ext_4071 (
laurie-ky.livejournal.com) wrote in
crack_van2012-02-19 11:34 pm
Entry tags:
Breaking News on the Planet Zoon by T. Verano (Rated R)
Fandom THE SENTINEL
Pairing Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Length: approximately 5500 words
Author on LJ
t_verano
Author's websites her fic page on LJ, her website for Gen stories (Pleasance), and her page at AO3.
Why this must be read:
T. Verano wrote this for
sentinel_thurs's prompt, “pollen”,
This story made me laugh. Hysterically at times, and with amused chuckles at other times.
Some high points:
Blair and Jim exchanging zingers, Jim teasing Blair, Jim getting some insight into the development of Blair's ability to bullshit at a moment's notice, and Jim's dilemma when faced with Blair's naked butt.
And T paints a very cute picture of eight year old Blair stuck in a bee costume that he hates and what he does to convince the other kids that he's actually really cool.
***
"No truck, he's not home. You're not home, Jim, right?" Sandburg's voice as he entered the loft didn't exactly sound distressed, but it did sound…stressed. And hopeful that Jim wasn't home. That was interesting — as long as it wasn't anything too interesting.
Jim walked out from the end of the bathroom hallway with all his senses focused on Blair, who was standing in the doorway of the loft and peering up at Jim's bedroom with a wary expression. "Nope," Jim said easily, enjoying Blair's startled jump, "I'm not home. Why is it that you don't want me to be home, Chief?"
"Shit," Blair muttered He took in a couple of deep breaths of air surreptitiously, like he was trying to calm himself without Jim knowing he needed to. It was a useless tactic since his pulse was thundering along and his face was flushed — and that couldn't be sunburn; he and his flavor of the hour hadn't been out on their picnic long enough for Sandburg to get sunburned. Embarrassment?
Jim raised his eyebrows and waited. He was rewarded with several visual clues as Blair turned to close the door he'd left open. "Hey, Jim. No reason. I just didn't see your truck," he said, taking his time setting the chain and fiddling with the other locks. It was one of his more half-hearted efforts at avoidance, and one which didn't have a prayer of working, considering the colorful condition of the back of his shirt and the way he'd been moving as he turned, and…
"Parked on Shipwright," Jim answered absently, trying to put his finger on what was wrong with — "What the hell happened to your butt?"
"This is karma, right?" Blair appeared to be asking his question of the ceiling, so Jim didn't answer. He just kept staring at Blair's newly lop-sided ass. There was no denying — at least not to Jim's zoomed-in vision — that the left half of the seat of Blair's jeans was now filled out a little more fully than the right half, swelling out just above the bottom curve of Blair's otherwise normally shaped rear end.
Blair cut off Jim's view by turning back around. He was still addressing the ceiling. "It has to be karma, for when I was eight and Naomi's friend Rachel made me wear a bumblebee costume for Halloween because she thought it was adorable" — his hands surrounded the word with disgusted air quotes — "and I had to defend my apian honor against so many Darth Vaders and Wookiees that I ended up pulling out the pillows she'd stuffed the stupid costume with and hiding them behind somebody's garage, then ripping off the antennae and wings and telling everybody I was a Zoomorph from the really cool planet Zoon, not a stupid bumblebee." He paused, presumably to breathe, and dropped his affronted gaze from the ceiling. Which brought it back to Jim's neighborhood, and the Oh, shit face he made as his eyes landed on Jim — apparently he'd temporarily forgotten Jim was there — was highly entertaining. For Jim, anyway.
Bumblebee Blair? 'Oh, shit' was right. But Jim decided on an oblique approach for the moment. "A Zoomorph from the planet Zoon? And they bought that?" He had to admit it did sound vaguely plausible, and even at the tender age of eight Blair had probably excelled at selling a load of shit convincingly. However, there was a more pressing issue. Blair kept a box of photos in his dresser drawer; would Naomi or Naomi's friend Rachel have taken a photo of the 'adorable' bumblebee? Would Blair have kept a copy if they had?
