Oh, Fay, that was lovely! It blended the two worlds quite nicely and with that little bit of Tam Lin thrown in, it quite gave me the chills when you described Simon holding on to River through all those changes. Well done! And while I wouldn't mind more, I do think that you've drawn it to a very satisfying conclusion.

Just a bit of e-mail to break up all the phone call bits
snarkydoc@ppth.com

Mom, no fair. Make Foreman stop touching me...when are you coming back? I don't get to do *any* fun procedures anymore.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com

I don't know; how's it really going?

snarkydoc@ppth.com

Saved 2 out of 3, but I think you and I might have saved the third too. Have some guilt to go with your Hollywood nookie, Cuddy.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com

Who says nookie anymore, and I thought you said guilt was useless.

snarkydoc@ppth.com

It is...unless...is it working? How is the himbo anyway? Any more infections for you to clear up?

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com
Honestly, House...sigh. People die when I'm right there, too.:(

And don't say those things about Vince. He's much deeper than he looks.

Snarkydoc@ppth.com

Wouldn't he have to be? And his creative mind must be responsible for the bitchin' new e-mail address.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com
Couldn't keep using "Partypants" could I?

snarkydoc@ppth.com
It seemed funny at the time. Oh, and Queens Boulevard sucked.

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com
I loved it...

snarkydoc@ppth.com
Loved *it* or loved *him*

Lisa_cuddy@yahoo.com

Can I get back to you on that? And how can you still be asking me things that give me a headache from this far away?

snarkydoc@ppth

I keep telling you, I'm that good, Cuddy.

Yay!

Fay, you're an alchemist beyond compare. How you manage to get dialogue that would be at home in Hornblower or Temeraire as well as PotC still sound like it came from the mouths of the Serenity crew we know... It's a wonder. And I want more--much more!--of this tale. How does a year's worth sound to you? Could you spin us tales over a year's time? We'll pay you in...um, porn, of your choice? Pretty pretty pictures of pretty pretty people? Pretty words about lovely lads and lasses practicing lascivious deeds? Sweets? Chocolate? Name your price, dear. Just give us more of this 'verse, please.

This has only a tangential relationship to what I've been writing, but a giant John Hughes fan like me couldn't resist.
SHERMER HIGH SCHOOL

CHICAGO

SPRING 1985

"Come with me,"Even making this innocuous request, Ari Gold was practically bouncing out of his skin.Lisa didn't know how he managed; he barely drank coffee.

"Seriously? It's Friday night and it's spring, and you can think of nothing better than to go to some art theater and watch "Raging Bull" again? Get some fresh air or something."

"You like De Niro." His look turned pleading, but if Lisa didn't watch out, he'd take every minute of her time.

"Yes, and I like you too, but I need a little space, Ari. Jeez."She had another friend who liked her this much, but they were both eight and girls and if she'd had breasts then, she doubted if Monica Green would look at them very much. On the other hand, Ari wouldn't covet her Barbie Dream Car.

"Come over this weekend, then. My mother is worried that I don't have non- AV friends."

"Your dad doesn't like me."

"My dad would love it if I could turn into you. Serious, A-student who wants to be a doctor? You are Ezra Gold's perfect child. Minus some important pelvic adjustments of course."

"If you want to go to the movies, take one of those blonde girls whose chests you're always staring at."

"I'd stare at yours, but you told me you'd hurt me."

"I meant it too."

"I know...you remind me every chance you get. But those girls don't know anything. They talk and chew gum during the movies."

"So, you like me because I'm fifty percent parent-approved and the perfect movie date? That's something, I guess. More than I get from the other guys at this shithole. Hey, you're not part of that little macho cadre that taped that guy's butt together, are you?"

"I wanted to, but..." Seeing Lisa's angry look, he amended his thought to "but I thought it over and I thought it would be wrong." This being-in-love stuff made being one of the guys almost impossible, if it wasn't already.

"That's why I like you, Ari Gold. You have principles."

Adorable! Like watching Sixteen Candles or Some Kind of Wonderful or something! Bless!

Well, it's been a busy couple of days in Fayland. I have committed tentacle porn and RPS (although the RPS could have had a find-and-replace with any names stuck in there, it really could - it was just the prompt that cracked me up too much to resist).

Here, however, I bring you fluffy Leverage fic as a palate-cleanser:

SORTED

"Gryffindor."

