Argh...the end keeps getting chopped off. Very annoying.

Please keep posting it. I am quite a devotee of the erika thread. I want to know what happens next!

I put up Chase/Cameron here: [link] I'm not sure why the Phoenix cut me off yesterday.

Intriguing so far, Erika!

Meanwhile I seem to be writing SGA crackfic. Er.

Their arrival in the gate room had been greeted by a stunned silence that lasted for several beats. It was Elizabeth, inevitably, who broke it. To her credit, she was taking in the team’s appearance with every appearance of calm.

“Lieutenant Colonel?”

The crack in Elizabeth’s voice, Zelenka felt quite sure, was directly related to the brevity of the gold…Zelenka tried to think of a word more manly than miniskirts, but failed abysmally. He was fairly sure that warriors in ancient Rome, or possibly ancient Greece, had worn this kind of thing, so it wasn’t entirely without military precedent, but for the life of him Zelenka couldn’t imagine where the team were hiding their weapons. His bad feeling got worse when Sheppard’s attention remained totally riveted on Rodney McKay.

“John?” When this too failed to elicit any response, Elizabeth’s attention switched to the only member of the group who still looked reasonably normal. Rodney McKay was still wearing his uniform, and his expression was a familiar combination of panic and irritation which contrasted rather starkly with the beatific looks on the faces of his team mates. “Rodney?” There was an unmistakeable warning note in the word, and Rodney glanced up, red faced and scowling as he slapped Ronon’s fingers away from his shoulder blades.

“I do Not. Want. A massage!” Rodney snapped at Ronon, with more than a little hysteria in his voice, and then he jumped and spun to glare at Teyla, waving his hands protectively in front of his posterior. “Watch it, Barbarella!” Teyla’s innocent expression was rather contradicted by the predatory sway of her hips as she stalked towards him, her long skirts flaring around her thighs ; Zelenka’s mouth went dry as he glimpsed smooth skin the colour of caramel in places which he had only theorized about wistfully until this moment. He felt certain that every other man in the room was equally transfixed, but had no intention of looking away in order to confirm his hypothesis. Teyla Emmagen had favoured some distractingly revealing styles of clothing during her time in Atlantis, but this was in an entirely different league.

“Doctor McKay,” said Elizabeth, evenly, watching Rodney back away from Teyla, “I trust that you have an explanation for the rather… unorthodox appearance of your team?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he said, entirely too quickly, without looking up. “I just want us to be clear on that – this whole fiasco was absolutely, positively not my fault in any way, shape or form – nobody would have expected the Kankanathians to do something so spectacularly moronic.” He glanced over at Elizabeth and shrugged helplessly. “They didn’t seem to be any more barkingly insane than your average alien civilization, and their baked goods are surprisingly adequate.” It was probably the memory of cake that made him drop his guard; certainly Rodney didn’t notice Sheppard’s approach until it was too late. Zelenka watched with appalled fascination as Sheppard hooked one bare arm around Rodney’s waist and succeeded in pressing a not-particularly-fraternal kiss onto his neck before Rodney managed to wrench himself free. “Stopitstopitstopitstopit!” Rodney yelled as he ducked behind a convenient marine and glared at the rest of his team over her shoulder.

Zelenka could not recall having ever seen Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard pouting before. He shook his head in wonder.

“They are going to kill you when we fix them,” he said, matter-of-factly taking in Teyla’s skimpy and diaphanous robes and the postage-stamp sized miniskirts that were doing painfully little to preserve the modesty of the other two members of Rodney’s team. The wild-eyed look that Rodney flung him said that Rodney was very well aware of it, and that he expected his demise to be both painful and humiliating.

“But it really, really wasn’t my fault,” he said, plaintively.

Hee! love it.

More House/WF...coming up on the end.
Jaye rationalized that she hadn’t completely failed in her Labrador-sanctioned mission. After all, she was with Dr. House, and surrounded by all manner of Wilsonian things. The fact that she was lying on her back on the floor of the locked oncology lounge OD-ing on pickle chips and reading movie star magazines, was just...like a wrinkle. It was still better than what she’d be doing at work.

“Pickle me,” she told House, who surprised her by complying.

“If you get brine poisoning and die, don’t come crawling to me.” House said, “ But I suppose I should be glad somebody eats the damn things.”

