Prompt Post 01

[the_machine_mod]

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Comments

Crossover: Batman universe (any character)

[(Anonymous)]

A character falls through a plot device and wakes up in the Batman universe (movies, comics, animated universe, whatever.) How do they react?

(Bonus points for Zoe, Carter or Root.)

Re: Crossover: Batman universe (any character)

[(Anonymous)]

AHHHH a Root/Oracle showdown!

RPS: Change of Heart

[(Anonymous)]

Different prompter from the one on the first page, but I came here with a similar idea: I'd love a story where Jim slowly comes to realize that John is in love with Harold. Like, not that directing choices are being imposed on him that might be interpreted that way -- that his *own* understanding of the character is heading in that direction, and he's torn between his authenticity as an actor and the stereotypes that his church has been selling him.

(Oh Jim, just come on over to the progressive end of Christianity, already. You can still love Jesus and not be a dick! You know you want to.)

FILL: Change of Heart (Jim Caviezel, Reese/Finch) [General] [RPS, No meme warnings apply]

[(Anonymous)]

It's not hot—it's not even warm. Or tea, for that matter. Just a paper cup with enough water to give it some weight, and a lid. But Richard just said action, and Jim's already eased back into John—slow and easy, like he always does—and so it's Sencha green tea, and it's Harold hunched over the keyboard, now half-turning with his whole upper torso the way Harold has to in order to look at him, examining the cuts and bruises and the dirty shirt that will be the result of the car explosion they will film on Friday.

The cuts and the bruises are superficial, a little extra time in the make-up chair that morning, but the script says John will be thrown from the car when it explodes, landing on his back on the sidewalk, and so John will feel the deep ache of heavy bruises low on his back, and Jim moves stiffly because of those. Despite the aches, John finds a smile—one of the small, teasing ones—for Harold, and sets the cup down on the table near his elbow.

"You look terrible," Harold says, although he picks up the cup and takes a hesitant sip to keep from burning his tongue.

"I'm fine," John says easily, easing himself into a chair.

"You're bleeding all over my chair," Harold says archly.

"Maybe we should take to wrapping the furniture in plastic," John teases him.

Harold begins rising stiffly from his chair. "And maybe you could try to avoid getting yourself blown up any more than is absolutely—"

"Cut!"

Jim turns in the direction of the crew.

"Sorry, guys. We're getting some weird feedback on the sound. Give us a few minutes."

"Everyone take five," one of the PA calls out.

Michael straightens and reaches his arms high over his head, groaning with pleasure. "Oh, god, that feels good." He twists his torso to the left and then the right, and then leans forward, touching his fingers to his toes. "At this rate I'm gonna have to spend all weekend on the chiropractor's table."

Jim wanders over to his chair, picking up the day's pages. He reads over the scene again. John brings Harold tea. Harold fusses over John's cuts and bruises. John teases him about worrying too much.


Harold turns away from John. He is CLEARLY feeling his concern deeply but attempting to hide his concern from John.

HAROLD

You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Reese, but I find I don't care to lose anymore people who are important to me.


"Want to run lines?" Michael's settling in the chair next to him, a cup of black coffee balanced on his knee.

Jim shook his head.


John is visibly moved. He walks hesitantly toward Harold, reaching out his hand, but STOPS SHORT of touching his arm.

JOHN

Harold?


It's there, right there in the pages. Jim doesn't know why he hasn't seen it before. Doesn't know why nobody's said anything to him about it. About his character, about Harold, about their relationship—

Or well. Maybe he does.

"Something wrong?" Michael asks. He's been reading email but now he's looking at Jim.

Jim swallows hard. He shakes his head.

"Something wrong with the script?"

He shakes his head again. "No. Just—" He looked at Michael. "You know how it is. Just sometimes you see something you didn't see before."

"Hmm." Michael studied him, then looked down at his iPad again. "If it's anything you need to talk about—" he said, and Jim knew he was being careful to sound off-handed.

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, it's nothing."

"Okay, Jim, Michael." Richard's calling them over again. "I think we've got it fixed. Let's go again."

Michael walks over to Harold's chair. He's limping by the time he gets there, twisted and stiff, and it takes him a moment to settle. Jim studies him. Takes a deep breath.

John knows today is a bad day. That Harold's hurting. The cup of tea is just the right side of hot in his hand, and he's glad he took the few extra minutes to stop and get it.

