Sarcasm-is-my-Drug

closet

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 16:13:29 GMT

FINDING HIMSELF IN THE CLOSET

House MD

Rated Mature - SLASH

Warning – language and sex

Plot – not really. Kind of a look at how Chase and House ‘got together’. It’s short and a little bit smutty.

xxx

“Are we gonna fuck now?”

Angry words chucked into the cold night air, words that hung thickly between them threatening to breach the boundaries and throw them head first into a crazy cycle of anger and pain and love, or at least love making. In the morning they would both pretend to regret in and pretend it never happened, but at night when they were alone they each wrapped their respective hands around their dicks and stroked, remembering all the passionate cries and the bite marks and the burn.

The first time it was said had been a joke. House had been taking the piss out of Chase, and eventually the words just came out and silence fell, Cameron’s shocked eyes widening in shock at Chase’s blunt retort and Foreman quickly finding something more interesting than looking in his co-worker’s direction.

“No, but I will kill you if you don’t get out there and treat her – or rather, it’ll kill her. The patient? Remember her? The woman who’s life you are supposed to be saving right now instead of propositioning your boss? Well go, then.” House bit back acridly.

“Her name is Sara Goodman.” Cameron said tentatively.

“Oh like I care!” House said and limped away down the hallway.

Two hours and fifteen minutes later Sarah-something-or-other-man was stable and responding well to the drugs. House found Chase alone and couldn’t resist. He plunged his hand into Chase’s golden locks and dragged him along into the cupboard, wit Chase yelling all the way although House noted he didn’t try and get away.

Once they had reached their destination House shut the door and pushed Chase roughly against the wall, ignoring medical supplies that fell to the ground with the force of the action. He stood so that he was chest to chest with Chase, breathing the same breath. He was just trying to freak him out a bit – play with his mind.

“Still want that fuck?” House asked, watching as Chase’s eyes widened comically and noticing his breath speed up, in panic House thought at first but the realised he could feel Chase’s cock harden against his thigh.

“Turned on?” House asked, tauntingly.

Chase gulped and shook his head. House let his hand drift down over the curve of Chase’s hips and down to his cock, which he gripped slightly causing Chase to amon.

“And I thought you were joking.” House admitted as his tongue searched Chase’s mouth and he allowed passion to take him over.

Less than an hour later Chase came out of the room. House had left about ten minutes ago, an unusual bounce in his limp. Chase’s hair was a mess and his skin was pink from blushing and exertion. He smelled strongly of sex and walked slightly bowlegged. He managed to make it out of the hospital without seeing anyone he knew and drove home to collapse on his bed with a smile on his face.

“Are we gonna fuck now?” House repeated those long ago words and brought Chase back to the present. He smiled a predatory smile and shook his head, biting down on House’s lip as he backed the older man against the wall next to his bed. “No. This time, I’m gonna fuck you.”

Xxx

Please comment.

P2 Decisions

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 14:04:01 GMT

Part Two of unnamed series - Decisions
House MD

Chase/House, Chase/Cameron, kinda-but-not Cameron/House

Rating – 15 for sexual situations (but not smutty)

Spoilers – brief spoilers for season four but nothing specific

Disclaimer – I don’t own it – I’m not that brilliant

Summery – Chase and Allison are married but Chase’s suspicions that Cameron still loves House are destroying them.
- unbetaed

Ch1 p2: Decisions

- AN// no House in this part but it’s a key part of the story so PLEASE READ. Also, less Cameron after this part and much more Chase/House. Sorry it’s so short! It should really have been posted as part of chapter one but I didn’t know how people were going to react, my continuation does depend on if people read and like this story so PLAESE REVIEW-

She comes home the next morning – luckily, after House has left. Chase is suitably apologetic and Cameron is suitably wifely and does the very Cameron thing of forgiving him. They go on pretending for another week with Cameron avoiding talking about House or even the diagnostics department in any way while in Chase’s company. He makes sure he’s home every day before dinner and he compliments whatever she has cooked or ordered in, saying how nice her hair is and that she looks beautiful that evening.

They do not have sex.

Maybe it’s because he’s too guilty or she’s too bitter, or maybe it’s because she’s on the verge of admitting to herself she never loved Chase like she loved House, and maybe it’s because Chase is finally realising he can’t lie to himself anymore – marriage, children, Cameron… this life was suffocating him. And the only thing that made him feel even the tiny bit like himself was House. A fact that he could laugh himself to tears with; oh the irony.

One day when he’s feeling particularly shit because he’s just watched a mother lose her daughter and get a grandchild she had no idea existed all in thirteen minutes, only to have her reject her grandchild because her husband is too Catholic to accept a child born out of wedlock, and then have the baby die in incubation. Alone. But hey – things like this happen, right? You just have to shrug it off or it’ll kill you.

Today it was killing Chase.

Cameron came home late, a meeting had run on and there had been drinks afterwards. A much more pleasant thing, to have drinks with friends, than to come home to a husband who treated you like a stranger.

He was on the bed in the spare bedroom, the one in which he had fucked House in. Sitting in the dark. His eyes were blank, devoid of all emotion. He didn’t even flinch when Cameron switched the bedroom lights on. Smiling in her wonderfully false manner she put her hands on her hips and walked into the room.

“What are you doing, Robert? I’m sorry I’m late, my meeting ran late and I just couldn’t get away. It was really very irritating actually, Cuddy was going to put forth my latest suggestion but Harris, you know, the new board member with balding blond hair? Anyway, Harris interrupted and started going on about –”

“Alison.” Chase said, getting up from the bed and stopping her mid-flow. “we can’t do this anymore.” He told her, a deep sadness in his voice.

