Harvey started out in the mail room, but Jessica's always been good at spotting potential.

There is an unwritten rule of the Christmas party, but can Harvey keep to it?

“The world is not your playground, Stark!” Fury yells at him one time, after he maybe brings down a building or two and Tony just laughs because, seriously, yes it is.

Eames and Mal have been seducing each other for years. But this time, Mal brings backup.

During eight hours in the warehouse on an ill-advised bet, Arthur discovers that Eames is a man with no scruples.

Eames can't help it. He's never seen Arthur die before.

Eames navigates the preconscious world straight into Arthur's pants.

In the immortal words of Freddie Mercury, Fucking on the subway, fucking on the subway, fucking on the subway on a job.

Arthur and Eames suck at phone sex.

"It's a shame we had to meet like this." She blasts his kneecaps, and then lays a volley into his gut. He's still screaming in pain when Dom finally puts him out of his misery with a quick bullet to the head.

A blur of green in amongst the ruin and the arrow is in his hand, the string drawn to his cheek.

He appears the moment Loki summons him, standing at the ready like a good soldier. Loki smiles.

Clint has every intention of taking care of Loki just as Loki took care of him. Karma’s a bitch, and all that.

They're paired by their music teacher for their final assessment, a Battle of the Bands-style playoff. Unfortunately, she doesn't know that a bit of high school drama went down at term-break. She doesn't know what this one song she's making them play might mean to both of them.

"I'm looking for a good bra," she smiles again, "I'm sure you hear that every day."

Teddy Lupin's DADA essay on the subject of werewolves and how you identify and kill them.

If it's Remus and Sirius, then somehow it's okay.

You can't get much clearer than this, this slow inexorable push: even in his sleep, Harvey's making it crystal clear that Mike isn't actually welcome here. Harvey, Mike knows, doesn't do serious. Harvey does one night stands.

Pre-canon AU. What if Spike stumbled across Angelus just before he fled China? A peek at how their lives would have been different.

In which Arthur tries his hardest to make Merlin scream, and Merlin tries his hardest to make Arthur realize that he is, in fact, a giant princely prat.

Could you take my picture? ('Cause I won't remember)

It's normal for a young woman almost out of college to seem a little different when she visits her family, right?

It's a mutually beneficial business arrangement and mutually beneficial sex. Arthur can end it any old time he wants. Any time of day.

Possession is a two-way street. There is ownership in letting yourself be taken over. After all, a leash is a rope that works both ways, and both ways are about control.

It took some time for Eames to realise that his relationship with Judaism was no longer entirely based on his relationship with Arthur.

In which there either is or isn't a cellist.

Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, and a lot of memories in the aftermath. Post-movie.

Clint's definition of an acceptable loss is a little different than the team's.

She remembers the secrets that have kept her alive all these years.

Nick Fury's secrets have secrets.

His real talent is knowing how to make everyone else keep them.

Arthur only ever works with Dominic Cobb.

Ray doesn't tell his mother, because his mother has had enough disappointment in her life, he's been enough disappointment in her life, and he doesn't want her turning this into another thing he's fucked up. He doesn't think he has, this time.

They start something in Iraq. It isn't anything prolonged, stolen moments and jacks that leave their dicks stripped and sore from the sand and not enough spit, not enough anything, not enough time or privacy or skin.

Eames can't get the taste of Arthur out of his mouth.

Eames doesn’t know what he thought worst-case scenario was, but it was never this.

"Does that mean you dream about me at your doorstep often?"

Some days, Arthur knew he deserved what he got. Other days, he still knew it, but he wrapped himself in self-pity, let it encase him like a security blanket, and didn’t know how to settle without it.

Sometimes Eames tells himself lies like he’s setting himself a dare, like how he tells himself he’s in love with Arthur, how he’s desperate to have Arthur love him back. That’s a good one.

"Is it possible for someone else's memories to get in your head?" Ariadne asks.

