I'm not insane!

uuuupdate

teffy — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 02:26:45 GMT

Helloooo? Anyone around these parts? I'm still here. Sort of. But mostly I'm on tumblr. I'm teffy over there too. Pretty much everywhere. You can't get rid of me.

teffy — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 03:27:20 GMT

I just finished watching Justified. Like I seriously mainlined that show for the last two weeks. I am caught up on all my other shows. Soooo...what should i be watching now? I want something I can get immersed in again. And if you suggest something I already watch I will just bounce and squee about it with you. :D

I know this is obvious.

teffy — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 03:22:32 GMT

So....Community is fucking brilliant.

Hello?

teffy — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 06:36:35 GMT

Hello? Is this thing on?

I am a Teffy.

And I have returned to you, my children.

Birthday fic for Jules! CWRPS Cop AU!

teffy — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 18:00:33 GMT

Happy Birthday, kashmir1!!

Late hours didn't become Jensen. Jared was always teasing him about getting his 'beauty rest.' He kept going by drinking as much coffee as he could, hovering in a state of utter exhaustion and overly caffinated

That's how Jared found him, slumped against his desk, eyes wide as he scrolled through the missing persons database on his computer.

"Hey." He said softly as he perched on the edge of the desk. "Hey. Hey, Jensen." He said a little more forcefully, finally getting his partner's attention. "You okay, man?"

Jensen rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck. What time is it?"

Jared glanced down at his watch. "Almost two. Let's call it a night, huh? We're not going to break anything with you in zombie mode."

Shaking his head, Jensen let his gaze travel back to the computer screen. "No way. I've gotta get this done."

Jared reached out a hand and rubbed it along Jensen's shoulder, kneading gently. "You sure? You don't need a break?" His fingers found their way under Jensen's collar, brushing against skin. "Maybe something to recharge your batteries?"

Jensen's tongue darted out to lick his lips, pointedly pushed his computer mouse away, and settled back in his chair. "What do you have in mind?"

With a very naughty, and obviously up to no good, grin, Jared moved down onto his knees in front of Jensen. He rubbed at the front of Jensen's pants, palming his cock through the two layers of fabric. Jensen's jaw went slack and his eyes dark. "You're doing this here?" He murmured.

Jared looked up at him innocently. "Is there somewhere else? Morgan's office, maybe? We could just go-"

Jensen's hand wrapped around the back of Jared's neck and stopped him. "No teasing. Finish what you started."

Jared let his hand squeeze roughly and Jensen couldn't control the guttural moan that spilled from his mouth. Jared unzipped him quickly leaning down with the heavy weight of Jensen's hand on the back of his head. He nuzzled against Jensen's cock before taking him into his mouth sucking gently.

Jensen's hips rocked up reflexively and he settled back, sprawled in his desk chair. He slid his fingers through Jared's hair and tugged. "Mmmm, don't stop."

Jared laughed lowly. He had no intention of doing that. He rubbed his tongue along the underside of Jensen's cock as he moved down and back up, bobbing his head in a slow rhythm. He used one hand to grip the base of Jensen's cock and the other to rub at his own hardness absently. He felt Jensen get harder with every slow swipe of his tongue and he let his eyes flick up to watch his face.

Jensen was completely lost in it. Head lolling back, mouth open and panting, the hand not fisted in Jared's hair was rubbing his own belly. "Jared." He whimpered, voice strained with need. "Please."

Jared kept going, taking him back as far as he could, the head of Jensen's cock hitting the back of his throat.

"Oh, fuckfuckfuuuuck." Jensen moaned, coming suddenly, the only warning was the abrupt shift of his hips.

Jared swallowed him down as best he could and lapped gently at his softening cock. He tucked him back in his pants carefully, rubbing his hands along Jensen's thighs as he leaned up to capture his mouth in a slow kiss.

Jensen grinned wide as Jared pulled back, laughing at the look on his face. "Recharged?"

"Yuuuup." Jensen drawled. He tilted his head thoughtfully, as if remembering something. "What the hell did you say we were gonna do in Morgan's office?"

They Say It's Your Birthday - Supernatural (Sam/Dean) - R

teffy — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 17:11:24 GMT

They Say It's Your Birthday
Sam/Dean
R
It's Dean's first birthday after coming back from hell. Fluff, with a smidge of angst, and lots of porn and brotherly schmoop.

Written for grayscaled sorry so late dear! I've had the past two weeks from hell! But I worked hard to get this done for you. I hope you enjoy!

( So you're glad it's your birthday now? )

Just Hurry Up and Wait- Dean/Izzie/Sam - R

teffy — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 23:43:38 GMT

Just Hurry Up and Wait
R
Grey's Anatomy/Supernatural AU
Dean/Izzie/Sam

So over two years ago, I wrote this. A Dean/Izzie/Sam AU that has been pretty much the best example of my writing style, the one I've felt most fulfilled by writing, and the one I think that has had the most feedback. Well, after watching the Grey's from this past week I got inspired again. So here it is. I would recommend reading that one before you read this one. The first one kind of had Izzie's voice and this one is more in Dean's headspace. I plan on writing one with Sammy, but I promise I won't wait 2 years to do it. :)

As for the time line on this I'm not too sure, it follows after my first fic. I've also incorporated things from this season of SPN and this season of Grey's. But yes, it's very much an AU. Enjoy!

There's a knock at her door and a man in a trench coat. He doesn't smile, but he makes her feel at ease unexpectedly.

"Isabel Stevens." He says in a slow measured voice.

Then, she sees Denny.

*****

"Dean." Her voice sounds shaky on the other end of the phone. "It's me."

"Izzie." He breathes, and it's part relief, part worry, and a whole hell of a lot of longing.

"Yeah, I know." She sighs, most definitely not smiling. "I need your help."

*****

Sam doesn't say much the entire drive to Seattle. In fact he sleeps most of the whole way there. Dean doesn't mind driving. He rolls the window down and lets the cool, dry air wash over him.

He's nervous.

That pisses him off.

*****

She smells just like he remembers. Her hair's a little shorter, her eyes somewhat distant, though, like a fog's settled there. He watches Sam slide his arms around her. They fit well together. He'd always loved the fact that she was a tall woman.

Suddenly, Sam's back starts to shake slightly and he buries his face in Izzie's neck. She looks over at Dean pleadingly. "I thought I was the one that needed help?"

Dean's gaze flicks downward and he feels his face flush with something like anger.

*****

He lays his jacket along the back of her couch. Sam's next to her, his head in her lap. Izzie threads her fingers through his hair. It's a maternal gesture and Goddammit it should break his heart, but it doesn't. Izzie's not their mother. No more than they are this guy Denny for her.

They're not replacements. They never have been.

Dean moves to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of them. "When did you start seeing him?"

Her cheeks puff out slightly as she lets out a pent up breath. "Last week was the first time when I was at work. But..."

His eyebrows raise as she trails off. "But?" He prompts.

"I think I've been seeing him longer than that." Her face is pale and Sam turns his head to press a kiss to her knee.

Izzie shivers. "I tried the salt. It didn't work."

*****

He watches, yet again. Watches Sam make love to her on the couch.

Sam doesn't say a word. He nuzzles against her stomach, pushing her back until he can stretch out on top of her. She's smiling and so is he and when they kiss they both hum in contentment. Izzie tugs at his clothes and he pushes her scrubs down far enough so he can slide into her.

Dean leans over and takes off her sneakers, gently sliding her pants down and then guides her legs back up to wrap around Sam's waist.

Sam's thrusting and mumbling something into her ear. He wishes he could hear what.

She moans and whispers. "Yeah. Missed this."

Dean lets his hand stay on her calf, rubbing the soft skin there.

He missed this too. "Don't stop, Sammy."

*****

Dean meets Denny Duquette for the first time in the middle of the night. He sneers and tells him to get lost.

The ghost only smiles ruefully and keeps his shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Izzie doesn't know who you are. Where you've been."

Dean pretends he doesn't recognize that voice.

Then he wakes up.

*****

The smell of bacon and eggs permeates the house and Dean's stomach growls. He shuffles into the kitchen.

Sam's at the stove, cooking, of all things. He's bare chested, wearing only his boxers. Izzie must have stolen his t-shirt sometime since last night because that's all she's wearing, her legs long and dangling off the counter where she's perched next to Sam. He leans over to steal a kiss from her.

Dean watches and wonders how he didn't see the pieces Sam had been in before now.

*****

"Why are you here, Dean?" Castiel is leaning against the Impala, which isn't right. A lot of things aren't right. "What are you doing?"

"You tell me."

"Isobel Stevens does not have a ghost problem." He says with a glare.

"Is that what you think I'm doing here?"

"Isn't it?"

Dean leans in close. "If you have something to do with whatever the hell is tormenting her..."

"Dean? You'll burn and salt the remains? Then what? Sometimes things aren't that simple."

He sighs and turns to head back into Izzie's house. "When has my life ever been simple?"

*****

"How? Why am I seeing him?"

Dean shakes his head. "Why do you want him here?"

She looks like she wants to punch him and part of him wishes she would. "You believe me. I know you do. All that crap you see. I'm not lying."

"No. I believe you. Izzie," He pulls her closer. "He won't go away until you let him." He murmurs into her hair.

She pulls back abruptly. "I wanted to see him." She confesses. "So I could see you. I wanted to have a...a ghost so I could see you."

"You could always-"

She cuts him off with her mouth on his. He kisses her like he's had a lifetime to practice.

"Izzie...Izzie." He pants, breaking away to catch his breath.

She opens her eyes and watches him. "What happened to Sam? To you?"

