whynot | (no subject)

Entry tags:

.recs,
.remix

(no subject)

I bring you a list of awesome.

1.

capslock_merlin. When I talk about this show it's mostly in capslock anyway, so, perfect. If you don't care about being spoiled for Episode 11, please click here omg.

2.

reel_merlin. A list of suggested movies for claiming. Back to the Future AU? Hitchhiker's Guide AU? JURASSIC PARK AU? OCEAN'S 11 AU?!? OMFG. I DON'T KNOW WHICH TO FLAIL ABOUT MORE AND THEY HAVEN'T BEEN WRITTEN YETfalskdf';slgk;dfk'g';dal;sfdlk

2a. Ages ago I fiddled with the idea of a Boondock Saints AU where Peter and Edmund destroy shit and kill people in the name of god ~~andthentheyhavesex~~. It's not like they'd be completely out of their element. Aslan is totally Il Duce, but damned if I know who Smecker would be. Caspian is Greenly.

3. Speaking of Boondock Saints, In God's Country is greenapple's drabble-remix of my Boondock Saints fic Big Sky Country and it (the remix) is AMAZING. AMAZING. Connor/Murphy (warning: incest etc), rated R. Big ups to her for condensing 5000 words down to 400. Oh my gosh you guys, BOONDOCK SAINTS. GOOD TIMES. (Also, what is it about a canon with religious themes that makes it so prone to incest?)

4.

amory_vain remixed my Y Tu Mama Tambien fic here, and it is HOT. I, um... didn't do my drabble remix because I never got my assignment, and then I forgot about it. I FAIL REMIXTHEDRABBLE. But I talked to the mods and they say I can get in on it anyway, late as I am. If I do, I'll apparently be drabbling Heroes!

5. I like to go on TV Tropes' Merlin page and see new stuff get added to it after every episode. Is it just me or are the examples for HoYay/FoeYay extremely skimpy. It is not just me. Camelot is totally crawling with STDs. ETA: Was it one of you guys that added that last bit to Hoyay??

BACK TO THESIS.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

lucy picked up her accent in london some years back during the belogravian heart of gold job. she flew across the atlantic ahead of her siblings to scout the situation out, and when everyone showed up bleary-eyed and jet-lagged at heathrow, lucy greeted them in the arrival hall with a man in tow who looked like that guy from that movie about the genocide that won lots of awards.

lucy says, "this is basher."

she picks up his cockney in a casual way, the way she wraps herself around all her loves-of-the-moment, and even when they've scarpered back across the atlantic with couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of white gold, she keeps it even if she doesn't keep him. keeps the cockney. at first it's just a joke, almost a souvenir -- she whips out father ted and tea leaves in casual conversation and it drives susan insane. peter is amused, edmund confused. but you know how jokes become habits? yeah.

i <3 this susan too! and i know the tense is all fucked up, whatever. i think i picked up the hapless!caspian characterization from YOU.

*sadly* i see you have gone over to the dark side. OH WELL I STILL LOVE YOU.

the last time, susan was the one who saw peter get caught, shoved up a wall with his hands being cuffed behind his back, his rights being read to him. this time it's not a wall, but the hood of a police car, and she winces for him.

miraz looks satisfied as the police officer steps back and miraz puts his hand lightly on the small of peter's back, keeping him pressed down. "i know you stole my money," he says in peter's ear. "i don't know how, but i know you did it, and you won't be able to hide from me forever. consider this just the start of my payback."

"what money?" peter says, his voice muffled. "did you lose something?"

miraz snarls, twists a hand in peter's hair and raises his head up to slam it down against the hood. the police officers look away.

"get the hell away from him!" susan snarls, catching miraz by the collar. punching him in the face is far more satisfying than it probably should be, but oh well. it's probably a sign of something she doesn't want to examine too closely.

miraz puts a hand to his face, looking shocked, and says, "susan..."

she takes a great deal of satisfaction of taking off her coat, her shoes, her jewelry, letting her hair down -- when she shimmies out of her dress the police officers look much more interested, and peter says, "you can have my coat if you want, su. although the nice cops here will have to uncuff me first."

miraz is looking too shocked to say anything as she stands there in bra and underwear, and she'd take that off too -- seven hundred dollars of lingerie bought and paid for by miraz -- except she's not going to give anyone more of a free show than they've already gotten.

the cops uncuff peter long enough to get his coat off. when they move to cuff him again, he holds up one finger and says, "hold on," and takes off his slacks and shirt, passing them over to her. he's in black pants and t-shirt beneath, and susan can see miraz taking that in as she dresses quickly, putting on the coat first and taking off bra and underwear to toss on top of the pile of clothes in front of him. peter's pants are too big, and she has to tie the belt off, but somehow she feels much more free when she's wearing her brother's clothes instead of miraz. free for multiple reasons.

"now, susan," miraz begins, and susan slaps him again.

"we are over," she says. she steps over towards peter and puts a hand on his bruised face. "i'll write you a letter," she says at last, and peter grins.