“I know, but maybe if we both-” Cameron began in a small voice, but her husband interrupted her, shaking his blond head.

“What? Pretend even more? No. I think… I know, I want a divorce.”

Cameron gulped, her expression frozen on a pleading-sincerity that he suspected was faked. Then without a word she turned around and walked into the master bed room, closing the door gently but firmly. Chase got the message – it was finally over.

*******PLEASE REVIEW********

Next chapter should be some flash backs leading up to part one. Please tell me what you think, PLEASE!

House slash fic

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 13:12:04 GMT

Cheating

House MD

Chase/House, Chase/Cameron, kinda-but-not Cameron/House

Rating – 15 for sexual situations (but not smutty)

Spoilers – brief spoilers for season four but nothing specific

Summery – Chase and Allison are married but Chase’s suspicions that Cameron still loves House are destroying them.

“Don’t ask me again, Allison!” Chase yells at her as he walks off into the lift, leaving behind a desperate and upset Allison Cameron-Chase, a folder in her hand and a grim looking Dr Gregory House. It was one of His cases again and he was short handed; Thirteen was on holiday and Kutner was off ‘sick’ leaving Taub and Foreman and a very cranky House. But still he refused to ask for help and Chase was drawing a line, one which Cameron was close to crossing all for House’s benefit.

“I’m sorry-” Cameron begins to apologise – for what it is unclear – to House when he shakes his head and walks off to his office where his two remaining fellows were currently theorising on their patient’s rapid illness.

Later that night Chase and his wife sit at the table eating pasta not looking at each other. Allison doesn’t ask again but she does leave after dinner, with him shouting after her that if she wants House she never should have married Chase.

And it’s to House that she runs to. Crying in his office while he pours himself a drink and gulps it down. Did she bring this on herself, he sometimes wonders. Maybe he brought it on her, or maybe Chase did. Who knows? Who cares?

Finally when she’s cried herself out and finished babbling about how ‘this isn’t working’ and ‘I love him so much’ he leaves her sleeping on the sofa with a glass of water and a packet of asprin next to her (she always gets headaches after crying) – a kindness he wouldn’t usually inflict on her except for what he’s about to do.

Ten minutes later he is outside the Chase residence, knocking loudly on the door despite the fact it’s nearing one o’clock. He knows Chase won’t be asleep; he’ll be waiting for the wife to come home or to call, like a good worried husband should. Predictably he answers within seconds, a phone to his ear and his shirt undone, his hair a mess from raking his hands through it in a gesture of stress.

“No, it’s not her but I think I know where she is now, thanks Thirteen,” Chase says to the person on the end of the phone and rings off, still staring at House. He steps aside as House barges indoors and looks around nervously before shutting the door. That’s when House throws himself at Chase, knocking the man back against the wall and kissing him fiercely meeting no resistance. Soon he moves on to Chase’s collar bone, biting down softly in the exact spot he knows makes Chase moan like he’s about to orgasm. They’ve done this before – so many times – and it’s not even awkward anymore. They both know each others kinks and turn-ons and no-go are; for example House hates his bum leg being touched unnecessarily during sex because it makes him think it’s just a pity fuck, and Chase can’t stand anyone touching the nape of his neck because he’s unbearably ticklish there – but no where else.

Eventually they end up on the bed in the spare room – it’s a little line Chase won’t cross, he won’t fuck House in his martial bed – spent and sweating and panting to regain their breath. House feels calmer, Chase feels guilty and sated.

“Stop destroying your marriage by blaming Cameron for you cheating on her with me.” House says into the darkness.

“Huh?” Chase isn’t really back on earth yet, still basking in post orgasmic bliss. House rolls his eyes and laments the loss of his cane because now he has to move in order to nudge Chase back to reality. He grunts in pain and House falls back on the bed.

“You accuse her of still having feelings for me, of cheating or some crap when you know it’s not true. So quit it. If you can’t stand the guilt then divorce her – but don’t make her feel like a failure as a wife simply because you love fucking me.”

They sit there is silence, the reality of the situation crashing down on Chase’s head as he realises this could be the end of his marriage. A tear rolls down his cheek silently and House moves to get dressed and leave, no more words of wisdom to comfort the young Australian.

-----MY FIRST HOUSE FIC! Please comment! -

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 16:12:50 GMT

Sex Makes the World Go Round.

1/?

Bloody & Money

Fandom: Queer As Folk (USA)

Pairing: Justin Taylor/Brian Kinney

Rating: NC-17 (adult content, graphic sex, dialogue on mature matters e.g. hustling)

Warning: smut, mentions of non-con and dub-con and hustling. Homosexuality isn’t a warning; it’s a Must Have! ;P

Spoilers: Episode 1, vague spoilers for season two.

Characters: Justin, Brian, Daphne, Jennifer, Craig, Molly, Brian, Hunter, Michael, Emmett, Ted, Blake, Debbie, Vic…

AN: story takes place immediately after the phone call from Melanie about Gus’ birth. Except we’re gonna skip the angry reaction at Justin cumming.

“You need to go.” Brian told the young blond twink.

“What’s happening?” Justin asked curiously (and a bit disappointed) as he dressed.

“Everything.” The enigmatic brunet said. “Where can I drop you off?”