"Are we still at the airport?"

Harvey broke so many rules bringing Mike in as his associate and even more starting a personal relationship with him and after months of living and loving in secret Mike couldn’t take the secrecy anymore, felt like his whole life was a lie, and something had to give and in the end it was them that they let go of. It is their blessing and their curse. This job brought them together but it's also what tore them apart.

Clint rejects this reality and replaces it with his own.

“Did you serve in Afghanistan or Iraq?” the man clarifies, steepling his fingers under his chin so that he looks like he’s praying for patience, and John reminds himself that he only has to attend six obligatory sessions with a psychiatrist.

He shoots Clint Barton in the thigh in an alleyway in Alphabet City, too close to District X for comfort. He uses his tie as a tourniquet and helps Barton to his feet and wonders if Barton always talks this much.

Making friends from enemies, and bridges for the in-betweens.

Dreamshare is an addiction with some nasty side-effects. Eames and Arthur have a working solution, but when Cobb brings Ariadne into the team, they start to realise that not everyone has a safety-net.

Armando's just happy he can waste his time in fandom instead of fighting for mutant rights.

It's such a little thing, a bullet, to be giving Erik so many problems.

John had totally, totally, been holding out on Rodney.

Epistolary fic. Eames wants a job. Arthur mostly wants Eames to shut up.

Harvey keeps just-missing Mike at the Pearson Hardman costume ball, but he HAS met Mike's date, the gorgeous Rose Selavy.

“The others are running late?” he asks and Brad blinks at him slowly, because he doesn’t think he actually knows this guy. It’s true, he doesn’t remember everyone he has classes with, but he’s pretty damn sure he’d know if he made lunch arrangements.

And while some people simply have no sense of decorum (Ray) or refuse to acknowledge all the hard work Brad puts into seeming as unapproachable as humanly possible (Ray) to save himself from idiots (also Ray), this one looks like he attends Sunday school and says all the thank yous and pleases in the right places.

What he doesn’t look is confused, at least not until Brad stares at him.

Their sophomore year the whole school was suddenly bursting with gossip, the scuttlebutt having Nate caught on a steamy make-out session with Rick Sykes. Rick protested a great deal, maintained he was drunk or stoned or temporarily insane, and then he transferred to another school. Nate laughed when asked, rolled his eyes at the occasional spiteful comment, and then went and joined the cheerleading squad and started volunteering with the homecoming committee.

Few weeks later he dated the homecoming queen for a while and she was gushing about him to everyone who wanted to listen and to a few who didn't.

The entire school quietly wondered what the fuck.

"Bisexuality, look it up," Nate advised Ray earnestly, not a hint of mocking in his voice or on his face, just the helpful smile, like he was ready to lend Ray his dictionary.

It’s the fucking DADT thing, everyone gets a bee in their bonnet about it, or whatever the fuck. Not that it isn’t a relief in some ways, but from the first rude e-mail card he gets from Ray (he outdoes himself with the timing, too, couldn’t be more than thirty seconds after the news, probably tripped over his shoelaces to get to his computer), Brad knows it’s going to be trouble.

And it's there, thinking about plants and oxygen and growth and death, that Zoe finally realizes the thing that grief had kept her from noticing. The huge thing. The hugest thing that ever she and Wash had disagreed on, suddenly shouting for attention.

Brad's sister is the one to call and tell him. Of all the people.

Walt informs him that the dog is a flat coated retriever, which doesn't tell Ray all that much. What the dog is, is a ball of fluff with big, pretty eyes, which kind of makes sense, because, well, Walt's dog.

The first time Erik asks Charles to marry him, New York has just legalized gay marriage and Erik has just issued a long list of demands to the newly elected president. The list of demands does not include the legalizing of gay marriage, unfortunately, but Erik's an old man, and he can't be expected to fight every battle.