"send a package," he suggests. "i know you can bake, even if ed can't."

and because we are us, i don't know which you mean when you say the 'dark side'.

the brownies have m&m's in them, which peter has always thought was a little twee, but they're a hell of a lot better than prison food, so he eats them with relish. he even eats the strange yellow lumps that the letter claims are oatmeal cookies, though he highly doubts this is true. lucy, susan, and edmund all wrote on the same sheet of paper, and edmund's tight scribble in the middle section reads, i baked them, you bastard, and i didn't even let anyone help me. see how you like it.

lucy, when writing, drops the cockney. her cursive is wide and looping and sometimes she forgets to cross her t's. edmund set the kitchen on fire with the first batch so please slop going to prison.

in the margin, ed's tight scribble: it was only a few dishrags.

susan's cursive is small and neat and her lines, unlike lucy's, are parallel to the bottom of the page. to anyone else it seems she's talking about mundane things, how they are getting on in the civilized world, which tv shows have become her favorite and which restaurant she dined at last week. what it really said was this: we're going to new york to lay groundwork. tumnus has a lead. try to refrain from waving your dick around in prison, ed will be jealous. we'll see your corrected self in a few months.

he smiles to himself and eats another not-an-oatmeal-cookie. new york. it has been a while since he's been back east...

the sold your soul to lj darkside. (although. i think lj owns all our souls, see how we panic when it goes down...)

dude. we came up with a beginning (sort of), a middle (vaguely), and an end. we are fabulous!

when he gets let out of prison for the second (and, if god is good, the last) time, it's to find all three of his siblings waiting in front along with edmund's godawful car.

"what," peter says, strolling over with his hands in his pockets, "couldn't you find a junkyard to take that thing?"

"if you'd rather," edmund says, "you could walk."

"shut up and get in," susan says, and when peter reaches for the keys in edmund's hand, his brother yanks them away.

"hell no, big brother, i know how you drive, i'd like to live, thanks."

"shotgun!" lucy announces brightly.

in the backseat, as they pull out of the lot, peter tries putting an arm around susan's shoulders. lucy fiddles with the radio.

susan lets him, and puts her head on his shoulder, sighing a little. "how was prison?"

"i didn't shank anyone this time," peter says. "and thanks for the brownies, they were delicious. ed, i think you forgot to put something in those oatmeal cookies. like oatmeal."

"oh?" edmund says dangerously.

"have you shanked someone before?" lucy inquires brightly.

peter makes an indeterminate noise. he knows how he looks, and it's prison; he hasn't had to throw a lot of punches in his general line of work, not since the bad old days when they were all kids, but he'd learned fast.

"where do you want to go?" edmund asks.

"ihop," peter says, "or olive garden, whichever's closer. and somewhere for new clothes. then a hotel room with a bar."

"i could go for some italian," susan allows, and peter smiles.

IHOP AND OLIVE GARDEN ROFL

you go for the comfort foods. he just got out of prison, after all. again. peter orders chocolate chip pancakes and doesn't care that susan rolls her eyes or when edmund and lucy exchange grins. lucy has the stuffed french toast and edmund gets regular golden brown pancakes. susan sticks with coffee.

"that's just gonna make you wanna piss in the middle of the journey," edmund says.

susan tells him, "eat your pancakes."

+

the only free room at the days' inn is the one with the king-sized bed, and they all say, almost in unison, "yeah that's fine."

"we're used to sharing a bed," says peter as they charge it to edmund's credit card.

the receptionist raises an eyebrow. "all of you?"

lucy says, "we're very close."

the receptionist says, "mmhmm. do you want us to bring in an extra cot?"

"nah," says lucy.

susan adds, "it'll only take up room," and smiles. "we'll be fine."

the receptionist drops the keys into edmund's waiting palm. "room 217. enjoy."

the bed is impossibly huge, and it recalls vegas days, specific memories of seeing her reflection on burnished elevator doors and tasting chlorinated water in her mouth after she swims her 20 laps. but this is no luxury is, it is just a days' inn. no miraz or his goons or the benign faces of housekeeping -- only her brothers, her sister.

peter crawls into bed with all his clothes and shoes still on and collapses face-first into the pillow. "open the jack," he orders, voice muffled.

lucy is already swigging out of the bottle, swatting edmund's hands away when he tries to take it from her. "you lush!" he accuses.

"there's no need for name-calling," she says.

susan slips off her heels and arranges them by the wall. removes her earrings and her bracelets and places them on the dresser. she sits on the edge of the bed and rolls off her stockings, and she feels peter's shoe nudging the small of her back.

"stop that," susan murmurs. "you'll get my skirt dirty."

"come here," he says, not moving an inch.

...you're insane. Do carry on.

:personally wishes that people would stop using 'apples and pears'. No-one ever bloody uses that yet it's the most cliched film cockney ever.

