mrsronweasley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mrsronweasley) wrote2006-02-16 02:07 pm
mrsronweasley) wrote2006-02-16 02:07 pm
Entry tags:
Drabblesssss.
Hey, remember those drabbles from three days ago? (Probably not.) I had half of them done, and now I got the other half done, so here you go, anyway.
Note: Apparently, I can't do short drabbles. I can't. I fail at it. You get...ficlet-drabblets. Or...something...
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spin1978:
House looked at the three pictures of his new underlings. None of them inspired much confidence, but then again, nobody had inspired much in confidence in him these days. For instance, his leg didn’t inspire much confidence, and neither did his crutch. Hell, his head didn’t inspire much confidence, but he didn’t have to deal with that, just dump it all on Cuddy and watch her own head spin. Yeah, Cuddy – her fault he was now looking at three rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little doctors, all wanting to save the world and make it better, probably. House snorted. Good luck with that, kiddies. But maybe they didn’t, who knew. Maybe they were the product of the millennium cynicism, of the post 9-11 world, where nothing matters, because we’re all going to go down eventually, so whether or not you cure that kid of the flu, ten others will get malaria and die in Africa. Yeah, maybe that was them. At least two of them. The last one – she really was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He sighed. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? She’d probably try to undermine him at every turn, try to appeal to his sense of duty, remind him of the Hippocratic Oath, for Christ’s sake. He had enough of Cuddy to deal with, he didn’t need this new blue-eyed perky addition.
He shuffled the papers, threw them across his desk, and popped open the bottle. Yeah, well, they’d just have to learn. No one reminded Greg House of the fucking Hippocratic Oath. He couldn’t forget it no matter how hard he fought to do just that, every single day.
*
Forkatrin:
How about Fraser being pissed off at Ray?
"Fraser."
Ray glanced over to see Fraser fidgeting with his Stetson in the passenger's seat. He'd rub the brim, then twirl it a bit, then rub another spot, and rotate. And again. And again.
"Fraser."
Rub, twirl, rotate.
"Fraser!"
"What is it, Ray?" He sounded like nothing was the matter, and that Ray hadn't just yelled at him just to get a response.
"What the hell is the matter with you? Why aren't you talking?"
"I don't have anything to say, Ray."
"What, no story to tell, no anecdote, nothing?" This was ridiculous. Fraser always had something to say, whether you wanted him to or not. And right now, Ray wanted him to, so obviously, Fraser's well of boring stories dried up like that.
"No, no stories or anecdotes."
Rub, twirl, rotate. Ray was going to go dizzy.
"Fraser. Talk to me. Why are you acting all pissy?"
"Pissy, Ray? I don't understand why you would think that."
Rub. Twirl. Rotate.
"Fraser, put the hat down." He must have said it louder than intended, because the hat fell to the floor. "Sorry..." He sighed and stopped at a red. "Fraser..."
"Ray."
"What the hell is wrong? And don't lie to me, all right?"
He watched as Fraser opened his mouth, changed his mind, and closed it again.
"I'm not -- pissy, Ray. Not exactly with you, in any case."
"So you admit that you were being at least a little pissy."
"I'm not --"
"Say it, Fraser." Ray watched the light change and took off again.
"I --"
"I, Fraser, was being pissy--"
"Ray --"
"And took it out on my friend Ray --"
"Ray --"
"While he has done nothing to deserve such --"
"RAY."
"Yes?"
"Now I'm pissy with you."
"Thought so."
Ray could feel Fraser glaring at him. He stifled a grin.
"Ray, it -- can we please move on and disregard my moods and what might have potentially caused them?"
"Sure."
"Thank you." He saw Fraser sag back into his seat a bit.
"Right after you tell me why you were being pissy."
"Ray --"
"Yes, Fraser?"
"Shut up."
"Right you are."
Dief whoofed in the backseat. Maybe Fraser just wanted donuts.
*
Forscriggle:
Ray watched as Fraser began climbing the ropes behind the stage drapes.