Fuck! Think, Justin, think. After his parents had discovered he was gay (a porn magazine, a rumour, a hand job in the gym shower room…) they’d packed him off and sent him to a Youth Correction summer camp. When he returned Justin had been just as gay only far more angry and volatile. He had been just fourteen when he was forced to take to the streets of Pittsburgh and he celebrated his next birthday just three months later by blowing a forty year old man with a war wound. The fifty bunks he’d earned had brought him a blanket for the cold nights and some food before heading back to the corner of the road at the end of Liberty Avenue. If he gave that address the guy, Brian, would guess in two seconds what Justin really was. And he did not want to be that sad, desperate, law breaking faggot in front of this perfect being. He didn’t want to be JT or TJ or Taye or Jason or Tyler or any of the pseudo-names he took. He wanted, with all his shattered and jaded heart, to be Justin Taylor.

“Babylon. I’ll find my way home from there.” Justin blurted out.

“Don’t want to give me your address? Smart boy. Didn’t mommy tell you not to fuck strangers too?” Brian mocked even as he admired the kid’s brains. It truly wasn’t wise to tell strangers where you lived. Not if you were blond, blue eyed, 5’8 and weighed 130 (IF that). In Brian’s case, however, that was a totally different matter.

“No.” Justin answered seriously after pretending to think about it. “She might have mentioned something about not talking to strangers and saying ‘no’ to drugs but not fucking… but hey, maybe it’s just my age. It’ll all kinda foggy now.”

“Your age.” Brian snorted. The kid looked exactly like that, a kid. “How old are you anyway? No more than twenty… Tops.”

“Twenty.” Justin hurriedly agreed but seeing the look of disbelief on Brian’s face he changed his mind, “nineteen.”

“What year were you born?”

“198…7?”

“Bullshit. You had to think about it.”

“I’m seventeen.” Justin admitted and Brian choked on the fumes he was inhaling from his cigarette.

“Hell, I can’t drop you off at Babylon at two in the morning! You’re just a baby.” Brian argued but Justin’s eyes hardened and he turned his back on the handsome man.

“You can’t drop me off anywhere else, either.”

*****

The ride to Babylon was quiet and Justin left without a fuss, disappearing into the thick crowd of horny gay men before Brian could reconsider. With a shrug he turned around and headed to Mikey’s and then on to the hospital. He had to say ‘hello’ to his newborn son. His son. Oh Fuck.

*****

After Justin got out of the Jeep he threw himself into the crowd determined to get some action tonight even if it was the type someone paid him for. Toby was always good, he preferred his tricks to get off as well as himself and paid reasonably too. He soon found the man who was too shy and reserved to go into the backroom or display himself on the dance floor to get real dates or fucks so he’d become sort of a regular within Justin’s group of Hustling teens.

“Hey JT!” Toby greeted him friendlily but with more than a little surprise in his alcoholically slurred voice.

“Toby, love, want some company?” Justin drawled seductively. It wasn’t particularly effective on Toby, he’d known JT too long, but it still got him hard and usually ended up with two orgasms and a hundred dollars exchanged.

“Always,” the other man smiled self-depreciatingly, “but I’m sprised you aren’t at the hospital.”

“And why would I be there?” Justin asked sending him ‘lustful’ looks from under his silky lashes.

“Because of Daphne, of course.” Toby informed him and Justin lost all pretence of eroticism.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Toby shook his head sadly. “Went off with that newbie. You know, the odd one with the cold eyes and smooth hands. He offered her two hundred for four hours. When she didn’t return after six Hunter and the gang arranged a hunt and they found her on Hamilton Street in an alleyway next to the new S&M club. She was bleeding, JT, enough to scare Hunter into taking her into hospital.”

Fuck. That was scared! Hunter was deathly afraid of hospitals ever since he’d been diagnosed with HIV last year. He made them all get regular checks but now Hunter only let guys fuck him and made them wear a condom even when he was just blowing them.

“I’ll be seeing you, Toby. Rain check yeah?” Justin said as he went for the door.

***

AN: so what do you think so far? Go on, comment and tell me.

Writer's Block: Giving Thanks

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 16:10:39 GMT

What are 10 things you are thankful for?

View 502 Answers

1. My mum and my dad
2. My health
3. my imagination
4. my friends; especially Dan Spall
5. my best friend Jane
6. my cup size; at least if guys never notice me for anything else at least they notice that as sad and truthful as it sounds!
7. my sister Jenny
8. the eighteen years I had with my brother although I wish they hadn't ended like that.
9. My Goddess and God, my faith
10. my gift for not failing horribly; I hope I never lose it.

Writer's Block: My Fictional Counterpart

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 16:06:47 GMT

What character in a book can you connect with or relate to the most?

View 226 Answers

Morgan Rowlands from Cate Tiernan's Wicca series aka Sweep for those who's read the US editions. I'm not thin or adopted or anything but I understand feeling like an alien in my own body, not getting fashion, always compairing myself to others especially my best friend who is much more pretty, confident, and unafraid of what others think than I am. Feeling uncomfortable about my body; the skinny diping situation in book 1; yeah, I wouldn't do it either, Morgan. But hey, I'm still waiting for my Hunter! And yes I'd settle for his slightly insane half brother Cal or even Colm who loved Morgan.

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 10:28:01 GMT

Can’t comprehend

Not able to understand

Just know that you’re not here

To help me through

Or hold my hand

All the bumps and falls and scrapes we’ve witnesses

All the unseen wounds we’ve inflicted

Now all the memories wash over me

Leave me crying and missing you

You left me all alone

A fate not fitting to a twin

I’m so lonely now you’re gone

Come back because I miss you.

