How the Lark Sings

thefangjy:

1. Tries to get into the wrong apartment when drunk for the Smitten Kitten AU?


Pawing 

David awakes to a scratching kind of sound at his door. At first he thinks it’s Trevor, the wee devil. But then he sees the shadows against the hall light, and he sighs. He hauls himself up off his couch (where he spends most of his nights now). 

"Ooh!" Catherine squeals as the door opens up magically. "David, hi!—what are you…oh, this…this-s isss not my flat." 

"No, Catherine, it’s my flat," David smiles, tired but absolutely amused at Catherine’s behavior. "What are you doing out so late?" 

"I-I went to a party," she whispers, giddy like it’s the biggest thing to happen in her life since sliced bread. "A-And, an-n-nd, and I-I…I think th’ss some vd’dka in m’cranburry juss." 

"You don’t drink," David raises his left brow in neither a tease nor a question nor a statement. 

"Sh," Catherine places her finger clumsily to her plump lips. 

Wow does he ever wanna just kiss them right now. “You should go to bed, Kitten.” 

Catherine breaks into an all new fit of giggles, though, leaning into him before she even knows he’ll catch her. But of course he’d catch her, because it’s David, and David is awesome and smart and he has a cute bum. “I like it w’nn you call me Kitt’n.”

"Yeah?" David smiles tiredly. He adjusts her so he can basically drag her into his place. 

"Mm, isss’so cute," Catherine sighs against David’s chest/shoulder (she’s not really sure what part of him it is). "And it means’ss yer my boii fr’nnd."

"It does?" David continues to smirk to himself. Oh, he’ll have plenty of fun with this tomorrow, but right now they both need sleep. "Well, as your boyfriend I order you to come to bed." 

"Okay, but m’m too t’r’d fur sex’ss," Catherine slurs as David eases her to the couch. 

"Can’t believe I’m saying this, but me too, Cath." David slumps down to the couch as well, at least content to have Catherine curl up to him in her buzzed fog of fatigue. He sighs into her hair, hoping they’ll both have enough rest to face tomorrow. That, and he’ll have to get up to take care of that wee devil across the hall. 


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lady-macgyver:

I think I have to stop sending asks on mobile...I'm not sure if people get what I send them! May you write 4 for Ten/Donna and/or 5 for Emmett/Alicia, please? :)


Morning After 

"Oh, God," Donna pressures her fingers along her forehead. She’s not sure what’s worse, her pressure application or the natural throbbing within her skull. 

What the hell…? 

There was Martha, and meeting up for drinks after work. And Martha had a friend with her…some handsome American stud. Oh, yes, remembered him…but there was someone else with them. Tall, dark and handsome…he had a weird name, and he smelled like ideas, and tasted like—wait. 

Donna blinks her eyes to adjustment as she looks around her. She’s in a bedroom, but not her bedroom. Granted she is alone and dressed, so that’s not a bad bad starting place. What’s next? She has her phone and other pocket stuff on a night table beside her, with her purse on the floor. Okay, so she wasn’t shagging and she wasn’t robbed, both of which are great. 

"Morning, Miss Noble!" bounds in, speak of the devil, tall-dark-and-handsome. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like I’ve been hit by a truck," Donna murmurs and sits herself up in the bed, which she now realizes is very comfy. "Mind telling me where I’ve landed myself?" 

"Oh, yes, I’m the Doctor, and this is my…place," he grins brightly. "You, Martha and Jack all had a shot contest for good ol’ times sake. Rest assured you won, but none of you were in any condition to go anywhere afterwards, so I brought you all here. Jack is down the hall and Martha is in h—another room." 

"Right," Donna nods, happily accepting the pill and water handed to her. "How do they feel?" 

"Dunno, haven’t asked them yet," the Doctor shrugs, still on the edge of Donna’s bed as she downs the water.

"Are they not up yet?" Donna blinks, already feeling better. What sort of alien technology is this? 

