La Fahyette (fahye) wrote,
La Fahyette
fahye

stealth/west wing is a totally legitimate idea

*yawns*

It's been a tiring week, and (10:30-6:00 shift tomorrow) it's not over yet. Today I finally finished Peter Høeg's first novel The History of Danish Dreams, which I didn't like nearly as much as his other works, but was still definitely worth the time it took to get through for the insight into the history of a country that I've never really thought about much before. Anyway, it being clearly unacceptable for me to be deprived of reading material for any period of time whatsoever, I then went and bought Chuck Palahniuk's Invisible Monsters, which I've been wanting for months, and it's very good so far. But Palahniuk is pretty much my writing idol, so of course I'd say that. (Ji? Stylistic-wise AND substance-wise.)

miscellanny? If you haven't, you need to see Tristram Shandy: A Cock & Bull Story. The Michael Winterbottom film. SEE IT. SEE IT NOW. IT HAS DYLAN MORAN IN IT. And it's hilarious and postmodern and bizarre and fantastic and people like Gillian Anderson and Stephen Fry just pop up out of nowhere.

I'm going to make something hot with caffeine in it and go and watch some more of the second season of TWW now.

Speaking of, I wrote very quick-and-dirty commentfic for bantha_fodder



~

"Are we actually sitting here, or did that blonde thing put something hallucinogenic in my drink last night?" Ben murmured in her ear. His hands were smoothing the front of his dress trousers compulsively, so she rolled her eyes and grabbed one of them.

"You're crushing the crease," she told him. "And yes. We're actually here."

"If you say so, chica." She could feel the moment when he hesitated, his hand immobile, and then the moment in which he smiled a smile that she was careful not to look at and tangled his fingers in hers. Not looking. Not looking. Kara stared straight ahead, which wasn't a fantastic improvement, because there was a single empty chair across from them.

"Henry would have loved this," she said without thinking. "He would have been taking pictures. Scratching his name on the back of the toilet door."

Ben squeezed her hand, but before he could reply the door to their left slammed open and both of them sat up straighter in the immediate military response. Kara felt her heartbeat accelerate, but it slowed down again when all that emerged from the door was a pair of men who burst into gasps of laughter as soon as it was closed behind them.

"Oh," the dark-haired one gasped. "Oh, Jesus, Josh, I can't believe you managed to get through all of that with a straight face."

His companion put a hand on his arm and buried his face in the shoulder of his suit, his shoulders shaking hysterically. "I don't. I can't believe it either," he mumbled into the fabric. "Drinks. Drinks, Sam, we need drinks."

The man thus addressed came to a halt as he noticed Ben and Kara. "Hello, you're the Navy pilots who averted World War Three, aren't you?"

"That's us," Ben said, and Kara could hear the effortless, charming expression fall over his face, damn him.

The other man was still laughing, not even looking at them. "What? Sam. Pay attention. I'm a genius, and you're buying me drinks."

Sam made a face at them. "Excuse me. Congratulations. Et cetera. Pressing State business to attend to, as you can see."

Ben laughed. "Don't think, drink," he said, and Kara ducked her head and smiled at her own chest.

"Excellent philosophy! Are you sure you're Navy?" The blond one lifted his head, shook it for a moment as though trying to clear it, and looked at them. His hair was standing at odd angles.

"Quite sure," Kara said, finding her voice.

"Yes, I suppose. All that white, you're practically blinding." He shook his head again. "Sam, what do you say about writing a speech wherein the President extols the enormous cost to taxpayers that could be avoided by changing the official Navy uniform to something that doesn't require dry-cleaning if you so much as breathe on it?"

"No."

"Really?"

"No, Josh."

"Lieutenant Wade? Lieutenant Gannon?" The door opened again and a young man stepped through. "The President will see you now."

"That's our cue." Ben released her hand and stood up, and the two men headed for the door at the other end of the room.

"Donna!" the blond one yelled as they exited. "Drinks!"
Tags: bookworm, the west wing, writing: fanfic
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