Ode to the Fallen Protectors

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 16:52:36 GMT

Duty bound and hero worshiped
the honourable officer marches
behind blue eyes and standard black shades
the horrors that he has witnessed
reflect in the blood shot whites.

His mother has nightmares,
and his wife never sleeps,
as the two year old babe,
cries for his dadda,
while the first born son,
arrives home from school saying;
I want to be just like my Daddy

Poem: Hung

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 16:45:45 GMT

WARNING(disterbing references to child abuse and death)

Hung

every name imprinted in your mind
every face, every scar
inflicted with every intent
of steeling their innocence away
that which you lost way back

when you still believed
in father christmas,
the tooth fairy,
and happy families

your soul torn to shreds
their bodies lie broken
you broke them
mimicing the way he broke you

every touch
burned into your mind
recite their names
in an alcoholic haze
recite their names
in your confession
recite their names
in your suicide note
and you lay broken ands bruised on the floor

Fri, 21 Sep 2007 06:39:19 GMT

Sex Makes the World Go Round.

1/?

Bloody & Money

Fandom: Queer As Folk (USA)

Pairing: Justin Taylor/Brian Kinney

Rating: NC-17 (adult content, graphic sex, dialogue on mature matters e.g. hustling)

Warning: smut, mentions of non-con and dub-con and hustling. Homosexuality isn’t a warning; it’s a Must Have! ;P

Spoilers: Episode 1, vague spoilers for season two.

Characters: Justin, Brian, Daphne, Jennifer, Craig, Molly, Brian, Hunter, Michael, Emmett, Ted, Blake, Debbie, Vic…

AN: story takes place immediately after the phone call from Melanie about Gus’ birth. Except we’re gonna skip the angry reaction at Justin cumming.

“You need to go.” Brian told the young blond twink.

“What’s happening?” Justin asked curiously (and a bit disappointed) as he dressed.

“Everything.” The enigmatic brunet said. “Where can I drop you off?”

“Babylon. I’ll find my way home from there.” Justin blurted out.

“Your age.” Brian snorted. The kid looked exactly like that, a kid. “How old are you anyway? No more than twenty… Tops.”

“Twenty.” Justin hurriedly agreed but seeing the look of disbelief on Brian’s face he changed his mind, “nineteen.”

“What year were you born?”

“198…7?”

“Bullshit. You had to think about it.”

“I’m seventeen.” Justin admitted and Brian choked on the fumes he was inhaling from his cigarette.

“Hell, I can’t drop you off at Babylon at two in the morning! You’re just a baby.” Brian argued but Justin’s eyes hardened and he turned his back on the handsome man.

“You can’t drop me off anywhere else, either.”

*****

“Hey JT!” Toby greeted him friendlily but with more than a little surprise in his alcoholically slurred voice.

“Always,” the other man smiled self-depreciatingly, “but I’m sprised you aren’t at the hospital.”

“And why would I be there?” Justin asked sending him ‘lustful’ looks from under his silky lashes.

“Because of Daphne, of course.” Toby informed him and Justin lost all pretence of eroticism.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“I’ll be seeing you, Toby. Rain check yeah?” Justin said as he went for the door.

***

AN: so what do you think so far? Go on, comment and tell me.

Walls

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 15:40:12 GMT

This town's too small
gotta get out gotta run
and maybe, if you're lucky
one day i'll come back

the walls are talkin'
telling me, keep walkin'
the world isn't waiting
but can i stop hating?
the walls tell me so
I guess it's time i should go...

leaving isn't as easy
as the plans i have made
dreams becoming more vivid
but visit less every passing night

the minutes tick by
i am readying myself
one day soon I'll be gone
and back again,
Changed

Goodbye is not Forever

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 15:30:14 GMT

Say goodbye
before you leave
and I will cry

don't write me often
or call me non-stop
promise not to email
and never text me,
not once

the lies spill from my pen
but you'll see through them

you'll call
you'll bitch
you'll moan and laugh
you'll say goodbye

But tomorrow you'll do the same

so smile through the tears,
This isn't Goodbye

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 15:26:47 GMT

You are you and I am still me
So shine baby shine
and don't let me bring you down
I've sunk so low
but you can rise
highter than the stars that sparkle
or the moon that shines
and lights my night-time path

Never thought I'd say this
but you don't need me
and I can exist without you
so don't freek out
speak out
and live
be strong
be strange
be you
and it'll be absolutely fucking awesome

LOVED

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 15:12:30 GMT

you are still loved

even when i haven't called in days
and you're far from home
alone, and crying

you are still loved

and if i haven't visited in weeks
or emailed or text or wrote
to remind you

i am always thinking of you

In your darkest dreams
when nightmares become real
and the sun shows no mercy

i am with you

because always, you are loved

(By Fiona L Orwin)

Writer's Block: Vacation Time

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 10:29:33 GMT

What was your most memorable vacation, and why?

View 60 Answers

Not really a vacation as such but I guess it would have to be going camping at the V Festivile in Shaffordshire, England with my best mate Jane, her sister and her sister's boyfriend; 'the happy camper' . Thanks for bringing me along, Jane!

Writer's Block: Writing: Makes Me A Better Writer

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 15:38:15 GMT

What's been your biggest influence in making you a better writer?

Brought to you by HP | Answer to Win! > Contest

View 167 Answers

Other writers, deffinetly. Weather its screan plays, scripts, television series, or novels or fantasy series or slash on the net. In particular my best mate Jane who's style is different from mine and tastes are different too and she's so amazing. She doesn't need to improve because I already think she rocks and people should pay money to read her stuff (not me, I should get to read it for free). I think I tend to let emotion cloud my writing so I run out of steem after a while whereas Jane has such a unique/special take on things and hers seems to be more real or something.