The Doctor grins brighter still. “Haven’t checked on them yet. I wanted to see you first.” 

"W-Why?" Donna whips her head up now. it still hurts a little, but more of a concern is why did he wanna see her first? Did they do something? And what does she look like? 

The Doctor smiles as Donna runs a hand over her terrific, outstanding, totally beautiful hair. “Cause you’re special.” 

Mutuality 

"Emmett, this is Alicia; Alicia, this is Emmett." 

Taking their attention away from Ellie, both parties smile nervously. 

Emmett offers a greatly uncomfortable wave before hooking his thumbs into his back pockets. He can’t believe he agreed to this. He’s never been good with blind dates, let alone set ups. 

Alicia seems no more at ease, offering nothing short of politeness, and sure as hell nothing more. She holds onto her little clutch for dear life, as if it’s the only thing that’ll get her through this. 

"Now, stop looking like I’ve strapped a bomb to both of you. I already told you, you’re perfect for each other." Ellie sighs, seeing her two friends continue to flounder. "AndIknowneitherofyouhavehadsexinforeverokaydiscuss."

"Miller!" Emmett growls but she’s already gone, scurrying for her life and smartly so. 

Alicia sighs forlornly as her friend disappears, now thoroughly embarrassed. Just because she said she’d like to meet him doesn’t mean she’s ready to be set up. Well, her actual words were somewhere along the lines of “Emmett sounds like the perfect man”. 

"Sorry, about this," Emmett rubs his scruffy cheeks. He didn’t even get enough warning to shave! Not that he shaves anyway, and Ellie might have let slip while she was drunk "Alicia thinks guys with scruff are really sexy so don’t shave this thursday". 

"No, it’s…" Alicia shakes her head with a shy smile. There isn’t really a name for this, but they’re certainly in the same boat. "Ellie means well." 

"That she does," Emmett smiles a little easier now. He holds out a hand and Alicia takes a seat on the bar stool. It looks weird though. She’s too pretty to belong on something as common as Sandy’s old bar seats. She’s pretty in, like, the classical way, like paintings. 

"I’m fresh from a divorce, but that doesn’t explain why she’s so desperate to set you up," Alicia encourages the conversation on. She sets her clutch on the bar, facing Emmett partly with a coy body language.

It works, and Emmett finds himself eager to spend more time with the beautiful friend of a friend. “Well, Ellie thinks I’m too tense for the real world, and that one day I’m gonna explode all over HQ.” 

"Well, we wouldn’t want that," Alicia’s eyes sparkle as she realizes she hasn’t flirted with anyone for ages. This is fun, and she thinks she’s quite good at it, actually. 

"Nope, can’t have that in the station," Emmett smiles back easily. 

"Well, perhaps you’ll have to buy me a drink," Alicia flips her hair over her shoulder. She’s got this: "and we’ll see what we can do about that."


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Anonymous:

Diner worker and frequent customer for Twelve/Donna?


lady-macgyver:

Same Time, Different Day

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the-girl-from-scotland:

9 - Both meeting while trying to survive zombie attack for Alec/Sarah; 10 - End up sitting next to each other at a show for Emmett/Alicia; 11 - Cop and someone in frequent trouble with the law for Nellie/Peter; thanks -XX


Messy 

"Ew!" Sarah cringes to herself as she extracts the indoor fire axe with a disgusting squishing noise. She can’t look; "ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" 

"Look out!" 

Sarah can only see it coming towards her before it drops to the ground. 

"Are you okay?" asks the man running over. He’s thinly built, but clearly no weakling. "It didn’t bite you, did it?—or scratch you?" 

"No, I’m fine," Sarah smiles tentatively. She holds her measly little axe close to her.

"I’m Alec Hardy: DI, not that it matters these days." 

Sarah nods timidly. “I-I’m just trying to get somewhere safe.” 

