seriousfic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seriousfic) wrote2008-10-30 05:56 pm
seriousfic) wrote2008-10-30 05:56 pm
Scott/Barda fic: One Way To End An Argument
Title: One Way To End An Argument
Fandom: Fourth World
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,023
Characters/Pairings: Scott/Barda
Summary: You know when a girlfriend is angry with her boyfriend and she starts throwing his stuff out the window? That works differently with super-strength.
The UFO dropped Scott off a few miles outside of town, which was what he’d come to expect from the Gozerians. Luckily, he and Barda lived in a house on the edge of town, so it was a short walk. Plus, it was a nice day out. Scott whistled a cheery tune he’d learned from a Tamaranian. Of course, he’d had to tell that Tamaranian three times that he was married… and straight… but it was still a nice tune. Earth. No matter how nice other planets were, there was just something about Earth that felt like home.
He hit pavement and caught sight of his house. Barda’d finally painted it that shade of ochre she liked. He stuffed his hands in satisfaction as he gallivanted over to it. Performing was nice and all, but three months without so much as seeing Barda’s face? More than anything, he anticipated hearing her voice again.
“YOU BUM!”
His favorite deck of cards exploded against his chest, surrounding him in a flurry of spades and hearts and diamonds. Scott raised a finger to clarify. “I take it you’re not happy to see me.”
“HAPPY TO SEE YOU?” Barda stood in the doorway to her house, looking as intimidating as a woman wearing light cotton and a kitschy “Many People Have Eaten My Cooking And Gone On To Lead Normal Lives” apron (Booster had gotten it for her as a gag. She hadn’t gotten the joke) could. Which is to say, very. “YOU LEAVE FOR THREE MONTHS!”
“Two months, three weeks, five days, and thirteen hours,” Scott collected. Then he dug into his pocket. “I got you a snowglobe from Rigel IV. Look, it has little ash flakes instead of snow.” A pair of jeans slapped into Scott’s face and hung off his head. “I take it this does not allay your anger,” he said, muffled. He whipped them off. “Look, I thought I’d have time to say goodbye and pack my things and stuff. But apparently there was a stipulation in the small print that if the day ended in Y…”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to Funky Flashman? Don’t be near him. Don’t listen to him. Don’t look directly at him. If you see his name on the caller ID, don’t answer and tell me so I can go over to his house and shove his phone right up his…”
“Barda, honey, baby, Fury, light of my life…”
Barda threw a fire extinguisher at him. Scott caught it. “Hey, this little guy has saved my life a lot!”
“GET OUT!”
“You’ve overreacting, hon. I am, at this point in the conversation, making note of your overreaction.”
She threw his Gamecube at him. He took the hit in his stomach, saving it. “Thank the Source she didn’t throw the X-Box.”
Barda threw his X-Box at him. He caught it, juggling the Gamecube to the side, and set both down.
“THREE MONTHS! YOU DON’T WRITE, YOU DON’T CALL! You know who I had to go see romantic movies with? HELENA!”
“Poor Helena.”
A straitjacket flew overhead. Scott jumped to catch it. Smugly, he slung it over his shoulder.
“AND YOU’RE STILL WEARING THAT HOKEY COSTUME!”
“What’s wrong with my costume?”
“Green Lantern has a new costume! The Flash has a new costume! Even Wonder Woman has a new costume! But when it’s my husband, he doesn’t have to look good!”
“I look good,” Scott said defensibly. Then he raised an eyebrow. “If you like, you can help me out of it…”
He ducked under a set of his best chains, but caught one end so they wrapped around his arm instead of landing in the street.
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I HAD TO DO TO SURVIVE?”
Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I assume you took out a loan or asked to borrow some money from the JLA until my check cleared…”
“I JOINED THE SWAT TEAM!”
“That sounds nice.”
“Very nice,” Barda admitted, “except for how they’re always on my case for using ‘excessive force.’ How can force be excessive? It’s force! But then Batman has to get all high and mighty with me for ‘debasing my talents,’ like he’s ever had to work a day in his life—YOUR FAULT!” She disappeared back inside the house.
Scott waited a while, torn between going inside and fleeing to the safety of an old teammate’s couch. Not that he was worried for his own safety, but if Barda threw a sensitive piece of equipment and it hit pavement… he shuddered to think of it.
Then his Chinese water torture cell flew out the door.
“AND FURTHERMORE, I HAD TO MAKE MORTGAGE PAYMENT! ME! ON MY OWN! OH, SURE, BARBARA HELPED OUT A LITTLE, BUT…” Barda stopped, noticing Scott wasn’t defending himself quite as arduously as before. “SCOTT!? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”
There was the subtle sound of glass settling after being fractured.
“Scott?”
She rushed outside.
Scott was next to, and a little ways behind, the cell. His shoulder bulged disturbingly, like he was holding it at an awkward angle despite the fact that his arm was down by his waist.
She ran to him.
“Scott! Scott! Are you okay? You’d better be okay!”
He lifted his head. “Barda? You shouldn’t throw those, they’ll really fragile.”
“Do you need a doctor? I can get a doctor!”
“I’ll be fine.” He popped his shoulder back into the socket. “See? Easy-peasy.”
“Come on, let’s get you back inside.” Barda picked him up gingerly. “When’s the last time you had a pizza? I’ll order in. And we can rent a movie, once you put on something clean. When was the last time you put that suit in the laundry?”
“My ride didn’t have a laundry.”
“Damn Gozerians and their nudist ways. I was about to run a load anyway. And did you learn any new escapes while you were gone?”
“One or two.”
“You’ll tell me all about it.”