"The really cool planet Zoon, Jim." Blair sighed. He sounded resigned to his fate at Jim's hands, although that wasn't a state of mind that was likely to last very long. "It wasn't like any of the Star Wars groupies were smart enough to know what zoon means or what a zoomorph really is." Fuck. Jim temporarily shelved his hopeful thoughts about photographic evidence and racked his brain. Zoomorph sounded like…biology, maybe? Zoon just sounded like Blair must've made it up. But for the first time in living memory when Jim wouldn't have minded suffering through an automatic explanation, Blair skipped providing one. "And it was such a nowheresville little town that movies were always late getting to them and they knew I'd been living near L.A. for a while before we moved there, so they were kind of afraid they'd look like losers if they didn't believe me about The Twelve Moons of the Planet Zoon, opening soon at a theater near them. Or more to the point, opening eventually at their podunk local theater, having already opened to waves of hysterical adoration at cooler movie theaters everywhere else across America."
Hysterical would just about describe Sandburg's reaction if Jim could get his hands on a photo of this. Maybe he could track Naomi down and ask her for one if a raid on Blair's room didn't turn up the goods? Unethical, sure, but in this case the end would definitely justify the means; a photo like that would be worth Bumblebee Blair's weight in gold for blackmail purposes.
"So we had this kind of uneasy truce — I kept making up more stuff about Zoomorphs and Zoon, and they kept watching for The Twelve Moons of the Planet Zoon to show up in the Coming Soon trailers at the movie theater and getting more and more suspicious every week. I was really glad when Naomi and Rachel had some kind of disagreement a couple of weeks before Christmas and Naomi woke me up in the middle of the night so we could catch the next Greyhound out of town."
It took a moment for Jim to realize Blair had stopped talking. He was still standing by the door, but now he looked peeved. A peeved ex-Zoomorph.
And ex-bee. Christmas really could come in July. Jim cleared his throat. "Bumblebee, huh?"
"Don't start, Jim. Just don't."
Breaking News on the Planet Zoon by T. Verano.
Pairing Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Length: approximately 5500 words
Author on LJ
Author's websites her fic page on LJ, her website for Gen stories (Pleasance), and her page at AO3.
Why this must be read:
T. Verano wrote this for
This story made me laugh. Hysterically at times, and with amused chuckles at other times.
Some high points:
Blair and Jim exchanging zingers, Jim teasing Blair, Jim getting some insight into the development of Blair's ability to bullshit at a moment's notice, and Jim's dilemma when faced with Blair's naked butt.
And T paints a very cute picture of eight year old Blair stuck in a bee costume that he hates and what he does to convince the other kids that he's actually really cool.
***
"No truck, he's not home. You're not home, Jim, right?" Sandburg's voice as he entered the loft didn't exactly sound distressed, but it did sound…stressed. And hopeful that Jim wasn't home. That was interesting — as long as it wasn't anything too interesting.
Jim walked out from the end of the bathroom hallway with all his senses focused on Blair, who was standing in the doorway of the loft and peering up at Jim's bedroom with a wary expression. "Nope," Jim said easily, enjoying Blair's startled jump, "I'm not home. Why is it that you don't want me to be home, Chief?"
"Shit," Blair muttered He took in a couple of deep breaths of air surreptitiously, like he was trying to calm himself without Jim knowing he needed to. It was a useless tactic since his pulse was thundering along and his face was flushed — and that couldn't be sunburn; he and his flavor of the hour hadn't been out on their picnic long enough for Sandburg to get sunburned. Embarrassment?
Jim raised his eyebrows and waited. He was rewarded with several visual clues as Blair turned to close the door he'd left open. "Hey, Jim. No reason. I just didn't see your truck," he said, taking his time setting the chain and fiddling with the other locks. It was one of his more half-hearted efforts at avoidance, and one which didn't have a prayer of working, considering the colorful condition of the back of his shirt and the way he'd been moving as he turned, and…
"Parked on Shipwright," Jim answered absently, trying to put his finger on what was wrong with — "What the hell happened to your butt?"