He puts his hand against her cheek. "Don't ask. Don't make me tell you." He begs, lower lip trembling like a brave little solider determined not to cry.

*****

They all three sleep in her bed, Sam sprawled out between them.

"You're happy here." Dean says, regrettably out loud.

"I'm happy. Not here. I'm happy with you two." Izzie mumbles against Sam's chest. "Things were simpler when Denny was gone and I was on the road."

"She's going to come with us, Dean." Sam says in a low voice, and it's very nearly the first words he's spoken since they arrived. "We're going to ask her, and she's going to say yes, and we're going to drive away from all this." He takes a slow, measured breath and can't look at either of them when he speaks again.

"I'm going to get my happily ever after."

The Chocolate Marshmallow Ingestion - The Middleman - PG

teffy — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 04:12:10 GMT

The Chocolate Marshmallow Ingestion
PG
The Middleman fluff, figuratively and actually. :)

He doesn't think anything is wrong with her when she gets buzzed eating chocolate marshmallows. He does, however, think they're disgusting.

"Marshmallows, Dubbie...are supposed to be white. It goes against all the laws of nature."

"There's laws of nature concerning marshmallows?" She says around a mouthful, resisting the urge to say 'chubby bunny' with her stuffed cheeks.

"There are laws of nature concerning most of, well, nature. For instance, how would you make s'mores with those things? See? Throws the balance right off." His nose crinkles in disgust.

Her eyes go wide at the mention of s'mores. "Oh my God, that sounds delicious." She groans.

He sighs. "Well, I'm not ever letting you into the trail mix, s'more, and other assorted campfire foods room back at HQ with blasphemy like that."

She manages to swallow and licks her fingers clean. "We have a room like that?"

"Of course we do. Dagnabit, you wouldn't have us completely uncivilized would you?" He glares at her irritatingly while her fingers are in her mouth.

"There are too many rooms in that place. Quantity does not equal quality." She mutters fishing another one of the sticky treats out of the plastic bag in her lap.

"Oh, now you're criticizing my-" He cuts himself off. "Enough, Dubbie." He says with a sharp nod.

She hides a laugh behind her hand.

Today is Friday

teffy — Sat, 31 May 2008 04:05:14 GMT

Your fandoms are:
Stargate Atlantis
Firefly/Serenity

You may comment leaving:
a fandom
a pairing
a prompt
or any combination of all three!

You will receive:
a ficcish thing of some sort from me

Previous Posts:
Monday (HIMYM, Heroes, Chuck)
Tuesday (House, Bones, Pushing Daisies)
Wednesday (Dresden, Lost, Lotrps, Lostr)
Thursday (Smallville, Supernatural, The Office, Grey's Anatomy)

Morning - Jayne/River - R

teffy — Sat, 09 Feb 2008 06:38:36 GMT

Morning
Jayne/River
PG-13

Do you know how long it's been since I wrote fic?! Especially Jayne/River fic. Oh my God. I don't know where this came from, but bless the muses.

The terrible crashing sound startles Jayne awake and the slowness in which he registers his surroundings, proves he's getting damn near senile in his old age. He groans as he lifts his head up from the pillow. Something isn't right. There isn't a fan of dark hair across his chest. No small frame pressed against his side. He doesn't feel her fingers tangling in his shirt. He opens his eyes immediately.

River's not there.

It's then he remembers the crashing sound.

His immediate reaction is to go for the guns tucked into the wall. "Gorramit." He growls, tugging the curtain down and reaching for one. How could someone have taken her without him hearing. River never left him in the morning. She usually woke him up with kisses and whimpers, wanting to be taken right then, both of them still half asleep and desperate for the other.

But not this morning. She was gone.

Thoughts of reavers and space pirates swirl through his head. Are they being boarded already? The terrifying thoughts speed him up. He manages to grab a gun and one of his knives, rushing up the ladder and down the corridor to the mess hall, throwing open the door when the automatic button doesn't go fast enough.

She's just standing there in her thin, pale pink dress, a soft looking white sweater over her shoulders, Kaylee had helped her to knit. She smiles wide, looking like an angel, except angels are supposed to have halos on their heads not colorful, pointy, party hats.

"Surprise!" She nearly squeals, making a 'ta da!' motion with her hands.

The table is set at one end. I checkered picnic tablecloth, some dried flowers in a vase, a bottle of...oh, sweet baby Jesus, was that maple syrup? Jayne's stomach growls and he lowers the gun, tucking it in the back of his pants. "What's all this?" He mutters, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It is your surprise. For today. The day Jayne got too big for his mother's belly." She murmurs, nodding in that way she does when explaining something patiently. She tended to do that a lot. "You are older...but not necessarily wiser." She smirks.

It is then that he notices a precariously stacked pile of pancakes on the table. The leaning most likely caused by a thick white candle, probably the only one she could find.

He arches an eyebrow and shuffles forward. "You did this, little girl?"

She sways slowly and looks up at him nodding. "Mmhhm."

He slides an arm around her back and bends his head to give her a kiss. "Forgot it was my birthday."

She nuzzles her nose to his. "River did not forget. It's her job to remember these things."

The gorram pancakes taste like cardboard, but he eats every single one.

A Sense of Longing - Dick/Kara - PG-13

teffy — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 18:11:02 GMT

A Sense of Longing
PG-13
Dick Grayson (Robin)/Kara Zor-El (Supergirl)

( There's one thing I've never been very good at. Saying thank you. )

What to Expect When You're Expecting - John/Mary - R

teffy — Sun, 07 Jan 2007 07:38:26 GMT

What to Expect When You're Expecting
John/Mary
R
kashmir1 and I always talk about John/Mary pregnant!smut...and how there's not nearly enough of it. :) I've had this sitting around for awhile now and was just able to finish it.

He's usually so tired after work, worn out from putting in long hours at the garage, but he falls onto the couch with her all the same, a tangle of limbs and his low, throaty laugh in her ear. Their dinner cools on the kitchen table as his hands move slowly, sluggishly against her. He rucks her skirt up, pushes her legs apart, settling between them like he's always been there, and when he pushes inside her, Mary can't remember a time when he wasn't.

*****
Mary's sick for a week before she even thinks she might be pregnant.

The thought hits her when she's at the drug store, trying to find something to calm her stomach and she gets a big smile on her face as she moves two isles over and grabs a test before heading home.

It's the kind with a line. One blue line straight across means that she's pregnant and she walks out of the bathroom to pace the house for the next five minutes. But, five minutes turns into an hour and she can't bring herself to go back and look.

It's nearly six and she hears the car pull in the driveway.

"I think I might be pregnant." She says before he's even got both arms out of his jacket.

He breathes in sharply and lets a smile play along his mouth. "You think?"

"John Winchester...go look at the damn test, okay?" She sighs, wringing her hands. "I've got to know."

He just nods and moves upstairs quickly and quietly.

After a moment, there's a whoop and he comes bounding back down the stairs and God, he already looks like a Daddy to her.

He wraps an arm around her waist to haul her up and kiss her enthusiastically. "You're having my baby, Mary." He mumbles against her lips.

*****

"Dean." She tests the name out around her mouthful of ice cream. "Dean. I think I like that."

John makes a disgusted face, but that could just be because she dipped her pickle into the chocolate syrup. "Dean? I'm not sure. Are we going for the 'Rat Pack' here? The next one gonna be Frank?"

Mary grins. "No, I was thinking...Sammy."

John laughs and passes her his bowl before she even has to ask. She eats the rest of his sundae.

*****

John's patient with her, completely understanding when she has her sudden mood swings, and touches her in all the right places when she gets so horny she can barely see straight.

"You're a god among men." She sighs as she looks past her huge belly to the end of the couch where he's rubbing her feet.

He smiles blearily at her, despite the dark circles underneath his eyes.

*****

"You're beautiful." John murmurs, smoothing the hair back from her sweaty forehead.

"Really?" She pants, gritting her teeth and squeezing his other hand as her latest contraction subsides.

"Really." He smiles, even though he's pretty sure she's breaking every bone in his hand. "Absolutely gorgeous."

Ten minutes later, Mary's fully dilated and cursing at John like a sailor.

*****

"Hey, there, Dean-o. I'm your daddy. That exhausted woman on the bed is your mommy. You put up quite a fight, didn't you? Nearly wore her out. Don't worry though. She's tough...and stubborn...and has a very firm grip as it turns out. No, no....shhh. It's alright. Don't start crying. Daddy's got you. You're alright. Shhh. It's okay. Love you, son. Gonna protect you. Never let anything happen to my boy..."

Mike/Tom Cop AU - Found Again - R

teffy — Sat, 16 Dec 2006 20:58:58 GMT

Found Again
R
Tom/Mike
Angst, schmoop, and boys with guns.

A bit of backstory set in kashmir1's cop_au_verse. Mike gets a new partner and isn't too happy about it. It's set about 4 years prior to her fic in the verse where Jensen and Jared meet.

A big thanks to kashmir1 for not only letting me play around with her 'verse, but also for reading through this, nit picking and squeeing for me and kicking my ass until I did these two boys justice.

Michael hadn't changed his clothes.

There was still blood along the front of his jacket, up his neck, and he found that if he tongued the corner of his mouth, he could find the taste of blood there as well.

His partner's blood.

Barry's blood.

Go home. They said to him. Go home, Rosenbaum. You can do paperwork later.

But he told them all no and I'm fine and even the new guy, Ackles, got a growling Fuck off. when he tried to bring him coffee.

The door to the meeting room opened and Michael's gaze wandered blearily over to find Morgan staring down at him. "Schneider wanted me to get your statement." He sat down across from him.

