(no subject)

[remindmeofthe]

So, every once in a great while, I will issue a request for fic challenges.

(This is not one of those posts.)

And then I will say, "And eventually I'll gather them all into one post!"

. . . a year later almost to the day counts as "eventually," right? Because last October, I asked for challenges for kiss fics. And have spent the intervening year reminding myself periodically to make that master post, and then not doing it, because I never get to every request and I hate being like, "Yeah, sorry about that."

. . . hey, at least by now some of you are new and haven't seen these yet?

Shaun of the Dead - David and Dianne, theater production (sotto_voice)



The first time David kisses her is after a show.

It isn't the first time they've kissed, of course, not by a long shot. They've been together for six months by then - well, five months, three weeks, and a day - and that would really just be pathetic, wouldn't it, not having kissed. But it's always been Dianne kissing David first. She understands that, of course, and it's not as if he isn't trying to let go of Liz and focus on her. He's trying. He's getting better at it a little bit at a time, and god knows Dianne would wait forever.

But now, tonight, after the opening performance of her very first show on the West End, David returns her exuberant hug and kisses her before she can kiss him. It's a very David kiss, dry and restrained, but it's still the biggest step he's taken away from Liz and toward her. And because of that, it's the best kiss Dianne has ever had.



Torchwood, Jack and Owen, on the beach. (karaokegal)



Traditionally, when Owen and Jack went off to take care of an alien threat, and said taking care of involved bursting and a lot of slime, it was always Owen who ended up showered with goo. Jack always seemed to be just out of range at the crucial moment, which he ascribed to practice and Owen ascribed to being a bloody bastard.

Not so today. Today, Owen was behind the sand dune, safely sheltered, when he heard the telltale splat swiftly followed by a plaintive "errrgh" from Jack. Owen got cautiously to his feet, gun still drawn just in case, and eased out from behind the dune. All he found, though, was what he expected: Jack on his knees in the sand, grimacing in disgust as he attempted to scrape bits of Gorignak from his face with fingers that were every bit as gooey and caked with sand into the bargain.

Jack looked up and gave Owen his best pathetic face. Owen grinned and holstered his gun.

"'Bout time you caught the mess for a change."

"Now that's just hurtful," Jack said.

"Truth hurts, Harkness," Owen answered, taking another few seconds to smirk at Jack before turning his attention to the bits of alien scattered over the beach and starting to think about clean-up.

That, of course, was his mistake, because he didn't see the sly smirk on Jack's own face as Jack picked himself up.

"Oh, yeah? You sure you don't want to take that back, Harper?"

Owen looked up from the remains and realized the danger, but by the it was far too late.

"Oh, come on, Jack," he started, backing away. Jack grinned, feral, then pounced, grabbing Owen's head in his disgusting hands and planting a resounding, slimy kiss on his mouth.

"Oh, ugh, oh, god," Owen spluttered once Jack let him go, swiping frantically at his mouth with his sleeve. God, he could taste it now.

Jack laughed, undeterred by Owen's baleful glare, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, Owen, let's get this cleaned up."

"You are going to pay for this," Owen told him.

Jack just smiled.



Torchwood/The Fix - Jack Harkness and Cal Chandler, hall of mirrors (ashen_key)



Cal is starting to think that getting high before coming to the carnival was not the best idea he's ever had. Wait, no, that's not quite right - it was working out okay up until now. So maybe it was just the house of mirrors that wasn't such a hot idea. He's hopelessly disoriented, turning corner after corner and running into himself. What's the deal? Aren't these things supposed to be smaller? Aren't they supposed to be small enough for a kid to get through okay?

Maybe, he thinks, he's going in circles. After all, he keeps seeing the same guy!

He starts giggling at that. He's going to have to remember it for later.

Thirty seconds later, he doesn't know why he's laughing anymore, which in itself is pretty funny, so he keeps going.

"Having fun?"

It's his own voice, almost, but he's not speaking. Confusion quiets Cal's laughter and he looks around. Off to his right, he finds a reflection that's . . . wrong. It's wearing a coat he'd never even think of putting on, and it's - Cal squints - older. It looks closer to Dad's age than Cal's.

The reflection smiles and steps forward. Cal gasps. This isn't right. All he did was smoke some pot. God, it must have been laced with something, he's going to kill -

"You've been wandering around in here for a while," the reflection continues, interrupting his train of thought. "You need a guide?" Without waiting for an answer, it reaches out and takes Cal's hand in its own. It's warm, solid, and very real.

"Jesus," Cal whispers, staring wide-eyed into blue eyes that, this close, don't really look like his at all.

The reflection - the man - chuckles softly. He touches Cal's cheek with his free hand, then kisses him. The kiss is even more real, and even less like Cal.

"Who are you?" Cal asks.

"Let's get you out of here," is the only answer he gets as the man turns away, Cal's hand still in his, and leads him toward the exit.

Outside, he disappears, and by morning, Cal thinks it all must have been a hallucination after all.



Doctor Who, Nine and Jack - somewhere unexpected (joanne_c)



Jack is far from impressed.

"I expected better of you, Doctor," he says. The Doctor just smiles at him beatifically. Jack rolls his eyes, making himself stagger a little under Rose's weight.

"I mean, this," he says, nodding to the semi-conscious blonde in his arms, "this I get. In the entire history of the human race, it's the ones from the twenty-first century who are the worst at holding their liquor. But you? You're a Time Lord. You should know a thing or two about drinking by now. But no! One Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster and you're all but out for the count."

"Oh, now, be nice," the Doctor protests, accent thicker than usual. "First time drinkin' in this body. I have to get my tolerance built back up every time, you know. Besides, you're just cross because it's not goin' off how you wanted."

"Believe it or not," Jack says, "I can go out drinking without looking to get laid." Sometimes. In theory.

. . . well, he knows he's not the only one in the TARDIS who's interested, and as icebreakers go, a tipsy threesome is right up there. And it's not as if Jack didn't do his fair share of drinking himself. He's not that sleazy.

"You don't have to get us drunk," the Doctor says. "You just have to ask." He grins and pulls himself up straight, and when he continues, the drunken slur is completely gone. "And when you're ready to ask properly, here's something to look forward to."

Jack is thinking what? and then he's not thinking much at all as the Doctor kisses him firmly.

Between them, Rose starts to giggle. The Doctor breaks the kiss and rocks back on his heels, looking hugely pleased with himself. Jack looks at him, then down at Rose. She's grinning at him, eyes clear and perfectly sober.

"Well?" she says. "You gonna ask or what?"

"You two," Jack begins, smiling himself. Then he looks up and meets the Doctor's eyes, and Rose's hand steals around to the back of his neck, and whatever he was going to say can wait.



Yeah, I can totally see why I procrastinated on doing THAT for a year.

Next up: Crossover challenges from last April!