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.crack!fic: It's Alive - D/M 2.5?
Title: It's Alive
By: HF
Email: aesc36 @gmail.com
Pairing: D/M. In a strange and disturbing way.
Ratings/Warnings: PG13-ish?
Disclaimer: Without a Trace belongs to other people. Alas.
Advertisements: crack!fic written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nekosmuse's International Manny Month Challenge.
Previous parts: 01
Notes: And somehow, between the stuff I scribbled in a notebook and the computer, this fic got much longer. I'm so sad.
CHAPTER TWO
“Danny? Sweetie, are you okay? Danny?”
Words. Viv was on the phone, concerned and insistent, saying something about Danny being okay – no asking, and sounding really worried. Saying something to Danny about hospitals and should she come over?
And he was also in Danny’s bed, holding Danny’s phone and listening to Viv talk to him. To him. Martin. Only he was Danny. And his headache was getting worse by the second, and he was pretty sure he was going to puke.
“Danny?”
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, and Jesus Christ on a rocket that was Danny’s voice.
“You sound out of it,” Viv observed. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Just a headache.” Just a nightmare. Just someone else’s very bad drug trip.
“Doesn’t sound like just a headache.” Viv had her ‘I don’t believe a single word you’re saying, and I don’t care if you tell me a thousand times it’s just a headache’ tone going, and Martin groaned inwardly. No chance now of brushing her off or concocting some lie, and no way of getting out of this gracefully.
This left the coward’s way out, and as much as Martin hated being a wuss as much as the next man, he was not above such a move.
“Viv? Someone’s um… someone’s at the buzzer. Gottagobye.”
“Dan – ” The phone slammed down in the middle of Danny’s name, Viv’s voice rising on an indignant note. Martin stared at his hand – not his hand – on the receiver, studying the slightly tanned skin, the fine dark hairs at the wrist.
Not his hand. Definitely not his hand.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
What the fuck do you do when you’re obviously insane? Because he couldn’t find any explanation for this other than a sudden, violent psychotic break, but then the whole point of being crazy is that you don’t know you’re crazy, and that lets you have delusions about being stuck in your partner’s body (here a desperate giggle threatened at the back of his throat) without worrying about what the sane people think.
Think, Fitz, he commanded himself. Be reasonable.
First thing: Call Danny. Because Martin had somehow carjacked his body and Danny deserved to get it back. Yes, this would be the logical, the right and proper thing to do.
He saw Danny’s cell phone sitting on his dresser and stood up, swayed a bit, winced against the pain spiking in his temples and the sudden, cruel twist of dizziness. Like wearing weird, not-quite-fitting clothes, the shoulders a bit tight and too long in the legs, so he ended up shuffling a bit as he made his way over to the dresser and picked up the phone.
And then it occurred to him that, if he was in Danny’s body… then where was Danny’s… Whatever it was. Conscious? Soul? Mind? Life-force? In his body?
Memory, very faint and uncertain, brushed at him – it was still dark, and he was tied down by thick leather straps, and something cold and metallic encircled his head. Mad laughter in the background, interspersed with comments like “Now vee must align the hemispherical may-triceez und verrrry corre-kt-lee, Eegor” and “hof you connected all the electrodes?” and a hissing, rough voice answering “Yesss, massster,” on both occasions.
“Oh, my God.” Maybe he was so crazy he couldn’t tell the difference.
Before he could think much more about his sanity, or lack thereof, he flipped open the phone, thanking God that the Bureau issued identical cell phones to all agents, and ran down the list of names in Danny’s phone book. Very long list, and he was depressed enough by the time he got to the ‘F’s that he almost missed his entry.
Sighing, he selected ‘Fitzie’ and hit the speed dial.
Ring, ring, ring and he held his breath, wondering what the hell he would do if he had to leave a message. His phone would kick him into his voice mail on the sixth ring.
A tentative, very nearly hysterical “Hello?” broke in on the fifth.
That was his voice. Dear God in Heaven, that was his voice. He was listening to his voice answering his cell phone.
“Uh, Danny?” he said carefully.
“Martin?” his voice answered back.
“Yeah,” Martin said. “It’s me.”
“Shit.” And Martin had no idea that his voice could get that high, but apparently it was possible. Danny – he – did not sound good. “Um, I guess this rules out insanity.”
“Unless we’re both insane.” And Martin would actually prefer insanity, now that he thought about it. They had medications for that. And, like, padded rooms and stuff.
