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apocalypsos) wrote2006-04-18 09:00 pm
apocalypsos) wrote2006-04-18 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: This Is How Things Break (The 4400)
Title: This Is How Things Break
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: The 4400
Rating: R
Word Count: 856 words
Pairing: Shawn/Isabelle (Further proof I'm going to hell! *happy dance* :))
Warnings: Sexual situations
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Everything about her is a mistake waiting to happen.
Author's note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
illmantrium, with the prompt, 4400, any pairing, must use the words 'little black dress'.
*****
This Is How Things Break
*****
Shawn still can't decide if it was a good idea or a bad idea to bring Isabelle as his date to the fundraiser, because she's still a novelty around here but there's something about her that sets everyone she touches at ease.
He also can't decide whether that creeps him out or not, the way she drifts her way though the crowd in that little black dress trailing her fingers along people's arms and hands and leaving a wake of warm smiles behind her.
*****
He talks to Jordan because it feels good to talk to him again, even if there's something spacey about Jordan since he wandered back to the world, even if every once in a while Shawn thinks Jordan might not be telling something he probably should know. Kyle's still in jail -- attempted murder's still attempted murder, after all -- and talking about girls with Danny anymore is just asking for trouble.
"A few months ago, she was an infant," Shawn says, and whenever he mentions it anymore, Jordan laughs.
"Two decades ago, so were you," Jordan points out. "I think we're the worst people on the planet to be picky about the vagaries of time and age, don't you?"
Shawn really doesn't have an argument against that one, not when Isabelle's laugh drives him as crazy as it does when it carries over the murmurs of the crowd at the fundraiser.
*****
It's Lilly who's the worst at keeping a straight face about the whole thing, whose expression always falls the moment she sees Isabelle across the room. Isabelle's in her own quarters at the Center now, no further down the hall than she'll allow for without driving Shawn up a wall, and Shawn's seen Lily pass the closed door time and again with her fist raised like she's about to knock. She never makes it that far, darting away with wide fearful eyes.
He's asked Isabelle about it before, when she takes up residence on his couch at night and talks to him for hours like there's something about this that isn't beyond ridiculous. She snuggles up with her long dark curls draping over her shoulders and a beer bottle in her hands, because hell, if he can drink, he doesn't see why she shouldn't be allowed to, either, aside from the part where she was a baby six months ago.
"You could talk to her first, you know," he says.
Isabelle always shakes her head in quiet acceptance. "She's afraid of me," she says, then lifts her gaze to him and says, "Wouldn't you be, in her situation?"
Sometimes when she says it, her fingertip drifts along the lip of the bottle absently, and it's all Shawn can do not to openly stare at it the way Lily's staring at them now, watching as he slips an arm around her waist and spins her around the dance floor.
*****
The official word on the fundraiser that the press is getting is something about medical benefits for the 4400. Taking care of their expenses following the incident with the government ... Shawn isn't even sure of the cover story Jordan's feeding the reporters tonight, but he's doing it with that charming line of crap he can always spill at the drop of a hat and the only thing Shawn has to do is make the rounds of the crowd.
The real reason for the party is to fund Kevin and his team so they can make enough dosages of promicin to start building the 4400 their own goddamn army, but nobody's going to know about that until it's too late to do anything about it.
Shawn knows it's a good idea, knows that there's a war coming because the incestuous grapevine of gossip between Uncle Tommy and Diana at NTAC and Shawn at the 4400 Center isn't going to die anytime soon.
And he wishes he could feel guilty about it but can't, not with Isabelle in his arms, not when he's pressing her against the wall of his apartment and tugging up that little black dress as she moans into his open mouth.
There are a thousand things wrong with this picture and a thousand things right all at the same time, Isabelle shoving his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders before reaching blindly for his belt. The phrase "six months ago" drifts through his mind but he waves it away before it can sink in, too busy focusing on Isabelle's hands on him, on the easy slide of the straps of her dress down her arms and the fact that she didn't bother to wear any underwear.
