Look! Comment Fic!
13/2/14 14:54![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shanachie_quillSo I'm kinda snowed in today. And I decided to comment fic! (Instead of writing on my list.) I answered 2 from the comment_fic comm on LJ (one three times) and then another one that was a request from whogeek and irishjeeper.
From this picture
Derek looked like he was completely involved in his phone as he strolled along behind Scott, Lydia, and the Parker Pack alpha. Despite his focus on the conversation he was having with Stiles (who was attempting to reassure him that everything was fine in Beacon Hills); he was also watching the interaction between the two alphas. Scott was holding his own, carefully not promising anything, while still being pleasantly agreeable.
Lydia dropped back as Derek glanced up, attempting to peer over his shoulder. “Has Stiles blown up the town yet?” she asked quietly.
“He assures me it’s in one piece and our pack is accounted for,” Derek replied, after checking to be sure the alphas were engrossed in their own conversation.
“But you don’t believe him?” she guessed.
“I don’t like leaving them on their own,” he answered.
“I’m sure if they were actually in danger, someone would mention it,” she said.
He favored her with a look. “It’s Stiles. He runs towards danger. And I’m not entirely sure the twins would discourage him. And Isaac would just follow him.”
“Allison is a voice of reason,” Lydia pointed out.
“Oh, that’s good. A hunter as a voice of reason,” Derek said dryly.
“She’s as much pack as Stiles or I am, Derek. Despite everything. And we’re at peace with the hunters. Or the Argents at least.” Lydia noticed he didn’t flinch at the name.
Derek looked down as his phone beeped again. “Stiles wants to know why you and Scott get to skip school when he’s stuck with Finstock.”
“Because Scott is the alpha and I’m prettier than Stiles,” she told him before picking up her pace to rejoin the two alphas.
Derek tried not to smirk as he bent his head over his phone again. Three more days before they went home. Hopefully Beacon Hills would still be in one piece when they returned.
Any, Any, "Are we there yet?" Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Ariana Barton (Avengers)
“Mommy?” Ariana asked from the backseat. “Why does Daddy have his hand over his mouth?”
Natasha glanced over at Clint, who was sitting in the passenger seat with his hand over his mouth. He started to move it away to answer their daughter, but a glare from Natasha stopped him and she answered, “Daddy was bugging Mommy so he’s keeping quiet for the next few miles.”
“What was Daddy doing?” she asked.
“Something little girls normally do,” Natasha said. “He kept asking me ‘are we there yet?’”
“But I don’t do that,” Ariana said.
“Clearly you have more patience than your daddy,” Natasha told her.
“Hey!” Clint protested, his voice muffled since his hand was still over his mouth. “I’m patient.”
“In certain situations,” Natasha told him. “Apparently this isn’t one of them.”
“What? We’ve been in the car for a long time,” Clint protested.
“Not that long,” Natasha replied. “And if your daughter can handle it. So can you.”
Clint slouched in his seat, crossing his arms. “Don’t see why.”
“And you wonder why we only have one child.”
Any, Any, "Are we there yet?" Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” Stiles repeated over and over as he pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor. “Hang on, Derek. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up and drive,” Derek growled as the back end fishtailed.
“I am!” Stiles yelped, as he wrenched the wheel to avoid a tree.
Derek bit back a groan as the Jeep bottomed out on something and the bouncing jostled the bones that were attempting to heal. They needed to get out of the woods, needed to get away so he could straighten out his limbs and let his natural ability take over. He knew already that they were going to have to re-break some of them and he wasn’t looking forward to the process. “Are we at the road yet?” he demanded.
“Almost. Soon. Just another minute,” Stiles babbled. “I’m. It’s. We’re almost there.”
“Just drive,” Derek gritted out.
Stiles chanced a look over at the werewolf and blanched. “Um, Derek. I think.”
“Shut up, Stiles.”
“There’s a bone sticking out of your leg!” Stiles practically yelled.
“I am well aware,” Derek replied. “Are we there yet?”
The Jeep’s wheels spun and then caught as they hit pavement and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief inaudible to anyone other than a werewolf. “We’re at the road. Less than ten minutes to Deaton’s.” He glanced at Derek again. “You’ll be okay.”
Any, Any, "Are we there yet?" Original Fic
Normally it was the kids who asked ‘are we there yet?’, but Jessica had learned long before they’d had kids that Evan did not do well on long car trips. Anything longer than an hour in the car resulted in repetitive questioning of ‘are we there yet?’, ‘when do we get there?’, ‘why aren’t we there?’
So Jessica had learned to take shorter trips or plan them for overnight when Evan (and later the kids) would sleep soundly and she could enjoy the open road and the sound of the radio. It just worked out much better for all of them.
Marvel's Agents of SHIELD, Coulson + Ward + Fitz, "so, how is this not a road trip again?"
“So, how is this not a road trip again?” Ward asked as he and Coulson finished switching places.
Coulson raised an eyebrow as he shifted the SUV into gear. “Who said it wasn’t a road trip?”
“Who said it was?” Ward countered, glancing over his shoulder towards the back seat. Fitz was still curled up and appeared to be fast asleep. “We’ve got the kid asleep in the backseat for one.”
“Long, lonely stretch of road,” Coulson responded.
“All we need is the bad ‘80s music,” Ward said.
“Please don’t subject my ears to that,” Coulson told him.
“Please don’t subject any of our ears to that,” Fitz mumbled from the back seat. “I won’t ever get it out of me head.”
“That he notices,” Ward commented. “All right, no ‘80s music. But no classical either.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with classical,” Coulson replied.
“Nothing if you want to go to sleep,” Ward answered.
“I was trying to sleep,” Fitz replied.
“Go back to sleep, Fitz. It’ll be another couple of hours before we’re there,” Coulson said over his shoulder.