"Yeah."

"You sure you're up to this? We can always-"

"Get on with it, Sergeant." Michael snapped.

Morgan opened the folder in his hand and started jotting something down. He was practically fuming. "You know...you're not the only one who lost a friend tonight, Rosenbaum." He muttered.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Well, I'm the only one with his blood all over me, so you'll have to excuse me if it's hitting me rather hard."

Morgan locked eyes with him and slammed his hand down on the conference table. "Let's get one thing straight, right now. You didn't get Barry killed."

Michael felt sick.

"You didn't make him go into that building without back up." He heard Morgan rage on. "You didn't shoot him. It's not your fault that-"

But Michael couldn't hear him.

He gasped for breath, his chest pulling tight, and he saw stars then...nothing at all.

Michael went to two weeks of meetings with a staff therapist. 'Anxiety attacks'. That's what they told him was wrong with him. After the required grief counseling he didn't talk about it again.

That didn't stop him from crying himself to sleep at night, whispering Barry's name into the darkness and hoping he'd be there when he woke up.

He never was though.

*****
Four Years Later...

A rookie. And a transfer to boot.

Jesus, Morgan must really have it in for him.

Michael tossed the file onto his desk with a sigh. There wasn't much to read about the illustrious career of Tom Welling. He had been on the force for about a year and had just passed his detective test a month ago. There were no reprimands or suspensions, but the guy seemed to have a hero complex, not that every other cop didn't, but this guy had two commendations on his record and they were both for going above and beyond the call of duty to save a life.

"Heard you're getting a new partner."

Michael looked up and saw Jensen standing next to his desk, a cup of coffee in his outstretched hand. He accepted it gratefully. "Don't be mad just because it wasn't you."

"Yeah, right." Jensen scoffed, moving to sit on his own desk that was next to Michael's. "I already see enough of you at the station, you think I want to spend my every waking moment in the field with you?"

"Very funny, cowboy." Michael deadpanned.

"Seriously though, Rosenbaum. Don't give this guy a hard time." Jensen warned. "It's not his fault he got partnered with a bastard like you."

*****

There was some stranger sitting in on the briefing the next morning and Morgan didn't even need to say it for Mike to know it was his new partner.

Welling was tall, wide-shouldered, looked like the captain of the fucking football team. The kind of guy that would have beaten the shit out of him in high school.

Great. Because he wanted to relive that.

But, he watched him as Morgan passed out assignments. Watched him when Chad got all pissy about the case he'd been assigned. Watched him when Ackles started calling Chad a big baby, which normally would have piqued his interest, but he just couldn't stop thinking about the way this new guy seemed to be settling right in looking completely
unfazed by what was going on around him.

After the briefing, Michael sauntered up to him, watching as he finished off another donut. "You beat my record." He said with a
smile.

"What?" He asked and confused seemed to be his default look.

"Five donuts before before 9:00 am...and with sprinkles no less. I could never make it over the 4 and a half hump."

Then, Welling smiled and it was brilliant and big and slightly goofy and maybe Michael's icy resolve to give him such a hard time melted a little. "What can I say? Cops. Donuts. I just fit the stereotype."

*****
"You have a case?" Michael said, leaning forward, suddenly interested.

"Oh, do I have a case?" Jensen's smile was pure satisfaction. "Of course I do. I'm Daddy's favorite. And that's just what it is.
My case." He waved the file in Michael's face. "You're not coming anywhere near it."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Man, you beat a guy to an arrest one time..."

Jensen glared at him. "One time?"

"Okay, maybe more than once." He admitted.

"Besides, Rosenbaum...don't you have a partner to train? It's been a week and he still hasn't met everyone. Where have you been hiding him?"

"I haven't been hiding him, just keeping him busy with more important matters."

"Here's your coffee, Michael." Tom set the steaming paper cup on his desk and sipped his own. He had the biggest smile on his face like going to get coffee was his favorite thing in the fucking universe.

It was absolutely adorable and incredibly unfair.

Jensen's scoff brought him out of his reverie. "Yeah, Starbucks run...real important."

Michael rolled his chair closer to Jensen's desk. "So...what's your case about?" He asked innocently.

Jensen sighed and opened the file. "I'm only telling you so you won't bug me about it later."

Michael grinned and looked eagerly over his shoulder. "It's the kidnap case."

Jensen frowned as he flipped through the file. "Yeah. Her mom's here for questioning today. Damn...the little girl's only nine."

Michael read from the statement. "Snatched at the bus stop...no ransom demanded...possible sexual assault..."

"Fucking scum bags."

They both looked up quickly at the sound of a low voice. Tom was sitting across from them, looking down at his coffee like he wanted to strangle it. His jaw was clenched and there was a flush spreading across his cheeks. He looked up at them and Michael nearly recoiled at the anger he saw in Tom's eyes. "Who would do that to a little girl?"

Jensen shrugged. "Fucking scum bags, man. You were right."

Tom sighed and it was the first time Michael had seen the stress of the job get to his new partner.

*****

"What are we doing here? I thought Morgan didn't have a case for us yet." Tom asked, following Michael into the witness room.

"He doesn't." Michael answered patiently, straightening his tie. "That's why we're borrowing Jensen's."

Tom didn't say anything, but the pained look on his face almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

"Oh, Jesus...don't cry, Welling. I said 'borrow' not 'steal.' Don't worry." He smiled.

They moved into the room, Tom sitting on the opposite side of the table from their witness and Mike leaning against the wall.

"So, Mrs. Ferris, you first noticed your daughter was missing on Friday?" Tom asked.

"Please, call me Samantha...and yes, it was last friday. She didn't come home from school and she usually takes the bus so..." She took a deep, but shaky, breath. "You have to find her." She added in a whisper.

Tom nodded solemnly. "We're going to. I promise."

He said it so sincerely that Michael almost believed him, even though he knew the statistics were not in their favor. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything we don't know already?"

She shook her head. "Detective Ackles knows what-"

"No, I mean, do you know of anyone who could've done this?"

Samantha looked bewildered so Tom spoke up. "Mrs. Ferris...Samantha, it's just that in many of these kinds of cases the suspects tend to be family members, close friends, teachers. I know it's scary to think about, but...we need you to try."

Michael leaned forward anxiously as she turned the question over in her head. "There is someone." She finally said hesitantly.

Tom and Mike looked at her expectantly.

"My ex-husband." She said in a heavy voice. "Her father."

*****
Michael liked the bar because it wasn't the typical yuppie hangout. It wasn't the typical over-worked cop crowd either. It was somewhere in the middle. Good food and the bartender kept his drink full and had a nice ass he could stare at if the hockey game got boring.

It was a slice of heaven.

That's why, when he was halfway through his bacon burger and the Rangers were up by 3, he could practically hear the record in his head screech to a halt when Tom slid onto the stool next to him.

"Killian's please. On tap if you have it, if not then a bottle's just fine." He said with a wide smile.

"Sure thing."" The bartender, Kelly, winked at him. She was all breathy and giggly. His bartender. His Kelly. The one he always flirted with. Fuck, she hasn't smiled like that at him before.

Tom was oblivious to her attention, as always, and he stole a fry from Mike's plate. "Hey, Rosenbaum."

Kelly slid Tom's bottle over to him, her number scribbled on the cocktail napkin underneath it. "There you go, sweetheart."

Suddenly, he wasn't mad at Tom for interrupting his dinner. He was mad at the slutty bartender that thinks she can pick up his partner by batting her eyes at him. He leaned over Tom and picked up the napkin, crumpling it up and using it to wipe his mouth. He gave Kelly a look that says 'back off.'

Woah, where had all that come from?

Tom, still so clueless it was almost adorable, took a long pull from his bottle and sighed. "Long day, huh?"

"Fucking marathon of a day, I know." Mike tried to tell himself that the sight of those lips around a phallic object didn't just make his dick twitch in his pants. He tried and failed, because goddamn, he was hard. The fact that Tom was pressed close enough that he could smell his sweat and cologne and the faint scent of leather from his holster? Yeah, that was not helping either.

"Isn't there a game on tonight?"

"Uh..." Right. Talking. He remembered how to do that. Sure. He glanced up at the TV above the bar, where Tom was pointing. "A game? Man...we're watching the only game that's on. The end."

Tom laughed and ducked his head sheepishly. "Oh, hockey? Never really got into it."

Michael scoffed. "I'll pretend you didn't just say that."

He taught Tom all the finger points of the game while they watched and he let Tom steal food from his plate and laughed at all his corny jokes.

It was bordering on normal...and that was a little scary.

*****
The sidewalk was crooked. He wasn't tipsy. Nope. Not at all.

Tom's arm was around his waist, practically holding him up and Michael swayed on his feet, slumping against him.

"You're drunk, Mike." Tom laughed in his ear.

Michael groaned and reached up to grip the front of Tom's shirt. "Nooo. Just, very, very...happy." He grinned.

They both stumbled and Michael's breath came out in a whoosh as he shoved Tom against the rough brick wall. "Whoops." He mumbled.

Tom's eyes were glazed over and his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "Happy, huh?" He whispered. "The five beers have nothing to do with that?"

When Michael shifted against him, their hips met with a soft clink of their belt buckles.

Alarm bells were going off in his head, but the lazy haze of alcohol made them only a distant annoyance. "Fuck, you're beautiful." He groaned as if he was just now realizing it and he moved in to kiss him. He only succeeded in smearing his mouth wetly along Tom's chin. Tom's lips parted with a sigh and it was only a drag of Michael's mouth up and over before they were kissing, tongues winding together lazily.