"Say what?"

"You. Gryffindor. With the chess-playing, and that whole crazy reckless run-headlong-into-war-zones thing. Gryffindor, definitely."

"Is this supposed to mean something to me?"

"Oh come on! Everybody's read Harry Potter!"

"..."

"Or seen the movies? I know you've seen the movies. Got to be living on Mars to not see any of the movies."

"I've not seen any of the movies, Hardison."

"You were on Mars?"

"Is this helping you fix my headset?"

"I'm just making conversation! While fixing your headset! I can multi-task! I am a multi-tasker!"

"Well - don't. Just fix the damned handset already."

"What you gonna do - hit me with your ninja moves, Eliot? Good luck getting the damned headset to work then!"

"You are testing my patience."

"Oh, no, come on - I know you love it really."

"See my face?"

"Yeah?"

"This is not my I-love-it face."

"..."

"This is my I-love-it face. See the difference?"

"...not so much, actually. It's like, one was grumpy, and one was surly. You know, Surly - the eighth dwarf, the one that left just before the other seven got famous."

"Just fix the headset."

"Now you're hurting my feelings, with all this surliness. I don't feel appreciated. I am a sensitive individual, and it's hard to concentrate on a delicate task like this when you're feeling all unappreciated."

"Fine. Fix the goddamn headset please."

"See, that wasn't so hard! You just turned my frown upside down! I'm feeling all motivated again!"

"..."

"Sophie, now - classic, old-skool Slytherin. She'd have joined the Deatheaters like that."

"You keep on talking, but all I'm hearing is: 'blah blah blah I'm an enormous geek blah blah blah.'"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"..."

"Nate, now - Nate's a tricky one. Back in the day, I would've said Gryffindor for sure, all the way - Boy Scout with a hero complex, y'know? And he's still that way, but he's also a lot sneakier than I'd figured. I'm thinking I had him wrong all along. I want to say Slytherin, because that's a metric butt load of sneaky he's got going on. But then other days I think, well, he's all about the loyalty, isn't he? That's his thing – devoted father, devoted husband, devoted drinker – so maybe Hufflepuff playing at being a Slytherin? A Slytherpuff? Or maybe he's a Gryffindor playing at being a Slytherin? A Gryfferin?”

“Still not seeing a working headset here, Hardison.”

“I'm getting there! Sheesh! This kind of job takes time! Do you know how many people there are on the planet who could even identify these components, let alone manipulate them in just the right way? I'll tell you how many: one. Just one. And you're looking at him. If I charged by the minute, you'd be bankrupt.”

“...”

“I'm just saying.”

“Fine. Just – make it work, okay? I need it to work.”

“Nag, nag, nag. God, it's like having a wife, without all the hot sex and delicious cooking.”

“I can cook. I'm a very good cook, in fact.”

“With the little squeeze of lemon – yeah, I remember. Death-by-appetiser. And yet you never cook for me, do you? You're always off cooking for some other person. I just get the nagging.”

“You want me to cook for you? Fine. Fine, I'll cook for you. Just fix the damned headset before I die of old age, and I'll celebrate by cooking something.”

“...you're kidding, right?”

“I said it, didn't I? It's no big deal.”

“Huh. You gonna start offering me hot sex too, if I stick around long enough?”

“It's a good headset, but it's not that good.”

“Don't listen to him, baby! (continued...)

( continues...) You are cutting edge! You are state-of-the-art!”

“...”

“...”

So what about you, then? Gryffindor?”

“Ha ha! Did I just hear you embracing the geeky side of The Force there, Eliot?”

“No! Jesus! Just passing time. Not like I know what the hell you're talking about, so I don't know why I'm bothering to indulge you like this.”

“Ravenclaw, since you ask. Like my girl Luna. 'Cause I am the brains of this outfit.”

“Don't let Nate hear you say that.”

“Nate Schmate. You guys would all be screwed without my technical wizardry, and you know it.”

“Don't flatter yourself. You nearly done?”

“Patience, grasshopper.”

“...”

“You didn't ask about Parker.”

“That's because I don't give a rat's ass which Hogwarts House you think any of would be sorted into! Jeez!”

“...which Hogwarts...now just one minute. I do not believe I mentioned anything about Hogwarts, or said the word 'House', or mentioned the Sorting Hat. No, I'm pretty sure I didn't. There something you want to share with the class, Eliot?”