His cuts and the bruises are superficial, a little extra time in the make-up chair for Jim that morning, but John was thrown from the car in the explosion and he's feeling the deep ache from heavy bruises low on his back. He moves stiffly and he feels like he understands a little better what it's like for Harold, every day. He finds a smile—and it's small, almost hesitant—and he sets the cup down on the table near his elbow.

"You look terrible," Harold says, and Michael picks up the cup and takes a hesitant sip as if to keep from burning his tongue.

"I'm fine," John says. His eyes meet Harold's briefly, and then dart away just as fast, but he takes a seat anyway, easing himself down into a chair. He can feel the color rise just a bit in his face, and he raises his eyes again, and this time they hold.

Michael's eyes widen, just briefly, almost unnoticeably, and then something moves in them. Something approving. Harold clears his throat. "You're bleeding all over my chair," he complains.

"Maybe we should take to wrapping the furniture in plastic." It's a weak joke and John knows it. His throat feels so dry and he wishes he'd bought himself some tea as well.

Harold begins rising stiffly from his chair and John's hand twitches as he keeps himself from reaching out to steady him. To touch him. "Maybe you could try to avoid getting yourself blown up any more than is absolutely necessary."

"Define necessary," John says. He realizes quickly it's wrong thing to say. "I'm sorry, I—"

Harold turns away from him. It's clear he doesn't want John to see what he's feeling, but John thinks maybe they're beyond that now.

"You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Reese, but I find I don't care to lose anymore people who are important to me." He seems to be holding his breath, waiting for John's reaction.

John walks hesitantly toward him, reaching out his hand, but he stops short of touching his arm. "Harold?"

Harold takes a deep breath and turns back to face him. He lifts his head and looks at John squarely.

John meets his eyes fearlessly, even as Jim shakes inside.

tech support au

[(Anonymous)]

John really likes the tech support guy, Harold. He only sees Harold when something breaks, but John is very good at breaking things. Harold figures it out, but he lets John play hid game until one day, he's very abruptly sick of seeing good tech broken. Pissy Harold, fascinated (turned on) John.

Technical Support (Reese/Finch), explicit, no warnings

[astolat]

This one turned completely gigantic so here it is on the AO3! Not quiiiiiite the kind of AU you're describing but I hope fun anyway. :D

http://archiveofourown.org/works/770581

Finch/Reese, Swordspoint AU

[killalla]

In which Lord Harold Finch, the tragically crippled Count of York, seeks to avenge the death of his cousin and mentor Nathan Ingram using a vast and increasing network of commoner spies and the talents of swordsman John Reese, who he rescued as a derelict soldier and incipient alcoholic from the streets of Riverside.

This could also include Alec Campion and Richard St. Vier, or they could be generational precursors or successors to Alec/Richard. (Although I'm particularly fond of the thought of someone commenting that they hadn't seen talent with a sword like that since St. Vier!)

Re: Finch/Reese, Swordspoint AU

[(Anonymous)]

OH MY GOD, what an awesome prompt.

Crossover: Real Genius

[(Anonymous)]

Sherry Nugil's number has come up. Maybe Laszlo wasn't the one after all.

Finch - backstory (crossover)

[(Anonymous)]

Things Harold Finch has: genius, an oversized sense of responsibility, snappy dress sense, no existence prior to 1976, a devoted friend, and a broken fob watch.

Re: Finch - backstory (crossover)

[liviapenn]

OH MY GOD.

Reese/Carter, 2x13 coda

[(Anonymous)]

John only went to the library the next morning. Where was he all night? With Carter, of course. Working through both their guilt of sending her away/letting herself be sent away and having happy-to-be-alive sex.

Micro-fill: post-2x13 Carter/Reese [Not rated] [No meme warnings apply]

[(Anonymous)]

"I ought to cuff you to the bed," she tells him, "keep you out of trouble." She slides her hands in beneath the lapels of his jacket and thinks about pushing, but settles for running her palms down the sheerly human warmth and solidness of him, the bomb vest well and truly gone.

"It wouldn't work, Carter," he says, all big blue eyes and a godawful bruise over the left one. "I pick locks."

"At least you'd know somebody wanted you safe." His face barely shifts, but she feels him shiver, so she gives him a little shove after all. It's that or pull him in so close she can't let go again. "Will you get out of that suit?"

moar Maxine Angelis plz (maybe Maxine/Zoe?)

[(Anonymous)]

I love Maxine Angelis (the reporter from 2x05 Bury the Lede). Would love to see her interacting with Zoe again, either gen or shippy. Maybe Maxine stumbles on some dangerous conspiracy or something and goes to Zoe for leverage or help accessing some information? Or they could just run into each other at an event somewhere.

