Meme Drabbles: PG - PG-13, panfandom.

[sam_storyteller]

Here are the collected Drabbles from yesterday's meme. :) There's one original fic and one "Ellis" fic, three Potter fics, two Discworld fics, two Lord Peter fics, three Housefics, and three crossovers.

Enjoy. :) Nothing R-rated.

Warnings: None.

kadollan: Remus/Sirius, Marauders-Era

The lake was freezing even in summertime, but "swimming" was a good excuse for lying around nearly-naked on the nice days in May. Even Remus had caved and was wearing cuffed trousers and a Hogwarts shirt with the sleeves rolled past his elbows.

Padfoot, unafraid of cold, came rampaging out of the water and flopped on the grass. Remus reached out to rub his ears and Sirius changed back abruptly; Remus found himself with one hand tangled in Sirius' thick, wet hair.

"Good dog," he whispered.

"Always," Sirius said, and stole his first kiss while James was looking the other way.

***

melayneseahawk: Remus/Sirius: Pre-31 October, 1981

"It's disgusting," Sirius said firmly. "Married people oughtn't do that."

"You don't think it's nice?" Remus asked, watching James and Lily from across the room. They had come to the Hallowe'en party as Merlin and Nimue, which was -- yes, a bit cheesy, he'd admit.

"It's boring," Sirius answered. He had come as Pan, allowing him to wear as few clothes as possible. Remus, more modestly, had nicked James' old game robes and come as a Quidditch player.

"Boring does not automatically equate to disgusting," Remus replied. "I'm boring."

Sirius glanced at him. Suddenly Remus felt actually pretty naked.

"Anything but," said Pan.

***

siegeofangels: Remus, something happy.

It was evening in London, and Harry had finished with Order business for the day; he found Remus sitting on the back porch of Grimmauld Place, sunk in thought.

"You're really not going back to Hogwarts tomorrow?" Remus asked him, accepting the cold butterbeer Harry offered.

"Nope," Harry said.

"What are you going to do with all that free time?" Remus asked, smiling. Harry looked out at the ratty, overgrown garden that nobody had bothered or been able to fix.

"Plant some trees," Harry said. "Want to help?"

Remus smiled at him, an almost excited smile. "Yes! That would be lovely."

***

simon: Anything Ellis Graveworthy.

"Go on," Draco said, elbowing Harry sharply. "Ask him."

"That's Ellis Graveworthy!" Harry hissed. Much too loudly; the man at the bookshop counter looked up at the pair of them. Draco shoved Harry forward.

"M-mr. Graveworthy," Harry stammered. "Can I have your autograph?"

Ellis Graveworthy looked down at him, amused. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yessir."

"Which means this must be your young friend Mr. Malfoy. Unlucky name, poor lad," Graveworthy said. Draco smiled uncertainly. "Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you."

"Sir?"

Graveworthy took a small notebook out of his pocket, grinning. "I'll give you my autograph if you boys give me yours."

***

wanderingwidget: House, and Steve McQueen.

Wilson thought it wasn't hygenic to keep a rat in the kitchen, but Steve was only there when Wilson was. House knew rats came back to food; rats were intelligent and learned faster than humans. When Wilson wasn't around, Steve had the run of the place.

On cold mornings, Steve often skittered into the bedroom, curling up on House's left foot while he worked the knots out of his leg. Then there was cheese and eggs for breakfast, and life was measurably better.

"Only you would bond with a rat," Wilson said to him once, teasingly.

"He likes me," House replied.

***

koneko_meow: House; Wilson's reaction to House being shot.

House looked bad. His skin was grey, strung taut against his cheekbones, and his eyes were dull. Wilson stood in the doorway, watching him until House's gazed reached the door. His eyebrows lifted.

Wilson stepped into the room and glanced down at the floor, smiled, tried not to cry, pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," House answered.

"Feeling okay?"

"I am now," House slurred. "Morphine."

Wilson felt hysteria threaten again and smashed it down.

"I'll be fine," House assured him sleepily.

"Thought you'd like to know..." Wilson swallowed and plowed ahead, "I won the pool on when you'd be shot by a patient."

***

katharos_8: Vimes, and House!

L-Space, that transdimensional collapsing point brought on by large collections of books, was not supposed to be used as a travel agency, but it was the only way. Vimes was pacing impatiently by the time the Librarian returned, leading a man who looked...

Remarkably like Vimes, actually. Excepting the cane.

"You're the roundworld doctor?" Vimes asked abruptly as the man halted under the library's dome.

"My name is House," the man said. "I hear you have a plague for me."

Vimes nodded.

"Not much on words?"

"No, House."

"Good, me neither."

Vimes eyed him. "You won't last five minutes in Ankh-Morpork."

"I bite," House replied. Vimes grinned.

***

ekaterinn: House/Good Omens.

There was a convention in London, something about cancer, and Wilson had talked him into going along because, well, sometimes it was a difficult diagnosis.

