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.crack!fic: It's Alive - D/M 5/5
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; 02; 03; 04
Notes: Last part of the crack!fic. If you, kind reader, have enjoyed this little bit of bizarreness, why, let me know, yes? :)
CHAPTER FIVE
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Martin asked for the fiftieth time as von Birkenstock continued his inspection of the “apparatus,” as he called it.
To Danny, it looked more like a jumble of wires and rusty metal boxes with ancient analog dials set into them than actual scientific or medical equipment, but he tried not to think too much about that.
“You’re sure?” Martin asked again.
“Quite possssitif, my boy.” Dr. von Birkenstock patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and went about adjusting the tangled array of wires connected to what was very much like a metal colander strapped to Martin’s head. “Now for you, Agent Fitz – I, I mean, you are Agent Taylor, correkt?” Danny (at this point still in Martin’s body and feeling Martin’s body reacting happily to Danny’s body lying just a couple feet away) nodded. “Eet ees very confusing, ees it not?”
“That’s one word for it,” Jack said with a sigh. “Now, what’s the margin of error here? I really can’t afford to replace two agents. The last time I tried was a complete disaster.”
“Eh. Fifty-fifty.” Von Birkenstock made a seesawing motion with one hand and shrugged, then went back to his adjustments. “But eef you keep distracting me, ze odds… zey get much, much verse.”
“Shut up, Jack,” Vivian hissed, elbowing him in the side. Jack grunted.
“I can’t believe Danny broke up with me,” Sam muttered. “Is he even allowed to do that? Does it even count as a break-up?”
“You too,” Viv said.
“Shut up!” Danny and Martin said together.
“Ssssilence, ze lot of you!” von Birkenstock shouted. “Do you know how hard eet ees to align ze elektrostatical transfer matrices und confirm zat ze cerebrometer is prec-ise-ly calibrated? Vell, I assure you zat it is very, very hard, even for a scientist of my brilliance.” He stopped and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Now, eef you vill be so kind, be silent for ze duration of ze operation.”
“Um, before you start,” Martin said hesitantly, wincing as von Birkenstock turned a ferocious scowl on him, thick white eyebrows drawing together like thunderclouds. “Don’t we get an anaesthetic or something?”
“I am very sorry, but in order for ze operation to verk, you must be conscious, agent Fitzzzgerald,” von Birkenstock said. A tiny cackle issued from him and he rubbed his hands together gleefully. “But, ef you are lucky and ze operation es successful, yoo von’t remember a sing.”
“Oh, great,” Danny mumbled. Martin just looked sick, which was really not a very good look on Danny’s face.
Von Birkenstock turned to Jack, Sam, and Viv. “Ze generator, agents, eet es a sing of great beauty. Many megavoltzzz of power, enough – I hope – to transfer ze identities of your Agents Fitzzzgerald und Taylor back to zeir own bodies. Eet es my, how you say… masterverk?” He looked back at the generator, a massive block of metal encrusted with dials and wires, and cackled contentedly to himself for a moment.
“Now, Eegor, power up ze generator,” von Birkenstock ordered.
“Yessss, masssster.” Igor lurched over to a huge, rusty lever attached to the generator and, reaching up with rubber-gloved hands, pulled it down.
A great crack of lightning was visible through the windows, followed a moment later by thunder and von Birkenstock’s mad cackling, and for both Martin and Danny everything went black.
[Suspenseful, isn’t it?]
* * *
“Thank God that’s over,” Jack said as he pulled down von Birkenstock’s picture from the white board and began to wipe it off. “I was beginning to think this was never going to end.”
“I still can’t believe that Danny said it was over,” Sam was muttering to herself as she stuffed files and folders into their storage boxes. “Why do you think he did that? I mean, I mean…why?”
“He’s been lusting after Martin for the past three years,” Vivian said calmly. Jack made a strangled sound, very much like a stomped frog, and Sam squeaked. Vivian ignored both reactions. “So, Jack, are we going to tell Victor what happened?”
“Absolutely not.” Jack’s face turned an arresting greenish color. “As far as he and the rest of the Bureau are concerned, this never happened. And all of you are forbidden from ever mentioning von Birkenstock’s name again. That’s an order.”
“Give me next Friday off and Victor will never hear a word about it.”
“Done,” Jack said weakly as he shuffled into his office. “I’ll… I’ll uh… be… in…”
“He’s been what after Martin?” Sam squawked.
“You heard me.”
* * *
Even though the operation “vas a suk-sess,” in Dr. von Birkenstock’s estimation, Jack had insisted on sending Martin and Danny to the local hospital for a checkup. Von Birkenstock had complained strenuously, arguing that there could still be side-effects and that as the world’s most preeminent brain surgeon he was the best-qualified to take care of them, but Jack had told him that, unless either Martin or Danny (or both) started quacking, they were done.