'COS SEE BEDLAM was like "SO EDMUND IS RUSTY RYAN, RIGHT" and i was all hfasfj;skg;'s;fks;df

ahahahaha oh you crazy english types! what will you think of next. so, for real: basher -- yay, nay?

hey, remember when you said that narnia was never going to let you write about modern things like falling asleep in front of the tv and bus stops and whatnot? GOTCHA NOW. that is the beauty of the au.

"i don't know, mr. pevensie," susan says primly. "it might not be safe. haven't you just gotten out of prison?"

"i'll show you," peter says, and surges up, catching her around the waist and pressing her down into the thick pile of comforters.

"peter!" susan squeaks despite herself, and peter's quick pickpocket's fingers are pulling up her blouse, dancing along her ribs, and susan giggles and giggles and giggles, swatting at his head in vain.

lucy relinquishes the bottle of jd to edmund and pounces on susan too. "suu-uuu," she singsongs. "ed, get over here before there's nothing left!"

"i'm no going to disappear!" susan protests.

"bring the bottle," peter adds.

"oh, peter, your priorities," susan manages to get out, pushing lucy's hands away as peter's settle calmly onto her hips, the curve of her stomach.

edmund kicks his shoes off and crawls up onto the bed with the bottle in his hand. he takes a mouthful of it and leans over towards peter, and peter turns his head up to take the liquor and the kiss in one smooth motion.

"told you," edmund says triumphantly to lucy.

"let me try!" she demands, and he obediently takes another mouthful of whiskey.

susan gets herself up and settles back against peter, her head against his shoulder as he curves an arm around her waist and takes the jd from edmund. "you up for the challenge?" he asks his sister, and susan says automatically, "anything you can do, i can do better."

"and in high heels," lucy adds.

peter and edmund both wince.

"i thought we didn't talk about that anymore," edmund says plaintively.

"it's all in the lips," peter tells susan, and tips the bottle back before he lowers his mouth to hers.

the kiss goes on rather longer than necessary to make the transfer.

ahahaha you're right! AND I LOVE IT. credit cards and hotels and ROAD TRIPS and crappy chain restaurants and airport arrival halls, what else, i don't even know. and boozing on something other than wine. OMG. it is easier to not automatically write angst, also; i don't have to think about forgotten history and tragic destiny and whatnot.

ahaha, dude i've quite forgotten that my default icon here is actually an O11 icon 'cos it's all angsty-looking and also has latin pretentious-ing.

hmm. ONE HOUR LATER (MAYBE TWO??):

they are a spent heap, a tangle of arms and legs on the bed, slightly out of breath. the AC cools the sweat on their skins.

lucy extricates herself from the pile and jumps off the bed with a, "dibs on the bathroom!" and edmund and susan are like, "what? hey--" and give chase, and reach the bathroom door as lucy slams it shut.

"lucy!" edmund calls out as susan bangs on the door and jiggles the doorknob. "oh, come on."

"you better not be running the bath," susan threatens. "or at least don't take an age this time."

"i'm running the bath," comes lucy's voice. susan rolls her eyes. then lucy says, "room for one more."

they hear the bathroom door unlock and edmund shoulders susan hard, throwing all his weight. she yelps and stumbles back against the wall, but by the time she regains her balance, the bathroom door is closed and locked once more. she hears the water running and some self-satisfied giggling.

"very mature, ed!" she bangs the door once with her fist for good measure.

"you know how it is!" says edmund's voice, and then there is a splash and lucy shrieks and there is more giggling.

peter on the bed had refrained from the race for the bathroom, and he lies sprawled on his back with a lit cigarette in hand, watching her.

susan says, "i thought you quit."

"i didn't say that." he holds out her hand to her. susan climbs back on the bed but she ignores his hand; she doesn't like to cuddle afterwards -- too sweaty and disgusting. but she holds her hand out for the cigarette, and they pass it back and forth quietly between them until susan tastes the filter and tells him, "it's done."

peter crushes the butt in the ashtray and then, leisurely, almost lazily, rolls over on top of susan, supporting himself on his elbows. she kisses his chin. "what?" she says.

he doesn't answer immediately, and kisses her face, her neck, and down her body. peter kisses the space between her breasts, and he kisses her stomach, and he kisses the concave area where her hips curve into her leg even though he knows she's ticklish there.

he says, "tell me about new york."

OH THEY ARE SO CUTE. and -- i think we have an ending. or a beginning. because all endings are beginnings, really, and all beginnings are endings.

you know, we could -- probably make this into actual fic. i'm just saying. since we have a beginning and an end and a middle and all that. i mean, the middle would need some work, but --

oh, yes, like we don't both have enough on our plates already. BUT STILL.

i am back at wondering what all other thieves must think of the pevensies' reputation. it is probably five different kinds of fucked up.

omg nooooo i am not turning this into real fic i have so much to do! DID YOU SEE MY WIP LIST, WOMAN. but you can take this if you want. i am still set on finishing this peter/arthur also. (i swear, even though it hasn't seemed like it. A THOUSAND SORRIES.)