Long fingers gripped his back, clenching in his jacket and Michael whimpered when Tom shoved his knee up between his legs. He only pulled away because he needed air, but he dove right back in, growling and nipping along that fucking gorgeous mouth.

"I want you." Tom told him breathlessly. "Want you to fuck me. Want to fuck you. Christ, Michael...I need you so much."

And suddenly, he was very, very sober. The familiar scent of sweat and leather was familiar for a reason. All he could see was Barry's face. All he could hear was Barry's voice. It was too much.

He pushed against Tom roughly, staggering back and wiping a hand over his face. "Son of a bitch..."

"What? What is it?"

"I can't...I can't do this." Michael gasped, that familiar feeling of tightness in his chest completing the deja vu.

"Mike?" Tom's voice broke on his name and Michael couldn't look at him.

He finally met Tom's pleading gaze and shook his head. "You can't be him." He whispered and walked away, knowing Tom deserved a better explanation than that. He just couldn't give him one.

*****
It was Friday. Friday. Except, fuck, he woke up thinking it was Sunday and just as he settled back against his pillows, his alarm went off, blaring some insane morning show hosts voice in his ear and that definitely did not help with the slight hangover he had. He slapped at the snooze button until he finally hit it and then sighed
with relief.

He rolled over onto his back and scrubbed his hands over his face. He watched the blades of the ceiling fan turn lazily and he let his fingers drift under the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

He told himself he wasn't going to think about Tom, but he eventually came, his whole body shivering and his partner's name on his lips.

******

There was no awkward moment that morning when Michael strolled in to find Tom at his locker with nothing on but a towel on and that sheepish smile of his.

Well, there was a slightly awkward moment when Mike found he couldn't stop watching a droplet of water make its way down Tom's neck and across his chest to seep into the material of the towel that was resting just below his hips.

Damn, that towel.

Tom swiped at the bangs that were sticking to his forehead. "Hey, man." He began nervously. "Look I..."

Mike held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. Let's not be weird. Let's just chalk up last night to a little too much alcohol and my maudlin mood to the fact that the Rangers lost."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Mike...what you said? What I said?"

"Doesn't matter, right?" He said happily, smile plastered on his face. "We've got to-

"Sorry to interrupt your tea party, ladies." A gruff voice nearly caused Michael to jump and he looked up to find Morgan standing in the doorway. "But I've got police work for you. You can paint your nails later."

Michael felt his face flush and didn't have to look at Tom to know he was blushing to.

*****

"Sit down, Rosenbaum." Is all that Morgan growled when Michael followed behind him into his office.

Jesus, why did coming in here always feel like getting sent to the principal's office?

"Clearly there's some sort of tension between you and the new kid." He began with a sigh. "But...you know, if you've got problems with him, you work them out." Morgan said not leaning back in his chair and narrowing his eyes at him. "I'm not Oprah and we will not be 'sharing our feelings' or 'working through this' in any way, understood?"

Michael fiddled wit the end of his tie. "Yes, Sarge." He answered solemnly.

Morgan finally looked up at him. "I put you with him for a reason."

"Why's that?" It came out sounding sarcastic, but he didn't mean it to. He gave Morgan a pleading look.

"Barry's death, well...it was a fucking shame, a fucking shame." He looked at Michael pointedly. "But it's been four years
and I'm not going to let this ruin you. I want you working the big cases and you have to have a partner to do that."

Michael swallowed and responded automatically. "I understand, sir."

"People love this Welling kid. You don't." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. Morgan lowered his gaze before he continued. "What happened with Barry wasn't his fault, Mike. Don't hold that against him."

His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to punch Morgan in the face. Instead, he nodded and muttered "I'll try better, Sarge."

Morgan seemed to be sizing him up. "You do that." He said after a pause. "Now, Ackles has a case I want you to help him with."

He suddenly perked up. He couldn't be that fucking lucky, could he? "The kidnap case?"

"Yeah. That one." Oh, he could. "Better I let you in on it now before you go behind my back and look into it anyway."

*****
Jensen was staring at him. And not in a fun 'Let's go hit the karaoke bar after work, Rosenbaum!' kind of way but more of a 'You are a fucking case stealing asshole, Rosenbaum!' way.

Maybe if he just pretended to be really concentrating on his game of solitaire, Jensen wouldn't-

"Rosenbaum."

Shit. Michael looked up with an almost convincing innocent gaze. "Something wrong?"

Jensen sat on the edge of his desk and frowned. "You want to tell me why Allison over at the courthouse called me this morning telling me she had the information I'd requested on Samantha Ferris' husband's criminal record?"

"That Allison." Michael muttered. "We should send her flowers. She's very helpful."

"Yeah. That she is." Jensen said with a nod. "But she must be a fucking psychic considering I never asked for her help in the first
place."

Tom, helpful as usual, chose that moment to look up from his paper. "Oh, that was us."

Jensen scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Figures."

Michael held up his hands. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Ackles. Morgan said we could help you out on this case."

"I know." Jensen said with a sigh, hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck. "But, Rosenbaum, I swear to God if you get the arrest on this I will-"

"We won't." Tom said, speaking up, again, always and ever helpful. "I won't let him."

Michael turned to stare at him in disbelief. "Oh, you won't let me?" He said, standing up and leaning over his desk. "Whatcha gonna do, farmboy?"

Tom looked down and sat his newspaper on his desk. He stood up, that fucker, and he used his height to lean in close and loom over Michael. "I won't let you." He said slowly, in a low voice that shot straight down to Michael's cock. He'd never heard that voice before.

Michael leaned back a bit, clearing his throat. "Well then..."

Jensen was looking at Tom like he was his hero. "Hey, Welling, what do you think of the angry father angle?"

Tom took a deep breath, but kept his gaze on Mike. "I don't know. Kidnapping his own child? It seems like an easy explanation, but it fits."

"Rookie's right, Jensen." Michael said quickly, Tom's words making him think. "It does seem a little convenient, but the Dad does have priors and the divorce wasn't pretty. I'm thinking this is all about revenge for him."

The corner of Tom's mouth lifted in a smile and he tilted his head. "Did you just say I was right?"

The tense moment passed between them, replaced by something else, something Mike could definitely get used to. He smiled softly. "Don't let it go to your head."

*****
They heard the call on the radio when they were headed back to the station after their shift.

"All units...we have a possible 207 at the corner of 35th and Elm. Be advised suspects sighted. Armed and possibly dangerous..."

Tom looked over at him from the passenger's seat. "We're close. That's kidnapping. You wanna check it out?"

Michael sighed and closed his eyes. He'd been a cop long enough to know when to go with his gut instincts. "This is it. I know it is. Someone who's stupid enough to be out in the open with the kid and a gun? Sounds like our ex-husband with priors. Definitely our guy." He opened his eyes and met Tom's gaze and nodded. "Let's go."

*****

Michael followed Tom around the side of the house, both of them moving slowly. The sounds of a scuffle could be heard from inside and as they approached the back corner of the house, Tom held up his hand for him to stop. He, however, kept moving.

Michael grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him back. "What do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"Ending this before anyone else can get hurt." Tom murmured, head craned back over his shoulder to look him in the eye.

"Wait. Just wait." Michael said quickly, that sickening feeling returning that let him know something was wrong. He couldn't explain why he let his fingers tangle in Tom's hair. "We just called for back up. Jensen and Chris...they should be here any minute."

Tom, damn him, he was leaning into that touch, eyelids drooping like he wanted even more. God, when had they gotten so close? Michael could feel the press of Tom's body all along his front. "There's no time." Tom insisted, brows drawing together in confusion.

It was all happening again, all over again, and Michael felt a strange sensation that felt like falling and when he blinked again he saw Barry instead of Tom.

"Don't go." He practically whimpered. "Not like this. Not again."

He was pressing Barry against the fence...no Tom...no, fuck it was all one big blur now. He sobbed and clung to broad shoulders and it felt like everything he'd ever wanted to say was coming out of his mouth.

"It was my fault. My fault. Barry was my friend and I shouldn't have let him- Oh, God, and he knew. He knew back up was only five minutes out...but he wanted to go in anyway. 'Come on, Rosenbaum. Let me catch the bad guys.' He told me, and I laughed. I fucking laughed and told him to go in and...he...he got riddled with bullets."

He gasped. There were sirens in the distance and he wondered if he was just imagining them.

Tom twisted around to face him, his hands cupping his jaw, the back of his neck. "Why didn't you tell me?" He said through clenched teeth. "You're scared that you won't be able to save me."

Michael shook his head, it cleared his muddled thoughts somewhat. "No. Tom I..." He looked up, eyes pleading and he hoped Tom knew that he meant what he was about to say. "I need you...so much. And that's what scares me."

Tom crushed his lips against his a moment later and he spun them around until Michael was the one pressed into the rotting wood of the fence. Michael opened his mouth, Tom's jaw dropped, and the slip slide of their tongues nearly had his knees buckling.

They heard the squad scars pull up, the sounds of SWAT busting down the door, and Tom pulled back to nudge his nose along Michael's. "All the pointless errands? All the complaining?" Tom asked, voice rough. "All of it was it just to keep me away?"

Michael breathed deeply, letting the smell of Tom's skin wash over him. "Yeah. At first because I didn't want what happened to Barry to happen to you, but then...dammit Tom, I care about you...I-I've wanted you for so long." He added gruffly.

Tom shivered and pulled away. It seemed like the effort was hurting him. They both took deep breathes, trying to calm down before someone found them worked up like that.

"Jensen was wrong about you." Tom said as he pulled out his radio to tell the SWAT team where they were.

"How's that?" Michael's hands were already itching to touch him again.