"I have somewhere," Alec extends his hand kindly. It’s not always wise to take in strangers in this day and age but she’s so sweet. She allows him to take her soft little hand and there’s no way she could be dangerous. "What’s your last times for everything?—food, sleep, shower?" 

Sarah twitches her lips at herself. It’s been longer than she’d want to say since she had a shower, and she’s sure it’s evident on her face when she last slept. “I am pretty hungry.” 

Alec smiles at her very deliberate words. He is impressed that a fragile Darlin’ like her has lasted this long just on her own. She’s clearly not a fighter anyway. Her pretty red hair is a little tired looking, but nothing compared to his own, he’s sure. She looks tired though. 

"And I’m sure I’m a mess," Sarah laughs lightly at herself. Alec allows a chuckle and she appreciates the lightness of the situation. 

"Nah," Alec offers in a soft tone, although his voice does still have gruff quality to it. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in ages." 

Sarah feels a little breathless at the sheer honesty in his voice. He looks completely genuine too, and she offers a shy smile in return. She at least feels like less of a mess now, despite everything around them. 

On the Right Track 

"Pardon me," Emmett hears to his right. He knew he should have taken the aisle seat. "Thank you, Albert." 

Emmett rolls his eyes to himself; probably some dame dragging her husband our for a disappointing date night. He closes his program. 

"I beg your pardon," comes a soft voice. 

Emmett drags his head up with effort. He doesn’t really like the theater to begin with, and then being stood up for a show he already paid for?—not a great way to top it off! Still, he supposes that’s no reason to spoil everyone else’s mood. “Yeah, what can I do for ya… “

She blinks at his unfinished question. “Could I…ask you what time it is?” 

"Uh," Emmett stutters, still marveling at his stunningly beautiful seat mate. "Y-Yeah, yeah, it’s…8:30."

"Brilliant," she smiles, sounding frightfully English. Her eyes flick to his, and he finds that he can see their clear blue color even in the dim theater light. Her lashes flutter, "thank you." 

"No problem," Emmett murmurs inarticulately. Even after the woman turns back to her older companion he keeps looking. 

The man at the aisle catches Emmett’s eyes on her and smiles. “My dear, I believe the man may wish to ask you something.” 

Emmett panics—blind, flat out panics. Why the hell would that dude say that?! Maybe he was perfectly happy to just drool over her silently! 

"Oh," she turns back to him with wide blue eyes. "I’m sorry, did you?" 

Emmett blinks a little unevenly. “I’m Emmett…what-what’s yours?” 

"I’m Alicia," the woman smiles, but tilts her head. She blinks cutely. 

"I, uh, I admit," Emmett leans a little in his seat, "I’m not really familiar with this show." 

Alicia nods and leans in as well. “Well, I quite like it. It’s a wonderful story. Do you know the premise?” 

"It’s set in the 20’s," Emmett smirks slightly at himself. "And I’m guessing it takes place in Chicago." 

Alicia laughs delicately into her fingers, and it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “You’re certainly on the right track.” 

Lawful Chaos

"Is this really necessary?" Nellie tugs at the cuffs latching her to a desk. 

"Save it, Princess," Peter mutters with his muddy boots up on the desk. Alec will kill him, again, and Captain Carver won’t be pleased. Aw, whatever, he’s a rookie—therefore he gets away with a lot of stupid shit. "You know the rules. I catch you on private property, you and I spend a nice cozy date night in here." 

Nellie rolls her eyes as dramatically as possible. “It’s a pool, in september! It’s not like anyone’s using it!” 

"Doesn’t matter," Peter sighs.

"Come on, I—ow!" 

Peter snarls as he slams his feet down on the floor again. Why is she always so resistant? It’s not like this is the first time Nellie Bertram has been brought in here. Of course it doesn’t help things that her skeezy boyfriend always sells her out, so then Peter has to bring her in. What a fuckin’ tool that guy is. 

"What?" Nellie snaps as what’s-his-name-mcnark-face walks over. 