FOR REAL. they know the pevensies are good, and good to work together with, and they're fun to hang out with. also lucy and susan are HOT. other thieves, they just never mention any of the rumors to the pevensies' faces -- why would they? the pevensies tend to share bedrooms and this isn't weird in of itself, but "so this one time," says turk, "i was hearing, like. r-rated noises from peter's room--"

"what a perv," says frank.

"naw, man," says turk. "i had the updated blueprints he wanted so i was gonna give them to him, but then i was like. okay, so i was like, i'll give them half an hour, whatever. and half an hour later, it was just him and his sister in the room."

"the girl he was fucking could have left," livingston shrugs.

"which sister?" asks virgil.

"lucy."

virgil nods. "nice." then freezes. "i mean, not like incest is nice. i mean lucy's hot. incest is--"

"dude, just shut up," says turk.

"it doesn't prove anything," says livingston.

turk says, "she had like the sex hair going on, man, and they both have that flushed look -- you know that 'i just got laid' look? well--"

"one time," says yen, "i see edmund and susan, in janitor closet."

everyone paused.

frank says, "what were they doing?"

"edmund say, checking the vent. but why to check vent susan's shirt is open, i don't know."

livingston says, sounding unsure, "maybe it was hot in there...?"

yen shrugs. "ya maybe. if you know what i mean."

honeybaby, have you seen my wip list? dust is going to come out at over 100K (OH I REMEMBER THE DAYS WHEN I THOUGHT IT WOULD PEAK AT 30K. ALSO THE DAYS WHEN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE JUST SNIPPETS), water is, at the very least, going to come out to 150K, then there is human voices and old timber and the peter/arthur and legend and hollow valley and some of this stuff is actually not crack. oh, and sing the sun. and my yuletide. (that's going to go well; i'm vaguely ambivalent about the canon.) also, at some point i'm going to write the werewolf original, because it is awesomecakes.

"one time," rusty says, "i walked in on edmund and peter in the elevator."

the room goes very quiet.

"the elevator?" linus says finally.

"walked in on?" frank says.

"yes," rusty says, and doesn't elaborate.

they're all quiet for a while. someone breaks out the beer.

"when we were in prison," danny says at last, "this two-bit drug dealer from jersey city was found dead in the laundry room. the guards never did find out who did it."

"you?" virgil says, laughing a little, because it's been a while and the subject's changed.

danny shakes his head. "a couple of the guys had heard him talking trash about peter's sisters to peter's face. and his brother. and him. they didn't find bongo for three weeks; he was stuffed in this dryer that never worked, and it always stank in there anyway."

they go quiet again.

"and he had kind of a reputation," danny clarifies. "got in it with one of the guards once. it was kind of a mess. you know how he is, hot-tempered."

"...yeah," someone says.

and then there was the time with edmund and rusty in san francisco, but it's not like rusty's gonna tell anyone. danny probably knows, 'cos if there's anyone who can communicate sordid information in raised eyebrows and benign rejoinders, it's rusty and danny. and if the rest of the pevensies know, whatever. rusty thinks the pevensies can keep a secret, especially about who they sleep with.

WHAT IN THE HELL I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH

tess and susan meet in vegas. miraz and benedict are two of a kind, and when they go off to talk business in some back room it leaves tess and susan alone at their table, drinking red wine and perusing the dessert menu for a second time.

"oh, death by chocolate," tess says, and looks wistful.

"get it," susan suggests, "you only live once."

being without peter and edmund and lucy has made her reckless, like she has to step up to fill the shoes that have been left empty. and after all, it's chocolate, and in what had been her line of work -- well, look at peter. one day you're sipping martinis, the next day you're wearing some ugly shade of orange. she's sure it does absolutely nothing for his skin tone.

"i rather like this one," she suggests. "better than sex. hell of a name, isn't it?" she says, and laughs.

tess leans forward, smiling at her. "well, you've got to try it just to find that out."

what tess doesn't know is that susan knows her. they haven't met, but she and edmund had cross-referenced everyone they ever worked with, and she knows: danny ocean's ex-wife, divorced after danny got caught (two years earlier than peter; they're in the same prison), artist. natural redhead.

it's always good to know the little things.

susan laughs a little, leans forward towards tess. when she speaks, it's low and intimate. "well, if the boys are in there that much longer, it's the best we're going to get tonight."

"oh, i don't know," tess says, sipping at her wine, and winks at susan.

she doesn't see miraz until the next morning. the cake is better than some sex she's had. she tastes the frosting on the corner of tess's mouth before she pulls her dress off over her head and tess dips her fingers below the waistband of susan's very expensive underwear.

SUSAN/TESS BEST OMG. to jump back a few comments--

peter opens the hotel room door and it's susan.

"you came," he says, and she resists rolling her eyes. peter and his stating of the obvious. she resists saying of course, and instead steps through the doorway and peter closes the door.

