Chase's agent Gold looked at me as if I were something the dog dug up and said "Miss Gordon should make sure you have everything you need," and he flashed me a tight little smile, as if he hoped everything I needed was a blindfold and a cigarette for the firing squad.

"Of course, I'd be happy to, Mr. Gold," Miss Gordon said. Unless I missed my guess there was no great love lost between Miss Gordon and her boss. Although she tried to act liked the model employee(something I'd never been good at, and which sent me after the war straight into the gumshoe game. I hoped never to take orders again.) Miss Gordon's expensive French perfume reminded me that taking orders could be very lucrative.

"Hold my calls, Miss Gordon," he said, from halfway down the hallway.

"Of course, Chief," she said and winked at me, as she covered her typewriter with a snap.

"You know, if you're busy, I could come back later."

"Not at all...he always makes me do something like that to show off how important he is...please call me Dana. I don't feel like Miss Gordon."

"You don't look like Mr. Gordon either, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Well, at least you asked first..." Dana said. "Do you have a cigarette...I'm about to die and he won't allow them in his inner sanctum."

I lit one for her and there was a pause as smoky as Dana's tone."You're sure I'm not keeping you from something...more official?"

"Nah...everyone who's anyone is in Palm Springs for this whole month."

"And Gold isn't anyone?"

"Not yet, but he'd like to be..."

I considered the opulent furniture, meant more to be photographed then sat upon, and Miss Gordon herself, chosen as carefully by Gold as she had been chosen more than a decade earlier to fill the Jewish quota at some Eastern women's college. "And all this?"

She blushed. "Family money. Mrs. Gold is definitely someone and she's summering in Palm Springs. Or as much of it as she can see from the bottom of a highball glass." She put her hand to her mouth. "I'm absolutely not supposed to tell anyone that."

"If it's not part of the investigation," I reassured her. "I won't say anything.What do you know about Vincent Chase?"

"Vinny? We all love Vinny...sweet guy, seems like a terrific talent."

I must have looked skeptical because she said "After a while, you get an eye, and can find the gold, no pun intended, among the schmucks He has something that makes everyone want to look at him all the time." Despite the chill in the room, I was suddenly flushed and felt that my tie was too tight. For it was true...I'd already spent more time than strictly neccessary eyeballing my famous client. I told myself that I had to think like him to protect him, but when Dana said that, I felt called out.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Did Warners' send you? Because if they did, I don't think we have anything else to discuss."

"I'm not really supposed to say," I explained. "it's not official privilege, like with lawyers, but we still try to keep our clients confidential."

"Well, I guess I'll tend to my manicure," and she pulled out some Rich Girl red and began touching up her nails with it.

"C'mon, Dana...you can't just drop big hints about Warners and then not tell me anything..."

"Oh, yeah...watch me."

"okay, then, I'm breaking a rule too...Vinny hired me...pulled the wrinkled bills out of his wallet and everything."

"Jesus."

"So, what happened with Warners, Dana?"

"Mr. Gold had a confrontation with the president there about Vince's contract...they want to loan Vince out to make a Western...isn't that ridiculous? I mean, if it's not Stickballs Along The Mohawk...if he belongs in a Western I'm Dale Evans. But they are probably going to have to do it."

A short one this time...True Blood/ No Reservations gen [link] [link] [link]

Bear in mind, I don't write Supernatural fic, but I have a bunny that's breeding the longer I leave it. I'm begging Amy for as much help as she can give.

Premise: A family is at the center of suspicious deaths (all of fright), and the boys have just interviewed the parents. As they're leaving the fruitless interview, they spot two of the family's children eavesdropping:

There's a staggered pair of eyes peering around the corner at them, and Sam nudges Dean in that direction. Eric steps forward, arm protectively behind him around his sister. As Sam moves closer, Cynthia tries even harder to disappear, pulling Eric's T-shirt tight as she wraps her tiny fists in it.

Dean catches Sam's eyes and gives him a short shake of the head. Let him take the lead on this one.

"You guys know something about all this, don't you?" The pairs of siblings pull up closer to each other, Cynthia still hiding behind her brother, and Eric bracing himself, puffing up to seem as big as possible. "You've heard…or even seen something that might help us."

Sam starts to talk and Cynthia flinches. With a quick gesture Dean signals for Sam to be quiet. This is possibly the only situation where everyone forgets that Dean's a big guy himself, standing next to Sam "Redwood" Winchester. Looks like he intended to use the size discrepancy to his advantage. Sam hangs back.

"Tell me about what you've seen..."

"Cynthia. Her name is Cynthia." Her brother reaches for her hand without needing to look and clasps it in his. "She can *see* it. I can only hear it. She's terrified and keeps ending up in my bed."

"Oh, man! That! When Sammy over there was your age, he ended up in my bed all the time. ALL the time."

"Seriously?" Cynthia speaks for the first time and looks directly up at Sam, who's doing the best he can to shrink and hide behind his bangs.

"Seriously." says Dean in an over-grave voice. "He was like a...like a clinging thing that clings every time he got scared."

"What did you do?" Eric asks.

"My job." Dean's tone is lighter now, sincere. His gaze is on the middle distance. "I protected him."

"Were they real, the monsters?" asks Cynthia, stepping out, still holding Eric's hand, but emboldened by the idea of this massive man scared like she was, and mesmerised.

"Sometimes, yeah."

"And then what?"

"I took care of them, didn't I, Sammy?"

Sam thinks back to when he learnt nightmares were more likely to come true than dreams. And shortly after that, he learnt his young teen brother was as adept with a handgun as with a shotgun, and slept with a hunting knife within reach. There were never monsters under Dean's bed, nor boogey men in *his* closet. They knew better. Sam was safe there.

"He sure did." Sam's eyes are soft, and Dean is smiling the smile he can only give to people who still have most of their innocence left.

"And he's grown up now, so we're both going to take care of whatever this is."

He reaches back and pats the flat of his hand against the expanse of Sam's chest. The sound is solid and reassuring.

"This is really scary, though." Eric is insistent. "What if it scares you? Grownups can totally get scared. I've seen it."

"We'll still take care of it. That's what being grownup means."

Ohhh, I want more.

I have a minor quibble--I don't think Cynthia would step all the way out from behind her brother, no matter how mesmerised she was. Partly, maybe. Leaning, peering. But she doesn't sound ready to step all the way out.

That said, I still want more.

Fantastic, ita !!

Seriously. Dean and kids just make me all heart-melty.

Thanks, That was the easy bit. Amy is going to help me with the hard stuff. My sister's going to help me with the lore, as will my parents.

I plain don't remember how to write a whole story.

I would definitely want to see more of this, ita.

I second the Dean and kids all melty part.

I'd love to read more.