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One day, I wondered what it would be like if Goren and Eames had a kid, got hitched, retired from the police force and opened a party supplies store.
I figured the kid would be obnoxious and dressed often in inappropriate garb (fairy skirt, combat boots, devil horns), and Goren would stare a lot at customers wanting to buy tiki cups, while Eames fell over piles of books left around their lovely Brooklyn home.
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baggers didn't mock me when I told her this. In fact, she encouraged me. So I wrote this wonderfully fluffy fic for her. Address all complaints c/o her, thanks.
Title: At Home With the Gorens
Fandom: Law and Order: Criminal Intent
Rating: FLUFF-TASTIC.
Disclaimer: Dick Wolf pwnz. I, however, own Franny Goren so THERE.
At Home With the Gorens
By Piecesof
Notes: Written forbaggers for Christmas - no eggshell blue boxes, but I want to save that for another fic. Warning: this is fluffy. Yes, it's contrived. Yes, it's lame. BUT IT'S MEANT TO BE. Senses of humour, set them on stun!
----
SIX.
"Tea?"
His knees were up around his ears, and a tiara perched on his head.
"That would be most wonderful."
She poured the tea (really, soy milk and water provided by her mother), the other guests at their mid-afternoon meeting silently watching with their black button eyes.
"Two lumps, or one?"
Long, adolescent fingers picked up the sugar and placed them on the edge of his saucer, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper, "don't put them in your cup, Daddy, 'coz it's just milk and Mommy doesn't want us just to have milk and sugar, okay?"
"Ahh," he emoted, catching sight of a voyeur watching in the doorway behind his hostesses' head. He touched his nose and moved his legs to avoid the cramp he felt coming on. "Gotcha."
The two adults exchanged a look over the tiny head that was now busily explaining the weather to her other, less human guests, and smiled.
-----
BEFORE.
The second time she gave birth, she had complications. Arising from age, her doctors said; from being forty-two and having little time off from a stressful job, from the weather, from God, whatever. She knew, really, it was the shock of even getting pregnant to her partner to begin with.
"You knocked me up!"
He'd just stared.
Like when she'd been rushed to the hospital, their illegitimate child coming early and steadily, he sat in the back of the ambulance and stared.
Standing between her mother and father, staring. Being taking to the hospital cafe by her brother so he didn't have to see her being chopped up, staring. Being dressed in scrubs so he could be by her side as they performed an emergency c-section, staring.
The doctor asked, "who's the father?"
"I am." And that was all he needed to snap-to - holding her hand as she cried, stroking her hair and watching, not staring, looking strong and purposeful like she'd never seen him look before.
Finally, through the pain and the blood, a cry. And when there was three, she finally felt loved.
-----
SIX & 1/3.
Frances sat on his shoulder, dressed like a fairy, and pointed at the desk.
"Can I have the tape?"
"What for."
She butted her head against his and sighed, melodramatically.
"Because your hair is sticking up, duh, Daddy."
-----
BEGINNING.
The first time they'd slept together, it wasn't the most memorable of occasions.
She'd pressed him against the wall of his apartment and kissed him. She'd kissed him for warmth, because the cold, hard truth of finding Nicole Wallace's body in the men's locker room of One Police Plaza made her shake, made her tense and almost made her weep when Bobby finally let himself cry with relief.
She didn't know, really, if it was relief or remorse. But when she kissed him, he responded, and they fucked - didn't make love, or have sex or fornicate - and she felt empowered that even after ten years, she could still turn him on if she wanted to.
The release was violent, not satisfying. It was tension, not pleasure - they hadn't undressed, just pulled down their pants and screwed against the closed front door.
Afterwards, she tried to put herself together. She walked to the bathroom to clean up; then, she left, without even looking at him and without even a word.
She wondered, as she drove home, if it had been self-indulgence. Or pity. Or loneliness.
Her phone rang and she answered.
"Pull over." Click. Bobby's seldom-used Ford pulled in behind her, and before she could open the door he'd flung it open and stared at her.
Always with the staring.
"Bobby -" Cutting her off, he kissed her. Long, hand, with tongue and substance and promises and tomorrow.
Then he turned, walked to his car and drove away.
-----
SEVEN.
"I want lettuce."
"For breakfast? I'd prefer you had cereal."
"Gunston has lettuce."
"Gunston's a rabbit. Who died because you didn't feed him lettuce."
"Mommy. Exactly. Like me, huh."
"Franny, I'm pretty certain you're a human and not a rabbit, because you came from me and I'm a human."