"where are edmund and lucy?" she asks.

peter says, "i can't tell you that. you're still the enemy."

she presses her lips in a thin line. "i see."

--jumping again!

susan wants to ask tess if she ever misses him, misses danny. but susan will not give up her connections even if they are from a past life, and besides no one appreciates such questions. especially people like tess.

especially people like susan. miraz likes to ask her if she misses her brother, wasting away in a midwestern prison, and susan knows it's a test because miraz is just that kind of man, but it would be too much to say "not at all" so she had replied, "he's my brother, you know. he's in my thoughts. what do you expect me to say?"

miraz raised an eyebrow. "the truth, of course. i expect nothing less and nothing more from you."

susan replied, "likewise."

"besides," he added, "blood ties are not so binding."

he likes to put her on edge and then to woo her back from it. not so different from what ed likes to do, actually, but at least she knows that with edmund there is genuine affection, that when he takes her hand and pulls her back it's because he doesn't want her to fall, not because he doesn't himself.

i feel that at the end of the year i am making a list of everyone my pevensies have slept with, and that it should be as long as possible. especially considering the fact that i've now written peter/sarah friggin' connor.

she knows almost immediately from looking around that this isn't the hotel where peter and the others are staying. there's no luggage, and the only food in sight is the chinese takeout on the desk, the two pints of ben & jerry's beside it.

she says, "why are you doing this, peter?"

he puts his head to one side, watching her. "doing what?"

"don't play coy with me."

he doesn't say anything. he steps towards her and touches her hair lightly with one hand, raises it away from her neck so that he can kiss that spot beneath her ear that he knows she likes. susan shivers a little.

"are you cold?" peter asks without moving an inch.

"your ice cream is melting," susan says.

"i hear it does that," peter says, not pulling away. "susan," he says, and she shuts him up by kissing him.

"let's just be us," she says, backing him up towards the bed. "forget about miraz, forget about your job, forget about prison, let's just be us."

so. porn.

that's all the invitation peter needs.

+

it all reminds her of being sixteen, of coming home from dates with bobby or allen or whoever and sometimes peter would be awake in the living room, and sometimes he had been drinking and sometimes not, smelling of cigarettes, and sometimes he would be smoking a cigarette in the living room and she'd have to tell him to put it out because haven't their parents already yelled at them for that? and he would ask her how the date end, and a sometimes a number of other questions she didn't think he had any right to ask. she ignored his lingering gazes, the way he liked to corner her against the walls. it had unsettled her then, the look in his eyes, the heat in her cheeks.

+

they used to practice kissing when they were children, when susan watched those movies and wanted to be like the actresses, wanted to feel what they felt, to love as they loved, when love was defined by the length of kisses and the number of promises made.

so she had said to peter, echoing her movies, "i'll love you forever. until the seas run dry."

susan saw the wry look, and had been grateful that he didn't say anything except, "yeah, me too."

and they kissed, and kissing him again on the eve of her seventeenth birthday was just like that, right down to how she can hear her heartbeat in her ears, except for how peter's mouth had tasted of bourbon instead of licorice.

+

"you remember this?" peter asked breathlessly.

he wasn't referring to this, what was happening now, because this had never happened before -- he was referring to this familiarity and fearlessness that was borne of the sharing of secrets. a homecoming of the two of them against the world.

there were many ways to answer his question, and they would all mean yes.

they were helpless for each other and it was difficult to say who tumbled who to the bed. susan pulled at his shirt and he raised himself momentarily to yank it off in one fluid movement. she scrabbled at her own dress but peter just pushed up her skirts and kissed her, tugging her underwear down over her knees, to her ankles, and she kicked them off, feeling both shameful and dangerous. his hand between her legs made her gasp into his mouth, clumsy with pent-up desire. (it would be one of the things she would remember, how peter had not been so different from the other boys who wanted her at first, their directionless eagerness for her, aware only of their own desire as she was left with her patience tried and unimpressed. but peter stayed around long enough to learn.)

how strange, she thought. my brother...

susan flipped them over so she's on top and peter took the opportunity to pull her dress off. in-between breathless kisses peter's pants came off and so did her bra, and then to tangle together, to finally melt into each other without layers of clothes between them, they moaned with the thrill of it. children only in courage, not in innocence.

peter said, "are you...?" and he saw the twinge of annoyance on her face and understood. there was no space for questions, not anymore.

"honestly," she muttered, and pushed him back against the headboard. he let her.

he let her take the lead, because for as long as he had imagined this happening, the reality of the situation was beginning to set him on edge. she put her hands on his shoulders, then they nervously flitted down to his hips. and then her hand on his cock.

before either of them lost nerve, she straddled him, her eyes never leaving his. peter's hands alighted on her thighs as she lowered herself, slowly, his adam's apple bobbing, her breathing shallow. he wondered how many times she had done this.

and then he was in her.

susan said, very softly. "peter."

then, also slowly, so she could stop him if she wanted to, he turned them over so she was on her back. he kissed her lips once, she said his name again, and then nothing more was said.