What an insane case. Who'd have thought that a Canadian country singer could be the cause of so much fuss? Ray didn't get it. Sure, all right, she was good looking. Had a nice voice. Sang her songs, did her thing, but what was the big deal? Ray'd liked the back-up singer better, if only because she had a nicer rack. Ray wasn't really picky when it came down to it, he was more like a dog in heat these days. So, ok, he hadn't gotten laid in what felt like years, and maybe it had been years and he couldn't even remember the last time. So, yeah, he looked at every bit of skirt that walked by, but that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. Which would have sucked for him, a little while back, but nowadays, he didn't really notice. Or, well, he noticed, but didn't care quite as much as if some pretty blonde or brunette even looked at him twice. He looked plenty enough for all, and left it at that. It was something else that was bugging him now. Someone else. And it didn't have a rack of any kind.
Fraser, man. Fraser. So, ok, Ray always kind of knew he wasn't the straightest of the straight. He'd been attracted to men before. Freaked him out big time, to be honest, but he was going with Stella at the time, and then he was married, and - oh, yeah - crazy in love with her, so he stopped thinking about it and it almost went away. And then along came Fraser, and yeah, Ray'd freaked out. Big time. But didn't let it show - he was damn proud of that, actually - and all was fine. All was good. They were partners, they were clicking, they were all good. They were great. Except for when Fraser did his 'I am Super Mountie' routine and Ray would fall for it harder than Frannie, minus the obvious drooling, every single time. Yeah, he didn't like it, didn't want it, but couldn't stop it. He hated that, and always took it out on Fraser himself, which wasn't buddies, but at least it kept him from pawing at Fraser, which should have counted for something.
So, he watched as Fraser climbed the ropes, watched him reaching for the beam, and felt his stomach clenching, adrenaline washing through him, because yeah, Fraser was sex on strong legs, and Ray couldn't really deny it anymore. He was caught, hook, line and sinker, and all he could do now was not let it show. He held the toothpick between his teeth, twirled it with his fingers, and tried not to stare or imagine too much. It was really lucky then, that he'd been close enough to see and his instincts were on high alert where it came to Fraser, because the next moment, he was seeing a gun and it was being pointed towards the stage and he swung the light and hit the sniper with the beam.
And there went Fraser, catching the bad guy - George?! - and Ray backing him up, and they were partners, they were clicking, they were good, and all Ray had to do was think of his grandma and her dentures, and there, he had his woodie back under control. Jesus. He needed to get a grip, and he meant pronto.
*
Forsoupytwist:
Ray hated pictures. No, he did. He didn't like 'em, he didn't like having them taken, he didn't like looking at 'em, he didn't like pictures. And he would have refused, totally, had it not been for Fraser. Because instead of trying to tell Ray that he was being ridiculous, or childish, or stubborn, like Stella used to do, he came up from behind Ray, licked his ear and said in that husky voice he used on Ray to melt him into a puddle of 37-year old goo,
"You're actually looking very sexy today, Ray. I'd love to have a picture of it. To...commemorate the event, so to speak." Ray was already starting to melt, but at that point, his brain was still firing on most cylinders.
"What," he rasped, "I'm not sexy enough for you every other day? You goin' anywhere?"
"Oh, no, Ray." Fraser licked a path up Ray's jaw, his tongue flicking perilously close to Ray's lips. "You are entirely sexy, every day of the year." Another quick flick of the tongue, down the jaw line and cutting across to his ear. "But you are looking particularly fetching today." A slow, wet kiss right where Ray's pulse was racing. He could have held out. He could have. But Fraser knew just where to push, just what to say, and he went for it, he just - went for it, and Ray was gone, he was a goner, so that just as Fraser was saying, "Perhaps it's something about your hair today that just --" Ray was turning around, and catching that damn tongue, and that was it, he had agreed. Yes, he would pose for the damn "Chicago Life" magazine, and yes, he would make nice with the reporters, and yes, he would acknowledge the fact that finally their world-saving escapades were getting the recognition they so rightly deserved, yes, yes, yes, as long as Fraser kept doing that thing with his lips and teeth and tongue.
Overall, Ray decided afterwards, it hadn't been so bad. Yeah, he looked like he wanted to bolt out of there as fast as his legs could take him, and, yeah, the photographer was flirting with Fraser like her life depended on it, but Ray figured it was all right. Because afterwards, he got to take Fraser home, strip him down, and nail him to the mattress. Put that in your human interest story and print it.