"But do you really know, Mommy? What if you were really a rabbit? Is Daddy a rabbit? What if people were called rabbits and rabbits were called people? Who decided, Mommy?"
A voice, from across the table. "She has a point."
"What, that we're not sure if you're human or not?"
"I'm my father's daughter, right, Daddy? That's what Mommy always says."
Alex got up from the table, sighing. "If you two need me, I'll be with my intellectual equal, Gunston Mark two."
-----
MIDDLE.
They kept it from the station, because they didn't need to know. The Captain would have yelled, cajoled and split them up. He would have asked questions and gotten involved when their relationship was busy enough with just the two of them.
Across from her, at his desk, he spoke.
"I moved the books from the bookshelves in the kitchen."
She looks up, her brow furrowed. "Good?"
"And emptied two drawers in the bedroom."
A light went on in her head. "Oh." She shifted in her chair and waited for him to look up. "Thank you," she added, when, after an eternity, he did.
He nodded. Looked down, looked up.
"We should get married."
Because that's just how Robert Goren got things done.
------
SIXTEEN.
Franny stood in front of her mother, who was paying bills.
"I'm not psychic, Frances. You're gonna have to tell me what you want."
Sixteen, her father's eyes and mother's nose. "Dad's not home?"
Alex looked up and pretended to look serious. "No. Sit. Talk."
"There's this dance next week..."
"And you wanna go? Why all the cloak and dagger from your father?"
"Mom. Promise me. Promise me you won't let him sign you both up as chaperones! Do you know how uncool it is to have your dad telling off your date for dancing within two metres of you?!"
Later, Alex relayed the conversation, and Bobby frowned.
"It's not my fault the kid had grabby hands."
"They were dancing, Bobby. They have to touch, it's a prerequisite."
He stared at her. "I have a gun."
"And an overactive imagination." She kissed his cheek and turned the light off. "If she gets pregnant from dancing, I'll hold myself responsible, okay?"
------
END.
"You still call me Eames, y'know."
"Huh." He put his book down. "Well, it's, uh, nicer than 'Wife'."
Fair enough.
-----
Fin.
-----
LOL, fic.
I figured the kid would be obnoxious and dressed often in inappropriate garb (fairy skirt, combat boots, devil horns), and Goren would stare a lot at customers wanting to buy tiki cups, while Eames fell over piles of books left around their lovely Brooklyn home.
baggers didn't mock me when I told her this. In fact, she encouraged me. So I wrote this wonderfully fluffy fic for her. Address all complaints c/o her, thanks.Title: At Home With the Gorens
Fandom: Law and Order: Criminal Intent
Rating: FLUFF-TASTIC.
Disclaimer: Dick Wolf pwnz. I, however, own Franny Goren so THERE.
At Home With the Gorens
By Piecesof
Notes: Written for
baggers for Christmas - no eggshell blue boxes, but I want to save that for another fic. Warning: this is fluffy. Yes, it's contrived. Yes, it's lame. BUT IT'S MEANT TO BE. Senses of humour, set them on stun!SIX.
"Tea?"
His knees were up around his ears, and a tiara perched on his head.
"That would be most wonderful."
She poured the tea (really, soy milk and water provided by her mother), the other guests at their mid-afternoon meeting silently watching with their black button eyes.
"Two lumps, or one?"
Long, adolescent fingers picked up the sugar and placed them on the edge of his saucer, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper, "don't put them in your cup, Daddy, 'coz it's just milk and Mommy doesn't want us just to have milk and sugar, okay?"
"Ahh," he emoted, catching sight of a voyeur watching in the doorway behind his hostesses' head. He touched his nose and moved his legs to avoid the cramp he felt coming on. "Gotcha."
The two adults exchanged a look over the tiny head that was now busily explaining the weather to her other, less human guests, and smiled.
-----
BEFORE.
The second time she gave birth, she had complications. Arising from age, her doctors said; from being forty-two and having little time off from a stressful job, from the weather, from God, whatever. She knew, really, it was the shock of even getting pregnant to her partner to begin with.
"You knocked me up!"
He'd just stared.
Like when she'd been rushed to the hospital, their illegitimate child coming early and steadily, he sat in the back of the ambulance and stared.
Standing between her mother and father, staring. Being taking to the hospital cafe by her brother so he didn't have to see her being chopped up, staring. Being dressed in scrubs so he could be by her side as they performed an emergency c-section, staring.
The doctor asked, "who's the father?"
"I am." And that was all he needed to snap-to - holding her hand as she cried, stroking her hair and watching, not staring, looking strong and purposeful like she'd never seen him look before.
Finally, through the pain and the blood, a cry. And when there was three, she finally felt loved.