Re: moar Maxine Angelis plz (maybe Maxine/Zoe?)

[(Anonymous)]

Seconded! Maxine totally would hit up Zoe for leads right? Right.

Finch/Reese, can't be together any more

[(Anonymous)]

So Reese and Finch decide that it's too dangerous for them to hang out together all the time (maybe Reese decides, because he feels bad about Logan Pierce following him back to Finch that one time). They will still work together to save the Numbers, and talk on the comms and email and text, but they won't see each other in person, ever. AND THERE IS PINING. SO MUCH PINING.

(please have it end with happy finch/reese.)

Re: Finch/Reese, can't be together any more

[(Anonymous)]

I am seconding this prompt. I am seconding it SO HARD.

Bear - Enemies

[(Anonymous)]

Harold has Root as his counterpart/enemy, and Reese gets Stanton. Who does Bear get?

Re: Bear - Enemies

[(Anonymous)]

The snippy little chihuahua down the street?

Is the Machine Skynet?

[loligo]

Sarah Connor vs. John Reese. (OMG, I am a dork, I just now noticed the name connection...) Anyway, it would be heart-breaking, but glorious!

(Or you could make it a whole epic, and give them a common enemy like Root to unite against. And then we could have a Cameron vs. Root showdown!)

Reese cooking, slash or gen

[(Anonymous)]

Something big has come up and Finch has collected Carter and Fusco / the whole Team Machine in one of his safe houses for a planning session. Reese cooks them all an excellent three course dinner from scratch. People are freaked out, Finch is amused.

OR:

Anything with Reese cooking, really.

Dead Zone Fusion/AU

[(Anonymous)]

After a terrible accident that nearly crippled him and put him in a coma for [insert timeframe here], Finch wakes up with the ability to see through time. Finding himself inundated with predictions of violence all around him, he sets out to systemise his ability and do something about it.

But in an effort to stop the violence before it happens, he needs a partner ...

Re: Dead Zone Fusion/AU

[(Anonymous)]

just found this kinkmeme. I had actually started a Dead Zone crossover fusion a while back. So if no one fills this here you may eventually see one if I ever finish

Always-a-girl!Finch/Reese

[(Anonymous)]

Anything at all, really, just always-a-girl!Finch. (I can't be the only one who wants this, can I?)

Re: Always-a-girl!Finch/Reese

[annchi]

+1 You are not aloooonne!

Finch/Carter, Undercover as a Couple

[(Anonymous)]

Gimme Finch in one of his rich businessman aliases having to go undercover at a big shindig, and bringing Carter because Reese can do many things, but look good in a cocktail dress isn't one of them.

Finch + Carter snark, Finch being a gentleman, Joss getting the chance to knock some snide bastard on his ass, Reese grumbling to himself over the comms, all of these would be much appreciated bonuses.

POI/The Equalizer Crossover

[(Anonymous)]

I honestly do not care how you manage it, or how you make the intervening 20-odd years of time go away, but the POI team meeting Robert McCall. Hell, maybe Reese plays chess with him in the park or something? I don't know.

FILL: Legend (POI/Equalizer crossover) (Reese, Finch, Robert McCall) [Teen] [Choose not to warn]

[arduinna]

“Huh.” Finch leaned back in his chair, staring at a monitor.

John quirked an eyebrow. “Finch?”

“Oh -- we have a new number, but... it’s odd.”

“Odd how?”

“Odd in that this is the eighth time I’ve seen it come up, although only the first since you joined me.”

“... Huh.”

“Precisely. I’ll have to update the information, but here’s what I have so far.” Finch clicked on a folder and brought up the dossier as John moved closer to look over his shoulder. “His name’s Robert --”

“McCall,” John finished, straightening a bit.

“You know him?”

“Of him. Man’s a legend. Before my time, but I’ve heard some of the stories.”

“Dangerous?”

John bared his teeth in a smile. “Very.”

“I’ve been assuming that the repetition of his number meant he was a perpetrator rather than a victim, but --” Finch hesitated, sweeping a hand at the screen as he leaned back to look up at John. “How dangerous can he be? The man’s 82 years old.”

“The man’s a legend,” John repeated softly, eyes fixed on the image on the screen. Older than the pictures he’d seen, sure -- the hair had whitened and thinned out into a bald spot, and the slight paunch and heavy jowl of middle age had thickened into roundness, while the ramrod-straight spine had softened into a slight stoop.