“I knew Jack shouldn’t have sent us down to those warehouses without backup,” Danny said, voice tight. “I think he wants to kill us.”
“Paranoid much?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Martin, we somehow ended up in each other’s body.” And wow, even higher, bordering on shrill. Martin writhed in embarrassment; this right here was exactly why he never let himself get too upset and out of control, but it sounded like Danny didn’t care much about the spectacle he was making of himself. Of Martin.
“Okay, look… We’re not going to solve anything by freaking out,” he said, trying to sound as calm and reasonable as possible, given the circumstances, and knowing that he was not coming off as either calm or reasonable. “We should meet up and decide what to do.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Danny sounded a lot calmer now. “Um, I can be over at… uh, my place in twenty minutes. Just need to… to…” Silence for a moment, and Martin was almost sure they’d been disconnected when Danny reappeared again. “Just need to get changed and grab something to eat. I’m fucking starving.”
“How can you think about eating at a time like this?”
“You’re the stress eater, you tell me,” Danny said crossly. “I’ll be over in a bit.”
The line went dead.
* * *
Danny couldn’t believe how hungry he was, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of a day or so. Sternly, he told himself it was just Martin’s body and he was not about to acknowledge its demands (because that would be the same as acknowledging he was in Martin’s body and that was too much for him to handle at the moment, his words to Martin notwithstanding), and made himself go to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Very carefully he did not look into the mirrored surface of the medicine cabinet as he fumbled for toothbrush and toothpaste. The thought of a shower flitted through his brain, but that was just… He was stiff and sore, cramped from what had probably been a day on an uncomfortable hospital bed (and hours strapped down on a wooden plank, his memory supplied), and he smelled like a hospital, nasty with antiseptic.
But that would mean undressing and… and other things, and as much as he had wanted to do other things to Martin for some time now, he was not about to do them while he was… was… in… He could feel his face turning red at the very thought, and had to laugh around his toothbrush, because this was what Martin’s blushing felt like, like his face was going up in flames.
He almost choked on the toothpaste and spat it out before he did, wincing at the combination of mint and morning breath. Washed it out with water and as he wiped his mouth looked up.
Wide blue eyes stared back and Danny staggered backward, the towel rack behind him cracking painfully across his shoulders.
Martin’s shoulders, and that was Martin’s terrified, astonished face staring straight back at him, and he wasn’t crazy after all.
* * *
At pretty much the same time, Martin was having a similar experience. For much the same reason he avoided the shower and resolved not to look into the mirror over the sink, but unlike Danny, when he inadvertently glanced into it, he froze, and stared at Danny’s dark, uncomprehending eyes.
He could have stood there all day, mesmerized by Danny’s face being where his should be (leaving aside the fact that this was Danny’s bathroom mirror), but the buzzer startled him into motion again. He stumbled to the intercom, listened to his voice asking to come up, and fumbled with the button for a moment before pressing it.
Martin waited in agony, listening for footsteps out in the hallway, listening as they appeared at the edge of his hearing, faint but coming swiftly closer, and then the knock – three sharp raps – like gunshots.
Yanked the door open before he could think too much about it.
“Uh, hi,” he heard himself say. In Danny’s voice. To… to himself.
“Hey,” Danny said, shifting from foot to foot.
“Come in.” Martin pulled the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside.
“Thanks,” Danny said sarcastically and stalked past Martin, looking around his own apartment as if seeing it for the first time. Which, Martin supposed, he kind of was. In a way.
“So,” Martin said as he shut the door, “what are we going to do?”
They debated this question for a good half hour as they made breakfast [but for purposes of plot – and because, as this is crack!fic, many things don’t need explanation (even if they can be explained) – the nature of their conversation must be left unelaborated. The reader may imagine it for herself] and the only resolution they reached was,
“No one can know,” Danny said decisively as he shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, while Martin watched with distant amazement. He looked like that when he ate? God. “Not until we get this figured out.”
Martin agreed with this, because to bring their current situation to Jack’s attention – even with all proofs at the ready – would earn them both the next year in Dr. Harris’s clutches. If not a one-way ticket to a state mental facility.
“Okay.” Martin took a deep breath. “We’ll have to get each other’s computer passwords and everything – ATM card numbers, day planners, medical problems, allergies, whatever we need.”
“And you have a date with Mike Richards on Thursday, but you should probably cancel,” Danny said through a mouthful of apple. “He’s an asshole anyway, so any excuse should do.”
