If my fic were a House ep, this part would be the teaser before the credits.

"Man, I feel like fuckin' shit," Turtle said. "I'm sweating and my throat hurts so much I'd blow E. for a popsicle." Vince laughed weakly.

Eric said "Thanks so much for that mental picture, Turtle. And why am I always catching in these little scenarios of yours, anyways?"

"Cause you're just naturally a punk. But I like you anyway. You can't help it."

Vince said "Yeah, you know, bomb pops used to be my favorite, but I gotta tell ya, Turtle kinda ruined that."

Johnny Drama said "It's been a lot of years since I've been sick like this myself. It reminds me of my audition for "St. Elsewhere' cause I had to get all clammy and shit, like I had AIDS." Drama leaned back, and if he hadn't been sick in bed in the Holiday Inn, Vince thought he looked like their grandfather talking about what he did in the war. Really spinning some fuckin' tale or other. Enough so that even if there'd been no acting, he was always talking enough shit that Drama would still be Drama.

"Bullshit," Turtle said. "You never did,"

"Yes, I did," Drama insisted, getting worked-up enough that there were spots of color in his cheeks."I sprinkled Evian on myself to look like the cold sweats too. But I read somewhere later that Pellegrino works better for that. Something about the PH balance."

Vince said "Tough break, Drama," and closed his eyes, knowing from lifelong experience that you just had to let Johnny wind down.

"You're not kidding, Vince. Not that I had much chance once Fontana didn't like me. I did meet the guy later who got the part...he played that bisexual detective on that cop show that was always on that Friday night death slot...what was it?"

"You should have been nice to him," Turtle joked. "Maybe he would've let you be his boyfriend."

"Homicide," Eric supplied, wondering for the millionth time if Kristen was right, and he'd have had his own degree if his brain wasn't filled to the brim with Vince's shit. But maybe everybody would think they made the wrong choice sick in a hotel room full of guys.

"You know, Turtle," Drama said. "People underestimate you, but in this case, you provided me a real capsule sketch of the road-not-taken there."

"Aw, man," Turtle chortled. "You mean you'd *like* to be his boyfriend?"

"Hey, guys?" Eric said. "Vince is sicker than any of us and he's trying to sleep."

"Oh, he's good for a couple hours at least. I remember I took a girl back to my room after I worked on Charles In Charge...she was a real firebrand, but Vince didn't move a muscle."

"Maybe he wasn't the one worried he'd wake up." Eric pointed out.

Drama didn't say anything else, but Eric noticed his low tone when he told Turtle "No, it's not like I'm dying to play bisexual, but at that time, it would have been groundbreaking. And Kyle's a good guy, very deep."

If this joke is boring to anyone, seriously, say the word. I'll be less offended after writing part 5 than having you roll your eyes at part 10.

House/ Entourage part 5

"Look," Ari said. "I'm going to tell you something right now, that if I found out you quoted me on it,I'm gonna say you fucking lied, because in Hollywood? This particular situation is practically career suicide...."

"Go on," House said. If Gold's bluster was still irritating House, the diagnostician made no sign of it.

"Ok, I'll just come out with it.Vincent Chase is a nice guy, okay, he's got impossible taste in friends and managers(primo taste in agents,) and he chases pussy like it's an Olympic sport, but sometimes he's just so fucking wholesome I just can't believe it.And he has an amazing talent, which is another thing that if you tell him I said it, I will ram that cane up your ass sideways, and I do not give a*fuck* what you need it for or whether you can fight back. Are we clear on that?"

"Absolutely. Now, will medicating you for your obviously untreated Tourette's and what some other, nicer person might call your 'personality issues' be part of the services I'm rendering today? Because I could say a lot more, if I'm on the clock. Dr. Cuddy, I don't think we'll be needing to do that tox screen first."

"Wait a second," Cuddy replied. "Everybody lies, except Ari Gold...professional liar?"

"That's exactly it, Cuddy. If he were going to fake honesty, instead of being really honest, wouldn't it sound nicer than an offer to assault me in my 'special place'?

"Why? Yours doesn't." the dean of medicine pointed out.

"Oh, I can see I'm going to have to watch out for you," Ari said, eyes gleaming maniacally, arms outstretched. "Wanna hug it out?'

