Buffista Fic 2: They Said It Couldn't Be Done.
[NAFDA] Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
Last night's viewing led me to this. I plan to have new parts up every Wednesday.
(House/Gilmore Girls)
Tuesday Night Crossover Fic
Chapter One: Collision With Destiny
“God, Mom,” Lorelai complained. “I don’t understand you sometimes...which I know is like the understatement of the millenium, but this time I think I have medical science on my side. And not just that big blue book of Rory’s...the what-do-you-call-it?”
”DSM-4,” Rory said, and cursed her usual instinct to be helpful.
“Is that like Led Zeppelin Four?”
”Not exactly, no.” Emily said, tartly. Sometimes she spoke as if she spent her whole life tongue-kissing Macintosh apples.
“Dad just had a heart attack, had surgery and now you want to put him on the train...to New Jersey, no less, to get prodded by *more* doctors? Unbelievable.”
”Have some perspective, Lorelai, please. It’s not as if I’m dropping him off at Dempsy County Hospital...Dr. House works in Princeton, and went to Hopkins. Bitsy van Houten says he’s a miracle worker.”
Lorelai sighed. “And, God knows, when it comes to life and death,< you can’t get enough input from somebody named ‘Bitsy”.
Emily stood. “Don’t be smart. She’s only been on that board since Jesus was a boy. She wouldn’t still be on it if she didn’t know anything.”
“Yeah, I’m sure her crapzillion dollars didn’t hurt her there at all.”
“I never raised you to be so crass.”
”That’s what makes it so impressive. I’m completely self-taught. Not a single lesson, unless you count Twisted Sister videos.”
“What do you think, kiddo?” Lorelai asked Rory.
”Well, actually, Mom, from my googling, Dr. House does seem like a pretty impressive diagnostics expert. I think Paris has a crush on him. But, Grandma, do we *need* a diagnostics expert? His current doctor thinks it’s pretty simple, for heart surgery, I mean.”
“What do you expect? He went to Harvard.”
“I think that’s taking rivalry kind of far, don’t you?”
Cuddy walked into House’s office looking put-upon and even less inclined than usual to play their usual games. Her period was still a few weeks off and HCFA inspection wasn’t until April. He’d even been a little more careful about what he said after the whole Tritter nightmare. Not that anybody but Wilson and Cuddy knew him enough to notice. What? He pushed up on the rented chair’s wheelie bars just to give Cuddy a good look at his sweaty, “Coming Home” biceps, but if she noticed anything, she didn’t respond.
“Here’s your next case,” she said.” And lose the chair.”
”Ooh, golly, some rich guy had an infarct in his foie gras. I can see why you came to me, seeing as that never happens.”
“I know... but you gotta do it, okay?” Was that an actual sympathetic expression? But she tried to make her Bitch face like usual. “Think of it as a condition of your parole.”
”Why, Dr. Cuddenstein, are you killing me softly? I’m sure you’re not feeling guilty because I’d find it more interesting working on the goose.”
“My name’s not Cuddenstein, and what goose?”
”The one with the yummy, yummy, liver, of course.”
“Look, House, I’ve just spent three miserable hours on the phone with the love-spawn of Eleanor Roosevelt and a rottweiler getting stuck with this case. Not in the mood doesn’t cover it, all right?”
”Not exactly, no.” Emily said, tartly. Sometimes she spoke as if she spent her whole life tongue-kissing Macintosh apples.
I love this line and want to marry it.
(Desperately needs a beta, but still...)
"So," Jaye said, trying to sound interested, "you have a job offer? In California?"
Sharon took a drag on her cigarette, then held it out at a rakish angle as she smiled smugly at her sister. Jaye suspected her of using the cigarette to accent the smugness. "Signing bonus, all moving expenses paid, everything."
A man wearing a Timberwolves tee shirt walked by. Of course, the cartoon wolf on his shirt had to have its freakish say on the matter.
"Keep her home," it said.
"But it means you'll be leaving." Jaye tried not to sound too upbeat about this. "And soon."
"Oh, I'll spend a year or two in their LA office, and then maybe I can transfer to New York." Sharon shrugged. "I'll hate being away from family..."
"Liar."
Sharon's smile sharpened for just a second, and then the smugness was back, gale force nine. "But time in the LA office is part of the deal. Non-negotiable, apparently."
The television over the bar displayed the logo of the St. Louis Rams. Jaye braced herself for the inevitable.
"Baaaaad deal," it bleated.
"Oh that's just pathetic!"
"Excuse me?" Sharon asked.
"Oh! No. Sorry. I was talking about the play. In the game. It was a pathetic play. So... it's a good place to work?" The animals that kept harrassing her obviously didn't think so, and if Jaye tried to ignore them for too long, they'd only find some other way to get her attention. So, for her own sanity, she had better find out what was going on with this deal Sharon had been offered.
