lukon_idein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lukon_idein) wrote2007-07-22 02:29 pm
lukon_idein) wrote2007-07-22 02:29 pm
Entry tags:
Potter Envy!
So I had the whole weekend free with tons of internet time and nothing to do - but, lo and behold - no one's online. Where can they be??? Ahhhhh, riiiiiiight. My brain finally catches up. Harry Potter came out this weekend. Duh! And just having read a stat on myspace about how Wednesday was their heighest traffic day ever, I started wondering if some places this weekend were registering their lowest traffic ever... or at least since they were in week 2 of Startupville.
So then my mind wandered a little further, and it came up with a little project in order to distract myself from my envy of everyone who is in Potter range. (I still may get lucky at the Istanbul or Frankfurt airports, but Bodrum is a PFZ (Potter-Free Zone) as far as I can tell. Plus it's election day here, so people have other worries.) So here is my fond dig at all you happy Potter fans around the world - I hope to be one of you soon!!
Title: The Ride Home
Author: Lukoni
Characters/Pairing: Quatre/Trowa
Word Count: 1084
Summary: Trowa drives Quatre home after an important late-night shopping trip.
Rating: PG (or less)
Warnings: Frustrated Trowa. Clueless Quatre.
Notes: A little “seasonal” humor for this very special weekend. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
gw500 challenge #182: Commitment. Feedback/Criticism/Typo notifications welcome. Thanks for reading!
The Ride Home
“Thanks, hon,” said Quatre, giving Trowa a half-hearted kiss on the cheek. Before Trowa could even utter “You’re welcome,” the blond had slipped into the passenger seat and shut the door. By the time Trowa took his place behind the wheel Quatre had already snapped on his reading light and was fully engrossed in another world.
“Buckle your seat belt,” Trowa said as he started up the ignition. There was no response.
“Quat?”
“Hm?”
“Seat. Belt.”
“Oh right,” murmured Quatre as he groped for the safety device without looking up from his book. Trowa watched in amusement as he buckled it up by braille, then headed out of the parking lot.
“You don’t mind if I take the long way home? I have to pick up something at the office,” Trowa explained.
“Mmm,” was the informative reply. Trowa took it as an affirmative. He sped down the coastal road, enjoying the late night lack of traffic. His brief stop at Preventer headquarters went completely unnoticed by his distracted passenger. Trowa shook his head at the wall of oblivion next to him as he headed back out to the coast road.
Just outside of the city center a loud sound burst the silence, sending Trowa’s ex-mercenary senses into overdrive. He didn’t have time for the mild heart-attack he was planning, however, since he was fully occupied with controlling his veering vehicle. Muscling the wheel into submission, he brought them to a stop in the shoulder of the road. He sat quietly for a moment to give his pulse a chance to calm down. Glancing at his husband, he frowned. The man was still reading. Trowa rolled his eyes.
“I’ll get this,” he offered.
”Hm?” came a vague vocalization.
“Right,” Trowa sighed. He valiantly did not slam the door as he got out to change the tire.
Fifteen minutes later they were back on the road, though whether Quatre was even aware of this Trowa could not be certain. He shrugged and focused on sex. Or Quatre’s promise/warning/threat/whatever of earlier in the evening: “The sooner I finish it, the sooner we can have sex.” Trowa was all for that, so anything he could do to help was fine.
He started to notice the sirens about the time they were threading through the old railroad district to get to the bridge that would get them to their side of the river and then home. Faint at first, they soon grow louder until Trowa could hear them coming up behind him. First a black car with no plates sped past him, then a bank of flashing lights appeared in the rear view mirror.
Trowa let them pass, then pulled his own flashing light out from under his seat and stuck it onto the roof of his car.
“Just a small detour, babe,” he explained.
“Mm.”
Trowa shook his head and took off after the pack. He checked in with his fellow officers, and they welcomed him to the chase - armed robbery, one suspect, one officer down at the scene. They herded the man back into an area full of warehouses. Trowa knew it well after a teaming up with customs department on a smuggling case and saw where this chase was heading. He peeled off early at a fork in the road, headed down a small side street and pulled up across the end of an alley. With a brief glimpse at his husband, blond head down, lower lip between teeth, eyes glued to the page, Trowa hopped out of the car and off toward the dark end of the alley.
He could hear sirens and shouts from the other side of the fence he knew blocked this route. Before he could make it to the end of the alley a figure in the darkness bowled him over and sent him sprawling. Trowa picked himself up quickly and followed after. He cursed under his breath as he could where the robber was headed - his own car, with the keys still in the ignition, and Quatre, absorbed in his book in the passenger seat, would make the perfect hostage. Trowa shouted at the top of his lungs.