"Actually, Ari, I wouldn't suggest that." Cuddy said, smoothly. "In addition to being in an airplane for three hours today, you've spent a lot of time with the guys, who all have strep. You'll be incredibly lucky if you don't get it yourself, but like I said before you didn't need two trained specialists to tell you that."

"It might look like a better investment if you call it streptococcus Pyogenes,"House pointed out, mock-helpfully.

"Ugh," Cuddy sank into a chair. "Don't remind me. I said that to whats-his-name...Turtle? And he thought I wanted a date."

"Huh, huh," House imitated. "She said 'cock'. Mr Gold, I can see I've vastly underestimated you Hollywood types."

"Don't judge L.A. by Turtle," Ari said."He was just born ignorant."

"As opposed to someone like you who worked hard at it."

"Say the word," Ari told Cuddy. "And I will have him killed."

"Which one?" Cuddy was suddenly amused by someone else sharing her House-burden.

"As Jack Benny says, when asked "Your money or your life," I'm fuckin' thinking, okay, baby?"

"I don't think that's how that story goes, Ari."

"Look, with the box-office my people make, I get to decide how the stories go." And he pecked Cuddy chastely on her cheek.

"Ok," House said. "I'm going back to the room now...I have to wash my everything."

God, this is fun! It's SO utterly them that I actually forgot it was fanfic for a minute.

I, er, realise that probably makes no sense outside of my head, but honestly - I had this little "Oh, hey, no, erika made this up" moment, as I was being all disarmed by Drama being so utterly Drama-ish.

...yeah, that makes no sense now I write it down. But what I'm trying to say is: it's good! Write more!

Well, I sort of made it up...the part about St. Elsewhere having the groundbreaking AIDS-patient storyline working out well for Kyle Secor? True. But I bet Drama would lust for that part. If memory serves, he would have gotten to die tragically and everything. Drama would love that!! ETA: Maybe it's the wannabe in me, but I kind of love Drama...his optimism in the face of a system that doesn't give a fuck, and his continued quest to find a definitive reason why he was the flavor of some months back, kind of tug at my heartstrings somehow. And, you know, a lot of shows would have made Drama's acting comically bad, enough so we could all tell and he could be the butt of a *cheap* joke, like Al Bundy and his four touchdowns in a single game or something. But Drama isn't a bad actor...the business just kind of moved on without him or something, and industry memories are short and not always kind.

Oh yes, I love Drama too. I love all of them, in their various ways, but Drama just slays me. It's a terrific performance, and in someone else's hands it could have just been a joke, but the actor brings a real pathos and sensitivity along with the balls-on comic timing. He cracks me up, but he's still unexpectedly touching. (And I don't mean in a crossing swords sense.) I love that he's an awesome cook, and Viking Quest will never not make me laugh.

The whole "Sophie's a terrible actress" thing is the only part of Leverage that I really disliked. I thought it was PAINFULLY bad, and stupid, and unfunny. Cordy being a terrible actress in exactly the same way - made perfect sense. That was, after all, the very epitome of her character - that what you saw was what you got, no pretense, no bullshit. She thinks it, she says it. But for Ms SuperGrifter Conwoman to be an appallingly ludicrously awful actress...yeah, no. Stop now.

shudders

Bless.

Meanwhile, I'm playing around with writing a Supernatural version of The Snow Queen. This is the beginning - am I completly on crack, do you think? I mean, more so than usual?

* * *

Once upon a time, and a dark time it was too, there lived two brothers with feet forever wandering and hearts forever bruised. Their father raised them to be hunters, and he taught them all he knew of stealth and strength and secrecy. In time he died, and left them to carry on his work alone, and so they travelled many paths together, bringing light to dark places and struggling to hold back the encroaching tide of evil – for in those days there were many terrible creatures abroad in the land, with vicious claws and hungry teeth and hearts that brimmed with malice.

Now the elder brother was tall and brave and fair of face, and he was ruled by his heart. The only thing he loved more dearly than the hunt was his family; for his family he would climb mountains, cross deserts, swim oceans, slay dragons. For his family he would beg, steal or lie; kill, torture or die; forsake all hope of happiness and ransom his very soul. It was his greatest joy and his greatest weakness, for his father had impressed upon him when he was but a child that he must proctect his younger sibling no matter what the cost. As the years went by, this young man built his life around the idea of sacrifice, and came to believe that his only worth was as a shield.

