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crack_van2013-01-14 10:58 am
stars-inthe-sky.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-01-14 10:58 am
Entry tags:
"Daze" by noplacespecial (Explicit)
Fandom: Terminator / Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles
Pairing: Sarah Connor/Derek Reese
Length: ~3k words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read: There's nothing star-crossed about the relationship between Sarah and the older Reese brother. It's debatable whether they even like each other as co-people. But they need each other, and the understand each other, and ultimately they don't really have anyone else to connect with, to a certain extent. So here we have a fic that (briefly) explores their relationship and its inherent complications and twists. It's also fairly hot *and* squarely in character--a rare combination.
Daze
Pairing: Sarah Connor/Derek Reese
Length: ~3k words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read: There's nothing star-crossed about the relationship between Sarah and the older Reese brother. It's debatable whether they even like each other as co-people. But they need each other, and the understand each other, and ultimately they don't really have anyone else to connect with, to a certain extent. So here we have a fic that (briefly) explores their relationship and its inherent complications and twists. It's also fairly hot *and* squarely in character--a rare combination.
Derek doesn't bother responding. He rolls out of Cameron's shadow and rises to his feet, brushing past her as he crosses the lawn to the front of the house. When he rounds the corner, he freezes and blinks.
It's possible that his hallucinations are kicking in. Then again, they usually don't resemble a bad 80's porno.
Sarah is washing the Jeep, in a white tank top and denim cutoffs, hands slithering along the garden hose in a way that's borderline obscene. Derek scrubs a hand across his face but the image does not dissipate. Instead, Sarah catches his eye across the hood of the vehicle.
"Are you going to help me or are you going to just stand there?" she snaps. He doesn't know whether her bitchiness should count for or against this being a fantasy - it's hard to ignore the fact that Sarah Connor is pretty damn hot when shes pissed off, all fire-eyed and indignant.
Derek weighs his options. He can treat this like reality and find out that it's only his imagination, and he will have missed the opportunity for a seriously inappropriate wet dream. Or, he can treat this like a dream and find out that it's reality when Sarah castrates him.
He chooses Option A.
"You know, there's this thing they invented awhile ago called a car wash," he says as he retrieves a bucket, a few sponges, and a bottle of soap from the garage. They're lucky that the previous owners' things are still cluttering up the house, because it's been so long since he's lived in the real, functional world that he would never have thought of some of the things that end up saving their asses. Duct tape, scissors, batteries...about a month ago he found a can of WD-40 in the shed and spent an entire day oiling hinges, marveling at a house full of doors that weren't rusted and squeaking. He rounds the car with his stash, and sees exactly why Sarah is doing this job herself: the entire side of the Jeep is covered in blood.
"We had an incident," she says, and it's all the explanation he needs. They disagree on strategy and bicker over stupid shit, but when it comes down to it he really does trust her. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course.
Derek holds out the bucket and lets Sarah fill it with water. While she continues to rinse the drying blood from the side of the Jeep, he bends down and pours several squirts of soap, gently sloshing the water around to mix it as the paved driveway runs red then slowly fades back to black. He hands Sarah a sponge and they each take one side of the car, starting on opposite ends of the hood. Derek averts his eyes when she leans over, struggling with her shorter arms to make their soap trails meet in the middle.
"Stop," she reprimands. Derek shrugs.
"Could say the same to you," he counters. Scowling, Sarah throws her sponge at him, grabbing a fresh one from the bucket and moving to the back of the car, out of his line of sight. He chuckles and finishes the hood, moves to the driver's side. Sarah moves in the opposite direction so that by the time he reaches the already-washed rear, she's back in front. She pays no attention to his position as she picks up the hose and starts spraying the car clean. Derek, standing directly in her line of fire, gets an eyeful of soap and water.
"Jesus!" He leaps backwards, vigorously rubbing his eye. Sarah doesn't say anything, but at least has the decency to look apologetic as she hands him the hose to rinse out his eye. At least he thinks she looks apologetic - it's hard to tell, what with the stinging and the blurred vision. By the time he's finally able to look around without it feeling like his retinas are being burned off, his shirt is soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He peels it off without hesitation, and it's a tie between which is more satisfying - the feeling of the sun on his back, or the snarl of annoyance that Sarah shoots his way. Derek grins calmly and turns the hose back onto the car.
It's possible that his hallucinations are kicking in. Then again, they usually don't resemble a bad 80's porno.
Sarah is washing the Jeep, in a white tank top and denim cutoffs, hands slithering along the garden hose in a way that's borderline obscene. Derek scrubs a hand across his face but the image does not dissipate. Instead, Sarah catches his eye across the hood of the vehicle.
"Are you going to help me or are you going to just stand there?" she snaps. He doesn't know whether her bitchiness should count for or against this being a fantasy - it's hard to ignore the fact that Sarah Connor is pretty damn hot when shes pissed off, all fire-eyed and indignant.
Derek weighs his options. He can treat this like reality and find out that it's only his imagination, and he will have missed the opportunity for a seriously inappropriate wet dream. Or, he can treat this like a dream and find out that it's reality when Sarah castrates him.
He chooses Option A.
"You know, there's this thing they invented awhile ago called a car wash," he says as he retrieves a bucket, a few sponges, and a bottle of soap from the garage. They're lucky that the previous owners' things are still cluttering up the house, because it's been so long since he's lived in the real, functional world that he would never have thought of some of the things that end up saving their asses. Duct tape, scissors, batteries...about a month ago he found a can of WD-40 in the shed and spent an entire day oiling hinges, marveling at a house full of doors that weren't rusted and squeaking. He rounds the car with his stash, and sees exactly why Sarah is doing this job herself: the entire side of the Jeep is covered in blood.
"We had an incident," she says, and it's all the explanation he needs. They disagree on strategy and bicker over stupid shit, but when it comes down to it he really does trust her. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course.
Derek holds out the bucket and lets Sarah fill it with water. While she continues to rinse the drying blood from the side of the Jeep, he bends down and pours several squirts of soap, gently sloshing the water around to mix it as the paved driveway runs red then slowly fades back to black. He hands Sarah a sponge and they each take one side of the car, starting on opposite ends of the hood. Derek averts his eyes when she leans over, struggling with her shorter arms to make their soap trails meet in the middle.
"Stop," she reprimands. Derek shrugs.
"Could say the same to you," he counters. Scowling, Sarah throws her sponge at him, grabbing a fresh one from the bucket and moving to the back of the car, out of his line of sight. He chuckles and finishes the hood, moves to the driver's side. Sarah moves in the opposite direction so that by the time he reaches the already-washed rear, she's back in front. She pays no attention to his position as she picks up the hose and starts spraying the car clean. Derek, standing directly in her line of fire, gets an eyeful of soap and water.
"Jesus!" He leaps backwards, vigorously rubbing his eye. Sarah doesn't say anything, but at least has the decency to look apologetic as she hands him the hose to rinse out his eye. At least he thinks she looks apologetic - it's hard to tell, what with the stinging and the blurred vision. By the time he's finally able to look around without it feeling like his retinas are being burned off, his shirt is soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He peels it off without hesitation, and it's a tie between which is more satisfying - the feeling of the sun on his back, or the snarl of annoyance that Sarah shoots his way. Derek grins calmly and turns the hose back onto the car.
Daze