Of course, as novel as new escapes were, the old dislocated-shoulder trick was plenty useful from time to time.
Fandom: Fourth World
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,023
Characters/Pairings: Scott/Barda
Summary: You know when a girlfriend is angry with her boyfriend and she starts throwing his stuff out the window? That works differently with super-strength.
The UFO dropped Scott off a few miles outside of town, which was what he’d come to expect from the Gozerians. Luckily, he and Barda lived in a house on the edge of town, so it was a short walk. Plus, it was a nice day out. Scott whistled a cheery tune he’d learned from a Tamaranian. Of course, he’d had to tell that Tamaranian three times that he was married… and straight… but it was still a nice tune. Earth. No matter how nice other planets were, there was just something about Earth that felt like home.
He hit pavement and caught sight of his house. Barda’d finally painted it that shade of ochre she liked. He stuffed his hands in satisfaction as he gallivanted over to it. Performing was nice and all, but three months without so much as seeing Barda’s face? More than anything, he anticipated hearing her voice again.
“YOU BUM!”
His favorite deck of cards exploded against his chest, surrounding him in a flurry of spades and hearts and diamonds. Scott raised a finger to clarify. “I take it you’re not happy to see me.”
“HAPPY TO SEE YOU?” Barda stood in the doorway to her house, looking as intimidating as a woman wearing light cotton and a kitschy “Many People Have Eaten My Cooking And Gone On To Lead Normal Lives” apron (Booster had gotten it for her as a gag. She hadn’t gotten the joke) could. Which is to say, very. “YOU LEAVE FOR THREE MONTHS!”
“Two months, three weeks, five days, and thirteen hours,” Scott collected. Then he dug into his pocket. “I got you a snowglobe from Rigel IV. Look, it has little ash flakes instead of snow.” A pair of jeans slapped into Scott’s face and hung off his head. “I take it this does not allay your anger,” he said, muffled. He whipped them off. “Look, I thought I’d have time to say goodbye and pack my things and stuff. But apparently there was a stipulation in the small print that if the day ended in Y…”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to Funky Flashman? Don’t be near him. Don’t listen to him. Don’t look directly at him. If you see his name on the caller ID, don’t answer and tell me so I can go over to his house and shove his phone right up his…”
“Barda, honey, baby, Fury, light of my life…”
Barda threw a fire extinguisher at him. Scott caught it. “Hey, this little guy has saved my life a lot!”
“GET OUT!”
“You’ve overreacting, hon. I am, at this point in the conversation, making note of your overreaction.”
She threw his Gamecube at him. He took the hit in his stomach, saving it. “Thank the Source she didn’t throw the X-Box.”
Barda threw his X-Box at him. He caught it, juggling the Gamecube to the side, and set both down.
“THREE MONTHS! YOU DON’T WRITE, YOU DON’T CALL! You know who I had to go see romantic movies with? HELENA!”
“Poor Helena.”
A straitjacket flew overhead. Scott jumped to catch it. Smugly, he slung it over his shoulder.
“AND YOU’RE STILL WEARING THAT HOKEY COSTUME!”
“What’s wrong with my costume?”
“Green Lantern has a new costume! The Flash has a new costume! Even Wonder Woman has a new costume! But when it’s my husband, he doesn’t have to look good!”
“I look good,” Scott said defensibly. Then he raised an eyebrow. “If you like, you can help me out of it…”
He ducked under a set of his best chains, but caught one end so they wrapped around his arm instead of landing in the street.
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I HAD TO DO TO SURVIVE?”
Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I assume you took out a loan or asked to borrow some money from the JLA until my check cleared…”
“I JOINED THE SWAT TEAM!”
“That sounds nice.”
“Very nice,” Barda admitted, “except for how they’re always on my case for using ‘excessive force.’ How can force be excessive? It’s force! But then Batman has to get all high and mighty with me for ‘debasing my talents,’ like he’s ever had to work a day in his life—YOUR FAULT!” She disappeared back inside the house.
Scott waited a while, torn between going inside and fleeing to the safety of an old teammate’s couch. Not that he was worried for his own safety, but if Barda threw a sensitive piece of equipment and it hit pavement… he shuddered to think of it.
Then his Chinese water torture cell flew out the door.
“AND FURTHERMORE, I HAD TO MAKE MORTGAGE PAYMENT! ME! ON MY OWN! OH, SURE, BARBARA HELPED OUT A LITTLE, BUT…” Barda stopped, noticing Scott wasn’t defending himself quite as arduously as before. “SCOTT!? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”
There was the subtle sound of glass settling after being fractured.
“Scott?”
She rushed outside.
Scott was next to, and a little ways behind, the cell. His shoulder bulged disturbingly, like he was holding it at an awkward angle despite the fact that his arm was down by his waist.
She ran to him.
“Scott! Scott! Are you okay? You’d better be okay!”
He lifted his head. “Barda? You shouldn’t throw those, they’ll really fragile.”
“Do you need a doctor? I can get a doctor!”
“I’ll be fine.” He popped his shoulder back into the socket. “See? Easy-peasy.”
“Come on, let’s get you back inside.” Barda picked him up gingerly. “When’s the last time you had a pizza? I’ll order in. And we can rent a movie, once you put on something clean. When was the last time you put that suit in the laundry?”
“My ride didn’t have a laundry.”
“Damn Gozerians and their nudist ways. I was about to run a load anyway. And did you learn any new escapes while you were gone?”
“One or two.”
“You’ll tell me all about it.”
Of course, as novel as new escapes were, the old dislocated-shoulder trick was plenty useful from time to time.