+

susan says, "you remember this?"

he runs his hands over her body with easy familiarity, and is silent. there are many ways to answer her question, and they all mean yes.

oh, they are so romantic, and so screwed up, oh my god. which is how it would have to be, of course.

the first time peter gets picked up for stealing, he's nine and susan is eight, and the police bring him home. she remembers the officer saying, "he's not being charged and he apolgized to the shop-owner --" and their father thanking him, the heavy beat of the cops' footsteps as they went out the front door. and then their father closing the kitchen door with him and peter inside, and the way his shouts had echoed through the house. susan had sat on the bottom step of the stairs with an arm each around edmund and lucy, listening. their mother had been out at her book club.

peter had come out of the kitchen and put a handful of silver hershey's kisses in susan's palm. "they only found the snickers bar," he whispers to her, gathering little lucy up in his thin boy's arms to take her upstairs.

"why was daddy mad, peter?" lucy mumbles sleepily into his shoulder as susan passes two of the kisses to edmund.

"don't worry about it, lu," peter says, stroking her hair. he looks back over his shoulder and winks at susan, and she shakes her head.

-
-

he brings back presents for them. candy, mostly, but sometimes other things. paperbacks, mostly, shiny and new, not the beat-up used books they're used to from st. vince's, but once he brings edmund a slim, leatherbound copy of machiavelli in the original italian.

"aren't you taking italian in school?" he asks, sitting backwards on a chair, his chin on his arms, folded over the headrest.

"yeah, i am," edmund says, turning the pages of the book. "but i can't read this."

peter raises his eyebrows. "not yet," he corrects, grinning.

edmund grins back. "not yet," he agrees.

-
-

they have to reach for the stars. there's nowhere else to go.

-
-

susan's junior prom dress is used, but the fabric is soft and silky and seems to float in the air around her, and she spins in front of the mirror, entranced by the way the skirts lift and flow.

"with that neckline," peter says, "you really need a necklace."

she looks up. he's leaning against the doorframe, his bowtie undone and his shirt half-buttoned -- he's going with some cheerleader that likes his blue eyes and soft mouth. "none of my necklaces match the dress," she says.

peter grins at her and straightens. he comes up behind her, and she shivers a little when he lifts her hair away from her neck. "i think this matches," he says as he fastens the clasp closed. his breath is warm on the back of her neck.

susan lifts a hand to the red stone, the silver setting, tilting it up so she can see it somewhere other than in the mirror. peter's right; it does match.

"earrings, too," he adds, and puts those in one at a time as susan is still frowning at the necklace.

"is the cubic zirconium?" she asks.

peter laughs a little. "no," he says. "those are rubies."

-
-

what happens at prom -- her junior prom and peter's senior prom -- is that peter gets into a fight and gets escorted out. susan's date spends most of the dance throwing up in the men's bathroom, or maybe getting sucked off by peter's cheerleader, and susan, after two hours on the bleachers watching the shimmering spectacle of dresses and tuxedos and teenage hormones in front of her, finally gets up and leaves.

she's not even out of the parking lot when the heel on one of her shoes snaps off. "perfect," she says, yanking off both shoes, "just fucking perfect."

she turns to look around, sees the nearest car. it's frankie guerra's truck, and she frowns at it, considering. he always leaves his keys in the ignition.

and that's the first time susan steals anything.

okay, you write porn, and i write tragic backstory, apparently.

May I just say that this is awesome? Cause it really truly is. I love Peter the thief! And susan stealing cars and Edmund learning italian and and and. Just really brilliant!

MACHIAVELLI. italian!

susan learns french, and peter had commented: "typical."

it's a frustrating language, edmund told her. it doesn't sound at all like how it's written on the page. she said to him, well neither is italian. at least, peter replied, it doesn't always sound like he's clearing his throat when he speaks it.

"je m'en fous," said susan.

"what does that mean?"

"i don't give a fuck."

edmund admitted he hadn't yet gotten to the curses.

"curses are the first thing you learn in any language," said peter. "that, and 'where's the bathroom' and 'i don't understand'."

edmund just rolled his eyes and turned back to machiavelli. he was halfway through, and its margins had scribbled-in notes.

susan is not so surprised to see peter wandering away from the school a block away, a little unsteadily. she pulls up beside him, honks the horn.

he says, without looking, "fuck off, guerra."

susan stifles her giggles, honks the horn again.

peter says, "i swear to fucking god--" and turns around and pauses. he approaches the car as susan rolls down the window. "where's frankie?"

"i don't know," susan grins.

"what did you to him, ms. pevensie."

"if i tell you i'd have to kill you," says susan. "if you don't get in the car, i'd also have to kill you."

so he does.

"where are we going?" asks peter.