“QUATRE! GUN! GET DOWN!” The blond showed no sign of hearing him. Trowa thought he saw him turn a page. He quickened his pace, and finally caught up just as the robber was about to reach the car. A flying tackle sent them both tumbling across the hood and onto the ground on the other side. A deft twist of the wrist disarmed the man, and the two wrestled for dominance briefly, but Trowa, driven by the need to protect his mate, had him face down on the pavement and arms pinned pretty quickly. It wasn’t long before a set of Preventer vehicles pulled up next to him and someone handed him a pair of handcuffs.
Trowa turned over his prisoner then strode over to his car, wrenching the passenger door open.
“QUATRE!” he shouted. His husband looked up at him, squinting as his readjusted his focus. Most of Trowa’s anger abandoned him as this sweet-and-innocent look never failed to make his heart melt.
“Quatre,” he said more calmly, kneeling down and taking the blond’s hands. “I know you have been waiting for this book for two years. I know you are fully committed to these characters and feel as close to them as your own family.” Quatre nodded. “But please don’t put them before your own safety.” Quatre smiled indulgently.
“Of course I wouldn’t do that.”
“Quatre. A man was coming at you with a gun.”
“You had everything fully under control,” Quatre assured him matter-of-factly, then gave him another quick peck on the cheek, extracted his hands and turned back to his book.
Trowa groaned, but there was nothing for it but to go back to the cluster of officers and deal with the task at hand.
“What was that all about?” asked a jovial, middle-aged Preventer named Hoggs that Trowa had worked with in the past.
“Jerry Blotter and the Ghostly Swallows,” growled Trowa. Hoggs laughed knowingly.
“I've got one of those in my back seat for my daughter. I was supposed to be home half an hour ago - she’s probably ready to tear my head off.”
“I’d slip it through the mail slot then wait five minutes before going in,” advised Trowa.
“No mail slot,” said Hoggs, thoughtfully watching Quatre in his little halo of light.
“Too bad.”
“Got a cat door door, though.”
“That’ll do.”
- fin -
So then my mind wandered a little further, and it came up with a little project in order to distract myself from my envy of everyone who is in Potter range. (I still may get lucky at the Istanbul or Frankfurt airports, but Bodrum is a PFZ (Potter-Free Zone) as far as I can tell. Plus it's election day here, so people have other worries.) So here is my fond dig at all you happy Potter fans around the world - I hope to be one of you soon!!
Title: The Ride Home
Author: Lukoni
Characters/Pairing: Quatre/Trowa
Word Count: 1084
Summary: Trowa drives Quatre home after an important late-night shopping trip.
Rating: PG (or less)
Warnings: Frustrated Trowa. Clueless Quatre.
Notes: A little “seasonal” humor for this very special weekend. Written for
gw500 challenge #182: Commitment. Feedback/Criticism/Typo notifications welcome. Thanks for reading!The Ride Home
“Thanks, hon,” said Quatre, giving Trowa a half-hearted kiss on the cheek. Before Trowa could even utter “You’re welcome,” the blond had slipped into the passenger seat and shut the door. By the time Trowa took his place behind the wheel Quatre had already snapped on his reading light and was fully engrossed in another world.
“Buckle your seat belt,” Trowa said as he started up the ignition. There was no response.
“Quat?”
“Hm?”
“Seat. Belt.”
“Oh right,” murmured Quatre as he groped for the safety device without looking up from his book. Trowa watched in amusement as he buckled it up by braille, then headed out of the parking lot.
“You don’t mind if I take the long way home? I have to pick up something at the office,” Trowa explained.
“Mmm,” was the informative reply. Trowa took it as an affirmative. He sped down the coastal road, enjoying the late night lack of traffic. His brief stop at Preventer headquarters went completely unnoticed by his distracted passenger. Trowa shook his head at the wall of oblivion next to him as he headed back out to the coast road.
Just outside of the city center a loud sound burst the silence, sending Trowa’s ex-mercenary senses into overdrive. He didn’t have time for the mild heart-attack he was planning, however, since he was fully occupied with controlling his veering vehicle. Muscling the wheel into submission, he brought them to a stop in the shoulder of the road. He sat quietly for a moment to give his pulse a chance to calm down. Glancing at his husband, he frowned. The man was still reading. Trowa rolled his eyes.
“I’ll get this,” he offered.
”Hm?” came a vague vocalization.
“Right,” Trowa sighed. He valiantly did not slam the door as he got out to change the tire.