*
Forhellboredoll:
All right, I gotta tell you, I can't do RPS/RPF. Can't do it. So, I made them into Joe and Billy. I'm sorry. But...have some Joe and Billy?.. *bats eyelashes*
*
God, Joe was a dick. Went without saying, but Billy'd forgotten how much Joe could piss him off with a word or a look. He could just get under Billy's skin and irritate him, just...gnaw at him, until he either had to beat him or fuck him, and now, he wasn't even sure which one he wanted more.
Yeah, he came, how could he not? Joe called, he came - that was buddies, what was what they did. But Joe was still Joe, he was still the controlling asshole that Billy could never escape, could never beat, could never fully face. God, he fucking hated him. He couldn't live without him. Who the fuck was he, without Joe Dick, some replacement for a drugged-out guitarist down South. Here, he was Billy fucking Tallent, he was the guitarist, he was the guy the crowd came to see, him and Joe, they were it, they were the guys. Here, he could do his own thing. It was the music, not the money, and yeah, he hated being dirt poor at thirty fucking five years old, he hated being a fucking nobody, but he didn't feel like a nobody right then. That was why he came back. That, and fucking Joe, right there, already under his skin, like sweat from the wrong side, like an itch he wouldn't scratch, even if it killed him.
Joe just sauntered up to him, just came up right up to him and kissed him, on the cheek, like a fucking girl, and covered it up by planting a wet one on Oxenberger. Fucking liar. It's what Joe'd been waiting for, Billy knew, because he'd been waiting for it, too. He would never admit it. But he had. He'd waited. And now that he had it, now that the old shit was coming back up, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be Joe's fucking assboy anymore, and God did he want Joe to fuck him. He could never find a balance, never an in-between, it was never equal between them. Except for the times when he knew that it was all about him. That Joe's entire pathetic existence centered around him and yeah, that felt good, because Billy's whole pathetic existence used to center around Joe. He didn't want that anymore. He wanted it all. He didn't fucking know what he wanted anymore, so he just played, just ripped into it and let go, because fuck, they were Hard Core Logo, and they were doing it, and it didn't matter what happened after the show, because they were there, together, making noise and loving every fucking minute of it.
All right. Here they be.lilac_one, I hope it's all right that you don't get a drabble, because, technically, with the smut fic... *g* That was your prompt.
Note: Apparently, I can't do short drabbles. I can't. I fail at it. You get...ficlet-drabblets. Or...something...
For
spin1978:House looked at the three pictures of his new underlings. None of them inspired much confidence, but then again, nobody had inspired much in confidence in him these days. For instance, his leg didn’t inspire much confidence, and neither did his crutch. Hell, his head didn’t inspire much confidence, but he didn’t have to deal with that, just dump it all on Cuddy and watch her own head spin. Yeah, Cuddy – her fault he was now looking at three rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little doctors, all wanting to save the world and make it better, probably. House snorted. Good luck with that, kiddies. But maybe they didn’t, who knew. Maybe they were the product of the millennium cynicism, of the post 9-11 world, where nothing matters, because we’re all going to go down eventually, so whether or not you cure that kid of the flu, ten others will get malaria and die in Africa. Yeah, maybe that was them. At least two of them. The last one – she really was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He sighed. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? She’d probably try to undermine him at every turn, try to appeal to his sense of duty, remind him of the Hippocratic Oath, for Christ’s sake. He had enough of Cuddy to deal with, he didn’t need this new blue-eyed perky addition.
He shuffled the papers, threw them across his desk, and popped open the bottle. Yeah, well, they’d just have to learn. No one reminded Greg House of the fucking Hippocratic Oath. He couldn’t forget it no matter how hard he fought to do just that, every single day.
*
For
katrin:How about Fraser being pissed off at Ray?
"Fraser."
Ray glanced over to see Fraser fidgeting with his Stetson in the passenger's seat. He'd rub the brim, then twirl it a bit, then rub another spot, and rotate. And again. And again.
"Fraser."
Rub, twirl, rotate.
"Fraser!"
"What is it, Ray?" He sounded like nothing was the matter, and that Ray hadn't just yelled at him just to get a response.
"What the hell is the matter with you? Why aren't you talking?"