Vivian had driven their unconscious bodies to the hospital while Jack and Sam had taken Igor and von Birkenstock in the opposite direction to the state mental hospital down the road.
Now, thank God, they were out of the hospital, out of Schenectady, and back in the city with the whole annoying case behind them.
“It’s good to be home,” Danny sighed happily as he collapsed onto his couch. His couch in his apartment. And, best of all, he was in his body again.
This was a Very Good Thing.
Granted, his body felt a little bit stretched out, and he was absolutely convinced that he’d gained weight, because Martin apparently had no conception of “leave it like you found it” – either that or else his cheeseburger addiction went much deeper than Danny had yet suspected. He hadn’t looked at the contents of his refrigerator and cabinets yet, stopped by the fear of finding a box of White Castles (or worse, and please God let there not be anything worse) stashed in his freezer.
But, considering that two days earlier he had been faced with the possibility of being trapped in Martin’s body forever, being dead, or being convinced he was a duck, Danny figured that he’d take his body back and be happy with it.
He’d also like to take Martin’s body, come to think of it, and he’d be very happy with that.
And speaking of which, Martin was sitting in the chair next to him, perched nervously on the edge of it and that was also a Very Good Thing. Martin was watching him like he wasn’t quite sure what Danny was going to do, and looking very much like he wanted to fidget but was forcing himself to stay still. It was kind of crazy, come to think of it, Danny reflected, looking at Martin and seeing Martin, like there was something that was actually and weirdly indefinably Martin Fitzgerald staring out of those blue eyes at him.
Weird and uncomfortable, and the sudden spark of arousal low in his gut was definitely familiar. He would have to do something about this soon, he really would. But in the meantime…
“Any changes around here I should know about?” Danny asked, shifting a bit and hoping Martin didn’t notice.
“I, uh, re-organized your bookcase,” Martin told him, gesturing at the wall unit, and looking at it, Danny realized he had. “By genre and author,” Martin added after a moment.
Danny stared at Martin, who blushed and scowled.
“What? Since I cancelled your date – your date – I had nothing to do that night,” Martin said, all huffy and offended, and really Danny had missed this. He really had.
“So you reorganize your bookshelves every night?” He smirked at Martin, who glared back. “Well, I’m sure your nights are long and boring after Sam, so you’re probably looking for something to do….”
“Shut up.”
“You can come over and straighten my bookcase again, if you’re ever bored.”
“I said – Wait. What?”
Danny made himself look straight at Martin and say, “I know you’re attracted to me.”
“What makes you say that?” Martin leaned back in his chair and stared at him with some alarm.
“I was kind of in your body for a week, Fitzie,” Danny reminded him. “And whenever I – you, whoever – my body was around, your body temperature jumped, like, a hundred degrees.”
“That was an allergic reaction.”
“Ouch!” Danny winced. “I’m wounded, Fitz. I really am.”
“And speaking of weird reactions, what the hell’s up with all the smirking? And the bending over, and the invasion of personal space?” Martin demanded. “Is it like some kind of freakish reflex? I couldn’t control it, and it was seriously disturbing.”
“Well, I’d think that’d be obvious,” Danny said
“I – ” Martin made an indistinct sound.
“Exactly,” Danny said, levering himself up. “Now, shut up and get over here.”
Kissing Martin was good. Weird, because he knew what Martin’s skin was like, but yet he didn’t, knew the tickle of Martin’s tongue across his palate but didn’t, not quite, not exactly. Like pulling up Martin’s shirt and running his hands over all that wonderful, hot skin was new, but not, and feeling Martin’s hands doing… wow. That, circling over the sensitive skin below Danny’s navel – which he absolutely loved – and had Martin been spending his time in Danny’s body exploring?
“By the way, Martin,” he said when he managed to pry Martin’s mouth off of his and get his breath back, “you never told me you had a birthmark on your –”
Martin stared at him, face flushed and lips swollen, a wonderful mixture of debauchery and disbelief. “My – You looked?”
“Not on purpose. But if you look at it sideways, it kind of looks like – ”
“Shut up,” Martin said firmly and pushed Danny down into the couch cushions.
The next morning
“So,” Danny said as Martin was worrying at the skin over his collarbone with his teeth, “do you think there’s some kind of weird lesson to all this? Like, a moral or something?”
“Other than staying away from mad scientists?” Martin addressed the question to Danny’s left nipple.
“Well, yeah, like walking in other people’s shoes, or not eating gross cheeseburgers while you’re in your partner’s body?”
“None that I can think of,” Martin said around a mouthful of Danny’s pectoral muscle.
“Okay.”
