(no subject)

[csi_sanders1129]

Type these words into your music library and post the name of the first song that appears. Ganked from icarusinstatic.

Run: Runaway // 3 Doors Down
Dream: Just A Dream // Carrie Underwood
Blood: Mouth (The Stingray Mix) // Bush
Home: Go Home // Barenaked Ladies
Night: You Shook Me All Night Long // AC/DC
Day: This Dark Day // 12 Stones
Kiss: Kiss Quick // Matt Nathanson
Kill: The Kill // 30 Seconds To Mars

Also, here, have a comment!fic meme because I need to write something that does not turn into an epic 30 page story. Leave a pairing (how about something uncommon (but that I still write)?) and a prompt please!

1. Nick/Monrow (Grimm) - cali_cowgirl08
2. Adam/Lawrence (Saw) - i_am_negotiable
3.
4.
5.

Comments

[cali-cowgirl08.livejournal.com]

Grimm: Nick/Monroe. Monroe bitching about Disney and Nick complaining about cop dramas, followed by them writing their own fic. And of course there is alcohol involved :)

[i-am-negotiable.livejournal.com]

Didn't you used to write Saw fanfic? If you did, would you write Adam/Lawrence? Otherwise, abort.

[csi-sanders1129.livejournal.com]

Why, yes, I haven written Adam/Lawrence before! It's been so long since I've seen Saw! And I totally forgot that Michael Emerson played Zep! I just got into a show (Person of Interest) that he stars in. So awesome.

Anyway, yeah. Fic. You didn't leave a prompt, so I just kind of went wherever with it...

------

"Don’t...Don’t worry, I’ll bring someone back, I promise."

The words echo in his head on an endless loop every time he closes his eyes like some sort of curse he is doomed never to stop hearing. There are the words and the sound of clinking, clattering chains and the dripping of the old bathtub and the steady tick-tock of the clock as it counted toward the end of their time. He hears the sound of Zep's skull cracking under Adam's merciless blows and the sound of the saw as it tore through his ankle, shredding flesh and muscle and bone.

The sounds of the hospital room are vastly different. Eerily silent in comparison even though the repetitive beep-beep-beep of the various monitors chirps endlessly at his side, monitoring his vitals, is annoyingly steady in its reports and the way the hospital bed creaks every single time he moves at all. Then there's the muted chatter of the world outside of his room, but that barely registers, not with the words booming in his mind.

"Don’t...Don’t worry, I’ll bring someone back, I promise."

It's been nearly a day and a half since he got to the hospital. Three surgeries and so much sleep. Police, questions he can't answer because he has no idea how to explain Jigsaw's mind-fuckery to someone who didn't have to endure it for themselves.

He asks about Adam, barely audible with all the shouting he's done and the breathing tubes and anesthesia haven't helped the matter any. They don't tell him anything, just keep asking their pointless questions.

The words get louder, because if they aren't willing to tell him then Adam must not have been found alive, maybe not even found at all. Admittedly, his directions had been a little bit fuzzy, but his slightly delirious comment of "just follow the blood," should have been enough.

"Don’t...Don’t worry, I’ll bring someone back, I promise."

Three days in and the words, the sounds from the bathroom are like a bass drum in his head, pounding and reverberating louder than any of the sounds that he is actually hearing. Diana comes to visit him, but he can barely hear her, can barely make out her tiny, little voice amongst the memories of Adam shouting at him, begging him not to leave him alone there.

So he ups his morphine and blissfully passes out.

"Don’t...Don’t worry, I’ll bring someone back, I promise."

Even that doesn't stop the voices, but it makes them quieter, just a little, just enough so that he can rest. Granted, rest isn't very restful because instead of hearing, he sees. Sees a million and seven ways in which Adam doesn't make it out. Sometimes they start out good, but they always go sideways and turn into nightmarish things that haunt him almost as much as the damned words.
"Don’t...Don’t worry, I’ll bring someone back, I promise."

"Lawrence," he hears, early on the fifth morning of his stay in the hospital. "Hey, Lawrence, you awake?"

He doesn't want to open his eyes because he knows it's just going to be anothed fucking dream and he's not sure how much longer he can take the stress of his mind slowly driving him insane. There's no way that Adam's here, he thinks, as he forces his eyes open, he's -

Adam's here.

The noises stop.

[i-am-negotiable.livejournal.com]

I LOVE YOU. I've been dying for Saw fic! This made my day!

[csi-sanders1129.livejournal.com]

Haha, this was fun to write. And also a little bit ridiculous. Forgive me - I've been awake for more than 24 hours at this point. xD

----

"Like they could actually get DNA results back inside of a week!" Nick snorts incredulously at the television as rerun episodes of various detective shows air. "And no decent precinct would dare keep a cop that destructive on the force. He'd have lost his badge and gun back in season one if my captain had anything to say about it." He takes a long swig from his beer, emptying the bottle, his fourth of the night. He stands, intent upon locating another, and heads toward the kitchen. "Why do these shows have to completely massacre actual police work and turn it into something all shiny and easy-looking? It trivializes the work and makes the juries expect evidence that's just not possible to show for every case."

Monroe laughs, grabbing the fresh beer Nick offers him when he returns and motions toward the screen. "At least you get some semblance of accuracy - aside from the gratuitous force used by certain fictional detectives who might be harboring some creature genes themselves, the flagrant disregard for job distinctions, and the speediness of test results for the sake of cramming an entire case into a forty-two minute block of time, of course. Me? I get Walt Disney's interpretation of Little Red Riding Hood to contend with, and a whole bunch of other fairy tales that enjoy bastardizing creatures and turning them into bloodthirsty monsters meant to scare children into behaving."

Nick has no response to that, but the silence that lapses between them as the horrendous cop show continues to play becomes too much to bear and so with all the impulsiveness typically associated with those who have perhaps imbibed a bit too much, he declares "We should write our own stories."

"What?" The blutbad sputters out, trying not to choke on his drink.

"You know, combine the cop stuff and the Grimm stuff into a story that's actually plausible. Come on, it'd be fun."

Monroe does not look amused, something closer to mortified. "That would be an incredibly boring story!"

"What? Why?"

"And the blutbad woke up at 6:15 and did his pilates, just like every other day. He made gourmet bagels and gourmet coffee and spent the rest of the day staring through a magnifying glass at the inner workings of an old, broken grandfather clock desperately in need of repair. Up until his annoying friend, the Grimm, came barging in, pestering him about how long it takes to get back a result from AIFIS." Monroe monotones the tale somberly. "Yeah, really exciting stuff you have there."

Nick pouts. Actually pouts.

Monrow rolls his eyes, drinks his beer silently and goes back to watching.

"I never said it'd be about us," Nick blurts out, some few minutes later. "If it were, it certainly wouldn't be boring - I'd be sure to include all those stories about you pinning me to trees out in the woods and just what wearing red does to you... Especially those red boxers you like so much..."

This gets Monroe's attention. "Alright, then, I think we've had enough of the horribly inaccurate detective shows for tonight. These red boxers of which you speak," he growls, "you wouldn't happen to be wearing them, would you?"

Nick grins, moves to stand and head for the stairs. "I might be..."

[cali-cowgirl08.livejournal.com]

AHAHAHA, DYING rn :D Especially at the boxers part <3 Great job my dear, sleep-deprived or not!