But after the first two lectures, House had wandered out into the city, bored, and stumbled across a bookshop that looked interesting. Definitely interesting; there were two men at the till arguing religion. As he knew would happen, they eventually appealed to him.

"You," the one in the suit said, pointing. "Do you believe in divine retribution?"

"Only if I'm the one who gets to dole it out," House replied, grinning at him. "How much for the Dante?"

***

la_rainette: LONG SINCE OWED, but she said I could write about whatever I wanted, so I wrote
a rather over-length story about rollercoasters. :D

The rollercoaster always put me in mind of summer trips to the boardwalk, not carnivals like all the other kids; the carnivals never stopped in our town, because we had the boardwalk, that long strip of arcade games, dangerous rides, funnel-cake vendors. No scary circus animals or sideshow freaks, but sun and sand and water, surfers, people necking on towels.

The front car is where we always liked to sit, because supposedly it was the "best ride", so when it started rattling and jerking and stalling, I paid close attention. Must've spent a week under the track with a wrench and a screwdriver, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Finally one night I swore I'd solved it, and just to be sure I climbed in and had Andy the junior mechanic set it running; I was just up the first incline when I found out what the real problem was.

She was awfully pretty, wore a bathing suit and a skirt and hair from about fifty years back, when the rollercoaster was new. Her hands were grasping the bar that held both of us in place, and when she laughed the whole car shook.

I could just barely see through her.

When the ride ended I got out of the car pretty quiet-like and rubbed the back of my head.

"Tell you what," I said, "I think it's fixed. Go on home."

That night I broke into one of the cotton candy vendors' carts and carefully put a full helping under the seat, in a little brown box. The car still shook a bit, but I guess it made her happy, since it never stalled again.

Funny what people remember after they're dead.

***

naatz: Death of Rats, being visible to felines.

Death of Rats slid down the curtains and dashed across the floor, sidestepping a chair that the cat pursuing him ran directly into.

SNH. SNH. SNH.

"What is WRONG with that cat?" the woman of the house asked, annoyed.

"Don't cats act strange before natural disasters?" her husband replied.

"I hope that's not it."

A natural disaster was coming, all right. Death of Rats knew that much. Just not for the humans, unless their cat qualified as one.

There was a knock on the door.

"That's the exterminator," the woman said. "I called about our little..." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "rat problem."

***

chriek: Discworld: Archchancellor Ridcully and Science

"It's new," Ponder Stibbons said. This was both the best and the worst thing to say to the Archchancellor; Ridcully liked new things, but he also had certain....deep-rooted beliefs.

"Growin' tomatoes with teeth in a glass case? I should say so," Ridcully answered. In the background, Ponder could see Vimes trying not to laugh.

"We think, thur, that with the help of Unseen University we could expand our research considerably," Igor said.

"What is 'science' exactly?" Ridcully asked. Ponder cleared his throat.

"Well..."

"You give uth money," Igor said, "And we make things explode."

There was a tense moment.

"Jolly good!" said Ridcully cheerfully.

***

ariastar: Aziraphael meets Sherlock Holmes.

"It's the only copy in England," Holmes said as they stepped into the bookshop. "I doubt he'll part with it easily."

"But why is this book so important?" Watson asked.

"It is the foremost explication on medieval deductive methods. Good morning," Holmes said. "Mr. Fell, I take it."

"Mr. Holmes," Fell said, smiling from behind the till. "A pleasure to have you in my shop, sir."

"Your reputation precedes you," Watson murmured.

"I should like to purchase a book you possess," Holmes said promptly. "Price is very little issue."

Aziraphael smiled. "Of course. Won't you have tea first?"

Holmes never did get his hands on that book.

maeritrae: Captain Jack Sparrow meets Lord Peter Wimsey.

When he was nine, Peter developed a cough that worried his mother enough to take him to Port Royal for a few months to recover. He did so speedily; Peter loved the warm Caribbean air and exploring the countryside.

He found himself, one day, sitting with an elderly man who had dreadlocked white hair and a pirate's swagger.

"Once I was young like you," the man said nostalgically. "Captain of the Black Pearl, I was, terror of the seas."

"Are you still a pirate?" asked the sleek-haired little boy. The man laughed.

"No! I'm a legend. Lad, shake hands with Captain Jack Sparrow."

***

timetiger: Lord Peter, something about the Great War.

They didn't come together very often, especially now that most of them were married, but when they did, they tried to tell happy stories, to stave off the memory a bit.

"Do you remember the time we got cut off from the supply line?" Gensen asked.

"Which one?" Lord Peter inquired.

"The time we heard about the greenhouse a mile off -- "

"Right! And Bunter and I ran along ahead shouting THERE WILL BE BANANAS!"

"A good time," Bunter agreed.

"We lost three though, coming back," one man said softly. "What were their names?"

Most of them cast about, until Lord Peter cleared his throat.

"Anders, Edly, and Young," he said.

That was what all the men liked about Lord Peter. He never forgot.