"je m'en fous," says susan as she steps on the gas.

this au is amazing, oh my god. i am far too thrilled with the idea of the pevensies as juvenile delinquents. far, far too thrilled. also, did you see the new merin OH MY GOD THE SLASH. whole new levels. WHOLE NEW LEVELS.

peter hangs around with a rough crowd, but susan doesn't realize how rough until his nights start getting later and later. then one night she's woken up by peter's hand over her mouth, edmund behind him in jeans and a cross-country sweatshirt, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

"get up, get dressed, grab a bag," peter whispers. "hurry."

"what's going on?" susan demands, swinging her legs out of bed. "peter. what have you done?"

there's black greasepaint on his face and his hands are shaking slightly. he's favoring one leg when he crosses the room to wake lucy. "ed, start packing for her," he orders over his shoulder.

"peter, what have you done?" susan insists, but she gets dressed anyway, starts throwing clothes into a dufflebag.

"get all the jewelry i gave you," peter says as lucy wakes up, says, "peter, what's --"

"it's real," he adds.

"get away from my clothes, edmund," lucy adds, and peter repeats his orders to her.

"stay here," he says. "i'll be back." and slips out of the room.

susan doesn't want to know where peter learned what he did, but they take their parents' car until the edge of town, then he dumps that and swaps out the plates from a pair of cars at a rest stop before hotwiring one of them. they switch cars again sometime around six in the morning, and then edmund finally makes them pull over at an ihop. mostly because he and susan are both positive that peter's going to accidentally drive them under a sixteen-wheeler; he's been drooping at the wheel for the past seven hours.

in the morning light she sees blood on his hands.

"what have you done?" she says again, and peter says unsteadily, "just get me some coffee, i'll be fine."

edmund grabs his shoulders. "how deep are you in it, pete?" he demands. "the cops --"

"not the cops," peter says. "but dino might have -- possibly -- ripped off the wrong people. and --"

"and the bastard set you up to take the fall," edmund says, turning away. "you couldn't have joined the marching band, pete?"

"you've been hanging around with dino falcone?" susan demands. "oh, for the love of god, peter," she says. and then --

"whose blood is that?" lucy asks warily, wrapping her arms around herself. she looks small in her cheerleading sweatshirt.

"i probably should have said something about not bringing clothes that have our names on them," peter says, prevaricating. "look, let's just go get something to eat, we're, like, five hundred miles away. i'm sure we're fine."

but he looks over his shoulder when they go in.

susan insists on taking the wheel when they leave, and peter falls asleep in the passenger seat. edmund starts reading machiavelli again in the backseat, lucy's head on his shoulder.

-
-

that night they get a motel room -- susan pays with the cash peter hands her -- and she crawls into bed with peter after she's showered. edmund, watching lucy flip through channels on the tv, raises his eyebrows at that, but doesn't say anything.

"you're an idiot," susan whispers against peter's shoulder. "but you know we'd follow you anywhere."

"i don't want you to get hurt because of me," he replies, wrapping an arm around her. she kisses his mouth.

"i'm sorry," he says. "i shouldn't have --"

"dino would have come after us to get to you," susan says. "he watches too much tv."

"his dad's mobbed up, su, you know that."

"i can't believe you were stupid enough to get involved with --"

"yeah, neither can i," edmund calls from the other bed. "what the fuck were you thinking, pete?"

OH MY GOD ME TOO. me tooooooo. this AUUUUUUUUUUUU. i am also THRILLED that you have implied mafia connections because, dude, i just rewatched 'the godfather' and fell in love with the corleones all over again and i was TOTALLY GONNA SUGGEST A MAFIA AU. omg. "don't ever take sides against the family ever again." it's all about loyalty and being badass in the name of the family and shady connections to cops and politicians and hasdfljsafkd;'kg;lfdklg. smoking guns and deadpan faces and putting things in order. or even golden age era, where they have connections to, um, CERTAIN BUSINESSES. edmund = the awesomest consiglieri. omg! mafiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

I HAVE NOT YET SEEN MERLIN. I HAVE LIKE MERLIN BLUE BALLS OMFG. everyone is all shafdlksj;gkf;gkfd and i cannot do anything it until i get some sleep.

what is it with you and ihops??

there's a drive-in in at the next town, and susan badgers peter about going and he protests that they need to lie low and save gas and money. susan says, "please."

"no."

"peter, come on."

"no!"

they catch the midnight show, leaving ed and lu in the motel room huddled under the sheets together eating potato chips and watching 'scarface' on tv. "it's not any good on network television," peter said ruefully to them, and edmund had shrugged; lucy said, "there's nothing else on."

then susan grabbed the back of his collar and tugged, and they stumbled into the hall, giggling into each other. the room door shut, and susan took the opportunity to push peter against the wall and kiss him, very hard and very fast, breaking apart just as some old lady ventures out of her motel room and blinks owlishly at them.

"you are wicked," peter says to susan, and she just smiles, and they hold hands and they rush down the hallway.

hmmmm i was gonna write drive-in porn, but omg i need sleeeeeep

the funny thing is that i am not lying when i say we get narnian organized crime in dust, and we have been getting the narnian mafia for a long time now.