-----
SIX & 1/3.
Frances sat on his shoulder, dressed like a fairy, and pointed at the desk.
"Can I have the tape?"
"What for."
She butted her head against his and sighed, melodramatically.
"Because your hair is sticking up, duh, Daddy."
-----
BEGINNING.
The first time they'd slept together, it wasn't the most memorable of occasions.
She'd pressed him against the wall of his apartment and kissed him. She'd kissed him for warmth, because the cold, hard truth of finding Nicole Wallace's body in the men's locker room of One Police Plaza made her shake, made her tense and almost made her weep when Bobby finally let himself cry with relief.
She didn't know, really, if it was relief or remorse. But when she kissed him, he responded, and they fucked - didn't make love, or have sex or fornicate - and she felt empowered that even after ten years, she could still turn him on if she wanted to.
The release was violent, not satisfying. It was tension, not pleasure - they hadn't undressed, just pulled down their pants and screwed against the closed front door.
Afterwards, she tried to put herself together. She walked to the bathroom to clean up; then, she left, without even looking at him and without even a word.
She wondered, as she drove home, if it had been self-indulgence. Or pity. Or loneliness.
Her phone rang and she answered.
"Pull over." Click. Bobby's seldom-used Ford pulled in behind her, and before she could open the door he'd flung it open and stared at her.
Always with the staring.
"Bobby -" Cutting her off, he kissed her. Long, hand, with tongue and substance and promises and tomorrow.
Then he turned, walked to his car and drove away.
-----
SEVEN.
"I want lettuce."
"For breakfast? I'd prefer you had cereal."
"Gunston has lettuce."
"Gunston's a rabbit. Who died because you didn't feed him lettuce."
"Mommy. Exactly. Like me, huh."
"Franny, I'm pretty certain you're a human and not a rabbit, because you came from me and I'm a human."
"But do you really know, Mommy? What if you were really a rabbit? Is Daddy a rabbit? What if people were called rabbits and rabbits were called people? Who decided, Mommy?"
A voice, from across the table. "She has a point."
"What, that we're not sure if you're human or not?"
"I'm my father's daughter, right, Daddy? That's what Mommy always says."
Alex got up from the table, sighing. "If you two need me, I'll be with my intellectual equal, Gunston Mark two."
-----
MIDDLE.
They kept it from the station, because they didn't need to know. The Captain would have yelled, cajoled and split them up. He would have asked questions and gotten involved when their relationship was busy enough with just the two of them.
Across from her, at his desk, he spoke.
"I moved the books from the bookshelves in the kitchen."
She looks up, her brow furrowed. "Good?"
"And emptied two drawers in the bedroom."
A light went on in her head. "Oh." She shifted in her chair and waited for him to look up. "Thank you," she added, when, after an eternity, he did.
He nodded. Looked down, looked up.
"We should get married."
Because that's just how Robert Goren got things done.
------
SIXTEEN.
Franny stood in front of her mother, who was paying bills.
"I'm not psychic, Frances. You're gonna have to tell me what you want."
Sixteen, her father's eyes and mother's nose. "Dad's not home?"
Alex looked up and pretended to look serious. "No. Sit. Talk."
"There's this dance next week..."
"And you wanna go? Why all the cloak and dagger from your father?"
"Mom. Promise me. Promise me you won't let him sign you both up as chaperones! Do you know how uncool it is to have your dad telling off your date for dancing within two metres of you?!"
Later, Alex relayed the conversation, and Bobby frowned.
"It's not my fault the kid had grabby hands."
"They were dancing, Bobby. They have to touch, it's a prerequisite."
He stared at her. "I have a gun."
"And an overactive imagination." She kissed his cheek and turned the light off. "If she gets pregnant from dancing, I'll hold myself responsible, okay?"
------
END.
"You still call me Eames, y'know."
"Huh." He put his book down. "Well, it's, uh, nicer than 'Wife'."
Fair enough.
-----
Fin.
-----
LOL, fic.
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I laughed very loudly at that. Though being 5am, thats a bit of a problem.
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That. was the best. fic. ever.
It was...I don't even know. It was in-character---I mean, buying the initial assumption, that's EXACTLY what Goren would be like as a father---and it was HILARIOUS and I LOVED IT A LOT.
WRITE MORE CI FOR ME. PLEASE?
(I keep forgetting to make CI icons!)
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GIVE ME A PROMPT, and I will write it for you. With EamesDoll as muse.
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My favorite sections were before and middle. And seven, with their daughter using some type of human-rabbit fallacy in order to have lettuce for breakfast. I love the entire thing. Wonderful.
