(no subject)

[whynot]

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.

Comments

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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."

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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."

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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.

[caramelsilver.livejournal.com]

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!

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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?"

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

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."

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

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.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

well good thing that this dinner is just to set up the plan and share contacts then; perhaps it can kinda be like reuben in the first movie, only showing up occasionally to do something amusing and useful.

later in the hotel room edmund says, "so. su. you and tess seemed friendly over dinner."

"we get along," shrugs susan. "i think we share a lot of things common. for example, when we first met, one of those things was that our men were in prison."

peter flops onto the bed, crawling over to where lucy is. "let's not mention those dark days, huh?"

+

"so, tess," says danny. "you know susan pevensie well, huh?"

tess just smiles.

+

at around 11 pm, edmund shows up at rusty's hotel room with cheetos and a laptop bag.

"tumnus's flight got delayed in detroit," says edmund when rusty opens the door, "but he's sent the new security codes. sopespian's learned from miraz, and we need to revise the sixth floor scheme."

"huh. you always did know just what to say to set the mood, ed." rusty looks at the cheetos bag. "are those for me?"

"they could be. if you're good."

rusty raises an eyebrow. "how good?"

edmund shrugs. "surprise me."

rusty reaches out and grabs the front of edmund's shirt, tugging him through the doorway. "you're a hard man to surprise, edmund pevensie."

"well if anyone can still surprise me, ryan," says edmund, dropping cheetos and laptop on the table, "it's you."

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

until peter went to jail, they'd never been apart for more than a few days. now there are whole swaths of space that neither one can breach, pieces of time and parts of themselves that are unaccessible to the other. susan doesn't know what happened to him in prison, isn't sure she wants to ask, but there are scars on previously unmarked skin, and the way that peter will never leave his back to entrance if he can help it. he asks lucy to move once when she gets in between him and the door, and she gives him an odd look but obeys anyway.

on their third day in new york, lucy drags them to little italy for lunch. they eat pasta and drink wine and laugh, and then someone comes up behind peter, puts his hand on his shoulder.

"unless you've got something for me, pevensie," the man says, bending his head close to peter's ear as peter goes very still and palms the knife by his plate, "get out of my restaurant."

"who the hell --" edmund begins, starting up.

peter, white-faced, shoves his chair back and rises, grabbing susan's arm. "we're leaving," he says, throwing a handful of crumpled bills onto the table.

he hurries them all out in front of them, and he doesn't look back, but he also doesn't relax until they're crammed into a cab again, and then he puts his head down between his knees and interlocks his fingers on the back of his neck, his breathing short and shallow.

"who was that?" lucy asks, sounding confused, "peter, who was that?"

"drive," edmund tells the driver.

susan puts her hand on peter's shoulders and pulls him against her, and he puts his face into her neck and makes a soft, sobbing noise.

-
-

"we can drop this job," edmund says once they're back at the hotel. he's watching peter warily.

peter says, "no. this has nothing to do with him."

-
-

peter sleeps late the next morning, and edmund wakes susan and takes her down to the starbucks on the corner for coffee. "his name is marco abruzzi," he says. "he's a consigliere for the patriso family. he was in prison with peter for drug-dealing, but he's fingered for a whole lot more. he got out about six months ago. i'm still pulling the prison files on him."

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

oh oh SO MUCH FOR LEAVING THE MAFIA AU FOR ANOTHER THREAD


no hands more nimble than a thief's and no tongue cleverer than a liar's, but these are not the only reasons edmund keeps coming back to rusty. together they leave crumbs all over the floor of rusty's hotel room, on the sheets of rusty's hotel bed, and rusty is like this machine that takes an input of x units of edmund's cashew nuts and expels output of y units of information.

marco was also in prison with his brother. they were nabbed for the same offense, fucked up on the same meth deal. as far as connections with the patriso family goes, don patriso isn't happy, but he's not going to toss marco on the street; marco abruzzi has connections all over the tri-state area and has gotten the patriso family out of various scrapes without making the shit too high-profile.