Charles lectures him for over ten minutes about the "terrorism" then goes, "Did you just ask me to marry you?"

Darcy Lewis got hired to work as an office monkey for S.H.I.E.L.D. at least partially because of her SCUBA certification. She never quite expected to use it.

[fireandice] (18.35): If, on the other hand, you’re writing, as I suspect you are, for Midgardian fangirls, then get straight to the point. Armour off, shield down, straight to the fighting and fornication.

[hammer_time] (18.37): What’s a “fangirl”?

[fireandice] (18.38): Don’t be disingenuous. If you didn’t want me to know what Livejournal communities you frequent, you should have picked a less obvious username, oh God of Thunder.

John Sheppard hates to fly. He’s hated it since he was 15, his father crash-landing just north of Edwards Air Force Base and his mother fainting on the kitchen floor. It’s terribly inefficient as a means of propulsion (the fuel to payload ratios are completely insane) and the process is distasteful (taking off your shoes in public should never be required), not to mention the service near negligent (only offering nut-based products to a captive audience).

If this is what the middle of the night is usually like, Clint is prepared to visit it way more often.

They caught up to him on the outskirts of a small and rainy town in the northwest of what Jane called America.

“I think they’re re-running our movie on the Genovian first channel.”

“The Disney one or the documentary one?”

“Disney,” Nate says, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Damn him. He knows damn well Brad can’t resist the Disney one, they’ve made Ray into a girl and gave Grandfather a Russian accent. It’s fantastic.

“I’ll get the remote.”

“You know,” Nate says, settling against the pillows. “If nothing else, we’re the reason Disney made a gay movie.”

Brad supposes that complaining about having too good a boyfriend wouldn’t win him any support from anyone.

Darcy has a mom who used to be a showgirl in Vegas and a dad who is a financial advisor in Santa Fe. She also has a Tony.

"Brad Colbert, Christ-Killer."

"Ainsley Seaborn, Blond Republican Sex Kitten," Ainsley said, deadpan. She took his offered hand firmly.

Five things Albus Dumbledore could not bring himself to say to Gellert Grindelwald. (One of them is a lie.)

If there's one thing Ray is not, it's subtle. Ray is not subtle. He's not stealthy, either, and that's probably why he fails so badly at breaking into Brad's house.

It’s a party and Coulson is a wallflower. He’s wallflowering like a motherfucker, like it’s his job and maybe it is, sometimes, when there are Avengers avenging and he’s got to coordinate attacks and retreats but it’s a fucking retirement party and Clint’s going to make sure Coulson enjoys himself.

There's no such thing as an origin, only an origin-story.

Trevor sends Harvey an unsolicited email from Montana every few weeks, and Harvey can't figure out why.

The day after they ordered Lorne back to Earth, John got a visit from Cadman. She stood in his office at attention for thirty seconds before she managed, “Sir, permission to speak freely,” and he gave it to her.

Nate's car breaks down in front of Brad's vineyard.

From the kink meme: So apparently Joss Whedon is going with the meet cute, where they first need to squabble and bicker before getting married heroing happily ever after.

It would be awesome if this phase of their relationship led to mutually consenting, up against the wall, struggle for dominance, who's-on-top angry sex.

Stafford would like you to know, Ray is not the only person who can know somebody really well.

"It's just sick, that's what it is."

"What's sick, Trombley?" Not that Brad really wants to know, or even cares. Trombley's idea of sick and other people's, well, they don't always match.

"Our ex-CO."

Brad raises his eyebrows. "He's sick?"

"No. He's a fucking fudge-packing homo, that's what's sick."

Nate is a vampire, but this war is making him feel more human than ever.

Brad is in his hallway, leaning against the wall.

Brad is in England. Brad is in his hallway.

By the time he had teamed up with the one that looked like a very young Tristan, and the one that looked like Bedevere, if Bedevere had been a changeling, or, at least, vaguely fey, he still had not found Merlin.