In My Shell (poem by fiona orwin = moi)

Thu, 23 Aug 2007 11:50:27 GMT

if i could encase myself in cottonwool
dope myself up until i flew for real
then i'd never feel the pain, the shame, the connection
of all that is wrong in my life
to all that is good
maybe then i'd never realise
i'd never hurt
but i wished away my childhood
ran straight into responsibility
and regressed along the way

i'd love to live a life inside my shell
protected from the world
but soon someone would tred on my dreams
shattering my shell
so i guess i'll just keep moving...

Help

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 12:16:48 GMT

DEDICATED TO ALL THE PEOPLE I WANT TO HELP IN THE FUTURE

Can I help you
Please
to take away your pain
will ease mine
black clouds almost convince me
turn back, stay away, stay safe
but then i think i see a glimpse
of the world that you, baby, inhabit

let me help you
so i can help myself
by helping you,
little one

Seeing is Believing

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 10:36:03 GMT

Can I spend a moment
to ask "what is inside"

is it empty and just a place
where you can run and hide

does the meaning echo
or fall away, too much for you to bare

we deal with it most good days,
you never seem to deal
is life a series of bad days to you?
or is what you see
what you get?
because if so "I AM sorry"
you are starting to fade
invisibility takes you over

see nothing
you are nothing
to me

Down in Darkness

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 10:21:43 GMT

pardon me for falling
head first into this trap
at first i thought i could climb out
when i tried alone i fell
   faster
   deeper
   now its darker
can't see but hear
the laughter burns
far worse than the shining edge
that catches my eye
and gleams so prettitly

Can you help me? Pull me up?
My darkness weighs me down,
and the rope my break
Are you strong enough to lighten me?
and bring me back
from the darkest hole in which I've been

Petetrick a.k.a. too lame to think of an actual title

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 16:49:58 GMT

FALL OUT BOY - slash

Pete/Patrick

I don’t own them. If I did I wouldn’t share! *grins manically*

Rated NC17 - my-life-would-be-semi-full-without-smut

Summery: Pete can’t sleep so naturally Patrick can’t either. Mid-night conversations.

A/N: takes place early on in the band’s life, e.g. Patrick is about eighteen and Pete is roughly twenty-three. Comments are like air; not enough will kill me.

A/N2: yeah, first-time writer hear of FOB fanfiction so play nice with the new kid. Sorry if it’s too English or if characterisation is off a little.

DEDICATED TO: pinkstarrypants who encouraged me to look for Fall Out Boy Slash and has fed my FOB addiction ever since I developed it in 2006. It’s thanks to her I got the album ‘From Under The Cork Tree’ and learnt the lyrics to ‘Sugar We’re Going Down’ off by heart.

They’d been forced to share the same… bed… again. And by ‘bed’ he meant mattress with blanket on top, and by ‘forced’ he meant Pete had crawled in bed with him at three am, not bothered enough to find his own mattress. Patrick didn’t even think he’d tried. It would have been fine if Pete hadn’t opened his mouth, they could have slept until morning like normal (normal?) and eaten leftovers for breakfast before rehearsals. But then again, he was Pete.

“Patrick, I can’t sleep.” Pete told his best friend with a large overly-dramatic sigh as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Well I can!” Mumbles Patrick as he snuggles deeper into the pillow.

Pete spares a glance for Patrick before sighing again and attempting to get ‘comfortable’; which unluckily for Patrick is a very uncomfortable experience.

Less than twenty minutes later and Patrick has given up on sleep. Good thing because it seemed that Pete was wide awake and if Pete wasn’t asleep naturally Patrick couldn’t be.

“Trick?”

“Ug!” Patrick muttered.

“Trick. I have a hard-on.” Pete sighed again, as if it was the most tragic thing in all of America.

“Ug… Go fuck a groupie!” Patrick groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

“Nah… No point.”

Silence ensued again. Comfortable I’m-Not-Asleep-And-Don’t-Intend-To-Be-Any-Time-Soon silence.

“Pete?” He was fully awake now.

“Patrick?” Pete turned to face his friend who had rolled over so he was no longer buried in the covers.

“Why do you have to share these things with me?” he sounded very weirded out and a little bit curious.

“Who else would I tell?” Pete asked, as if saying ‘duh’.

“No one!” Patrick sounded exasperated.

“Exactly.” Pete sounded like he had won.

“No, I mean don’t tell anybody because it’s privet. I don’t wake you up at three-thirty am to tell you I have a hard-on, do I? Does Andy or Joe or our manager?”

“They don’t count.” Pete dismissed them.

“Why not?”

“Because they aren’t Pete-and-Patrick. They aren’t Petetrick… or is it Wentzstump?”

Silence as Pete attempted to figure out how to successfully combine their names and Patrick counted to one hundred. He’d only got to forty-seven when Pete spoke again.

“I wish you would.”

“What?” Patrick didn’t get Pete sometimes; if by sometimes he meant at three-fifty-eight in the morning when they’d be up at six and practising no later than seven-thirty.

“I wish you would wake me up to tell me you have a hard-on.” Pete said, sounding genuinely sad that such a ritual was not commonplace.

Patrick truly could not think of an answer to that.

“Do you?” Pete asked and this time Patrick knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Pete; I’m eighteen. I always have a hard-on!” Patrick admitted and could feel the mattress move as Pete shook his head in acknowledgement. Why does he do that? I can’t see him! Patrick thought absentmindedly.