"and besides," says rusty around a mouthful of cashews, "if anyone was going to be taking the fall for the meth deal, it was going to be his brother. that was more his thing. so the patrisos, they lost a major enterprise, a number of key people, and they weren't too happy, you know? marco abruzzi had to pull a lot of strings and pay off a lot of people to keep his brother alive. even prison -- especially prison -- it wasn't safe."

and then, through a complex exchange of promises, financial exchanges, and almost-betrayals, marco got his brother off the hit-list.

edmund says, "and then what happened?"

"and then his brother died."

edmund's jaws tense. he has a feeling he knows what's coming. "who did it?"

"your brother."

silence for a few moments. certain threads of peter's half-truths and silences weave themselves together in edmund's mind. then, "not that the guards ever found out."

"the guards never found out," rusty affirms, then leans back. "so. there you have it. the sad and tragic tale of bongo abruzzi."

edmund guffaws. "bongo? what the fuck kind of name is bongo?"

"peter never told you about bongo?" asks rusty, raising an eyebrow.

he takes another swig of beer. "he never really told us much."

so rusty tells him. he even uses the 'took him to the cleaners' punch-line that probably danny been too classy to use, and edmund would have been amused, would have at least rolled his eyes, if a certain penny hadn't dropped somewhere in his head.

"wait wait wait," says edmund. "are you telling me."

rusty munches cashews unconcernedly.

"that my brother."

rusty scratches his head.

"is in a blood vendetta with THE FUCKING MAFIA."

"hmm," says rusty. "maybe."




'two-bit drug dealer from jersey city' indeeeeeeeeeeeeeed.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

so, uh. way back when, when i had my big csi:ny 'verse, i, uh, made up the five families of new york. and there is a slight possibility i am reusing my mafia characters. (actually, the abruzzis are new, the patrisos are not.) although! i promise not to use val constantine.


"peter did WHAT?" susan exclaims, and though she doesn't remember doing it, she's knocked over her coffee, and it's spilling across the table and onto her lap.

edmund immediately goes for the napkins, and together they manage to get her mostly dry. "maybe you want to change?" edmund offers, and susan grits her teeth and says, "you are going to buy me more coffee, and then you are going to tell me what else you know."

"there isn't actually anything else," edmund says, but he gets her a new raspberry frappucchino anyway.

"why?" susan asks. "why would he do that? i know peter gets into fights, but he wouldn't -- he'd never --"

"apparently he would," edmund says. "i don't know, su. rusty didn't say."

only that's a lie. susan can read it on her brother's face.

"what did he do to peter," she says. it's not a question.

edmund says again, "i don't know, su."

and then someone pulls up a third chair to their table. "you must be edmund and susan," marco abruzzi says. "i've heard so much about you."

"what do you want?" susan demands as edmund makes a sharp move towards nothing in particular.

"not from peter, of course," marco continues as if she hasn't spoken. "dino falcone."

for a moment the name means nothing, and then she remembers. "you have got to be fucking kidding me," edmund says, getting it at the same time she does. "that was fifteen years ago!"

"we don't forget," abruzzi says, and then he goes very still.

there's a closed switchblade in peter's hand pressed against the back of abruzzi's neck. "get the hell away from my family," he says.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

"that's funny, coming from you," marco says evenly. "we got a message for you, pete."

peter says, "don't call me pete."

"who's 'we'?" susan demands.

peter says, "shut up, susan."

"i thought we were friends, pete," sighs marco. "why you gotta be like that? maybe i oughta just give the message to your brother here. it's just as much for him as it is for you, you know."

"abruzzi, i swear to fucking god, i'm gonna give you until the count of five to--"

"blood calls for blood, pevensie," says marco. "you know what it's like. eye for an eye. it's not so different out here from prison--"

"one," says peter through gritted teeth, ignoring the look of growing realization and horror on edmund's face.