Tom grinned, lopsided and adorable. "He said you were damaged. Underneath all the sarcasm and the insults you were damaged. It was all a front."

Michael let his words sink in. It was probably true, but he knew fuck all about psychology. "And what do you think?"

Tom lowered the radio. "I think...that you just need me. We can figure the rest out later."

His smile widened and Michael found it extremely contagious.

Take It Easy - Supernatural - PG

teffy — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 20:05:51 GMT

Take It Easy
PG
Supernatural gen
For jeffathon...prompt #19 - John, Sam, Dean...Dean learns to drive. :)

Sam's too little to drive, at least that's what his Dad says. Dean's 13 and while that's not close enough to be legal, it's still older than Sam and since he grew 2 inches over the summer, Dean can actually reach the pedals now.

Sam slouches in the back seat with a scowl because someone's always telling him he's too little to do anything. And that 'anything' is usually something really fun. But when he catches a glimpse of Dean's face in the rear view mirror and sees the hesitation there, he thinks maybe he's glad to not be the one learning to drive.

Dean's never scared of anything, but his eyes sure are real wide and he's taking deep breaths like he's trying not to throw up, like that time he was sick with the flu on the way to Pastor Jim's and puked all over the backseat. Dad wasn't mad, but the smell stayed in the car for days. That's why there's a stash of plastic baggies under the seat now. For emergencies.

Sam's hoping this isn't an emergency.

Dad's talking to Dean in a low, patient voice. The kind he uses when they're doing weapons training, like he's afraid if he shouts one of them will misfire and shoot him in the foot.

He doesn't know why Dad's always so worried about that...it only happened that one time and those boots were really old anyway.

"Remember, easy on the gas, Deano." Dad says softly. "You don't want to scare our girl, now do you?"

"No." Dean says with a small, nervous smile.

"Right." Dad assures him, hand reaching across to point at something next to the wheel. "Now, you wanna put it in drive...that's the 'D' right there...good man."

Dean doesn't look so scared anymore, but his hands are still gripping the steering wheel so tight that Sam can see his knuckles turning white.

"Now, take your foot off the break and slowly ease on the gas." The car moves out onto the dusty road with a bit of a lurch and Dean shoots a apprehensive glance at his father. "It's something you'll have to get used to." John reassures him. "After you get the feel for her."

They creep along the road, the rumble of the engine familiar to Sam, even if the sight of Dean behind the wheel is not. Doesn't matter who's driving. He knows nothing's ever going to happen to him. Dad's teaching Dean how to drive, just like he taught Dean how to protect Sam when he's gone.

Sam hopes maybe one day he'll be big enough to drive. Then, he can be the one that takes care of them.

Watching Them Both - Dean/Izzie/Sam - NC-17

teffy — Sat, 04 Nov 2006 17:15:14 GMT

Watching Them Both
NC-17
Dean/Izzie/Sam
Prompt #5 - Weapons
Written for the sam_slut_a_thon. Set in my Dean/Izzie/Sam 'verse. Better read that first. :)

Izzie lays the guns out on the bed, one by one, placing them gently onto the faded motel comforter. It's strangely erotic, but that could also be because she's doing all of this in just her panties and one of Dean's flannels.

Dean stops to press kisses along her jaw, wraps his arms around her waist, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

Sam? Well, he's just watching them both.

They exchange a few whispered words, eyeing Sam in the process and he doesn't have to feel his ears burning to know they're talking about him. A look of triumph crosses Izzie's face as Dean groans into her neck.

"Sammy." He says, like he's already begging.

Izzie, never one for subtlety, takes his hand at her hip and shoves it down between her legs. "How hard are you right now, Sam?" She asks, eyelids drooping when Dean shifts his palm against her. "I bet you're aching already."

Sam's head falls back on the bed as he squirms, his hand tugs at the zipper of his jeans until he can work a hand inside. His strokes are already jerky and rough, hips lifting up to fuck the circle of his fist.

God dammit. Guns are supposed to get Dean off, not him. But here he is, seconds away from coming and the thing that started it all was the soft click of empty cartridges and the slow slide of Izzie's fingers against the barrels.

"Want you to fuck her, Dean." He pants, his voice almost a whine but somehow, he doesn't care. "Hard and fast and right now."

It's Izzie who moans this time and she spins around to push Dean on the bed before settling in his lap. Dean's hand pushes her panties aside and Izzie lifts up so he can shoves his pants down his thighs.

Sam can see everything as she sinks down onto Dean's cock and his eyes travel over them hungrily.

His knees bend and he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting up once...twice...before a cry tears itself from his throat and he comes sluggishly over his belly and the back of his hand.

Dean's naked hips are framed by Izzie's thighs and both are constantly brushing against the weapons spread on the bed.

He sighs and pushes his fingers through the come on his stomach. He hopes that image of them never leaves the back of his mind.

I Will Surely Break - Dean/Izzie/Sam - R

teffy — Sat, 14 Oct 2006 05:08:26 GMT

I Will Surely Break
R
Grey's Anatomy/Supernatural AU
Dean/Izzie/Sam

Okay, so...I got attacked by a plot bunny on this one. I mean, there I was, on vacation and this idea kept popping up in my head. Izzie goes on a drive...no, Izzie essentially goes on a roadtrip to try to deal with some things, or run away from some things, and I can't think 'on the road' without thinking of Sam and Dean. After that, I have no idea where any of the rest of it came from. There's a disjointed style to this that I'm quite proud of because I think Izzie's thoughts after Denny's death were pretty much focused on that, meaning everything else was a bit muddled.

Also...take note of the AU up there. This is definitely an AU for both Grey's Anatomy and Supernatural. It starts at the same place the season premiere of Grey's started at and then takes off from there. As for the SPN timeline, I believe this fits in some time after the first couple episodes of this season.

Thanks to kashmir1 and mouseykins1 for the beta...and for helping me find my ending. *snuggles both of you*

The floor is cold against her cheek, against her bare shoulders where they're pressed against the tile.

She shivers and wishes he was underneath her.

*****

Some time during the day she dozes off, not meaning to, and she jolts awake a moment later wondering if it all has been just a dream.

*****

She wants them all to go away, forget about her, but she knows they won't.

Izzie gets up. She stands. She takes off the itchy dress.

It doesn't help much, but it's a start.

She finds the sweater on her bed and has no idea how it got there. She puts it on and breathes deep. It smells like antiseptic, sterile sheets, and plastic.

That's all she knows of his scent.

He always smelled like the hospital.

*****

It's been two weeks and everything is not so slow motion anymore.

Izzie just misses him. That's why she gets in the car and drives.

She drives east when all she really wants to do is go west and drive right into the ocean.

******

She stops counting the miles after the first couple hundred.

*****

It's barely morning when she pulls into the roadside motel. The vacancy sign blinks lazily and she thinks "No, shit" because there's only one other car parked outside the row of dingy doors.

There's someone leaning on it. Someone with coffee in both hands and a smile on his face when she shuffles by blearily on the way to her room.

It almost makes her stop.

*****

She sleeps until it's dark and the sound of muffled voices wake her up. She's pulling a sweatshirt on over her pajamas and opening the door before her eyes are even open all the way.

It's the car from earlier, the same guy too, only there's someone else with him now. Her only inmates in this lonely prison of a motel.

His head shoots up when he hears her and his expression is almost one of confusion.

"Sam? Sam, give me a hand with this." The trunk shuts and she flinches. Whoever he is, he shoves a bag into Sam's hands and she sees his sharp, green eyes before she turns away and lets the door close with a soft click behind her.

*****

Izzie lets the plastic bags from the local drug store fall to the pavement when she sees the blood.

The two she saw earlier, both of them, are slumped in the doorway to their room and the taller one, Sam, is struggling with the key. She can see the end of a deep gash peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt. Both of their hands look red and raw.

"What happened?" She murmurs. It's the first time she's talked to anyone today and her voice sounds scratchy and rough.

"We're okay. Thanks, darling." Is the terse reply from the one who hasn't smiled at her yet.

"Dean...don't-" Sam winces and drops the keys.

"I'm a doctor." She doesn't know why she's saying it. "I can help."

They share a look and it's like they've just had an entire conversation that she couldn't hear.

"I can help." She repeats, but it's herself she's trying to convince, not them.

*****

Sam says 'thank you.' He says it three times before she's even started and she shakes her head when he tries to say it again as she begins the stitches along his arm. They've got one hell of a first aid kit.

"You're welcome." She says firmly.

Sam lowers his eyes and he watches her move quickly, closing up his deep wound. "Usually we take care of things like this ourselves." He says quietly and it sounds like he's apologizing.

"Yeah Sammy, but I don't know how good we'd be right now considering our hands are scraped to hell." Dean's low voice sounds just behind her and she looks up to find him peering over her shoulder curiously, watching her work. Or maybe he's just looking down her shirt.

"You're in my light." She says simply.

He finally smiles and for some reason she thinks of Denny.

It makes her both relieved and angry at the same time.

*****

She watches the pink tinged water swirl down the drain while she dries her hands on the corner of the towel that's not bloodstained.

It's only then that she sees the gun resting on the edge of the sink.

*****

She's at the diner across the street, sitting in a booth with a cup of coffee before she's finally stopped shaking.

It was just too much for her to process. Guns? Their battle ready first aid kit? Newspaper clippings along the wall? Who were these guys?

"There are things out there that don't stop. Even when it gets dark." Sam says, suddenly appearing there beside her. "In fact, most seem to prefer the dark." He adds wryly.

She looks up at him, his words tumbling around in her head. "What does that mean?"