"Stop pulling, you’re gonna hurt yourself, you idiot," Peter mutters nice and low. He almost sounds sexy when he does that. "Let me see." 

"It’s fine," Nellie wishes she could draw away, but she’s literally at the end of her leash, and her wrists really is starting to hurt. 

"Just let me see it," Peter speaks as quietly as he can, so the other pricks on night shift can’t give him a hard time about it.

Nellie’s not a bad kid, and she’s around the age he was when he got into all kinds of shit. Granted that was probably only four years ago tops. Still, Nellie a nice girl, and he doesn’t like hauling her in here just because her douchebag boyfriend isn’t worth her spit. 

Nellie feels her breath leave her all at once as Peter lowers himself to examine her reddened wrist. He crouches down, almost eye level with her, and she wonders if her heart pounding and the fact that she can’t remember Henry’s last name is a sign. “See…it’s fine.” 

Peter shoots her a withering glare, although his fingers tenderly brushing over her raw skin betray him. “Relax, Babe, don’t make this worse for yourself.” 

Although she could complain about him calling her babe, Nellie admits that she’d much rather just get a wrist massage from a man in uniform while watching his deep brown eyes. In fact, she’s already used to it, so maybe her next step can be enjoying it. 


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This is really striking, Georgie. Their hatred at the beginning is raw and true and it does lead naturally to going to the pub and then how what happened afterwards haunts them to a beautiful union. It’s brilliant!

Thanks, Ames, I did like writing it, as painful as it was. They’re just so tension-y!


thenoblelark:

How about 1: Tries to get into the wrong apartment drunk for Nellie/Peter, please?


lady-macgyver:

Up Against the Door

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These two are so adorable! Randomly, I had to email this Italian guy for work and his name was Giac too so I immediately thought of you and these two idiots. I hope he never comes to my office because if he looks nothing like David I will be crushed.

Aw, I suppose that would be disappointing. Don’t give up, though, your David is out there somewhere! :D


the-girl-from-scotland:

7 - Tried to check out the same book at library for a pairing of your choice, thanks -XX


To The Letter 

"Giac?" 

"Is?" 

"Sh!" the librarian hushes two of her common goers. 

Isabelle leans in, lowering her gentle voice. “Giac, what are you doing?” 

"Checking out a book," he replies innocently enough. "What are you doing?" 

"Checking out a book!" Isabelle hisses as quietly as she can while still conveying her irritation with him. "Since when do you come to the library?"

"I read," Giacomo snipes in his defense. He raises a single brow at his companion. He stands tall enough to see down the (freckly) bridge of her nose, while he’s sure she can only see his eyes and upward. 

"I didn’t say you didn’t," Isabelle rolls her eyes. "I asked when you ever come to the library, since I never see you here." 

"Well, I wanted a change in scenery," Giacomo shrugs as if it’s unsurprising for him to be there. 

"Depositing another one of your love letters in a back-shelf book, I’m sure," Isabelle scoffs and seizes the initial target for herself. 

"Hey," Giac glances down briefly. Of course, with the slot opened up he can see her more fully. He can see her pretty blue dress and how her hair is loose today. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," he answers a little too quickly. Still looking her up and down a smile overtakes him. "You look nice." 

Isabelle likes to pretend that she doesn’t blush at his compliment, genuine as he may make it seem for this one instance. “Save it for Henriette.”

"Oh," the Italian raises both brows now, illustrating the twinkle in his unnaturally blue eyes. "A little green eyed, are we, Milady?" 

"You wish," Isabelle attempts to flick her hair over her shoulder but it’s too long and thick and lush. Instead it drifts behind her as she walks away. "You think you’re such a ladies man." 

"Aw, come on, Isabelle," Giacomo trots to catch up with the ginger girl. He never noticed how cute she was before. Well, he kind of did, but was she always this cute? She’s so, so cute! “Give me a chance.” 

"You can always leave your flirt notes in another book, you know," Isabelle mutters crossly. 