-end!-
Wow, the crack!fic muscles are all sore now. Going to have to recover with some angst or something.
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; 02; 03; 04
Notes: Last part of the crack!fic. If you, kind reader, have enjoyed this little bit of bizarreness, why, let me know, yes? :)
CHAPTER FIVE
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Martin asked for the fiftieth time as von Birkenstock continued his inspection of the “apparatus,” as he called it.
To Danny, it looked more like a jumble of wires and rusty metal boxes with ancient analog dials set into them than actual scientific or medical equipment, but he tried not to think too much about that.
“You’re sure?” Martin asked again.
“Quite possssitif, my boy.” Dr. von Birkenstock patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and went about adjusting the tangled array of wires connected to what was very much like a metal colander strapped to Martin’s head. “Now for you, Agent Fitz – I, I mean, you are Agent Taylor, correkt?” Danny (at this point still in Martin’s body and feeling Martin’s body reacting happily to Danny’s body lying just a couple feet away) nodded. “Eet ees very confusing, ees it not?”
“That’s one word for it,” Jack said with a sigh. “Now, what’s the margin of error here? I really can’t afford to replace two agents. The last time I tried was a complete disaster.”
“Eh. Fifty-fifty.” Von Birkenstock made a seesawing motion with one hand and shrugged, then went back to his adjustments. “But eef you keep distracting me, ze odds… zey get much, much verse.”
“Shut up, Jack,” Vivian hissed, elbowing him in the side. Jack grunted.
“I can’t believe Danny broke up with me,” Sam muttered. “Is he even allowed to do that? Does it even count as a break-up?”
“You too,” Viv said.
“Shut up!” Danny and Martin said together.
“Ssssilence, ze lot of you!” von Birkenstock shouted. “Do you know how hard eet ees to align ze elektrostatical transfer matrices und confirm zat ze cerebrometer is prec-ise-ly calibrated? Vell, I assure you zat it is very, very hard, even for a scientist of my brilliance.” He stopped and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Now, eef you vill be so kind, be silent for ze duration of ze operation.”
“Um, before you start,” Martin said hesitantly, wincing as von Birkenstock turned a ferocious scowl on him, thick white eyebrows drawing together like thunderclouds. “Don’t we get an anaesthetic or something?”
“I am very sorry, but in order for ze operation to verk, you must be conscious, agent Fitzzzgerald,” von Birkenstock said. A tiny cackle issued from him and he rubbed his hands together gleefully. “But, ef you are lucky and ze operation es successful, yoo von’t remember a sing.”
“Oh, great,” Danny mumbled. Martin just looked sick, which was really not a very good look on Danny’s face.
Von Birkenstock turned to Jack, Sam, and Viv. “Ze generator, agents, eet es a sing of great beauty. Many megavoltzzz of power, enough – I hope – to transfer ze identities of your Agents Fitzzzgerald und Taylor back to zeir own bodies. Eet es my, how you say… masterverk?” He looked back at the generator, a massive block of metal encrusted with dials and wires, and cackled contentedly to himself for a moment.
“Now, Eegor, power up ze generator,” von Birkenstock ordered.
“Yessss, masssster.” Igor lurched over to a huge, rusty lever attached to the generator and, reaching up with rubber-gloved hands, pulled it down.
A great crack of lightning was visible through the windows, followed a moment later by thunder and von Birkenstock’s mad cackling, and for both Martin and Danny everything went black.
“Thank God that’s over,” Jack said as he pulled down von Birkenstock’s picture from the white board and began to wipe it off. “I was beginning to think this was never going to end.”
“I still can’t believe that Danny said it was over,” Sam was muttering to herself as she stuffed files and folders into their storage boxes. “Why do you think he did that? I mean, I mean…why?”
“He’s been lusting after Martin for the past three years,” Vivian said calmly. Jack made a strangled sound, very much like a stomped frog, and Sam squeaked. Vivian ignored both reactions. “So, Jack, are we going to tell Victor what happened?”
“Absolutely not.” Jack’s face turned an arresting greenish color. “As far as he and the rest of the Bureau are concerned, this never happened. And all of you are forbidden from ever mentioning von Birkenstock’s name again. That’s an order.”
“Give me next Friday off and Victor will never hear a word about it.”
“Done,” Jack said weakly as he shuffled into his office. “I’ll… I’ll uh… be… in…”
“He’s been what after Martin?” Sam squawked.
“You heard me.”
Even though the operation “vas a suk-sess,” in Dr. von Birkenstock’s estimation, Jack had insisted on sending Martin and Danny to the local hospital for a checkup. Von Birkenstock had complained strenuously, arguing that there could still be side-effects and that as the world’s most preeminent brain surgeon he was the best-qualified to take care of them, but Jack had told him that, unless either Martin or Danny (or both) started quacking, they were done.