"I don't have anything to say, Ray."
"What, no story to tell, no anecdote, nothing?" This was ridiculous. Fraser always had something to say, whether you wanted him to or not. And right now, Ray wanted him to, so obviously, Fraser's well of boring stories dried up like that.
"No, no stories or anecdotes."
Rub, twirl, rotate. Ray was going to go dizzy.
"Fraser. Talk to me. Why are you acting all pissy?"
"Pissy, Ray? I don't understand why you would think that."
Rub. Twirl. Rotate.
"Fraser, put the hat down." He must have said it louder than intended, because the hat fell to the floor. "Sorry..." He sighed and stopped at a red. "Fraser..."
"Ray."
"What the hell is wrong? And don't lie to me, all right?"
He watched as Fraser opened his mouth, changed his mind, and closed it again.
"I'm not -- pissy, Ray. Not exactly with you, in any case."
"So you admit that you were being at least a little pissy."
"I'm not --"
"Say it, Fraser." Ray watched the light change and took off again.
"I --"
"I, Fraser, was being pissy--"
"Ray --"
"And took it out on my friend Ray --"
"Ray --"
"While he has done nothing to deserve such --"
"RAY."
"Yes?"
"Now I'm pissy with you."
"Thought so."
Ray could feel Fraser glaring at him. He stifled a grin.
"Ray, it -- can we please move on and disregard my moods and what might have potentially caused them?"
"Sure."
"Thank you." He saw Fraser sag back into his seat a bit.
"Right after you tell me why you were being pissy."
"Ray --"
"Yes, Fraser?"
"Shut up."
"Right you are."
Dief whoofed in the backseat. Maybe Fraser just wanted donuts.
*
For
scriggle:Ray watched as Fraser began climbing the ropes behind the stage drapes.
What an insane case. Who'd have thought that a Canadian country singer could be the cause of so much fuss? Ray didn't get it. Sure, all right, she was good looking. Had a nice voice. Sang her songs, did her thing, but what was the big deal? Ray'd liked the back-up singer better, if only because she had a nicer rack. Ray wasn't really picky when it came down to it, he was more like a dog in heat these days. So, ok, he hadn't gotten laid in what felt like years, and maybe it had been years and he couldn't even remember the last time. So, yeah, he looked at every bit of skirt that walked by, but that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. Which would have sucked for him, a little while back, but nowadays, he didn't really notice. Or, well, he noticed, but didn't care quite as much as if some pretty blonde or brunette even looked at him twice. He looked plenty enough for all, and left it at that. It was something else that was bugging him now. Someone else. And it didn't have a rack of any kind.
Fraser, man. Fraser. So, ok, Ray always kind of knew he wasn't the straightest of the straight. He'd been attracted to men before. Freaked him out big time, to be honest, but he was going with Stella at the time, and then he was married, and - oh, yeah - crazy in love with her, so he stopped thinking about it and it almost went away. And then along came Fraser, and yeah, Ray'd freaked out. Big time. But didn't let it show - he was damn proud of that, actually - and all was fine. All was good. They were partners, they were clicking, they were all good. They were great. Except for when Fraser did his 'I am Super Mountie' routine and Ray would fall for it harder than Frannie, minus the obvious drooling, every single time. Yeah, he didn't like it, didn't want it, but couldn't stop it. He hated that, and always took it out on Fraser himself, which wasn't buddies, but at least it kept him from pawing at Fraser, which should have counted for something.
So, he watched as Fraser climbed the ropes, watched him reaching for the beam, and felt his stomach clenching, adrenaline washing through him, because yeah, Fraser was sex on strong legs, and Ray couldn't really deny it anymore. He was caught, hook, line and sinker, and all he could do now was not let it show. He held the toothpick between his teeth, twirled it with his fingers, and tried not to stare or imagine too much. It was really lucky then, that he'd been close enough to see and his instincts were on high alert where it came to Fraser, because the next moment, he was seeing a gun and it was being pointed towards the stage and he swung the light and hit the sniper with the beam.
And there went Fraser, catching the bad guy - George?! - and Ray backing him up, and they were partners, they were clicking, they were good, and all Ray had to do was think of his grandma and her dentures, and there, he had his woodie back under control. Jesus. He needed to get a grip, and he meant pronto.