Fifteen minutes later they were back on the road, though whether Quatre was even aware of this Trowa could not be certain. He shrugged and focused on sex. Or Quatre’s promise/warning/threat/whatever of earlier in the evening: “The sooner I finish it, the sooner we can have sex.” Trowa was all for that, so anything he could do to help was fine.
He started to notice the sirens about the time they were threading through the old railroad district to get to the bridge that would get them to their side of the river and then home. Faint at first, they soon grow louder until Trowa could hear them coming up behind him. First a black car with no plates sped past him, then a bank of flashing lights appeared in the rear view mirror.
Trowa let them pass, then pulled his own flashing light out from under his seat and stuck it onto the roof of his car.
“Just a small detour, babe,” he explained.
“Mm.”
Trowa shook his head and took off after the pack. He checked in with his fellow officers, and they welcomed him to the chase - armed robbery, one suspect, one officer down at the scene. They herded the man back into an area full of warehouses. Trowa knew it well after a teaming up with customs department on a smuggling case and saw where this chase was heading. He peeled off early at a fork in the road, headed down a small side street and pulled up across the end of an alley. With a brief glimpse at his husband, blond head down, lower lip between teeth, eyes glued to the page, Trowa hopped out of the car and off toward the dark end of the alley.
He could hear sirens and shouts from the other side of the fence he knew blocked this route. Before he could make it to the end of the alley a figure in the darkness bowled him over and sent him sprawling. Trowa picked himself up quickly and followed after. He cursed under his breath as he could where the robber was headed - his own car, with the keys still in the ignition, and Quatre, absorbed in his book in the passenger seat, would make the perfect hostage. Trowa shouted at the top of his lungs.
“QUATRE! GUN! GET DOWN!” The blond showed no sign of hearing him. Trowa thought he saw him turn a page. He quickened his pace, and finally caught up just as the robber was about to reach the car. A flying tackle sent them both tumbling across the hood and onto the ground on the other side. A deft twist of the wrist disarmed the man, and the two wrestled for dominance briefly, but Trowa, driven by the need to protect his mate, had him face down on the pavement and arms pinned pretty quickly. It wasn’t long before a set of Preventer vehicles pulled up next to him and someone handed him a pair of handcuffs.
Trowa turned over his prisoner then strode over to his car, wrenching the passenger door open.
“QUATRE!” he shouted. His husband looked up at him, squinting as his readjusted his focus. Most of Trowa’s anger abandoned him as this sweet-and-innocent look never failed to make his heart melt.
“Quatre,” he said more calmly, kneeling down and taking the blond’s hands. “I know you have been waiting for this book for two years. I know you are fully committed to these characters and feel as close to them as your own family.” Quatre nodded. “But please don’t put them before your own safety.” Quatre smiled indulgently.
“Of course I wouldn’t do that.”
“Quatre. A man was coming at you with a gun.”
“You had everything fully under control,” Quatre assured him matter-of-factly, then gave him another quick peck on the cheek, extracted his hands and turned back to his book.
Trowa groaned, but there was nothing for it but to go back to the cluster of officers and deal with the task at hand.
“What was that all about?” asked a jovial, middle-aged Preventer named Hoggs that Trowa had worked with in the past.
“Jerry Blotter and the Ghostly Swallows,” growled Trowa. Hoggs laughed knowingly.
“I've got one of those in my back seat for my daughter. I was supposed to be home half an hour ago - she’s probably ready to tear my head off.”
“I’d slip it through the mail slot then wait five minutes before going in,” advised Trowa.
“No mail slot,” said Hoggs, thoughtfully watching Quatre in his little halo of light.
“Too bad.”
“Got a cat door door, though.”
“That’ll do.”
- fin -
no subject
I PAID for the book, but I've been working all weekend. My mom started it, my HOUSEGUEST started it, and me? Just an hour ago I got the chapter 2. whoopy. And now that I have some reading time, I have a friggan assighnment.
I was LAUGHING MY ASS OFF at this fic so hard POP CAME OUT OF MY NOSE~! IT BURNS IT BURNS!!!
no subject
Also sorry about the pop explosion! Youch. *hands you a tissue* But I'm glad this made you laugh! Specially since you've been all overworked and all.
Good luck finishing the book!
no subject
And not only am I Potter Deprived, but because of the houseguest, I'm also semi-net restricted. *cry face* oh well! Glad to see you back darling! Hoping for more fic!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2007-07-23 01:44 am (UTC)(link)Here is hoping you find a copy at an airlink near you!
- Edrie
no subject