"--except maybe the bitches aren't so hairy." marco waggles his eyebrows at susan, touches her leg. she recoils.

"t-- five," says peter, and boxes marco in the jaw with as much force as he can muster. they hear the crack of bone.

"okay," edmund says, and with practiced ease, he and susan grab peter's arms before he can land more blows on the consigliere, and they hoof it for the main street.

+

"peter," says susan in her i'm-trying-to-be-calm voice. it is also her i-hope-i-misheard-that voice. "peter, light of my life, apple of my eye. i just want you to tell me one thing."

peter stares morosely into his whiskey. they are in a bar drinking hard liquor at lunch-time, but all things considered, it's kind of justified.

"has the mafia," she starts, "put a hit on our youngest most beloved brother?"

peter says, "um."

edmund says, "i hate you so, so, so, SO MUCH right now."

"next round of drinks are on me," peter offers.

"hfd;agl;sdkg;dfk!!" says edmund. okay, so that's not exactly what he says, but it's a lot politer than what he actually said.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

honeybaby, you know what we got ourselves here? we got ourselves an action plot.


"i'm going to kill him," peter says.

"as much as i agree with your logic there -- and believe me, i do," edmund says, "maybe murder isn't really the best answer."

"really?" peter says. "right now it seems pretty reasonable." he flips open the switchblade in his hand, closes it again.

peter hasn't carried a weapon on a job in -- peter hasn't ever carried a weapon on a job, because that constitutes armed robbery and that's a hell of a lot worse than what they do for a living. it's suddenly striking susan that she hasn't seen him without a knife since he got out of prison.

"what happened in there?" she asks.

peter paces back and forth in the room. the blinds are drawn shut, the door is locked, and edmund is sprawled in a chair by the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. susan sits cross-legged on the bed in her coffee-stained jeans and blouse.

peter shakes his head. "things," he says, "susan, i can't -- i don't want -- god damn it!" he smashes a fist into the wall and susan and edmund both jump.

peter breathes hard through his mouth. "i can't," he says again, soft and broken, and she gets up and goes to him, pulls him into a hug. a moment later edmund's arms around him too, and peter says, "i can't."

after a minute, peter pulls away and goes back to pacing, susan sits back down, and edmund pours three glasses of whiskey and hands them around.

"so aside from murder," he says, "what are our options?"

peter raises his eyebrows. "it's the mafia, ed," he says, sounding calmer. "there aren't exactly a lot of options."

"can we pay him off?" edmund asks, without much hope.

"edmund," peter tells him, "if you ever happened to die at the hands of another man, i wouldn't rest until i'd hunted him down, killed him, killed his familiy, killed his friends, killed his goddamn pets, razed everything he owned, and sowed the earth with salt."

"well, that's very touching, pete," edmund says.

"what about don patriso?" susan asks. "can we get to him?"

"we don't," peter says, "exactly have a lot of leverage."

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

later--

"but look," peter interrupts, "i just talked to caspian last night, he's got sopespian's hotel staked out no problem, and it's just a matter of--"

"i can't believe," lucy says through gritted teeth, typing furiously at her laptop, "I CAN'T BELIEVE, peter, that you're still thinking about the job."

"what, you guys put months into this job, now you just want to throw it all away?"

"when it comes to choosing between a job and our brothers, peter," says susan quietly, "i hope you know which we would pick."

"it's not like we haven't been in hot water before," peter says with growing frustration. "we've been wanted, we've been chased. we've been--"

"peter," susan snaps, "pulling off this job is not going to remove the hit on ed. all right? just--"

"speaking of which," lucy cuts in meaningfully, eyes on the screen, "someone poke a head in the bathroom."

peter does, and lucy and susan hear a strangled, "'m all right..." delivered in that special way that only a person who has been throwing up for twenty minutes can.

