate and Rodney.

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Rodney said, his blue eyes sparkling. “Although maybe we should move this somewhere more private.” His hands waved, gesturing to the lab. “And more comfortable.”

John grinned like an idiot and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

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