"This is karma, right?" Blair appeared to be asking his question of the ceiling, so Jim didn't answer. He just kept staring at Blair's newly lop-sided ass. There was no denying — at least not to Jim's zoomed-in vision — that the left half of the seat of Blair's jeans was now filled out a little more fully than the right half, swelling out just above the bottom curve of Blair's otherwise normally shaped rear end.
Blair cut off Jim's view by turning back around. He was still addressing the ceiling. "It has to be karma, for when I was eight and Naomi's friend Rachel made me wear a bumblebee costume for Halloween because she thought it was adorable" — his hands surrounded the word with disgusted air quotes — "and I had to defend my apian honor against so many Darth Vaders and Wookiees that I ended up pulling out the pillows she'd stuffed the stupid costume with and hiding them behind somebody's garage, then ripping off the antennae and wings and telling everybody I was a Zoomorph from the really cool planet Zoon, not a stupid bumblebee." He paused, presumably to breathe, and dropped his affronted gaze from the ceiling. Which brought it back to Jim's neighborhood, and the Oh, shit face he made as his eyes landed on Jim — apparently he'd temporarily forgotten Jim was there — was highly entertaining. For Jim, anyway.
Bumblebee Blair? 'Oh, shit' was right. But Jim decided on an oblique approach for the moment. "A Zoomorph from the planet Zoon? And they bought that?" He had to admit it did sound vaguely plausible, and even at the tender age of eight Blair had probably excelled at selling a load of shit convincingly. However, there was a more pressing issue. Blair kept a box of photos in his dresser drawer; would Naomi or Naomi's friend Rachel have taken a photo of the 'adorable' bumblebee? Would Blair have kept a copy if they had?
"The really cool planet Zoon, Jim." Blair sighed. He sounded resigned to his fate at Jim's hands, although that wasn't a state of mind that was likely to last very long. "It wasn't like any of the Star Wars groupies were smart enough to know what zoon means or what a zoomorph really is." Fuck. Jim temporarily shelved his hopeful thoughts about photographic evidence and racked his brain. Zoomorph sounded like…biology, maybe? Zoon just sounded like Blair must've made it up. But for the first time in living memory when Jim wouldn't have minded suffering through an automatic explanation, Blair skipped providing one. "And it was such a nowheresville little town that movies were always late getting to them and they knew I'd been living near L.A. for a while before we moved there, so they were kind of afraid they'd look like losers if they didn't believe me about The Twelve Moons of the Planet Zoon, opening soon at a theater near them. Or more to the point, opening eventually at their podunk local theater, having already opened to waves of hysterical adoration at cooler movie theaters everywhere else across America."
Hysterical would just about describe Sandburg's reaction if Jim could get his hands on a photo of this. Maybe he could track Naomi down and ask her for one if a raid on Blair's room didn't turn up the goods? Unethical, sure, but in this case the end would definitely justify the means; a photo like that would be worth Bumblebee Blair's weight in gold for blackmail purposes.
"So we had this kind of uneasy truce — I kept making up more stuff about Zoomorphs and Zoon, and they kept watching for The Twelve Moons of the Planet Zoon to show up in the Coming Soon trailers at the movie theater and getting more and more suspicious every week. I was really glad when Naomi and Rachel had some kind of disagreement a couple of weeks before Christmas and Naomi woke me up in the middle of the night so we could catch the next Greyhound out of town."
It took a moment for Jim to realize Blair had stopped talking. He was still standing by the door, but now he looked peeved. A peeved ex-Zoomorph.
And ex-bee. Christmas really could come in July. Jim cleared his throat. "Bumblebee, huh?"
"Don't start, Jim. Just don't."
Breaking News on the Planet Zoon by T. Verano.

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You should post it at AO3 sometime, after RL cuts you a break. (Yes, I can hear you laughing hysterically)
Laurie