The younger brother was taller still, and just as brave and fair, but he was ruled by his head. The only thing he loved more dearly than his family was vengeance; for vengeance he would climb mountains, cross deserts, swim oceans, slay dragons. For vengeance he would beg, steal or lie; kill, torture or die; forsake all hope of happiness and ransom his very soul. It was his greatest sorrow and his greatest strength, for his father had impressed upon him when he was but a child that he must avenge his mother's death, no matter what the cost. As the years went by, and he lost his lover and his father and his brother to the demons, this young man built his life around the idea of retribution, and came to believe that his only worth was as a sword.

Now they knew it not, but these two brothers had been watched by creatures of Heaven and of Hell ever since they were born, and the demons of the pit and the angels of the Lord both had their own designs for the Winchesters' future. In time the elder brother, whose name was Dean, failed to protect the younger, and the younger – whose name was Sam – sustained a fatal wound, and died in the dirt and darkness while cradled in his brother's arms. Dean Winchester's love had not been shield enough to keep his brother safe, and his tears were not sufficient balm to heal the bloody wound, and when Sam's heart grew still and his eyes grew dull the pain of this loss was more than the elder could endure. So it came about that he sold his immortal soul in exchange for one last year on earth, and his brother restored to health, and thought it a fair exchange.

And so Dean Winchester went down into Hell and suffered all the torments that the fiends could conceive in their efforts to break him; and when, at last, in spite of all the courage and the kindness that dwelt within his soul, he finally shattered underneath their blows, he all unknowing fulfilled a prophecy and started the world on the path to the Apocalypse. This was why the Host of Heaven sent the angel Castiel to free Dean from the pit, and why his rotted corpse was made fresh and whole and strong once more. So Dean Winchester resumed his travels across the land with his younger brother Sam, and tried to forget the horrors that had been visited upon him in perdition.

But he did not know that in his absence, a subtle and lovely monster had crept into his brother's heart, and played upon his lust for vengeance. Her name was Ruby, and though Sam Winchester knew better than to trust a demon, still his heart was broken and his hopes were all dust, and every waking moment was sullied with the knowledge of the agonies his brother suffered for his sake. So when Ruby came to him offering power, offering hope, he believed he had nothing left to lose. And so of his own free will he let her sully his tongue with drops of tainted blood the like of which he had tasted when he was a six month babe. And when he felt the strength that coursed through his limbs, he saw only the hopes of taking his revenge upon the creatures who took his brother, and knew nothing of the peril into which he trod.

When Dean was returned to him, young Sam could have left Ruby and her promises behind – but he had tasted power, and his heart still yearned for vengeance; and, moreover, the world was growing ever more terrible, and his brother ever more brittle and in need of protection from the interference of demons and angels alike – and so Sam continued to partake of the demon's blood, and so it wrought its subtle changes upon his body and his soul.

Until at last, seeing that Sam was becoming something terrible, and fearing for his soul (for Dean had his own experience of being transformed into something monstrous by the influence of demons, and knew what it meant to feel humanity being flayed away, and he could not stand to see the same thing happen to the brother he loved more than life itself) Dean tried to intervene.

This did not go well.

And so it came about that, as Dean Winchester lay bleeding on the floor where Sam had put him, and looked up despairingly at the monster his brother was fast becoming, their father's words came unbidden to his lips: “If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back...”

Whether the words were whispered into his year by some sprite of malice or by some subtle seraph, they were the very worst words that Dean could possibly have uttered at that moment. And so Sam Winchester closed his heart and turned his back on love and hope and family, on guilt and duty and fraternal love, and he left with the demon Ruby and did not look back. She smiled a smile both fierce and lovely, and kissed him only twice: once to numb him from the pain, and the second time to cause him to forget about Dean and his family...

Oh Fay, that's lovely.

Seconding Deena. But you may want to correct

whispered into his year

to: "whispered into his ear"

Cheers, pet!

Ohhhh Fay. Tears and chills, both. Lovely and succinct and piercing and edged with glittering shards of hope. You are going to share this elsewhere, right? 'Cause, ...just 'cause.