“...fuck.”

“Oh, you are so busted, Mr High-and-Mighty-Too-Busy-Saving-Third-World-Countries-To-Read-A-Kids'-Book!”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, this is great – I've got to tell Sophie, she'll laugh her ass off. She'll think it's adorable. You're adorable, Eliot.”

“I can break you into many, many small pieces, Hardison. Many. And I don't need no magic wand to do it.”

“Adorable!”

“Can you just maybe please concentrate on fixing my goddamn headset?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...oh, fine. Fine. I give in. Which House would Parker be sorted into?”

“...”

“Do not look at me like that, Hardison!”

”Adorable.”

“Hardison!”

“Okay, well – it's a good question. At first I thought Slytherin, because she's real focussed, is Parker, real goal-orientated. But she's not so much of a long-term-strategy kinda girl. And also, she's kind of a big old marshmallow deep down – I just don't think she's ruthless enough for Slytherin.”

“She killed her own parents!”

“...well, yeah, okay, there is that. Yeah. But I was thinking maybe Ravenclaw, like my girl Luna and me. I mean, you should have seen her at that orphanage, man! We had a moment. It was real touching. I was touched. I mean not touched touched – nothing sleazy or nothing, don't get me wrong. Just – sweet, you know? She can be very sweet.”

“Sweet? Parker? Hell, I bet even Voldemort had his lighter moments. Probably helped little old ladies across the road in his spare time, or something. But still: parents? Dead.”

“You make a compelling point.”

“Slytherin. Definitely Slytherin.”

“Hmm.”

“You nearly done?”

“What? Oh – nah, there's still the whozit and the thingamujig to reconfigure.”

“...you fixed it already, didn't you?”

“Um. Well. Kinda, yeah.”

“When?”

“'Bout thirty seconds after you handed it to me.”

“What the...why do you always do this? It pisses me off, man!”

“Bullshit. You were enjoying yourself, and you know you were. You were embracing your Inner Geek. Don't be ashamed! Let your freak flag fly!”

“You are...you...my God, you're annoying!”

“And you're adorable.”

“Don't use that word.”

“Or what?”

“...”

“Is that your scary face? Is that your I'm-gonna-whoop-your-ass-Hardison face? 'Cause I've got to tell you – it's adorable.”

“Hardison.”

“Oh, what you gonna do to me? You gonna kick my ass? Man, you can't even reach my ass from down there! You gonna....mmmph!”

“...”

“...”

“I'm gonna do that.”

“...”

“Was that adorable enough for you, Hardison? Was it?”

“...You...I...well for the love of...mmmph!”

“...”

“...”

“And you're wrong, by the way. I'd be in Slytherin. I'm an excellent strategist.”

“I don't know, dude. I think you might have got Godrick Gryffindor's sword in your pocket. You think we should check, just to be sure?”

“I think that's the best idea you've had all day.”

“What did I tell you? I'm the (continued...)

( continues...) brains of the outfit.”

“...”

“...oh! Hey, you're still cooking me dinner, right?”

“I don't know, Hardison. I'm feeling all unappreciated right now. I think I might need a little motivation.”

“See, this is what I'm talking about. Nag, nag, nag. You better be a damn good cook, mister.”

“Anybody ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Well, there was this one guy, this tiny, surly little ninja warrior type, and he...mmmmph!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...definitely Gryffindor.”

“...”

“...”

“Dude, I'll cook you breakfast, lunch and dinner if you just keep – right – on – doing – that!”

“Now that's what I call a happy face!”

FINIS

Eeeeeeeeee!

Oh my, and *this* is *my* happy face! Perfect Hardison and Eliot. Per.fect.

Eeexcept, one teeeeeny tiny little thing. One of those little bitty things that just make me 'splodey. There is no 'tate' in oriented! I know! It's like this big secret that hardly anybody knows. Apparently not even Hardison!

Other than that, Perfect!

Glad you liked it!

Orientated. Hmm. I could make an argument for it as a back-formation that dates back to the mid 19th century, but on the whole if it were in a narrative bit I'd probably rather go with 'Oriented', you're quite right. Because I can totally understand the flinch reflex.

BUT - which do you think Hardison would say?

t sincere. has no clue which way he'd jump