“Yeah, sure – wait. What?”
“You heard me.” And he was smirking. Danny was smirking, and using Martin’s mouth to do it. “You’ll have to cancel my date. Mike’s number is on a piece of paper somewhere. Pretty sure I wrote it down.”
“Oh, my God.”
-tbc.-
Post-fic notes that have nothing to do with WaT: Can I just say... Oh my God Brokeback Mountain? *explodes with the cowboy love*
By: HF
Email: aesc36 @gmail.com
Pairing: D/M. In a strange and disturbing way.
Ratings/Warnings: PG13-ish?
Disclaimer: Without a Trace belongs to other people. Alas.
Advertisements: crack!fic written for
nekosmuse's International Manny Month Challenge.Previous parts: 01
Notes: And somehow, between the stuff I scribbled in a notebook and the computer, this fic got much longer. I'm so sad.
CHAPTER TWO
“Danny? Sweetie, are you okay? Danny?”
Words. Viv was on the phone, concerned and insistent, saying something about Danny being okay – no asking, and sounding really worried. Saying something to Danny about hospitals and should she come over?
And he was also in Danny’s bed, holding Danny’s phone and listening to Viv talk to him. To him. Martin. Only he was Danny. And his headache was getting worse by the second, and he was pretty sure he was going to puke.
“Danny?”
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, and Jesus Christ on a rocket that was Danny’s voice.
“You sound out of it,” Viv observed. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Just a headache.” Just a nightmare. Just someone else’s very bad drug trip.
“Doesn’t sound like just a headache.” Viv had her ‘I don’t believe a single word you’re saying, and I don’t care if you tell me a thousand times it’s just a headache’ tone going, and Martin groaned inwardly. No chance now of brushing her off or concocting some lie, and no way of getting out of this gracefully.
This left the coward’s way out, and as much as Martin hated being a wuss as much as the next man, he was not above such a move.
“Viv? Someone’s um… someone’s at the buzzer. Gottagobye.”
“Dan – ” The phone slammed down in the middle of Danny’s name, Viv’s voice rising on an indignant note. Martin stared at his hand – not his hand – on the receiver, studying the slightly tanned skin, the fine dark hairs at the wrist.
Not his hand. Definitely not his hand.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
What the fuck do you do when you’re obviously insane? Because he couldn’t find any explanation for this other than a sudden, violent psychotic break, but then the whole point of being crazy is that you don’t know you’re crazy, and that lets you have delusions about being stuck in your partner’s body (here a desperate giggle threatened at the back of his throat) without worrying about what the sane people think.
Think, Fitz, he commanded himself. Be reasonable.
First thing: Call Danny. Because Martin had somehow carjacked his body and Danny deserved to get it back. Yes, this would be the logical, the right and proper thing to do.
He saw Danny’s cell phone sitting on his dresser and stood up, swayed a bit, winced against the pain spiking in his temples and the sudden, cruel twist of dizziness. Like wearing weird, not-quite-fitting clothes, the shoulders a bit tight and too long in the legs, so he ended up shuffling a bit as he made his way over to the dresser and picked up the phone.
And then it occurred to him that, if he was in Danny’s body… then where was Danny’s… Whatever it was. Conscious? Soul? Mind? Life-force? In his body?
Memory, very faint and uncertain, brushed at him – it was still dark, and he was tied down by thick leather straps, and something cold and metallic encircled his head. Mad laughter in the background, interspersed with comments like “Now vee must align the hemispherical may-triceez und verrrry corre-kt-lee, Eegor” and “hof you connected all the electrodes?” and a hissing, rough voice answering “Yesss, massster,” on both occasions.
“Oh, my God.” Maybe he was so crazy he couldn’t tell the difference.
Before he could think much more about his sanity, or lack thereof, he flipped open the phone, thanking God that the Bureau issued identical cell phones to all agents, and ran down the list of names in Danny’s phone book. Very long list, and he was depressed enough by the time he got to the ‘F’s that he almost missed his entry.
Sighing, he selected ‘Fitzie’ and hit the speed dial.
Ring, ring, ring and he held his breath, wondering what the hell he would do if he had to leave a message. His phone would kick him into his voice mail on the sixth ring.
A tentative, very nearly hysterical “Hello?” broke in on the fifth.
That was his voice. Dear God in Heaven, that was his voice. He was listening to his voice answering his cell phone.
“Uh, Danny?” he said carefully.
“Martin?” his voice answered back.