But the gaze was still sharp, and the grip on the cane was one that could turn it into a weapon in an instant.

“We all got warned about him, anyone who was ever in New York -- stay away from McCall. He was retired, and he was off-limits. Official word was that it was out of respect for his service.”

“And the unofficial word?”

“Rumor had it he had something on someone, or lots of someones. Something big, big enough that he could walk away on his own terms and not be touched. The stories said he retired to be some kind of vigilante, help the little guy who couldn’t find help anywhere else.”

Finch raised his eyebrows at that. “Really.”

John grinned. “Sound familiar?” Amusement faded as he moved closer to the displays, reaching out to brush his finger above the glassy surface of the photograph. “I don’t know how true it was, but men like him don’t retire peacefully, Finch.” He turned his head and caught Finch’s eye. “Men like him don’t retire.”

“They go out in a blaze of glory?” Finch asked softly.

“Or vengeance. Or petty grudges.” John stepped back, rolling his shoulders to settle his jacket more firmly. “Whatever it is, this man is still dangerous.”

“I never saw any reports of deaths after his number cleared.”

“No,” John agreed. “You wouldn’t.”

“... Ah. Quite.” Finch turned back to his monitors, frowning. “Well, I suggest you follow your legend --” He stopped when John shook his head.

“He’ll spot a tail, even me.”

“... All right, then. Perhaps, instead of watching from a distance, it would be better to go up close and personal, get inside his guard. You could challenge him to a game of chess; he plays in the park most days.”

“Don’t think so. He’s a Cold War spook, Finch, and he was the best. He’ll have me pegged for ex-military and CIA before I even sit down.” What must it be like, he wondered, to make it to 82.

“Then I suppose I shall have to,” Finch said, rising to his feet, mouth set in a determined line.

“What? No, Finch -- listen, whatever’s going on with McCall, it’s too dangerous for you to be out there with him.”

“I don’t really see what other choice we have, Mr. Reese. If you’re right, he’d spot Fusco or Carter as fast as he’d spot you. Besides, if I play this right, I can even explain why you’re lurking about, if he notices -- you can be my bodyguard. He’ll buy that, won’t he?”

John nodded grudgingly. “It’s about the one thing he will buy, if you do the discreetly-wealthy thing.”

“I’ll see if I can manage,” Finch said dryly, slipping into his perfectly tailored coat.


McCall was at the park, as expected, just settling in at what seemed to be his favorite table. The long wool coat from Finch’s dossier photo was missing, replaced with a thick wool cardigan against the cool October breeze.

They risked a circuit of the tables, with Finch peering interestedly and obviously at players and games while John eyed the bushes and checked sight-lines, and tallied possible threats, discreetly enough so most of the park patrons wouldn’t notice. Finch meandered casually back to McCall’s table and smiled slightly, gesturing at the board. “May I?”

“Oh, yes, please,” McCall said, reaching a hand across the table. “Robert.”

Finch shook it politely. “Harold. Shall we?”

“Pleasure,” McCall said. He picked up a white and black pawn, hiding them for Finch to pick, and the game was on.

John took up position nearby, with the widest possible view, letting the occasional murmur of polite game-and-weather chatter between Finch and McCall wash over him, as it gradually shifted to include travel, music, and art. Sounded like they were well-matched -- no surprise there.

“Check and mate, I believe,” McCall said eventually, sounding pleased.

Finch made a rueful sound, and tipped his king over. “So it is. I would insist on a rematch, but I must admit I’m getting rather hungry. Would you care to join me for lunch?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

Finch smiled. “It’s no imposition. I’ve enjoyed our game and our conversation, and I’d very much like to continue it. Please join me. There’s a very good steakhouse nearby.”

McCall studied him for a moment, then smiled back. “All right, then. Why not?”

“Splendid.”

They strolled through the park to the nearest exit, John following ten yards behind, lurking with as much casual menace as he could to give off the proper air of rich man’s hired muscle.

The path curved around a small stand of bushes, and Finch and McCall vanished from John’s view. He sped up, just in time to hear Finch’s alarmed “What do you want?” followed by a distinctive crunching sound. He broke into a run, bursting into the tiny grotto in the bushes where McCall was standing over two would-be assailants.

“You call that an ambush?” McCall said contemptuously, pointing his cane at one of the men, who subsided back into the ground, wide-eyed. “Whoever had the training of you did a damn poor job, let me tell you. Go on, go on, get out of here -- and tell your boss I am getting tired of these little ‘surprises’ of his. If he wants me, he’s going to have to do a damn sight better than this!”