He slides into the seat across from her and sighs. "It means that Dean and I try to keep people safe...from everything."

She burns her tongue when she takes a sip. "I don't believe you."

He doesn't act surprised.

*****

That night, she hears horrible noises and Sam puts lines of salt across her doorway and window ledges the next morning.

"Your grief is like a magnet." He tells her and she should have realized it was all her fault.

*****

Someone screams and she's pretty sure it's not her. Dean hauls her out the door of her room. "C'mon. It followed us back here. We gotta move."

She's practically thrown into the back of their car and when she scrambles to sit up she sees it out of the smudged back window.

"I believe you, Sam." She murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sound of squealing tires.

Dean sticks his arm out the door and fires a quick round back behind them.

The screaming stops but they keep driving anyway.

*****

They drive to a barn and she helps them burn something because she can't sit in the car and wait no matter how safe they promise her it is.

On the way back, she's nearly lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine.

Her clothes smell like sulfur. There are ashes in her hair. Sam and Dean let her fall onto one of the beds in their room.

They don't say anything when she cries herself to sleep.

*****

Light filters in through the warped mini-blinds painting the bed next to hers with jagged lines of white.

She watches Sam's mouth move against Dean's and wonders if they know how beautiful they are together.

*****

Izzie can't stop herself and Dean doesn't seem to want her to. She runs her hands down his back and tugs his hips closer. He's still wet from his shower and they fuck hard and fast on the bathroom floor.

Sam lets the door stay open, sprawled in the desk chair, watching them.

*****

She doesn't bother getting dressed again and she pulls on Dean's shirt to cover herself while she waits for them to tie up all the loose ends.

They look beat to hell when they finally get back, but they're smiling and Izzie knows they must have made sure it was gone.

Dean sprawls on the bed and she settles on his lap. It's Sam's hands that fist in her hair when she comes.

*****

Long fingers slide down her calf and she shifts against Dean's chest to glare down at Sam. The clock on the bedside table says that it is halfway to sunrise already.

"We can't ask you to come with us." His hair's a tangled mess and a bruise is beginning to form along his shoulder. She doesn't know if it's from her teeth or Dean's.

"I don't want to." She sighs, sliding her leg over his hip and scooting down the bed.

He thrusts into her and she whimpers. It's almost uncomfortable, but she rocks against him, back and forth, until he's gasping her name. Dean is there suddenly and she can feel the hard press of his cock against her back.

"Fuck. You two..." He growls.

Sam comes with a strained moan. Dean stills her hips with his hands and they both just watch him.

*****

In the end, they do ask her to come with them. Actually, it's Sam that does the asking while Dean presses desperate kisses to the back of her neck.

She wants to. Now, she wants to and it's not fair because they all know she can't.

*****

Driving straight through, all the way back to Seattle, she feels the gun against the small of her back, tucked into her jeans, and the ghost of Dean's fingers that had put it there.

"Better safe than sorry." He'd said and threw a bag of rock salt in her trunk.

Considering the circumstances it was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for her.

*****

She goes back to work and it's not the same, but it could be eventually. She takes to wandering around the hospital to help her keep her mind off things.

The pediatrics ward is comforting. The kids are happy and they laugh and hug her as long as she brings them candy and lets them win at Playstation.

Izzie is doing the best she can and Bailey tells her that's good enough. For now.

*****

She bakes muffins on Sundays. It helps her relax, a welcome routine, and the house smells good for the rest of the day. She limits herself to one batch, taking comfort in the fact that a baker's dozen is all she needs.

Sometimes, though, it's still hard to turn the oven off and put all the ingredients away.

*****

Six months later and she still knows the sound of the Impala's engine when it pulls up outside the house.

Six months later and Dean still smells like leather and Sam makes the same noise when she scratches her nails over the back of his neck.

Six months later and they are all not so broken anymore and this time, when they ask her, she might just say yes.

Gonna Make You Sweat, Gonna Make You Groove (CW Cop AU) - Jensen/Jared - NC-17

teffy — Mon, 18 Sep 2006 05:27:45 GMT

kashmir1 and I have combined our powers in the name of smut. :)

Gonna Make You Sweat, Gonna Make You Groove
Jared/Jensen
NC-17
This is set in kashmir1's Cop AU 'verse featuring all those yummy CW boys. :)

All His Worldly Worth For This - John/Mary - R

teffy — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 03:19:41 GMT

All His Worldly Worth For This
John/Mary, pre-series
R

What can I say? kashmir1 seems to be my John/Mary muse. :D She wanted John/Mary wedding night!schmoopy!smut. This somehow turned into John/Mary they couldn't wait until the wedding night!sex in the bathroom!smut. ;)

It had been her idea, he was going to be sure to always remind her of that. It had been her idea to follow after him when he went to the men's room, running in, giggling breathlessly as she shut and locked the door behind her.

The precise up-do her hair had been in was beginning to come down, messy curls framing her face. A flush was spreading across her chest and up her neck, tinging her cheeks pink.

She'd already had more than her fair share of champagne.

John watched the corners of her mouth turn up in a smirk. "Found you, Mr. Winchester." She murmured.

"Didn't know I was lost, Mrs. Winchester." He teased back, leaning against the sink.

She strolled toward him, gathering up the length of her dress (thank God it wasn't one of those overly poofy things) and perched on the edge of the counter.

The look she gave him was a challenge if he ever saw one.

"What about our guests?" He asked, trying to hide his smile as he brushed his fingers against her bare knee. "Won't we be missed?"

Mary shook her head and wound her arms about his neck. "Not as long as the free booze holds out." They shared a secret laugh and she leaned forward to nuzzle along his jaw. "Mmm...love you in a tux, sugar. Been aching for you all day. Wanting you inside me."

John groaned and stumbled forward, pressing himself between her legs. His hand slid up her thigh and he gasped when he found nothing between his fingers and her moist heat. "You're not wearing panties." He growled, a low rumble in his throat.

Mary's eyelashes fluttered innocently. "Oh my. I guess in all the rush and excitement this morning, I just...forgot." She pushed his jacket from his shoulders and tugged impatiently on his suspenders.

"Well, that just makes you all kinds of naughty, doesn't it?"

She was already arching against him, fingers tangling in his hair. He's glad he's let it grow out a bit, enough for her to get a good grip when she wants to tug his mouth down to hers.

John fumbled with his zipper, only stepping back for a moment, long enough to push his pants past his hips.

Mary reached down to palm him roughly. His forehead dropped to her shoulder and he shuddered. "Please...please." He didn't even know what he was begging for.

"Shhh." She murmured into his ear, wrapping her other hand around his neck and pulling him closer.

He sank into her with a satisfied groan and Mary's hips lifted up off the counter, her gasps echoing in the small space.

His thrusts were halting as he tried desperately slow down and not to come from simply being inside of her.

Mary was his now. She belonged to him and as he lifted his head to look at her smiling face he told her was much. "Take care of me? Always?" He added with a whimper against her lips.

"Of course I will, darling." Mary answered, her voice catching as she moved to meet his thrusts. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she moaned, low and sweet.

"Oh, I love you." John sighed.

five things meme

teffy — Mon, 11 Sep 2006 00:19:31 GMT

For kashmir1...

1- He's so nervous. Nervous knocking on the door of her house. It's only their third date. When has John Winchester ever gotten nervous? She rushes out into the cool night air and throws her arms about his neck. Mary smells good and when her lips trail along his jaw he literally has to bite his tongue to stop from begging her to marry him then and there.

2- He wants to ask her before he goes off to basic training, even though he'll probably be shipping out the same time she'll be starting her junior year. No, getting married seems to finalize things and John won't have that. He takes her out to the hay field, makes love to her on a threadbare quilt under the stars, and murmurs "You've got my heart Mary. You know I'm coming back for that, don't you?"

3- He writes it in one of his letters to her, thinks better of it, crumples it up, and throws it onto the jungle floor.

4- He's drunk and so is she and the first night he's back home he fucks her clumsily up against the wall of the shower. He can't be sure if he asked for her hand or not sometime during her third orgasm.

5- He's had the ring picked out for about a month, had it in his pocket for the last week, and as they stroll along the midway, John's trying to figure out if the Log Ride or the Ferris Wheel would be more appropriate for a proposal. A tug on his hand, it's Mary, and he looks down to find her smiling up at him. She kisses him, tasting of caramel apple, and when she pulls back his lips are a bit sticky. "Marry me, John." She murmurs, eyes dancing as the colored lights of the fair flash across her face. "Make an honest woman out of me." Mary simply smirks at his astonished look and then she's slipping her hand into his pocket and pulling out the ring she must have known was there all along.

All That I Am - Supernatural - R

teffy — Tue, 05 Sep 2006 00:36:20 GMT

All That I Am
R
Supernatural gen fic (spoilers through season 1)
Dean would tell anyone who'd listen that there was a baby on the way.

This one's for kashmir1 as well. There's just not enough John/Mary fic out there.

Across the breakfast table John and Dean were slurping from their cereal bowls, laughing, and only succeeding in getting milk splashed down their chins.

Mary smiled and got up to put another pot of coffee on.

The moment she stood, she felt dizzy and a slight tingling sensation ran along the back of her neck.

She was three months pregnant.

She put a hand to her belly, hoped the morning sickness hadn't started already, and turned around to tell her boys.

*****

Dean would tell anyone who'd listen that there was a baby on the way.

She's sure the clerk at the grocery store check out counter is tired of hearing about it, but Dean's practically beaming every time he says "There's a baby inside Mom's tummy and I'm going to be a big brother."

*****

Her monthly Doctor's visit went smoothly.