“We should do something about it.” Pete said with sudden energy.

“Like what?” Patrick sounded wary. If he wanted to try and find a club that was still open at… four-eight in the morning and pick up some girls then Patrick was out. He hated it when Pete took him out with him because Pete found it so easy to get girls and he’d choose the most beautiful girl there and leave Patrick with his rejects who’d just ask him about the mysterious dark eyed dark haired man and hadn’t they seen him somewhere before…?

“You do me and I’ll do you?” Pete said, stunning Patrick.

“… huh?”

“C’mon, Trick, it’s not like we haven’t kissed before!” that was true, most nights recently Pete would give Patrick a kiss, chastely on the forehead, sweetly on the lips, or more often warmly on his neck. “And you must have guessed I swing both ways!” Pete said outrageously; although it wasn’t hard to guess. Pete had such an easily and seductive manor with both women and men which drew people to him.

“What makes you think I do?” Patrick asked when he could get a word out.

Pete gave him the look. Patrick didn’t know how he could tell as it was still pitch dark (and now four-thirty am) but he knew. “When I take off my shirt; you watch. Closely.”

“Oh.”

More silence. Not-so-comfortable-silence. Pete’s toes started to twitch and Patrick was grateful that he could feel Pete’s hands next to him.

“So?”

Patrick sighed. Unlike Pete’s, Patrick’s sighs were soft and breathy. “Alright then. One off, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pete said enthusiastically and Patrick rolled his eyes sure Pete hadn’t even registered the last part. Oh, well.

Pete closed the gap (which had slowly been decreasing since they started this conversation) and rolled so he was on top of Patrick before kissing him, tongue straight in, and hands roaming over Patrick’s body. His face burned with embarrassment and innocence; while not virginal a few fumbles with his best friend’s sister during junior prom hardly counted as sex and the girl he’d let blow him after a concert at Pete’s advice… well the incident was too shameful to go into. Especially when shame was the last thing he wanted to be feeling with Pete on top of him, one golden hand sliding into Patrick’s pants and gripping him firmly making Patrick’s hip jerk up involuntarily. He really should return the favour before he was too far gone, Patrick thought as his own hands pushed Pete’s boxers (the ones Patrick had insisted his friend wore if he was going to share a bed with him - the irony) down far enough to get at what he wanted. Less experienced but at least he was familiar with what had to be done, he was a guy after all and he figured knowing how to jerk-off must be in your genes. And he must be doing it right because Pete was now groaning and thrusting against Patrick’s hand, speeding up his own rhythm in order to get Patrick to spill at the same time as Pete. Moments later it happened, Pete following instantaneously and then slumping over his friend’s sweat covered body.

“Always… knew… you… were… a bottom… Trick.” Pete said between gasps of oxygen.

In reply he got shoved off and laughed as he rolled onto his back next to Patrick. “Only for you, Petey.” He bitched, a little unsure of himself but not feeling as awkward as he had assumed it would be.

Pete laughed again, true joy colouring his tone. “I hope so, Patrick.” Sounding sincere and hugging Patrick as he closed his eyes on a yawn.

Patrick nudged him with no effect. “Pete, I need a shower.” Patrick protested.

“In the morning.” Pete muttered as he fell asleep. Patrick rolled his eyes, of course Pete would fall asleep when Patrick wanted to get up, which was incidentally five-thirteen in the morning, the very same morning that Pete reckoned he’d wake up on. Patrick sighed and joined Pete in sleep not bothering to worry about what Joe and the guys would say when they saw them in the morning.

FIN

A/N4: btw the Petetrick is a quote from Pete Wentz.

Through Time and Emotion ch1

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 20:31:54 GMT

I do not own charmed.

its rating currently is pg, it will change.

summery is that piper and her sisters follow chris back to the future.

With the image of the brown haired green eyed young nephew from her vision in her mind Phoebe Halliwell stepped into the office of her older sister’s nightclub P3, to talk to their neurotic whitelighter who they hadn’t seen in months. Not since the ‘incident’ on Piper’s birthday during which Chris exposed baby (well, toddler) Wyatt to a demon. Not his best moment especially considering how edgy and neurotic he’d been since he got back from the future, the ‘incident’ with Bianca that he’d refused to talk about since. Just like he’d always refused to talk about the future, ‘future consequences’ he’d say like a broken record.

“Chris?” Phoebe asked the empty room. It was as he always left it, untidy and smelling of boy. The only thing different was a black marker drawn triquatra on the wall, large enough to encompass an adult’s body. Large enough to recreate a portal like the one Bianca had used to take Chris home… except he’d claimed he couldn’t do it again. Liar?

Phoebe touched the wall and suddenly - Chris was shaking, it was early in the morning, no music was coming from the club and he hadn’t slept in days. Emotion poured from him; anger, fear, sorrow, grief, pain… he cried like a frustrated teenager who’s life was crumbling around him and all he could do was watch because no body could hear him no matter how loud he shouted… Chris was young and they’d all forgotten that in their mistreatment of him. The time period changed. The triquatra glowed blue and silver as if it was the surface of the ocean. A familiar but unrecognisable voice chanted a spell and Chris stepped through the portal looking scared and lonely and tired. The portal closed and nothing was left but an empty room.

“Ok, so you’re sure this’ll work?” Piper said for the third time in as many hours which was basically how long ago Phoebe had told her sisters of her ingenious or devious plan.