MAFIA AU OMG. but not in this thread because we've already gone au enough and we'd get confused. (the other funny thing is that all my novel-lengths in csi:ny involved the new york mob and one of the detectives who has been implied to have mob connections. and you know me and research. i know these things. although. i have never seen the godfather.)

i have never actually been to an ihop. although my town is supposed to be getting one!

LASS PETER LEFT HIS SHIELD IN ARTHUR'S BEDROOM FOR REALZ.

by the time a missing child report is issued, it's three days later and they're five states away. ed is driving, su sitting shotgun beside him, with peter and lucy asleep in the backseat, and when the call goes out over the radio they look at each other.

"three days?" edmund hisses. "really? three days?"

"edmund, watch the road," susan says. "edmund, watch the road, you're swerving. edmund, that's oncoming traffic!"

"i have it under control," edmund says through clenched teeth, which is when peter wakes up and says sleepily, "wha --"

susan switches the station on the radio. "everything's under control, peter," she says. "go back to sleep."

but something's got peter awake now, and he squints at them and sas in alarm, "you're letting him drive? su, he doesn't have a license!"

"since when do you care about little things like that?" edmund demands.

"he has a learner's permit," susan points out. "he has to get practice somehow."

"and they're, what, just going to let me waltz into the dol and take the test?" edmund says. "i don't think so!"

"he doesn't have a license and we could be pulled over!" peter points out.

"we are also in a stolen car," susan points out, very dryly.

-
-

"we're crossing the mason-dixon line?" edmund says. "really?"

but susan's ridiculously happy when they end up in new orleans' maze of one-way streets and turn-arounds. they get a hotel uptown, and peter tells the concierge that they're looking at colleges and doing the tourist thing for a few days. this far away they haven't heard the missing child reports.

peter buys them beignets and chicory coffee from the cafe du monde and they walk around jackson square, looking at the art for sale and smiling at the fortune-tellers, the other tourists, trying not to get too much powdered sugar down their fronts. lucy begs a twenty off peter and tears off with edmund in tow to get her fortune read.

there are enough people around, even though it's the off-season, that she expects hi to relax a little, but he looks around like a wolf on the prowl, his gaze flickering impassively over the police cars in the area, the jewelry stores in the blocks surrounding jackson square.

"what are you planning, peter?" susan asks softly. "tell me you know what you're doing."

peter grins at her and bends his head to kiss powdered sugar off her nose, the corners of her mouth. "i know what i'm doing," he says, "but i'm going to need some help."

i, uh, write what you know? and by that i totally mean, not the thieving part.

meanwhile back in the present day!--

they arrive in jfk squabbling about whether to see a show or to hit the bars. it's not at all like years ago, the first time they came to new york, pulling up on canal street in the chinatown bus after five hours of rattling around on the highway. lucy had gotten carsick and peter, though he had filched an ipod to entertain himself, had forgotten to filch the charger, and when the battery ran out somewhere in new jersey, he had spent the rest of the ride kicking the back of edmund's seat and trying to touch susan inappropriately. edmund flipped peter off over the seat and susan gave him looks that clearly said 'oh my god, i am not getting it on with you in the fungwah bus'.

they've come a long way since then.

it's hard to miss their contact in the arrival hall; even in the hustle and bustle, orange and lavender paisley stands out, and edmund leads them to where rusty ryan is eating a popsicle.

"ryan," he says.

"ed," says rusty. "pete. su. lu."

"how do you do?" says susan with a smile.

"how do i do what? hold on," says rusty, and reaches into his pockets and takes out a bag of funyuns. he offers it to edmund.

"shucks," says edmund, opening the bag. "you shouldn't have."

rusty shrugs. "i know the way to your heart."

SUSANOHMYGOD. "i am not getting it on with you in the fungwah bus."

they go out for italian. "danny's probably going to be a little late," rusty warns. "he's got other arrangements."

peter stretches out an arm across the back of his seat and susan puts her head back against it. "arrangements other than us?" peter says, and his tone is dark, a little threatening.

"cool your jets, pevensie," rusty says, eating a breadstick and getting crumbs on the menu. "he's looking for a wedding present. or an anniversary present. i'm not really sure what they're calling it."

which is when danny and tess show up.

"why is she here?" rusty asks.

"i thought you said you weren't stealing anymore!" tess hisses at danny.

"i'm not!" danny protests. "i'm just meeting some old friends, they're in town, it's nothing to do with -- nice to see you out of jail, peter."

"you too," peter agrees, looking tess up and down. susan steps on his foot and edmund rolls his eyes.

"i just wanted to let you know i was here before i called tess a cab," danny says. "tess, you know rusty."

"unfortunately."

"lucy pevensie, edmund pevensie, peter pevensie, and --"

"susan?" tess says disbelievingly.

susan smiles. "hello, tess," she says.

*frowns* i do not think i have the o11 voices down, and i don't have my dvd here with me.

HMM.