John had wanted to be there, but he had been too busy at the shop to make it.

When she goes back to the exam room, Dean stays in the lobby with one of the nurses, no doubt being as shamelessly charming as only a 4 year old can be.

Mary asks the doctor to record the heartbeat and the three of them listen to it that night after dinner.

There are tears in John's eyes but she pretends not to notice so he won't be embarrassed.

*****

She was perfectly content to sit out on the porch in the enormous rocking chair John's father had built and watch Dean play with his army men in the front yard while she smoothed a hand down her belly and murmured nonsense to Sam.

"Don't ask me how I know he's a 'Sam.'" She told John with an impatient tilt of her head. "I just do."

*****

She can't get enough of John.

God, she wants him all the time, especially when he comes home for his lunch break smelling of dirt and grease and sweat.

It's the middle of the day, Dean's still at preschool, and she closes the shades as soon as she hears the Impala pull in the driveway.

John's barely inside before she's tugging at his belt buckle. His laugh his low and rumbling and it makes her throb between her thighs.

"Forgot you get like this, baby." His smile is all kinds of naughty as she pushes him down onto the couch. "Watcha want?"

Her rounded belly presses against his as she lifts her skirt and sinks down onto him with a sigh. "You. Just you, John."

*****

The closer she gets to her due date, the more frequent her dreams become.

Strange dreams. She sees Dean running from the house, a bundle clutched in his arms. A flicker of light. All she can feel his heat.

She can't close her eyes without being caught up in one and usually wakes up when Sam starts kicking.

*****

It wasn't a major event when Sam was finally born.

No room full of baskets and flowers and balloons. No extravagant baby shower. Nothing excessive like there'd been with Dean.

"He's your second child." Her mother had warned her when they'd found out she was pregnant. "Don't expect a lot of fanfare."

Mary was grateful, for that, though she wouldn't have said anything. She was perfectly content to recuperate in the peace of her hospital room, watching John teach Dean how to hold the baby with gentle hands.

*****

"Mom?"

"Yes, Dean."

"When's Sammy gonna start walkin' and talkin'?"

"When he gets bigger."

"Oh. I 'member he's not gonna stay little forever 'cause Miss Katie told me that babies get big and turn into grown ups."

"That's right."

"...Sammy'll be a grown up. What about me?"

"You'll be all grown up too, sweetie."

"Will he still need me to be his big brother even if he's growed up?"

"Definitely. He'll always need you. No matter how big you two get."

*****
He'll be tall. Taller than his dad if he keeps growing the way he has. Such a big boy for only 6 months. That's what everyone had said.

Mary shuffles down the hall to get Dean so he can say goodnight. Sam's starting to sleep longer, almost through the night, and they've all learned to thrive on routine.

Dean's jumping on his bed and she hesitates in the doorway of his room just so she can watch the smile on his face and she remembers the way he looked earlier that day. Clinging to John's leg, looking up at him and watching the way his dad held Sam. Both of them in awe.

Her heart aches cause she loves all her boys so much.

*****

She sees them, and loves them, and looks into their eyes.

She tells her baby boy she's sorry.

It's enough.

Make Amends for Yesterday - Supernatural - R

teffy — Sun, 03 Sep 2006 00:40:17 GMT

Make Amends for Yesterday
R
Supernatural gen fic (spoilers through season 1)
There's no surviving without Dean. He and Sammy would be lost without him, though neither will admit it.

This is for kashmir1. Basically, I could spend hours listening to her theories and ramblings and thoughts on the Winchester family. :D

There are moments when he looks at Dean and all he can see is her.

That's Mary's smirk, her charismatic smile, gracing Dean's face and, by God, does he use that charm to get what he wants.

*****

It's not fair.

Not fair to punish the boys, but for the first few weeks after the fire he could barely look at them without sobbing.

Sam grew up, grew to resent him in return, and John spent too much time wondering if that was his fault.

*****

Dean liked to chew on pen caps, the erasers on the tops of pencils, and it drove him crazy.

He caught him one morning, doing research, local newspapers spread out all over the table and one of those goddamn pen caps in his mouth.

John yelled at him. Told him it was disgusting instead of telling him that his mother had done the exact same thing to every pen and pencil she touched.

*****

Sam left.

Too many unanswered questions. Not enough stability. A longing to have a normal life.

He asks Dean why is it that he hasn't tried to leave yet.

"Why?" Dean contemplates his answer with a shrug. "I don't know anything else but this."

John paces the kitchen aimlessly, coffee cup forgotten in his hand. "Yeah, but is it enough?" He mumbles, mostly to himself.

Dean reassembles the gun he's been cleaning with sharp, precise movements. "Wouldn't want to know anything else."

John can sense that there's more that Dean wants to say, simply from the tone of his voice. He stares down at his son for a moment, losing himself in the charged silence between them.

When he finally takes a sip, his coffee is ice cold.

*****

They are in Starkville, Mississippi.

It's Dean's first hunting trip and he's cocky and loud and laughing in the face of danger. He's also barely a month past his 13th birthday.

It should have gone smoothly. It should have been easy for them to get in, take care of the demon, and get out.

Things never went smoothly. John should've remembered that.

Dean gets thrown into a wall. It's nearly a full thirty seconds before he can suck some air back into his lungs and John finds his own breath returning in a rush the moment Dean starts gasping.

There's no surviving without Dean.

He and Sammy would be lost without him, though neither will admit it.

*****

He's hard on his boys, but it's something he won't apologize for. Especially since he's seen the men they've become, the way they take care of themselves and each other.

His shoulder aches and his leg's throbbing, in fact the whole right side of his body feels like, well, what he supposes it should feel like after getting slammed into by a semi.

Sam's gone to get some aspirin. He's having visions of people that they can't help because they're stuck in this cold hospital room waiting to be mended.

John leans forward in his chair, his hand frantically fumbling for Dean's amongst the blankets.

"I didn't think I needed her." He begins in a shaky whisper, wanting Dean to hear but desperately hoping he'll stay asleep. "Didn't think I had to see her, hold her, touch her just to feel like a whole person. But, my God, when I was away from her there was nothing like the emptiness that I felt." He squeezes Dean's hand, fingers slip-sliding to his wrist to feel the faint thrum of his pulse.

"You're so much like her, Dean. And I wish I could-" His voice breaks and he's suddenly angry at himself for not being able to get through this simple explanation.

*****

He looks at Dean and sees Mary.

And sometimes, he's grateful.

And I Go - Bruce, Clark - PG-13

teffy — Fri, 18 Aug 2006 02:52:52 GMT

And I Go
PG-13
Bruce, Clark...I suppose Bruce/Clark if you squint real hard. ;)
This is a little ficlet set during Superman Returns. As soon as Gotham was mentioned as a place Superman was seen, I couldn't stop thinking "OHMYGOD Batman!" So, yeah. Here it is.

By the way, this is all caffrey's fault. ;)

"Do you know where they went when they wanted answers?" Bruce questioned angrily. "They came to me. To the League. Your friends. What were we supposed to say to them, considering we only knew the bare minimum from what your mother told us."

Clark's eyes narrowed. "You knew more than everyone else. More than..." He trailed off with a sigh.

Bruce stepped forward, accusation and relief plainly written on his face, forgetting for a moment he was in uniform until the familiar weight of his cape fluttered around his legs. Batman? Bruce Wayne? All those lines blurred around the last son of Krypton and sometimes he still felt like a lost little boy. "You're always telling me to trust people. Lecturing me about my own reluctance to do just that." He paused, waiting until Clark's eyes met his. "How's anyone supposed to trust you after this?"

There was an innocence about Clark's face just then. The pure, unwavering innocence of someone that wanted to believe that there was good in everyone, but deep down, knew it couldn't be so.

He looked hopeful.

He reminded Bruce of his father.

Clark turned away, stepping closer to the edge of the roof, and Bruce knew his words had been too harsh. "I'll earn it back, Bruce." The wind nearly carried his words away but Clark glanced over his shoulder and spoke clearly. "Your trust and everyone else's. I promise you that."

Bruce nodded. "That's a start." He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting back into the hero and leaving the little boy behind. "And Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Glad your back." He admitted grudgingly.

Gotham's skyline seemed to clash with the red cape as Clark flew off and the corner of Bruce's mouth lifted in a triumphant grin, despite the tense moment.

No matter what, it would always be his city.

Lovers and Lies 4 - NC-17

teffy — Wed, 09 Aug 2006 04:18:41 GMT

Lovers and Lies (4/?)
NC-17
Dom/Emilie (including Billy most of the other Lost and LoTR casts)
Sequel to Secrets and Spies.

Previous Chapters

"I don't need a babysitter." Hannah said testily, watching her newly appointed partner stow his gear in the cargo hold of the private plane.

Sala sighed and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. "Good, because that's not what I am."

Hannah scoffed. "Exactly how much is Fox paying you to tag along?"

He flipped the hatch shut and offered her a grin. "Loads."

His smile was infectious and she found herself wondering how someone with so much natural charm ended up as one of Fox's minions. She looked up to find Sala staring down at her. As she started to say something he stopped her with a shake of his head. "Listen, I'm not going to get in your way. Matthew just wants to keep an eye on you. He's got too much tied up in the deaths of those three and your little investigation in London got him spooked." He looked away from her for a moment, eyes scanning the deserted landing strip. "Just think of me as back up, okay?"

Hannah nodded and made her way up the steep steps outside the plane, pondering why exactly Sala had called his boss 'Matthew' instead of Fox like everyone else. "Why do you really think he's paying you loads of money anyway?" She mused aloud.