“I don’t even know why we are doing this!” moaned Paige, “I mean, the guy’s from the future, so what if he went back? At least he’s not screwing us around anymore.”

“She has a point.” Piper agreed.

“No, something’s not right about this, any of it. He never really explained why he came back to save Wyatt in the first place and… and you didn’t feel what I felt. He needs us and we’re the ones who turned him away, hurt him.” Phoebe said, not willing to go further until she knew the truth.

“Don’t make me blow you up.” Piper snapped before turning back to the Triquatra and throwing a potion at it while they joined hands and chanted the spell she’d heard earlier.

The portal opened and taking one last breath of 2004 air, the girls stepped through.

TBC

Past, Future, Present?

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 20:28:32 GMT

Charmed
rating 15 for possible bad language
summery: a spell transports future halliwells to an astral plane. Piper discovers who Chris is... and a lot more.

Future to Past

Past is Present

Show us those Charmed

Those Blessed through Blood

Or bonded through Wedlock

From a time we cannot know…

Paige, Piper, and Phoebe fell over as the spell worked to an amazing extent. They weren’t transported to the future, neither were the future Halliwells transported to the past, instead they met in the middle, an astral plane of change and possibilities and maybes. It was like an endless orange room with no distinction between walls and floors and nothing in the middle except fourteen people of varying ages.

“What the Hell!” Paige said as she looked around. There was the three sisters, plus two Leos, Chris!, Cole!, a man no-one recognised and various teenagers and children who looked similar. Their children.

“What did you do!” Chris, the same Chris who’s travelled back to the past to ‘save Wyatt’ said angrily as he saw the members of his family scattered around the astral plane.

“We wanted to see the future Halliwells, we meant just see not meet but hey, guess it worked!” Piper said in shock. “Only… what are you doing here? Unless-” Oh Goddess, here it comes - through Chris - only it didn’t. “Unless you’re married to one of our children.” Piper finished.

“Ew!” a voice that sounded suspiciously like a young version of Phoebe called out. “That’s like… incest!” she finished and the sisters saw who she was. Definitely Phoebe’s daughter only her eyes were grey not brown. Grey like Cole’s eyes. Cole, who was standing near her, let out a chuckle and pulled her close. The girl couldn’t be more than fifteen and let herself be pulled to him. Two other girls gravitated towards them, one with a swath of black hair and caramel brown eyes, the other with a silky brown bob and her mother’s eyes.

“I think you just let the ‘cat out of the bag’, Patty.” Cole said.

“Just a little…” Phoebe agreed absentmindedly as she looked at her three beautiful children.

“Oh, I’m sorry, introductions-”

“No Cole! Future consequences.” Chris warned.

“Oh you sound way to much like your dad, Chris. We’re all here for a reason so we might as well get acquainted. Phoebe, meet your children. This is Patty, she’s the youngest at fourteen. I know, she looks older. Then its Penny who’s seventeen and Prue,” he gestured to the woman with black hair, “is twenty. They are my children too, sorry to disappoint. Anyway… Over there with Chris are Paige’s children, Matthew Riordan and his baby sister Halliwell Riordan. Matt is twenty-one and Hallie is twelve. Their father Lukas Riordan is a powerful Caster from a Wiccan family so you went by his name. And Chris is obviously Leo and Piper’s son.”

“Obviously! What do you mean obviously!” Piper asked hysterically. Leo, her Leo, patted her back soothingly while never taking his eyes off his younger son.

Cole seemed confused and refreshingly honest. “Piper’s colouring, Leo’s eyes, Leo’s dad’s name, Piper’s skill in the kitchen, the Halliwell stubbornness and devotion to family; no matter what. He could never be anything but a Halliwell.”

“You know what Uncle Cole, you were a lot more better at keeping a secret when you were evil.” Chris muttered through his clenched teeth.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Where’s Wyatt?” Leo asked.

“Where are we?” Paige pointed out.

Cole looked saddened by both questions. “Wyatt severed the Blood Bond between himself and other Halliwells but not the Magical bond so none of his siblings or cousins can Call for him or use a summoning spell or bind his powers. Basically so they aren’t a threat.”

Piper picked up on this fast but got it wrong. “Why would they be a threat? Oh my God you’re all evil aren’t you! You’re trying to hurt my baby!”

Cole looked shocked. Paige was stunned. Leo was suspicious. Phoebe was insulted. “What!” she cried.

“It’s the only explanation.” Piper reasoned, clinging to her ex-husband not noticing how hurt and withdrawn Chris was. The other Leo put his hand on his son’s shoulder but Chris shrugged it away.

“Oh, so my children are evil but you precious baby can’t possibly be!” Phoebe asked.

“He’s a demon Phoebe.” Piper said, pointing haphazardly in Cole’s direction. Prue crossed her arms. Penny narrowed her eyes. Patty clenched her fists. Cole just waited.

“And! You think it’s more likely that six Charmed children turn evil than one, the most powerful one by the way.”

Piper considered this. And turned to Chris. “Tell them it isn’t true. That your big brother isn’t evil.”

“It depends on what you class as evil. If by evil you mean innocent murdering, power hungry, manic then… yes. Sorry mom.” Chris said.

“I don’t… oh, god!” she cried hugging Chris as if asking for forgiveness.

“It’s ok, mom.” He said.

“Where are we?” Paige asked as she held her children close.