*
For
soupytwist:Ray hated pictures. No, he did. He didn't like 'em, he didn't like having them taken, he didn't like looking at 'em, he didn't like pictures. And he would have refused, totally, had it not been for Fraser. Because instead of trying to tell Ray that he was being ridiculous, or childish, or stubborn, like Stella used to do, he came up from behind Ray, licked his ear and said in that husky voice he used on Ray to melt him into a puddle of 37-year old goo,
"You're actually looking very sexy today, Ray. I'd love to have a picture of it. To...commemorate the event, so to speak." Ray was already starting to melt, but at that point, his brain was still firing on most cylinders.
"What," he rasped, "I'm not sexy enough for you every other day? You goin' anywhere?"
"Oh, no, Ray." Fraser licked a path up Ray's jaw, his tongue flicking perilously close to Ray's lips. "You are entirely sexy, every day of the year." Another quick flick of the tongue, down the jaw line and cutting across to his ear. "But you are looking particularly fetching today." A slow, wet kiss right where Ray's pulse was racing. He could have held out. He could have. But Fraser knew just where to push, just what to say, and he went for it, he just - went for it, and Ray was gone, he was a goner, so that just as Fraser was saying, "Perhaps it's something about your hair today that just --" Ray was turning around, and catching that damn tongue, and that was it, he had agreed. Yes, he would pose for the damn "Chicago Life" magazine, and yes, he would make nice with the reporters, and yes, he would acknowledge the fact that finally their world-saving escapades were getting the recognition they so rightly deserved, yes, yes, yes, as long as Fraser kept doing that thing with his lips and teeth and tongue.
Overall, Ray decided afterwards, it hadn't been so bad. Yeah, he looked like he wanted to bolt out of there as fast as his legs could take him, and, yeah, the photographer was flirting with Fraser like her life depended on it, but Ray figured it was all right. Because afterwards, he got to take Fraser home, strip him down, and nail him to the mattress. Put that in your human interest story and print it.
*
For
hellboredoll:All right, I gotta tell you, I can't do RPS/RPF. Can't do it. So, I made them into Joe and Billy. I'm sorry. But...have some Joe and Billy?.. *bats eyelashes*
*
God, Joe was a dick. Went without saying, but Billy'd forgotten how much Joe could piss him off with a word or a look. He could just get under Billy's skin and irritate him, just...gnaw at him, until he either had to beat him or fuck him, and now, he wasn't even sure which one he wanted more.
Yeah, he came, how could he not? Joe called, he came - that was buddies, what was what they did. But Joe was still Joe, he was still the controlling asshole that Billy could never escape, could never beat, could never fully face. God, he fucking hated him. He couldn't live without him. Who the fuck was he, without Joe Dick, some replacement for a drugged-out guitarist down South. Here, he was Billy fucking Tallent, he was the guitarist, he was the guy the crowd came to see, him and Joe, they were it, they were the guys. Here, he could do his own thing. It was the music, not the money, and yeah, he hated being dirt poor at thirty fucking five years old, he hated being a fucking nobody, but he didn't feel like a nobody right then. That was why he came back. That, and fucking Joe, right there, already under his skin, like sweat from the wrong side, like an itch he wouldn't scratch, even if it killed him.
Joe just sauntered up to him, just came up right up to him and kissed him, on the cheek, like a fucking girl, and covered it up by planting a wet one on Oxenberger. Fucking liar. It's what Joe'd been waiting for, Billy knew, because he'd been waiting for it, too. He would never admit it. But he had. He'd waited. And now that he had it, now that the old shit was coming back up, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be Joe's fucking assboy anymore, and God did he want Joe to fuck him. He could never find a balance, never an in-between, it was never equal between them. Except for the times when he knew that it was all about him. That Joe's entire pathetic existence centered around him and yeah, that felt good, because Billy's whole pathetic existence used to center around Joe. He didn't want that anymore. He wanted it all. He didn't fucking know what he wanted anymore, so he just played, just ripped into it and let go, because fuck, they were Hard Core Logo, and they were doing it, and it didn't matter what happened after the show, because they were there, together, making noise and loving every fucking minute of it.