Vivian had driven their unconscious bodies to the hospital while Jack and Sam had taken Igor and von Birkenstock in the opposite direction to the state mental hospital down the road.
Now, thank God, they were out of the hospital, out of Schenectady, and back in the city with the whole annoying case behind them.
“It’s good to be home,” Danny sighed happily as he collapsed onto his couch. His couch in his apartment. And, best of all, he was in his body again.
This was a Very Good Thing.
Granted, his body felt a little bit stretched out, and he was absolutely convinced that he’d gained weight, because Martin apparently had no conception of “leave it like you found it” – either that or else his cheeseburger addiction went much deeper than Danny had yet suspected. He hadn’t looked at the contents of his refrigerator and cabinets yet, stopped by the fear of finding a box of White Castles (or worse, and please God let there not be anything worse) stashed in his freezer.
But, considering that two days earlier he had been faced with the possibility of being trapped in Martin’s body forever, being dead, or being convinced he was a duck, Danny figured that he’d take his body back and be happy with it.
He’d also like to take Martin’s body, come to think of it, and he’d be very happy with that.
And speaking of which, Martin was sitting in the chair next to him, perched nervously on the edge of it and that was also a Very Good Thing. Martin was watching him like he wasn’t quite sure what Danny was going to do, and looking very much like he wanted to fidget but was forcing himself to stay still. It was kind of crazy, come to think of it, Danny reflected, looking at Martin and seeing Martin, like there was something that was actually and weirdly indefinably Martin Fitzgerald staring out of those blue eyes at him.
Weird and uncomfortable, and the sudden spark of arousal low in his gut was definitely familiar. He would have to do something about this soon, he really would. But in the meantime…
“Any changes around here I should know about?” Danny asked, shifting a bit and hoping Martin didn’t notice.
“I, uh, re-organized your bookcase,” Martin told him, gesturing at the wall unit, and looking at it, Danny realized he had. “By genre and author,” Martin added after a moment.
Danny stared at Martin, who blushed and scowled.
“What? Since I cancelled your date – your date – I had nothing to do that night,” Martin said, all huffy and offended, and really Danny had missed this. He really had.
“So you reorganize your bookshelves every night?” He smirked at Martin, who glared back. “Well, I’m sure your nights are long and boring after Sam, so you’re probably looking for something to do….”
“Shut up.”
“You can come over and straighten my bookcase again, if you’re ever bored.”
“I said – Wait. What?”
Danny made himself look straight at Martin and say, “I know you’re attracted to me.”
“What makes you say that?” Martin leaned back in his chair and stared at him with some alarm.
“I was kind of in your body for a week, Fitzie,” Danny reminded him. “And whenever I – you, whoever – my body was around, your body temperature jumped, like, a hundred degrees.”
“That was an allergic reaction.”
“Ouch!” Danny winced. “I’m wounded, Fitz. I really am.”
“And speaking of weird reactions, what the hell’s up with all the smirking? And the bending over, and the invasion of personal space?” Martin demanded. “Is it like some kind of freakish reflex? I couldn’t control it, and it was seriously disturbing.”
“Well, I’d think that’d be obvious,” Danny said
“I – ” Martin made an indistinct sound.
“Exactly,” Danny said, levering himself up. “Now, shut up and get over here.”
Kissing Martin was good. Weird, because he knew what Martin’s skin was like, but yet he didn’t, knew the tickle of Martin’s tongue across his palate but didn’t, not quite, not exactly. Like pulling up Martin’s shirt and running his hands over all that wonderful, hot skin was new, but not, and feeling Martin’s hands doing… wow. That, circling over the sensitive skin below Danny’s navel – which he absolutely loved – and had Martin been spending his time in Danny’s body exploring?
“By the way, Martin,” he said when he managed to pry Martin’s mouth off of his and get his breath back, “you never told me you had a birthmark on your –”
Martin stared at him, face flushed and lips swollen, a wonderful mixture of debauchery and disbelief. “My – You looked?”
“Not on purpose. But if you look at it sideways, it kind of looks like – ”
“Shut up,” Martin said firmly and pushed Danny down into the couch cushions.
The next morning
“So,” Danny said as Martin was worrying at the skin over his collarbone with his teeth, “do you think there’s some kind of weird lesson to all this? Like, a moral or something?”
“Other than staying away from mad scientists?” Martin addressed the question to Danny’s left nipple.
“Well, yeah, like walking in other people’s shoes, or not eating gross cheeseburgers while you’re in your partner’s body?”
“None that I can think of,” Martin said around a mouthful of Danny’s pectoral muscle.
“Okay.”
-end!-
Wow, the crack!fic muscles are all sore now. Going to have to recover with some angst or something.