"i'm just..." edmund continues. "gonna chill... here..."

lucy raises an eyebrow at susan. "how much did he drink?"

"you try having a hit on you and see how much you drink," susan mutters.

peter slams the bathroom door shut and gives her a rueful look. susan glares back.

"all right," says peter. "okay, so now what. what, we run? we hide somewhere?"

"of course," says lucy, matter of fact, credit card in hand as she types its number into the computer. "at least, you and edmund do."

"me and ed-- what are you and susan going to do?!"

"we're going to fix things," lucy replies.

peter's face does the equivalent of this: asfdhoi[gaskf,;'dgeplf;en!!!1111 then he says, almost shouts, "first of all, where are edmund and i gonna go?!"

lucy replies, "the farthest away you can go before you start to come back." she turns the laptop around so he and susan can see the screen. "it's an exact twelve-hour time difference between new york and the philippines, did you know?"

there is silence in the room as peter processes this grimly. lucy gives them both a toothy grin; susan hides her smile.

in the end, all peter can say is, "i hate trans-pacific flights."

"i booked you guys business class," says lucy. "those frequent flyer miles are going to come in handy someday."

the bathroom door opening is accompanied by the sound of a flushing toilet, and they turn their heads to see edmund leaning weakly against the doorway. he's splashed water on his face, or maybe tried to; he looks like he's been dunked in the toilet instead of puking in it. "so," he says. "what did i miss?"





HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
*DOES A DANCE*

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

"so," edmund says after an hour in the air, "was it worth it?"

peter is staring blankly out the window at the clouds below. "what?"

"killing bongo abruzzi. was it worth it?"

peter turns his head sharply to look at him. "how did you -- never mind. yeah, it was worth it. at the moment. could have lasted longer."

edmund is silent for a moment, processing that. "how?" he asks.

"do you really want to know that?" peter asks, raising his eyebrows. he runs his left thumb lightly over the scarred knuckles on his right hand, meditative.

"given the circumstances," edmund says, "yeah, i do."

peter looks away, then back, then away again, then back again. "i hit him," he says. "we fought. he broke my wrist," he adds, holding up his left arm in illustration. "i managed to get behind him, get an arm around his throat. and i held him there until he stopped breathing." he flags down a stewardess while edmund is processing this. "can i get more whiskey?"

"are you going to be drunk when we land?" edmund hisses.

peter looks a little sad. "no," he says. "i should probably start sobering up around then."

edmund has known his brother for thirty years, and he's seen peter broken and bleeding, holding him upright after a job gone wrong, seen him heartbroken and buoyant and fighting. he's never seen his brother kill anybody, but he thinks he's always known that peter could. and peter's -- well, peter will throw a punch at the first opportunity, but edmund doesn't think he'd kill without need, so he's -- he's not that bothered, really. he has to think about it, but, well -- he had to have had good reason.

when the stewardess brings peter's whiskey, edmund says, "hey. can we get some ice cream over here?"

-
-

"okay," lucy says, "we need a way to get at don patriso, since marco abruzzi probably isn't going to back off."

caspian looks hesitant. "well," he offers, "there's a rumor that the patriso family kind of fell on hard times for a while there when blue eyes went to prison. they lost even more money then than they did with the abruzzi bust."

"i am not breaking anybody out of jail," susan says immediately.

"that's not what i meant! i meant," caspian says, "that the patrisos had to borrow money. not from another family. from my uncle." now he looks awkward.

lucy looks at susan consideringly. "how bad of terms did you leave miraz on?"

[ghostrunner7.livejournal.com]

edmund," peter tells him, "if you ever happened to die at the hands of another man, i wouldn't rest until i'd hunted him down, killed him, killed his familiy, killed his friends, killed his goddamn pets, razed everything he owned, and sowed the earth with salt."

That right there is Peter so perfectly that it's scary. And on the subject of scary things: how scary is it that that line only makes me love your Peter more?