"Maybe I just wanted to read the book." 

"Then, I-I don’t know, read another one! I’m getting this one!" This is what this idiot does to her. He makes her sound all…childish, and stupid.

"Can I get it after you? Better yet, we can read it together!" Giacomo suggests as Isabelle picks up pace, all but running away from him. "Your place, or mine?—never mind, we could read it after school? Unless you’d prefer a nicer venue. I could pick you up. Why don’t I? I’ll see you at seven?—okay, bye!" 

Isabelle halts abruptly but Giacomo Casanova passes right by her. He’s trotting like a happy little pony, and she’s left blushing in his wake?? “What just happened?!” 


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This is so perfectly Ben and Bea. I love it so much. I had a smile on my face the whole time I read it. Job well done, sweetheart!

Why thank you, my dear! It was longer and more dramatic than I anticipated but I’m glad it’s gone over well. :)


noblydonedonnanoble:

Tries to get into the wrong apartment when drunk for Emmett/Alicia? :)


Slip 

"Whoa!" 

Alicia squeaks as a body falls through her front door. She thought the knocking sounded odd, but when she looked out the peephole all she saw was someone’s back. She thought maybe it was the mail man. 

"Sorry!" Emmett rushes in apology. He could try to shoot to his legs but they’re not doing the best at the moment. "Sor-I’m so sorry." 

Alicia stands back, clasping her robe around her. 

"Sorry, I’m sorr…" Emmett loses his train of thought as, rolling over to get up, his eyes meet two long pairs of legs. They’re pale, bur freckly, and it takes him what feels like years to get all the way up to the lady’s face. He blinks a few times, unevenly at that. Who is this? 

"Um, I think you have the wrong flat."

Flat…flat?…flat!—she’s British! She’s that…British woman one floor down from him! Oh, what’s her name?! “S-Sorry, uh, um, Miss…Windham?” 

"Winthrop," she smiles rigidly. "Mister Carver, may I get you a cold glass of water?—or hot coffee?" 

"Coffee to drink," Emmett attempts to stand again. He’s glad he’s a good speaker when drunk, but this is still an embarrassment of an interaction. "Maybe throw the water at me if you think it’ll help." 

Alicia nods, edging closer in case he splits his head open on her kitchen island. He does stumble a little, but she keeps him from imminent death. Well, that and he manages to slide his hand down her bum, just a little. 

"Sorry!" Emmett yelps as if something has bitten him. He feels flushed, but at least he’s getting more aware of things (like how miraculously soft and…plump, and…cute…that…bum…is). "Sorry, I-I-I should - slip of the hand - I should go." 

"It’s okay," Alicia offers in consolation. She’s not the most graceful once she’s a few gin&tonics in the sack, and at least he’s apologetic. "I’ll get you that coffee." 

"Really, I do apologize," Emmett rubs his head as he sits himself down. It takes a minute to realize he has taken the liberty of sitting himself at her table, but still she’s only hospitable. "I’ll make it up to you…once this hangover clears up." 

"Rough night?" she offers lightly, although the more American idiom sounds wrong off her perfect lips.

"New rookies at the station," Emmett murmurs without a thought to his vernacular, or whether or not she’ll understand him. "That always means a night at Sandy’s and shots until you drop."

"Exciting," Alicia smiles. She sets the mug down as gently as she can, for his sake. His hand slides into the handle, over hers, too fast, though. Her skin tingles and her heart jumps. Well, that’s…unexpected. Then again, so was this whole encounter.

"Sorry," Emmett blinks again. The light isn’t so bad now, and he gets a good look at Miss Windh—no, no, Winthrop. Alicia Winthrop, that’s right. He smiles; she’s beautiful up close. "Well, not really."

Alicia tucks some hair back shyly and sips her own cup of coffee. “Slip of the hand, then?” 

"Wish I slipped more often," Emmett flirts back and feels better already as Alicia’s skin tints faintly pink. Freud be damned, he likes slipping.


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