The last was shouted after the departing backs of the two hobbling thugs.

“Where’d you hit ‘em?” John asked mildly.

“Kneecaps,” McCall said, brandishing the cane a bit. “Best place -- can’t protect them, and if you take out a kneecap, the other fellow’s going down.”

John nodded approvingly. “That’s what I’ve always thought.”

“Now, as for you.” The cane was suddenly at the base of John’s throat.

John went perfectly still.

“Why are you surveilling me? Do you work with them?” He jerked a head after the thugs, eyes ice-cold.

“He works for me,” Finch said, stepping closer.

John shot him a look, trying to warn him off.

“Yes, thank you, that much is perfectly clear. Clever cover, hiding in plain sight like that. But that doesn’t answer the surveillance question.”

“I just wanted to play some chess,” Finch said.

John shut his eyes briefly.

McCall snorted. “Oh, do me a favor. Do I look like I was born yesterday? You made a circuit to assess the situation, then came back and you -- Harold, is it, really? -- inserted yourself to keep a close eye on me, and I assume to bug me, while this one here assessed the broader picture. Wonderful job, by the way, splendid work spotting and stopping those two so the senior citizen could go peacefully about his day instead of having to risk life and limb.”

The acid was remarkable; John could almost feel actual strips of skin coming off. He braced himself and met McCall’s eyes. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I don’t think it was your life or limbs at risk there.”

McCall huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “Perhaps so. But you’ve still not answered my question.”

“We were here to help. We got a tip that someone was going to try to take you out, if not today then soon -- no details, no names, just that something was going down. We just wanted to be around to help. Totally unnecessarily, as it turns out.” He looked at Harold. “I told you, the man’s a legend.”

“I’m beginning to believe it,” Harold agreed. “Mr. McCall, do you think you could let my associate go? We have no quarrel with you, nor you with us. He’s telling you the truth -- we wanted to help.”

McCall shook his head and lowered the cane. “I must be going soft,” he said. “I actually believe you.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it,” John murmured.

McCall grinned at him, bright and battle-sharp. John carefully kept his hands in view.

“Now, about that lunch,” Finch said.

McCall raised an eyebrow at him; John didn’t quite dare, under the circumstances.

“I meant what I said, Robert -- I enjoyed our game and our conversation a great deal, and I’d like to continue at least one of them. And I really am hungry. Will you still join us?”

McCall blinked once. “‘Us,’ is it? So, not quite the hired muscle you seem to be after all?”

“Not quite,” John said.

“Good. You’d be wasted in a position like that. Ex-CIA, isn’t it? And Special Forces, too, unless I miss my guess.”

John slanted an I-told-you-so look at Finch. “I’m Harold’s head of security.”

McCall snorted. “Of course you are.” He eyed them both for a moment, clearly considering the proposition. “All right, gentlemen, you’re on -- let’s ‘do lunch’, as they say, and see where that takes us. I find I’m very intrigued by you two, very intrigued indeed.”

John shifted to walk between Finch and McCall, ignoring the exasperated look Finch sent him and McCall’s quiet chuckle. This was going to be a long lunch.

(fin)

POI/Iron Man Crossover - Joss Carter/James Rhodes

[(Anonymous)]

Don't even care. Just those two in the same space.

Re: POI/Iron Man Crossover - Joss Carter/James Rhodes

[(Anonymous)]

+1. Also, I'll be in my bunk. *happy thoughts*

Leon Tao/Logan Pierce, troublemakers

[(Anonymous)]

Because imagine how much trouble they could get into *together*... and because everyone deserves to meet their own eccentric billionaire...

Any characters, a conversation that passes the Bechdel test

[(Anonymous)]

I really liked Root and Shaw's scene in "Relevance" just because we so rarely see two women in that kind of scene. So, how about something that passes the Bechdel Test: do any two female characters have a conversation about something that isn't a man?

Re: Any characters, a conversation that passes the Bechdel test

[(Anonymous)]

yes! +1000000000

I've been thinking a lot lately about how many interesting, well-developed women characters this show has (unusual for this type of show) and how they never get to talk with each other (unfortunately, not so unusual).

Everyone has a scar or mark somewhere that matches their soulmate's

[(Anonymous)]

What can I say, I'm a huge sucker for those Magical Realism AUs where everybody in the world has a mark of some kind that matches their soulmate's. ("Soulmate" could be romantic, could be platonic life partners, co-workers who inspire each other, ultimate nemesis/rival, etc.)