“Yeah,” Martin said. “It’s me.”
“Shit.” And Martin had no idea that his voice could get that high, but apparently it was possible. Danny – he – did not sound good. “Um, I guess this rules out insanity.”
“Unless we’re both insane.” And Martin would actually prefer insanity, now that he thought about it. They had medications for that. And, like, padded rooms and stuff.
“I knew Jack shouldn’t have sent us down to those warehouses without backup,” Danny said, voice tight. “I think he wants to kill us.”
“Paranoid much?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Martin, we somehow ended up in each other’s body.” And wow, even higher, bordering on shrill. Martin writhed in embarrassment; this right here was exactly why he never let himself get too upset and out of control, but it sounded like Danny didn’t care much about the spectacle he was making of himself. Of Martin.
“Okay, look… We’re not going to solve anything by freaking out,” he said, trying to sound as calm and reasonable as possible, given the circumstances, and knowing that he was not coming off as either calm or reasonable. “We should meet up and decide what to do.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Danny sounded a lot calmer now. “Um, I can be over at… uh, my place in twenty minutes. Just need to… to…” Silence for a moment, and Martin was almost sure they’d been disconnected when Danny reappeared again. “Just need to get changed and grab something to eat. I’m fucking starving.”
“How can you think about eating at a time like this?”
“You’re the stress eater, you tell me,” Danny said crossly. “I’ll be over in a bit.”
The line went dead.
Danny couldn’t believe how hungry he was, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of a day or so. Sternly, he told himself it was just Martin’s body and he was not about to acknowledge its demands (because that would be the same as acknowledging he was in Martin’s body and that was too much for him to handle at the moment, his words to Martin notwithstanding), and made himself go to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Very carefully he did not look into the mirrored surface of the medicine cabinet as he fumbled for toothbrush and toothpaste. The thought of a shower flitted through his brain, but that was just… He was stiff and sore, cramped from what had probably been a day on an uncomfortable hospital bed (and hours strapped down on a wooden plank, his memory supplied), and he smelled like a hospital, nasty with antiseptic.
But that would mean undressing and… and other things, and as much as he had wanted to do other things to Martin for some time now, he was not about to do them while he was… was… in… He could feel his face turning red at the very thought, and had to laugh around his toothbrush, because this was what Martin’s blushing felt like, like his face was going up in flames.
He almost choked on the toothpaste and spat it out before he did, wincing at the combination of mint and morning breath. Washed it out with water and as he wiped his mouth looked up.
Wide blue eyes stared back and Danny staggered backward, the towel rack behind him cracking painfully across his shoulders.
Martin’s shoulders, and that was Martin’s terrified, astonished face staring straight back at him, and he wasn’t crazy after all.
At pretty much the same time, Martin was having a similar experience. For much the same reason he avoided the shower and resolved not to look into the mirror over the sink, but unlike Danny, when he inadvertently glanced into it, he froze, and stared at Danny’s dark, uncomprehending eyes.
He could have stood there all day, mesmerized by Danny’s face being where his should be (leaving aside the fact that this was Danny’s bathroom mirror), but the buzzer startled him into motion again. He stumbled to the intercom, listened to his voice asking to come up, and fumbled with the button for a moment before pressing it.
Martin waited in agony, listening for footsteps out in the hallway, listening as they appeared at the edge of his hearing, faint but coming swiftly closer, and then the knock – three sharp raps – like gunshots.
Yanked the door open before he could think too much about it.
“Uh, hi,” he heard himself say. In Danny’s voice. To… to himself.
“Hey,” Danny said, shifting from foot to foot.
“Come in.” Martin pulled the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside.
“Thanks,” Danny said sarcastically and stalked past Martin, looking around his own apartment as if seeing it for the first time. Which, Martin supposed, he kind of was. In a way.
“So,” Martin said as he shut the door, “what are we going to do?”
They debated this question for a good half hour as they made breakfast [but for purposes of plot – and because, as this is crack!fic, many things don’t need explanation (even if they can be explained) – the nature of their conversation must be left unelaborated. The reader may imagine it for herself] and the only resolution they reached was,
“No one can know,” Danny said decisively as he shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, while Martin watched with distant amazement. He looked like that when he ate? God. “Not until we get this figured out.”
Martin agreed with this, because to bring their current situation to Jack’s attention – even with all proofs at the ready – would earn them both the next year in Dr. Harris’s clutches. If not a one-way ticket to a state mental facility.