(Why was Nicole Wallace's body found in the men's locker room?)
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DEXTER.
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YES!
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I think VDO is a bit in love with Olivia D'Abo (he goes on and on about her in the commentary of that bad movie he's in with Renee Zellweger), hence perving and why she's on so much. I love the idea of her character, but I think the character and scenario should be resolved sooner rather than later. Although part of me wonders if Bobby's demise/final descent into madness will be because she like, kills Ma Goren or something.
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I never like the actress that much, either. Nicole should've died in season three. It would've been a nice welcome back gift for Eames.
Bobby's mother should kill Nicole. It'd be a perfect ending because she would more than likely be found incompetant to stand trial and just be sent to a place similar to the one she is already living. There'd be a guard or something, and Bobby could relax enough for him and Alex to get some sexing done.
Or Nicole could kill his mother and then Alex could kill Nicole. It'd be like a trauma trifecta for him.
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Ma Goren could kill Nicole by nagging her to death.
"Hello, Frances. I'm here to kill you."
"Why's your hair like that?"
"Uh...I'm..uh..."
"Why's your hair like that? You look like a trollop! Where's Bobby?"
"I don't think you understa-"
"Don't back talk me! Where's Bobby! Where's his brother? Good for nuthin'..."
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(when it said 'Middle.' i gasped out loud and stood up and said to my computer 'IF THERE IS DYING IN THIS FIC, I WILL CALL HER UP AND YELL.')
OH. MY. GOD.
*weeps happy tears*
THIS IS THE BEST PRESENT EVER. because it's all the funny things we make up. because even though there is that, it's real. because you wrote it for me!
<3333333333333333333333333333333333
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*quotes Easy Mac Dad* Oh god I love that guy.
"EAMES?"
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"...yes?"
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"Do we have any oversized novelty pencils?"
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....Ah, dear Eames, why art thou yet so fair?
I still will stay with thee; and never from this palace of dim night depart again: here, here will I remain with worms and other things I can play with; O, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, O you the doors of extra minty breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Here's to my love!
[Drinks]
O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with this one kiss I die.
[Dies]
EAMES:
[Wakes]
Aw, crap!
What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?
Poison, because he simply couldn't do this slowly!
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop to share with me? I will kiss thy lips; perhaps it will kill me.
[Kisses him]
Thy lips are warm, you trigger happy jerk!
[noise outside]
Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! Not quite as warn as a gun, alas.
[Snatching GOREN's dagger]
This is thy sheath;
[Stabs herself]
there rust, and let me die.
[Falls on GOREN's body, and dies]
...i can't believe i actually pulled out my norton for this.
("you're not drawing life sized portraits on the wall again!")
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THE WIN!!!!!!!
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(i thought you were working today?)
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I think you should post your Eames and Goren scene. NOW.
(No, I swapped because I don't want to leave the boys alone on Saturday because they wreck stuff)
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(do you still have freitag off? i might be going into the city to buy some crap, and we could see a moofie or something?)
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Yes I do still have Freitag off. I have Christmas stuff with Josie during the day at Chermside, if you want to come.
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Nah, I need to go to Next Byte, and Borders, and I was just going to catch the train. THANK YOU ANYWAY.
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*criez for we will never see each other AGAIN*
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i can't drive my car to brisbane in the next week or so, until dad is back and has a poke at a few things.
ANNOYING!
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NOT THAT YOU WOULD ANYWAY.
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man, last night at work, where we have a thousand different washing powders on sale, my sinus/throat/general breathing area got so fucked up i almost lost my voice. THREE CHEERS FOR RANDOMLY DEVELOPING ALLERGIES! although it is fun to tell customers that i am allergic to that place.
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NO!
>:O
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I felt myself smirking all the way through - it was smirk-tastic
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I'm completely converted to CI now *g*
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You up for Strathpine-ing some time?
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...
...
"Yeeeees?"
But no, it's lovely and in character and also quite hilarious. I feel bad for Gunston, though.
What if we are all rabbits?
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When we see Little Britain live, if they do that skit? Totally ruined for us now.
I wish we had a rabbit. STUPID QUEENSLAND.
(OMG CHRIS ISAAK)
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this is so perfect. SO PERFECT. i'm going to off and grin happily at people.
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*looks at mutual friends*
*looks at icons*
WHY AREN'T WE FRIENDS?!
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correcting now!
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"You still call me Eames, y'know."
"Huh." He put his book down. "Well, it's, uh, nicer than 'Wife'."
*chokes*
Love this.
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My fandom? Not so crazy, however. ;)
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Because that's just how Robert Goren got things done."