“It’s kind of ironic,” Jaye said. “Somebody as sour as you not liking pickles.”

“Thank you, Ms. Morrisette. Although you do have a better grasp of irony than she does.”

“And I wouldn’t go down on you in a theatre, but I know at least *two* people in this hospital that’s not true of,” Jaye said, brightly, before she thought better of it.

“Oh, poor Cameron... she does make it kind of obvious, doesn’t she?” And his blue eyes turned dark and serious and Jaye felt like she understood where Cameron might get it from, even though most of her crushes had brown eyes.

“Who? Oh, yeah, the pretty little doctrette...yeah, she does seem to say ‘House says” a lot...she might just think you’re bitchin’ at that.”

“I’m a legend in my own time...”

“Well, legend...give this a little thought, okay...a photo in Dr. Wilson’s office told me...

Incredibly, this board-certified brainiac doc whom Jaye would suspect of hearing almost everything suddenly clapped his hands over his ears and said “La, la, la...I’m not listening. La, la, la!”

Jaye forgot to be impressed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Plausible deniability...for when the licensing board finds out I’ve kidnapped you and kept you from Approved Treatment of your ‘sodes, even though you’re still having delusions. Do you think that it’ll work?”

“Maybe...if your boss is a mouth-breather. I wouldn’t try a life of crime, though...and they’re not delusions... they’re like...fate speaking through me.”

”My boss thinks I’m a genius. Her boss is a mouth-breather. And I believe you, by the way.”

”You believe in fate? Because you don’t seem like the type.

”I believe that you believe it, and that’s enough for me to protect you from getting tranqued to the gills by a jerk-off like Shapiro.”

“So, if you liked him, that would be okay?”

“Well, maybe,” House said, “But you and I have spent some time together...how likely would you say that is?”

“Good point...so, do you want to hear the latest fate-o-gram? It’s kind of important to your future happiness.”

”Ooh, surprises about me are the best surprises ever!”

erika, you are going to post this somewhere all together when it's complete aren't you? I want to be able to go back and get all of it at once for a complete read.

Oh, and I think you should have a scene of House and Jaye playing poker together and something in the room keeps telling Jaye what cards House has so he loses his ass. Ha!

Well, I might, but I don't have a site or anything of my own...anyone know of an archive that might suit for it?

Silverlake and Glass Onion are multi-fandom. ANYTHING goes.

Bet you thought I forgot about this, didn't you? Nah...
“You have to make her stop,” the young woman in Wilson’s office told him. She looked familiar, especially those amazing eyes, but it was early, and House had, of course, stolen his coffee again. He had no sense of personal property whatever. Wilson should have been more annoyed about it, but...

To protect himself from more personal thoughts, Wilson stepped behind his desk. “Okay... make who stop what?”

”My mother...at least my sister’s been in the office with this other lawyer...Stacy something, which I thought kept her off my ass, but now my mother wants to send me to the fricking Mayo clinic. God, like going to Minnesota ever solved anyone’s problems...”Wilson moved over to the young woman and patted her on the shoulder. It was second nature, despite the fact his recall was still fuzzy. He hoped she wouldn’t...

“You don’t remember me, do you? I’m Jaye. Or as you probably think of me: The Crazy Patient That Frenched You.”

”Oh, Ms. Tyler! Of course... Have you eaten?”

”Are you hoping if you buy me breakfast, I’ll do it again, or what?”

“Oh, no, hardly, Ms. Tyler.” Damn House, being right all the time. He still remembered the spring in his step he’d had all that day and how Julie and he had made love for the first time in weeks after that...he supposed he should have felt guilty, but he just felt alive...alive enough to send that stupid plant, which, what the hell was that...”I was just about to go eat, Ms. Tyler. Didn’t want to be rude.”

”My tongue’s been in your mouth. I think that means you can call me Jaye...should I be upset that that isn’t the weirdest sentence I’ve said all year? It was bad enough when I was a disappointment to my mother without her thinking I’m crazy, too!” Wilson almost couldn’t believe it when she started to cry. She was the youngest and healthiest patient to ever wet his jacket with her tears.

”You’re not crazy. Not terribly discriminating, but definitely not crazy.” He gave her a tissue and was rewarded by a crooked, but still incandescent smile.

“Really?”

”I’m a doctor...I know things. And right now, I prescribe pancakes.”