"What else do they want? I mean, what else besides you moving to LA? And by the way, you are going to tell Mom about that part. You. No way are you foisting that little job off on me."
"I do not foist." Sharon waved her cigarette through the air, trailing ash and smoke. "As for what else they want, there's some nonsense about my soul. They're taking a lien out on it or something. Can you believe it?"
"No!" Jaye leaned forward, halfway across the table. "I mean, you actually have a soul? Really?"
"Please, Jaye. You can do better than that. Anyhow, joining Wolfram and Hart is an excellent career move."
"Tell her about the vampires," said the deer head mounted over the bar.
"He's not kidding." The man with the Timberwolves shirt just happened to be walking past them again.
"Oh yes. Vaaaampires," said the Ram.
Jaye could have sworn that she saw the deer nodding solemnly.
She let her head rest gently on the table. "My life does not need to be any weirder," she whined. "It really doesn't."
Oh, Anne, that is awesome! It begs for more.
::not a hint:: ::bats eyelashes::
Okay, that's a hint.
That rules.
Wish I'd thought of it.
Many thanks, all! That was a fun one to play with.
That was fun!
"No!" Jaye leaned forward, halfway across the table. "I mean, you actually have a soul? Really?"
Hee.
Another crossover. This time, I'm pulling "Friday Night Lights" into the Jossverse. Many thanks to SA for beta-reading this:
Tim knows exactly what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He's going to stay here in Texas, probably not all that far from Dillon. Yeah, that thing about going in on a ranch with Jason most likely ain't gonna happen now, but something else will fill its place. He's not exactly sure how it's all going to play out, but in his future, Jason is still there, somehow, and everything's pretty much okay. Tyra's there, too. So's Lyla. Maybe he'll settle down with one of the girls, maybe he won't. Maybe it'll be someone else--not a stranger, but one of the rally girls or maybe even one of the cheerleaders.
Or hell, maybe twenty years down, he'll still be stuck here with Billy in this rat-trap of a house, the two Riggins brothers, legendary drunks and whoring fuckups. That's fine, too. He can live with that. He can live with that just fine. He can go into town, go hang out at one of the bars around playoffs time, and people will see the State Championship ring on his finger and buy him drink after drink so he can go on forgetting what happened that one summer.
And in the end, that's all he wants. Going nowhere, nothing happening, and never being more than a few hours away from a comforting alcoholic haze.
He used to want something else, not too long ago. He wanted to get out of Dillon. He wanted to go somewhere where people wouldn't hear the name Riggins and immediately think trash. He was going to show that he was better than that, that he was better than his daddy, that he was better than Billy, that he was better than the rest of them.
Of course, that was before the short but jagged scar right above his collarbone. Most people think it's from when he fell off a bike and into a barbed-wire fence when he was twelve. Hell, Tim's told the story enough times that even he sometimes thinks it's true. He even has what seem like memories of the actual event. When he feels like bragging, he sometimes points out how close it is to some big old vein or something in his neck, and tells whoever's listening that he came real close to bleeding out, and woulda done so if his cousin hadn't been right there. He'll tell them that, and then he'll go off and get throwing-up, falling-down drunk, because that part of the story's just a little too close to the truth.
See, Tim has a cousin who made it big, and made it out of his crappy hometown. Not Dillon, no, just some other crap town in Oklahoma. From what he hears, it was a bigger jump out of there, but it's hard to tell. All he knows is that his dad used to talk about how his older sister got knocked up by some shit of an Okie and her life had pretty much gone down the crapper because of it. But he also said her kid--who was clearly nothing like his no-good daddy--was going places, even managing to get himself into law school.
Billy never liked those stories--Tim guessed they made him feel small--but for Tim, they were a lifeline. They showed him that there was a path out of there into something bigger and better. And for a little while, he would look at his report cards and dream that even though it was mostly just B's, his teachers were talking behind his back about how they'd never guess that Tim was a Riggins, and about how he'd be going places-- places that weren't Dillon. Hell, maybe he'd become a lawyer just like his cousin, and wouldn't that be something?
When Tim was twelve, this mythical cousin finally came for a visit. "It ain't fair that I got a couple of cousins I never met," he said, smiling at Tim and ruffling his hair. For some reason, Tim had imagined that he'd be all polished and city-proper like the lawyers on the TV shows, but Lindsey seemed ordinary enough. Flannel shirt, jeans, and a smile that marked him as a Riggins even though his last name was McDonald.
Tim grinned up at him and decided right then and there that Lindsey was his hero. He wasn't just someone who'd made it (continued...)