She could feel his voice rumble in his chest as he pressed behind her inside the cramped quarters of the cabin's entrance way. His tone made her shiver. "Oh, I'm worth it."

*****
"Why won't you let me do this?!"

"Because you're too wound up for a start." The General answered, the perfectly calm opposition to Ian's frantic desperation. "And let's not mention the fact that these marks know you and would recognize your face a mile away."

Ian slumped, defeated, against the lush cushions of the couch, one of the many fine furnishings in The General's office. "Like it would matter. They'd be dead before they could do anything about it."

The General gave him a hard look. "That's not the point and you know it."

Ian leaned his head against the back of the couch and let his eyes fall shut. He let out a frustrated sigh. "You're letting me head up the tact team, though, right?" He heard some papers shuffle on the desk, the General clearing his throat, and a most definite avoiding of his question. "Right?" He pressed, sitting up to glare at the older man.

"Yes, Ian. Yes, you're heading up the tact team." He answered shortly. "What more do you want me to say? I refuse to let your emotions cloud your judgment on this job and that means you're not going anywhere near the op and that is the last thing I'll-"

A buzzing sounded from the intercom on the desk, and the secretary in the lobby announced they had visitors.

The General stood up and ran a hand down his tie, smoothing it out. "It's the mercenaries I hired. Try not to be petty about all of this." He warned.

Ian stood, pasting a smile on his face. "I'm a professional." He assured him.

The doors swung open and as soon as they did a young girl with brown hair, not more than Ian's own age, rushed into the room and launched herself into the General's arms.

"It's good to see you, Dad." She mumbled, face buried against the General's shoulder.

Ian was too stunned to say anything but the other man who'd entered the room didn't seem to have a problem finding the right words.

"Huh. Well doesn't that just beat all."

*****

Billy woke up to the most pleasant sensation.

Emilie was kissing the soft skin of his belly, he could feel the silken trail of her hair all across his chest, and...Christ he was already hard. He pushed his hips up against Emilie's and felt more than heard her gasp in response. She pushed against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back and then, with the most graceful movement, swung her leg over his thighs to straddle him.

"Fuck me, Billy." She said breathlessly and dropped down onto his stiff cock.

He couldn't even breathe for a moment and as his head lolled on the pillow his eyes locked with Dom's. "Good morning, Bills." The lad murmured before capturing his mouth in a kiss. Emilie was shifting against him, leaning down to nuzzle at the back of Dom's neck.

Billy threaded his fingers through Dom's hair and tugged, pulling him away. "Get behind her, Dommie." He growled.

Dom pushed the blankets away from his waist, away from all three of them, causing the soft, white sheets to flutter to the floor. He slid behind Emilie, gripping her hips and lifting her up and down to meet Billy's every thrust.

"C'mon, Billy. I know you're close." Dom mumbled against Emilie's neck. "This is all about you. God...you look so fucking perfect in our bed."

Emilie emitted a stuttered groan and rolled her hips at Dom's words. She was taking. Taking her pleasure from him and forcing him to keep up. He was being driven to the very edge and he'd barely gotten his eyes to open all the way.

Dom pushed Emilie's shoulder, bending her over a bit and he felt his hips snap up at the new angle. A whimper was the only sound he made when he came and as he managed to hold his eyes open long enough to watch their captivated.

Stakeout - Rosenbaum/Welling - NC-17 - Cop AU

teffy — Sun, 06 Aug 2006 04:09:56 GMT

Stakeout
NC-17
Michael Rosenbaum/Tom Welling

kashmir1 wrote this and all of us squeed. Then I wrote this. And then bugchicklv wrote this. Thus...kashmir1 had hooked us all on her awesome AU.

Stakeouts were supposed to be boring, lots of sitting in a car and waiting for the right words to be heard over the audio surveillance feed. Stakeouts were most definitely not supposed to make him this horny, but Michael suspected that had something to do with the way his over-caffeinated partner was practically trying to crawl into his lap, not the stakeout itself.

"Jesus, Welling. I'm not getting you a venti ever again." He gasped as Tom's hand moved across the waistband of his pants. "You're such a coffee slut." He murmured teasingly.

Tom grinned, happy and boyish and sexy and...no one had the right ot have a mouth that pretty . He slid across the seat, pressing Michael against the door and brushed long fingers over his hip. Tom nuzzled along his jaw. "Tell me what you want." He whispered.

"You know what I want." Michael challenged with a moan, fingers threading through his partner's hair. A vicious tug was all it took to have that mouth pressed against his own.

The hand on his hip shifted lower, plunging under the waistband of his pants. Michael tried not to, but he couldn't help it when his hips arched up into that touch.

That smug smirk was back again and Tom nipped at his bottom lip. "You want to come like this. With my hands on you, all over you." He breathed hotly. "Then tomorrow, during the morning briefing, you'll lean over, whispering to me how good it felt and how you can't wait to be inside me."

Tom's hand moved faster and faster, slapping up and down on his cock and the noise was absolutely obscene in the small interior of the car. It sounded fucking beautiful.

Michael clenched his jaw, already feeling the heat pooling in his belly.

"God, Mike...d'you know how hard that makes me?" Tom continued desperately. "Feeling your eyes on me all day. The things you tell me when no one else is around. The way you find any excuse to touch me, brushing past me in the hallway, leaning over me when I'm at my desk..."

Michael wrapped an arm around Tom's back, scrambling for something to hold onto and settled for his belt. The motion crushed their hips together and he winced when his belt buckle dug into the exposed skin of his belly. But then Tom did something with his hand that had him shuddering, and a sharp cry tearing from his throat as he came.

Bringing his fingers back up to tangle in Tom's hair, he kissed him hungrily. His partner whimpered, pulling his hand out of Michael's pants to press his palm along the front of his own fly.

Michael glanced up at him with wide eyes. "Did you just-"

"Yeah, I think I did." He answered sheepishly.

"Oh, fuck me, that's adorable." Michael said with a wide grin, nudging his nose along his cheek. "And fucking sexy as hell." He added with a needy whisper.

Tom buried his face in the crook of his neck, slumping against him with a contented sigh lifting his hand to trace over the small scar on Michael's upper lip.

Michael cleaned his fingers with a few lazy swipes of his tongue. "Gonna be an interesting briefing tomorrow morning, Tommy."

A needy groan was the only reply.

A Little Light Flirting - Rosenbaum/Welling - R - Cop AU

teffy — Thu, 27 Jul 2006 03:21:05 GMT

A Little Light Flirting
Michael Rosenbaum/Tom Welling
R

Written in kashmir1's RPS AU Holsters, Handcuffs, and Hookers which has about every yummy boy from the CW network as sexy officers of the law. If that's not an excuse to indulge in my well documented gun!kink, I don't know what is. ;) Mad props to kashmir1 for giving me permission to play around with her 'verse.

The paperwork was piling up on both of their desks, but that could wait, because he was thoroughly enjoying flicking rubber bands at his partner, while said partner was on the phone.

Tom sounded rushed, and the rubber bands hitting him every few seconds weren't helping his concentration. "No, that's fine *thwack*...a squad car should be by there *thwack*...sometime tonight. *thwack*"

Oh, that one hit him right on his ear. Nice.

"Don't do anything for at least another 24 hours. *thwack* You too, bye."

Tom glared at him as he hung up and Michael let his face take on the picture of perfect innocence. It wasn't very convincing though considering he had another rubber band stretched between his fingers, aimed straight at Tom's forehead.

"Geez, Rosenbaum."

Eyes wide he asked, "What?" You know, to keep up that appearance of innocence.

"Do you have to act like a 12 year old when I'm on the phone with the DA's office?"

Michael smiled and put his feet up onto his desk. "It's much more fun when you're on the phone. You get all flustered and you start to forget who it is you're talking to..." He trailed off with a smirk.

It was pretty difficult to turn away from him seeing as their desks faced one another, but Tom tried, shifting in his seat and hunching over, scribbling furiously.

Damn, that paperwork.

Michael could tell his partner wasn't that upset, because he wasn't trying very hard to ignore him, and just because he could, he flicked one last rubber band for a precise hit.

Tom huffed and tried to hide a smile. Unsuccessfully. "Oh, grow up." He mumbled, attempting to sound sullen.

Michael leaned back in his chair and waggled his eyebrows. "Make me."

Tom glanced up at him from beneath his lashes, not bothering to hide his grin now and it was lighting up his face. Fuck, that was better than the reaction he got by firing rubber bands at him, because a few suggestive comments and flirty remarks always had his partner blushing and Michael didn't know why but that made him shift in his chair a bit.

No, he knew why. It's because Tom looked utterly fuckable when he blushed.

"You know what your problem is, Rosenbaum?" Tom murmured, startling him out of his reverie. "You just don't know when to quit." He lifted his pencil to his mouth to nibble the eraser.

He decided Tom was trying to kill him, because that was either completely unintentional or the biggest tease ever. Michael tried to play it cool, but there was no way to hide the desperation in his voice. Not now, not ever. When Tom started flirting back, well that was when things got interesting. So, he leaned closer, pushing until there was no mistaking the fact that he was invading Tom's personal space.

"You didn't complain about that last night when I was fucking you on this very desk." He countered lowly, his voice a gravely whisper. "Didn't seem to want me to quit then."

To his credit, Tom only faltered a bit, the pencil dropping from his hand to the floor with clatter. He eyes fell shut and he drew in a deep breath before sighing his name. "Michael..." It was a warning and a plea and just downright sexy as hell.

Michael bit his lip and let his gaze wander across Tom's face while he could do so uninhibited. "Christ...I'm beginning to love the graveyard shift."