All right. Here they be.
lilac_one, I hope it's all right that you don't get a drabble, because, technically, with the smut fic... *g* That was your prompt.
no subject
That's our House!
And you have no idea how excited I was to see the picture of Jennifer Morrison just come up on my friends list. :)
no subject
no subject
I like the others too, but I'm sure I'd like them more if I actually watched due south... my mom used to watch that show, actually...
Anyway, your drabbles are just perfect. Even if they are a little long for drabbles. Long is good. Long is verrrrryyyyy good. :D
no subject
I can't believe you read the dS ones. That makes me oddly happy. (I am a shameless, shameless promoter. If you've got an extra 20 bucks lying around, and have a Best Buy around, buying the 3rd season might not be a bad investment. *g*)
Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means to me. :D
no subject
They're all wonderful.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Oh my god. Oh my god. I CANNOT stop laughing. OH MY GOD.
*loves*
no subject
no subject
Can I, like, bribe you to make me an icon? At some point? Because I kind of worship your icons, just a little bit...
*GRIN*
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
...
I will, yes.
*loves some more*
no subject
And now I will love on YOUR icon. Mmmyes.
no subject
It was a ladder. One we didn't order. I... *headdesk*
And, hee, yay for icon love.
no subject
Wanna make me a Due South icon? Either a funny one or a "look at the pretty picure" one? Honestly, any picture you like :)
Want anything in return? I can edit more pictures of Paul Gross looking at mugs...
*bounces* Yay.
no subject
no subject
And 1) Take as much time as you want. Seriously. 2) There will be no disappointment. SERIOUSLY.
3) !!! :D
no subject
no subject
no subject
Just kidding. Thank you, I'm so glad you liked them. :D
no subject
no subject
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
I love you so so so so much.
Soooo much. God, that just made my day.
Also? *Clings*
no subject
no subject
*DANCES*
no subject
.*SPORFLE!*
Whee! I love these all, and mine especially, of course. Joe/Billy is always an acceptable substitute for anything. *G*
>
but the rps beckons you, the rps slippery slope calls, you will, eventually, succumb to the lures of the dirty dirty rps, everyone does in the end muahahahahahahhahaha.... ;Pno subject
no subject
Yeah, it makes us all feel weird, and yet-- we can't stop ourselves....
:-\
And yeah, none of us really know them, of course. ;)
no subject
I don't mean to judge! I just...can't get over that part. I just...I don't know. I cannae do iiiiit! Don't make mommy, don't make me!
no subject
And oh yeah, no I wasn't feeling judged. *g* Und I would never force anyone else to do it! Didn't mean to make you feel pressured! *pets*
I was just warning you about that sllliiiiippppery slope of the dirtybadwrong! It's sneaky and viscious. ;P
no subject
ANYWAY.
I was just warning you about that sllliiiiippppery slope of the dirtybadwrong! It's sneaky and viscious. ;P
I found that about a lot of things. NOT GETTING SUCKED IN! *g*
no subject
no subject
Yeah, I don't know if I could ever write Joe POV. He's got so many walls around him and he hides really well, but he's still all out there, so really, I couldn't get a hold of him. I think I get Billy better. He's easier. (And yay, thank you. :D)
no subject
no subject
no subject
*cheers you on*
no subject
I am so, so pleased you liked them. Feel free to egg me on more. I work well when egged on. *g*
no subject
Consider this a very, very belated egg. :D
no subject
Ray, Fraser. Fraser, Ray. So much love, all the time. Yeah. *sigh*
And the HCL one was great too.
Also? Is it possible to be jealous of a wolf? *Stares at pic some more*
no subject
Yes, it is. Because I'm jealous, too. Dammit, I want to lick Paul Gross's ear.
no subject
and then, turn around and lick Callum's. nnghr
no subject
no subject
By all means, don't let me disturb you. If you are occupied, I will take care of them in the meantime. *licks them some more*
*is evil*
no subject
*licks them both*
no subject
DSPaul GrossDS before there even was a "new" Ray. Because, seriously. How can you not fall for PG?And then, along came CKR and... I discovered slash! Nnnghrr. Hottest. Pairing. Ever.
I'm a very happy fangirl. *bfg*
*licks with you*