Things will get dark soon, this he knows, but right now there's the weight of Isabelle in his arms and the heat of her as he thrusts into her and he can't be expected to focus on anything else.
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: The 4400
Rating: R
Word Count: 856 words
Pairing: Shawn/Isabelle (Further proof I'm going to hell! *happy dance* :))
Warnings: Sexual situations
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Everything about her is a mistake waiting to happen.
Author's note: Written for
illmantrium, with the prompt, 4400, any pairing, must use the words 'little black dress'.This Is How Things Break
*****
Shawn still can't decide if it was a good idea or a bad idea to bring Isabelle as his date to the fundraiser, because she's still a novelty around here but there's something about her that sets everyone she touches at ease.
He also can't decide whether that creeps him out or not, the way she drifts her way though the crowd in that little black dress trailing her fingers along people's arms and hands and leaving a wake of warm smiles behind her.
He talks to Jordan because it feels good to talk to him again, even if there's something spacey about Jordan since he wandered back to the world, even if every once in a while Shawn thinks Jordan might not be telling something he probably should know. Kyle's still in jail -- attempted murder's still attempted murder, after all -- and talking about girls with Danny anymore is just asking for trouble.
"A few months ago, she was an infant," Shawn says, and whenever he mentions it anymore, Jordan laughs.
"Two decades ago, so were you," Jordan points out. "I think we're the worst people on the planet to be picky about the vagaries of time and age, don't you?"
Shawn really doesn't have an argument against that one, not when Isabelle's laugh drives him as crazy as it does when it carries over the murmurs of the crowd at the fundraiser.
It's Lilly who's the worst at keeping a straight face about the whole thing, whose expression always falls the moment she sees Isabelle across the room. Isabelle's in her own quarters at the Center now, no further down the hall than she'll allow for without driving Shawn up a wall, and Shawn's seen Lily pass the closed door time and again with her fist raised like she's about to knock. She never makes it that far, darting away with wide fearful eyes.
He's asked Isabelle about it before, when she takes up residence on his couch at night and talks to him for hours like there's something about this that isn't beyond ridiculous. She snuggles up with her long dark curls draping over her shoulders and a beer bottle in her hands, because hell, if he can drink, he doesn't see why she shouldn't be allowed to, either, aside from the part where she was a baby six months ago.
"You could talk to her first, you know," he says.
Isabelle always shakes her head in quiet acceptance. "She's afraid of me," she says, then lifts her gaze to him and says, "Wouldn't you be, in her situation?"
Sometimes when she says it, her fingertip drifts along the lip of the bottle absently, and it's all Shawn can do not to openly stare at it the way Lily's staring at them now, watching as he slips an arm around her waist and spins her around the dance floor.
The official word on the fundraiser that the press is getting is something about medical benefits for the 4400. Taking care of their expenses following the incident with the government ... Shawn isn't even sure of the cover story Jordan's feeding the reporters tonight, but he's doing it with that charming line of crap he can always spill at the drop of a hat and the only thing Shawn has to do is make the rounds of the crowd.
The real reason for the party is to fund Kevin and his team so they can make enough dosages of promicin to start building the 4400 their own goddamn army, but nobody's going to know about that until it's too late to do anything about it.
Shawn knows it's a good idea, knows that there's a war coming because the incestuous grapevine of gossip between Uncle Tommy and Diana at NTAC and Shawn at the 4400 Center isn't going to die anytime soon.
And he wishes he could feel guilty about it but can't, not with Isabelle in his arms, not when he's pressing her against the wall of his apartment and tugging up that little black dress as she moans into his open mouth.
There are a thousand things wrong with this picture and a thousand things right all at the same time, Isabelle shoving his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders before reaching blindly for his belt. The phrase "six months ago" drifts through his mind but he waves it away before it can sink in, too busy focusing on Isabelle's hands on him, on the easy slide of the straps of her dress down her arms and the fact that she didn't bother to wear any underwear.
Things will get dark soon, this he knows, but right now there's the weight of Isabelle in his arms and the heat of her as he thrusts into her and he can't be expected to focus on anything else.