“Okay.” Martin took a deep breath. “We’ll have to get each other’s computer passwords and everything – ATM card numbers, day planners, medical problems, allergies, whatever we need.”
“And you have a date with Mike Richards on Thursday, but you should probably cancel,” Danny said through a mouthful of apple. “He’s an asshole anyway, so any excuse should do.”
“Yeah, sure – wait. What?”
“You heard me.” And he was smirking. Danny was smirking, and using Martin’s mouth to do it. “You’ll have to cancel my date. Mike’s number is on a piece of paper somewhere. Pretty sure I wrote it down.”
“Oh, my God.”
-tbc.-
Post-fic notes that have nothing to do with WaT: Can I just say... Oh my God Brokeback Mountain? *explodes with the cowboy love*
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“You’re the stress eater, you tell me,” Danny said crossly. “I’ll be over in a bit.”
OMG, BWAH! This bit just killed me. Although not nearly as much as the ending and can I just say that I love you? Hee. Hee hee. And once again, hee. If Martin's head doesn't explode (well, Danny's head, but you know waht I mean, Martin's the one in there now) by the end of this fic, that'll be a major victory.
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Glad you liked it! That was my favorite part, I think, because I could hear Martin's voice (complete with edge of Fitzgeraldian annoyance) saying it, but with Danny's fond sort of exasperation behind it.
And the same can be said of my head :D
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Re Brokeback Mountain: Have you read the novella? :o
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:D I'm happy people like that part... It was something that would either go very well or very badly (for me). So I had an out prepared, just in case.
Have not yet read the novella. I should, because it would be the proper and English student thing to do. My mom and I are going to go see it when I'm on winter break, so with any luck I'll get a chance to do it then :D
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*eyes you* Do tell! XD
Have not yet read the novella.
*looks around shiftily* Would you like too~~?
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Again LUFFS! and I really gotta go coz I'm really late but now I'm all giggle and happy and thats a good thing...
*mad giggles*
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Thank you! :)
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So now Danny and Martin will be pretending to be each other? Can I say that is so great? Because it is going to be really fun to see. Love where this is going.
Oh, and BBM is already marked on my calendar for the December opening. The trailer rocked.
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The trailer rocked.
Yeah, I almost passed out :D
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“Oh, my God.”
OMG. Smirking Martin. *mmmmmm*
Great chapter. It's going to be hilarious when both of them are going to pretend to be someone else. Looking forward to it.
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Just one of many delightful inversions to take place later on :D I've been having a cracktastic time imagining them in all sorts of delightfully awkward situations.
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*giggles hysterically*
OMG! OMG! OMG! So cracktastic! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I love this story way more than I should. And dude, Danny, forcing Martin to cancel his date with a boy! Heh. God, this is so priceless. I'd dying for the next chapter. Dying I tell you!
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
::loves::
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That is what they say about crack, too :D *loves you*
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Ah this is great. Can't wait to see where this is going...
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*stabs your icon in its squinty eye*
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And Brokeback Mountain squee!
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And I can't wait! *bounce*
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Oh my god, this is so bloody brilliant I can't even put it to words. Oh, oh, oh. I adore your writing and your wit and damn how I wish I would have written this because this. Is. Fantastic. I can't wait for the next part.
Also, just a thought: if they have sex now, wouldn't that be like, you know, masturbation or something?
...
*blink*
I'll... just be over... there... *runs*
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*iz very pointedly not going near that*
Or worse, giving each other pointers...
Martin: Go for the nipples, Danny. I like that.
Danny: Um, okay.
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but it sounded like Danny didn’t care much about the spectacle he was making of himself. Of Martin.
It will be so funny seeing Martin's body acting like Danny and vice versa. Great continuation, I'm loving it.
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It will be so funny seeing Martin's body acting like Danny and vice versa.
Oh, there will be a lot of that, don't you worry :)
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Great job.
Missy
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Must. Have. More.
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Such a cute icon... they are so madly in love with each other, aren't they?
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Oooo They so are!!!!
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you are an evil evil woman.
what a way for Martin to discover that Danny's gay! BWAHAHAHA
and OMG, Viv and Danny are totally BFF and she would so be calling to check on him
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No... it's Dr. von Birkenstock's fault. He put them there :D
Viv and Danny are totally BFF and she would so be calling to check on him
Of course! Tho' I'd like to think she'd call Martin (who is actually Danny at the moment) to see how he's doing, too. And you can bet she knows something's up!