Maybe in modern times, some people get these removed/covered because they don't want to be bound by tradition... if Reese has ever thought about it at all, he probably assumes Finch has had his removed for privacy reasons. Reese, of course, had to have *his* mark removed when he joined the CIA.

But, secretly sometimes he wonders...

Race/gender switch

[(Anonymous)]

So I was reading http://www.racialicious.com/2013/01/22/privilege-and-the-white-dude-super-detective/ and thinking about how implausible it would be for John to be anything but a white man, and then started thinking about Harold. What if he was Muslim--how would it read differently for him to design the Machine for the government? What if he was female--how would it read differently for him to be the brains behind the operation with Nathan and later John as the front man? What if he was a black disabled queer woman, what trust issues would he have, what would he be cynical about, would John react to him any differently? Would Carter? Would Root?

tl;dr Harold isn't a white man, what changes?

Harold/John NSFW

[(Anonymous)]

I would really like to see Harold build a fucking machine for John. Maybe it's because Harold's injuries don't always make it feasible for him to always fuck John, or perhaps it's to an accessory to their already kinky voyeuristic sex life. Authors choice.

Re: Harold/John NSFW

[(Anonymous)]

God yes! That would be so very hot!

Diners, Drive-ins and Dives (aka the Restaurant/Bar AU)

[(Anonymous)]

So Easter Sunday all Food Network played was Diners, Drive-ins and Dives (http://www.foodnetwork.com/diners-drive-ins-and-dives/index.html)

Now I just would like to see Reese working in on of those places, and maybe getting to deal with the annoying customers. XDXD Reese *Dead face* I'm sorry, did you say there was something wrong with my cooking?

Maybe Finch, Carter, Leon, Shaw and Fusco either work there or are regulars. (I bet Finch tips well, possibly owns the joint secretly).

Bonus points if it's as a spot on Triple D. XDXD!

Gen or Finch/Reese if you please.

Finch backstory

[(Anonymous)]

Finch backstory - anything would be great, though I'd really love to read about Finch as an undergrad.

Re: Finch backstory

[orockthro]

(A very small fill)

The class was tedious, boring, a waste of his talents, and sadly a requirement for graduation. He’d brought it up with the dean of students as soon as his schedule had been mailed to him, but had been quickly shot down. Freshmen, the dean said, should take their classes, do their homework, and stop bothering him.

The professor, wild haired and wearing the bell bottoms that were in fashion two years ago, wrote his name on the green chalk board. “I’m Professor Winger. Welcome to Physics 101.”

A young man sat next to him. He’d tried to make it clear that the seats to his left and right were off limits by strewing his belongings across the entirety of the desk, but the boy, blond and with a wide smile, sat down anyway. Harold glared at him. The boy smiled wider.

“I’m Nathan,” he stage whispered, “Nathan Ingram.” They sat at the back of the theater-style classroom. Ten rows below them the professor rambled on. Fluid dynamics, paper airplanes, and other asinine topics.

Harold looked back to the notebook he had in front of him. It was filled with his equations, sprawling in controlled diagonals across the page, not Physics 101.

“Wow, that’s some advanced stuff,” Nathan Ingram with the wide smile said and leaned in close. Harold could smell cigarettes and mint gum on his breath. “Way cooler than this class.”

Harold snorted. “This class is for nose pickers and ruler chewers. Math is what they should be teaching. Math explains the universe, this just... describes it. It’s so remedial.”

The professor was glaring at them. A loose sketch of an aerofoil was on the board and dotted lines curved up and over the wing. Nathan waved and the professor grudgingly left them alone.

Harold looked between the professor and Nathan. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You just made him ignore us.”

Nathan nudged Harold’s shoulder with his own. His coat was leather, light and expensive, and it moved like silk against Harold’s worn out denim jacket. “You know math. I know people.” Harold turned to a fresh page. His pen had bled through and pin pricks of blue dotted the white surface. “You never told me your name.”

“Harold.”

Nathan grinned. “Nice to meet you, Harold.”

Reese, you're a kitty!

[(Anonymous)]

Somehow, Reese gets turned into a cat, but still has to save the Number and be a badass. :3

Re: Reese, you're a kitty!

[lazulisong]

maybe not quite what you're looking for but I am writing the world's slowest version of this (it gets updates when I have brain / someone guilts me): http://archiveofourown.org/works/670075