Fitz rolled the jacket he’d been using for a pillow back into shape and settled back down. “Then don’t talk so loud,” he mumbled.
From this picture
Derek looked like he was completely involved in his phone as he strolled along behind Scott, Lydia, and the Parker Pack alpha. Despite his focus on the conversation he was having with Stiles (who was attempting to reassure him that everything was fine in Beacon Hills); he was also watching the interaction between the two alphas. Scott was holding his own, carefully not promising anything, while still being pleasantly agreeable.
Lydia dropped back as Derek glanced up, attempting to peer over his shoulder. “Has Stiles blown up the town yet?” she asked quietly.
“He assures me it’s in one piece and our pack is accounted for,” Derek replied, after checking to be sure the alphas were engrossed in their own conversation.
“But you don’t believe him?” she guessed.
“I don’t like leaving them on their own,” he answered.
“I’m sure if they were actually in danger, someone would mention it,” she said.
He favored her with a look. “It’s Stiles. He runs towards danger. And I’m not entirely sure the twins would discourage him. And Isaac would just follow him.”
“Allison is a voice of reason,” Lydia pointed out.
“Oh, that’s good. A hunter as a voice of reason,” Derek said dryly.
“She’s as much pack as Stiles or I am, Derek. Despite everything. And we’re at peace with the hunters. Or the Argents at least.” Lydia noticed he didn’t flinch at the name.
Derek looked down as his phone beeped again. “Stiles wants to know why you and Scott get to skip school when he’s stuck with Finstock.”
“Because Scott is the alpha and I’m prettier than Stiles,” she told him before picking up her pace to rejoin the two alphas.
Derek tried not to smirk as he bent his head over his phone again. Three more days before they went home. Hopefully Beacon Hills would still be in one piece when they returned.
Any, Any, "Are we there yet?" Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Ariana Barton (Avengers)
“Mommy?” Ariana asked from the backseat. “Why does Daddy have his hand over his mouth?”
Natasha glanced over at Clint, who was sitting in the passenger seat with his hand over his mouth. He started to move it away to answer their daughter, but a glare from Natasha stopped him and she answered, “Daddy was bugging Mommy so he’s keeping quiet for the next few miles.”
“What was Daddy doing?” she asked.
“Something little girls normally do,” Natasha said. “He kept asking me ‘are we there yet?’”
“But I don’t do that,” Ariana said.
“Clearly you have more patience than your daddy,” Natasha told her.
“Hey!” Clint protested, his voice muffled since his hand was still over his mouth. “I’m patient.”
“In certain situations,” Natasha told him. “Apparently this isn’t one of them.”
“What? We’ve been in the car for a long time,” Clint protested.
“Not that long,” Natasha replied. “And if your daughter can handle it. So can you.”
Clint slouched in his seat, crossing his arms. “Don’t see why.”
“And you wonder why we only have one child.”
Any, Any, "Are we there yet?" Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” Stiles repeated over and over as he pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor. “Hang on, Derek. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up and drive,” Derek growled as the back end fishtailed.
“I am!” Stiles yelped, as he wrenched the wheel to avoid a tree.
Derek bit back a groan as the Jeep bottomed out on something and the bouncing jostled the bones that were attempting to heal. They needed to get out of the woods, needed to get away so he could straighten out his limbs and let his natural ability take over. He knew already that they were going to have to re-break some of them and he wasn’t looking forward to the process. “Are we at the road yet?” he demanded.
“Almost. Soon. Just another minute,” Stiles babbled. “I’m. It’s. We’re almost there.”
“Just drive,” Derek gritted out.
Stiles chanced a look over at the werewolf and blanched. “Um, Derek. I think.”
“Shut up, Stiles.”
“There’s a bone sticking out of your leg!” Stiles practically yelled.
“I am well aware,” Derek replied. “Are we there yet?”
The Jeep’s wheels spun and then caught as they hit pavement and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief inaudible to anyone other than a werewolf. “We’re at the road. Less than ten minutes to Deaton’s.” He glanced at Derek again. “You’ll be okay.”
Any, Any, "Are we there yet?" Original Fic
Normally it was the kids who asked ‘are we there yet?’, but Jessica had learned long before they’d had kids that Evan did not do well on long car trips. Anything longer than an hour in the car resulted in repetitive questioning of ‘are we there yet?’, ‘when do we get there?’, ‘why aren’t we there?’
So Jessica had learned to take shorter trips or plan them for overnight when Evan (and later the kids) would sleep soundly and she could enjoy the open road and the sound of the radio. It just worked out much better for all of them.
Marvel's Agents of SHIELD, Coulson + Ward + Fitz, "so, how is this not a road trip again?"
“So, how is this not a road trip again?” Ward asked as he and Coulson finished switching places.
Coulson raised an eyebrow as he shifted the SUV into gear. “Who said it wasn’t a road trip?”
“Who said it was?” Ward countered, glancing over his shoulder towards the back seat. Fitz was still curled up and appeared to be fast asleep. “We’ve got the kid asleep in the backseat for one.”
“Long, lonely stretch of road,” Coulson responded.
“All we need is the bad ‘80s music,” Ward said.
“Please don’t subject my ears to that,” Coulson told him.
“Please don’t subject any of our ears to that,” Fitz mumbled from the back seat. “I won’t ever get it out of me head.”
“That he notices,” Ward commented. “All right, no ‘80s music. But no classical either.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with classical,” Coulson replied.
“Nothing if you want to go to sleep,” Ward answered.
“I was trying to sleep,” Fitz replied.
“Go back to sleep, Fitz. It’ll be another couple of hours before we’re there,” Coulson said over his shoulder.
Fitz rolled the jacket he’d been using for a pillow back into shape and settled back down. “Then don’t talk so loud,” he mumbled.
