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Bits and Pieces

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Ficlet(s)

Summary: Ficlets, crossover and non-cross. Mostly gen, a little het, a little slash, and, if I can work up to it, a little femmeslash

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Multiple Pairings > Ficlet Collections - OthertootsFR154834,6343114112,1995 Sep 087 Nov 10Yes

Prompt Set 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural, Harry Potter, or Criminal Minds. That’s Erik Kripke, J.K. Rowling, and Jeff Davis.

Supernatural/Buffy, Dawn/Dean, It's when he eats her burnt pie that he realizes he's in love.

Dean had never been the pickiest eater. He’d been eating his own cooking since he was 7 and diner fare before that. There wasn’t room in his life to be picky.

But this was an abomination. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Summers, what the hell did you do to this pie?” he barked, eyes never leaving it. His grip on his knife shifted slightly into the defensive position. If ever there was a case for pie haunting or vengeance, this was it.

“I don’t know,” she said and his gaze snapped up because her voice sounded suspiciously sodden. And, yeah, shit, there were tears brimming in her eyes. “I followed the recipe.”

His gaze drifted back down to the pie and he bit back a shudder. Charred flakes of crust were stirring with the soft puffs of air from the vent overhead and the filling had caramelized in the worst way.

“It can’t be that bad,” he said, even though his stomach turned at the thought of what he was about to do. “If you followed the recipe.”

He scooped a bite out of the middle where it was least damaged and stuck it in his mouth before she could protest. Then he couldn’t see because his eyes were stinging and oh God, oh God, so bad.

Then she was laughing and her hand was wrapped around the back of his neck as she said, “Spit it out, spit it out, oh God, before you poison yourself or choke to death, spit it out.”

He did, right into the pie plate, then took three hearty swigs of beer. (What? What else was he supposed to wash down his apple pie with? Not that that had been apple pie.) The first was to wash away the last of the nasty, the second to wash away the taste, and the third because, damn it, he needed it.

When he finally looked up at her, her blue eyes twinkling, he realized something.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, eyes widening.

“What?” she said, running her fingers along the hairs at the base of his neck.

He wrapped one hand around the lush curve of her hip, the tips of his fingers brushing the sheath to her Bowie knife which was longer than his hand.

“Nothing,” he said gruffly. “I just realized that I’m in love with you.” She melted into him and he probably would have gotten bonus points for having a chick flick moment if he hadn’t felt the need to add, “But, seriously, we’re going to have to add a rule that says you should never try to cook pastries, ever again.”

Then she was laughing and trying to turn the pie over on his head, only it wouldn’t budge from the pie plate, and he swept her up and out of the dining room before Andrew could come in and see what she’d done to his kitchen. Saving her from pouting was absolutely his idea of romance.



Author’s Note: There is, somewhere in my notes, part of a story wherein Dawn gives Dean a list of rules for living with the Scoobies. So, that’s the list of rules he’s alluding to. Maybe one day, you’ll actually get to read it for yourself.



Harry Potter, Luna/Dean, she was strange and beautiful and he loved her

Through all the feasts and celebrations and media hoopla, Dean stuck close to Luna. She was a bit daffy, so most people quickly moved along and left them alone. He didn’t want to answer questions, didn’t want to relive horrors for the Wizarding World’s entertainment. Luna was nearly as good a barrier as she was a friend.

And that was possibly how it started. If he hadn’t spent weeks attached to her side, he likely would have gone back to being a Seventh Year Hogwarts student, best friend to Seamus Finnegan, friend of the Golden Trio, and single. He might’ve remained her friend, because they’d been through hell together, but he probably wouldn’t have had the time to acclimate to her oddness, to see the appeal in a lady that found wonder in the most mundane of worlds.

He definitely wouldn’t have asked her to marry him or decided to travel the world, using his art to document her strange creatures, or had a beautiful set of boys that were about to start Hogwarts today. And that would have been a shame because she was strange and beautiful and he loved her, just as she was meant to be.



Criminal Minds, Jack+BAU women, At 15, Jack knows that, even though his mother isn't with him, she'd approve of just how well JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia had helped raise him.

“Stop that,” JJ said idly, gently pushing his hands away from his tie.

Homecomings sucked, even if he was part of the basketball team. They meant dancing, which he was bad at, and girls, which he was still getting the hang of, and suits, which always reminded him entirely too much of his father. When he got older, he was going to get a job where he didn’t have to wear a suit all day. Not that he didn’t respect his father and the work he did, he just wasn’t the tie kind of person.

Penelope came in, phone clamped to her ear as she argued with Emily. “No, the hot pink one. Her dress is pale pink! It won’t clash! No, no Prentiss, not-,” she let the phone drop into her hand, scowling. “She hung up on me.”

Jack ducked his head to hide his smile and Aunt Penny took the opportunity to try to shove his hair out of his face. It’d gotten longer than Uncle Reid’s and it was giving everybody, especially his dad, fits.

“Remember to open doors for her,” JJ said, straightening his collar yet again. “And pull out her chair.”

“Formal wear sucks for girls even worse than for boys,” Penny nodded, reaching out to tug at his cuffs. “We’re talking dancing in heels, baby boy, which is good practice for later in life, but awkward right now.”

“And encourage her to come home on time,” Aunt Emily said as she sailed into the room, two different plastic boxes held in her hands. She smirked when he tapped the box with the hot pink flowers and not the white ones but gamely set aside the rejected one and started pinning his boutonnière to his lapel. “Parents like it when their daughters actually follow curfew.”

“And you be home by curfew, regardless,” JJ said sternly, hands propped on her hips.

“I think Jack knows how to treat a lady,” Dad said from the doorway before he hid his amusement with his glass.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded, eyes bright with the same amusement as his father. “I had the best teachers in the world.”

“Aww,” Penny said, clasping her hands to her bosom. “Look at him schmooze, just like his dad.”

“Only better,” Emily said dryly.

“Definitely takes after his mother,” JJ nodded with one more tug to his jacket. “Now, your date’s waiting for you.”

“Celia,” Jack gently reminded her.

Her mouth pinched but she nodded. Celia was two years older and a lot more experienced and his aunts cast a weathered eye over her every time he brought her home. They trusted him to be able to take care of himself, for the most part, but they watched her carefully enough that she’d noticed. Jack liked to think that he had his father’s instincts for people, though, and he knew that there was more to Celia than just her reputation. He got that faith in people from his aunts, definitely.

“Jack,” Dad said and he started out the door after a careful round of goodbye kisses. Aunt Penny’s bright red lipstick certainly would have made the wrong impression, even if it was just on his cheek.

He waved at them as Celia pulled out of the driveway, smiling. He wasn’t sure what kind of man he would have been without his aunts, if they hadn’t stepped in to play the maternal role. But, even at 15, Jack knew that, even if she wasn’t with him, his mother would approve of how well JJ, Emily, and Penelope helped raise him.

The End

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