The stranger, Lukas, answered solemnly. “You’re dead. I’m sorry. Piper dies when Chris is fourteen. He’s the soul witness. Wyatt and Leo are hanging out Up There busy and it’s Chris’ birthday, to be spent with his mom and cousins because Leo’s too busy.” Leo - future Leo - winced. “Phoebe dies in child birth and Cole named your third born Patricia Phoebe Halliwell Turner, you were convinced it’d be a boy and wanted to name him Victor Cole Halliwell Turner. But it was a trick premonition to make sure you didn’t suspect anything would go wrong in labour. Paige…” he turned to his wife. “We lost you six months ago. A Darklighter attack. Seven to two, you saved your charge but was killed yourself.”

TBC

Thankful & Bitter

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 20:26:03 GMT

Author: Ffeona 'sarcasm is my drug'/coffi-is-love

Fandom; CHARMED

Rating: PG

Warning: angst, hurt-without-the-comfort, spoliers for season six Charmed

Charaters: CHRIS HALLIWELL

Chapters? 1/1

Summery: Chris reflects on the things he has to be 'thankful' for.

Chris was thankful. He was thankful that Leo had never been therefore him, because after Wyatt turned Leo barely even remembered his second son’s name but because he’d never been there anyway so it hardly even hurt at all… like getting cut and weeks later finally ripping of the band-aid/plaster. He was thankful he’d had a mother’s love, his mom had given him the strength to believe life was worth living and he was worth loving. Her death had spurred him on to join the Resistance and eventually lead it. He was grateful Wyatt had been a brother to him, early on, because that made Chris think of what he could have, gave him the hope he need to start this mission. Hell, he was thankful for past-Piper’s cold attitude towards him and her desperation to not let him get close to her and her loved ones because it meant in his head he was able to separate mom and Piper. Chris was thankful that Bianca had died at Wyatt’s hands, it had given him new drive and meant he no longer had any one else’s expectations relying on him, and no-one to return to in the future so he could never entertain the possibility of giving up and going home and fighting in the future. Because without her; there was no future.

Chris was thankful for every little scar and bruise that decorated his empty heart and bleak soul because without them, he’d give up, he’d cry, he’d hug his mouth and beg his father for the love Leo had never realised he’d been withholding from his second son.

But at the same time, these were the things that made him cold inside. He almost welcomed death, but he had a mission to complete. And complete it he would - no matter the cost.

PLEASE COMMENT

Christopher Perry-Halliwell, a life, a love, a mission3

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 20:20:21 GMT

for DISCLAIMER/SUMMERY/WARNINGS/ectra see 'part one'

RATED 18 FOR SLASHY SEX

Chapter Three: Trust Me
Chris, fourteen, was stood awkwardly in the doorway of Wyatt’s room. Wyatt was sixteen but he looked older, could easily pass for eighteen. He had muscled from playing football whereas Chris was a swimmer and his sleek body shape proved it. Both boys had been at a school game, Chris watching his best friend rule the field as they beat the home team, them being the visitors. Wyatt had laughed at his victory, claiming it was always more fun to beat a team on their home turf, showed them up even more. Consequently both boys mad mud on them, Chris from when Wyatt had stormed up to him afterwards and hugged him. Wyatt quickly stripped showing of tanned muscles as Chris tore his eyes away only to have a shirt thrown at him.
“Take that stuff off Chris, its dirty.” Wyatt pointed out. Chris hesitated, not really wanting too. He felt weird and lately he’d been noticing too many things about how his friend looked, half naked.
“Yeah, ‘coz you made me!” Chris argued, not removing his clothes.
“C’mon, or I’ll do it for you!” Wyatt ‘joked’, telekinetically shutting the door and walking up to Chris who just rolled his eyes. “I’m fine as I am, Wy.” He assured his friend.
“But I bet you’d be better without them.” Wyatt said, sexily. Wait… sexily! Oh crap shit bugger it… oops. Not the last one. No, keep mind away from last word.
“What!” Chris said, thinking only an extreme reaction could get Wyatt to quit kidding around.
As it turned out, Wy wasn’t joking. He ran his hands up and down Chris’s paralysed form before pulling the tee over Chris’s head and pausing right before going in for the kill. Their lips met hungrily, Wyatt dominating the whole thing and Chris almost passive but enjoying the experience. Until he head Piper downstairs and struggled to break free. Wyatt wasn’t one to let go of something if he wanted it. “Stop fighting me, Chris. I’ve warded the room against listeners and locked the door, I wrote a note while you were in the bathroom. She thinks I’m going to a party and Judith… or is it Kendra… thinks you are staying the night at Mike who will lie.”
Chris was panicked and panting and lying half aroused underneath another guy. “It’s Stephanie. My foster carer at the moment is Stephanie. The one before was Kennedy but I’ve never had a Judith… you might be thinking of Julian but he looked after me when I was eight-”
Wyatt shut the younger boy up by meshing their lips together. “Wy, I’m not sure about this. Stop it.” Chris tried, wanting to deny these feelings.
Wyatt didn’t look pleased. One hand captured both Chris’s wrists in his while the other trailed a path down Chris’s agile body to unzip his trousers and slip and hand inside. Chris gasped loudly, shocked and confused and hurt that Wyatt had ignored him but turned on, and worried and scared. Wyatt wasn’t his friend right now. He was controlling and aggressive and sexual and Chris sensed Wyatt was angry. At him or at this or at something else Chris didn’t know and didn’t want to. He was scared enough to want Wyatt to stop. But another mixture of fear and lust meant he couldn’t say it again to Wyatt. He begged with his eyes but soon Wyatt turned him over so then he could do noting but freak out silently as the boy he once loved like a friend made him come like a man.
tbc