Harvey wishes he could attribute it all to his Slytherin cunning, but the truth is, it's mostly a combination of Ross's family heritage, coincidence, and pure luck that leads to their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. (Or, Mike is a Veela, and Harvey defends him from his adoring masses.)

It's a constant shifting balance between the feline and the human. You are Arthur. You choose your own adventure ...

Neal's head of the Caffrey family business now but he always feels more like a Burke than anything else.

In which Arthur's biology hates him (and the feeling's mutual), Eames' patience is sorely tried indeed, and the future of the educational system is on the line.

It starts, as it so often does, as a harmless prank, but it rapidly takes on a life of its own.

Bang bang, we're beautiful and dirty rich.

These are not all lies.

The hammer is his penis.

Or rather, Thor's dick is a hammer, and Clint's ass is the nail.

 "Arthur's learned this lesson before."

Arthur is working for Saito at Fischer-Morrow. Robert notices.

"You're not a very good Jedi, are you?" the Sith Lord said.

"Oh, excuse me, I am an excellent Jedi," Rodney said.

"You take me to the nicest places, McKay."

How it happened, from beginning to end, from the man who started it all.

Arthur is forced to move in with Eames. The world moves.

“You don’t appreciate my natural-born talent,” Arthur said mournfully. “I suppose I will just have to remind you of how spectacular I really am.”

Arthur needs a date for Gwen's wedding. The rest is history.

This time, Arthur has a secret.

"You want me to – but I'm not a barber!"

In the months after the inception job, Ariadne slips from one life to another.

Phil Coulson wakes up in a hospital bed. Well, damn.

Ariadne works out something's going on between her two colleagues. She just can't work out what, exactly.

Nash is this, Nash is that, but it's far more likely that Nash is just something in between.

"Did you know," Rodney said, sitting down across from Sheppard in the mess and automatically reaching over to snatch away John's chocolate Snack Pack, "that you and Samantha Carter graduated from the academy the same year?"

John set down his half-finished turkey sandwich and shoved a few crinkle fries around his mostly-full plate, looking inscrutable.   "Did we," he said.

Erik returns to the mansion to find that the students don't exactly trust him, and they'll do whatever it takes to keep him and Charles apart even if it means more learning. Charles is simply pleased the students are so keen on their studies.

In which Brad is a desperately self-sacrificing HRH, Nate is not happy about being blind-sided, Ray wants to kill the Swedish press corps, and Walt is present in the background like a good bodyguard.

"I don't lie to Barton."

"He lies to you."

"Not very well. Not as well as you do."

“This,” call-me-Gaius thunders, “is Mr. Morgan. He’ll be preparing you for Oxbridge applications, and I trust that you will treat him with the respect he deserves.” He is pointedly looking straight at Arthur as he says it.

Every office has a 'cute guy from Marketing with a great ass' that everyone wants to sleep with. Among the junior agents at SHIELD, that person is Phil Coulson. Clint would find it hilarious, but he just wants people to stop throwing themselves at his boyfriend.

Natasha met Clint a little more than five years ago, under less than ideal circumstances. She met Phil five years ago, when things had got worse. It hasn’t been all downhill from there, but at least she’s had company. [No movie spoilers]

They don’t fuck in the Avengers’ Mansion, that’s rule number one of Having A Secret Relationship With Your Ex-Handler.

Harvey didn't want to be profiled in a magazine as one of New York's most eligible bachelors. Nobody even knew Mike had been.

Nine months after the end of events in Half Past the Point of Oblivion, Brad gets word he's being deployed. Arrangements must be made and goodbyes said, when a warrior goes off to war.

The Vulcans thought that humans in space, unsupervised, would be too much for the galaxy to handle. And that was before Jim Kirk came along.

Four days and two phone calls later, Ray is at Recon for an audition. Nate had called it a screen test, like hiring Ray was a done deal. But Ray knows that no matter what Nate thinks, Brad still needs to be convinced.

"I'm having a hard time believing you flew all the way from England for a holiday you don't celebrate."

Brad flies home for three days.

That's the twenty-first century love song, baby. Glitz and glamour and every one of us is a liar.

"Sometimes it's hard to shut down, stop thinking. I understand that. If you need help exhausting yourself into a state in which you are capable of actually resting," Nate murmurs, eyes on Ray's mouth. "The Sergeant and I would be more than happy to assist you. In fact, we might have to insist on it. Brad's very concerned about you, and I admit, Ray, I share that concern.”

Erik keeps everything -- body, mind -- under wraps, leaving Charles no choice but to find other outlets for his desires. When those desires cut a little too close to home, though, everything comes out into the open.

"Angel, we called this intervention because -"

"Wait. Intervention?" This was definitely the first time anyone had used that word.

Cordelia plowed on, ignoring him. "Because you've seemed a little, well, down lately."

"Buffy died. The world almost ended. The wheels came off my rolly chair. It's been a tough week."

Not that Poke's complaining, but he's never, ever again playing a motherfucking yenta to anyone on his team. Or anyone ever again. Sure, the mental soap opera was driving him nuts, but this is worse, this time the stray sexual thoughts coming from certain retards are real, and it's a hell lot more than he had ever wanted to know.

Poke's quite good at cutting off the stream of people's thoughts, but every once in a while something gets through and it's going to put him in therapy for years. No one should be exposed to fucking Iceman's rhapsodizing on LT's eyes. Or his dick. Poke's not sure which one is worse – the cheese or the porn.

Ray stops and reconsiders. There are at least four telepaths on the base, that he knows of, and he has been repeatedly told his thoughts are disruptive and inappropriate for the workplace.

He says, fuck them, it's probably the only time the goat-fucking nutjobs get to have any fun in here, Ray is doing them a huge favor and should be rewarded.

Brad and Nate are models. They fall in love.

Nate Fick wasn’t always a Marine and he won’t always be one.

Dr. John Sheppard was not as excited about joining the project as Rodney was to have him on board.

John is a photographer, Rodney is a chef and food stylist.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE

John knows what's his - of course he'll kill for it.

In which Erik is the son of servants, Charles is the son of aristocrats, and hedgehogs make repeated appearances. -- Modern AU that is clearly inspired by Atonement (minus most of the angst, that is).

Eames is very good at pretending.

Anticipation was not an emotion Spock had intended to allow himself to feel; yet, it made itself known despite him, and that it was never satisfied made it harder to suppress, each time the Captain walked past or stood near and conscientiously avoided even the brush of their sleeves.

The slide from “the LT and the Iceman” towards “Nate and Brad” is slow. Their identities are blurred by a hundred different small interactions that mean very little on their own, outside of a larger context. One thing is clear; some of it was Ray’s fault. We are assured of this.

Eames secretly hates working jobs with Ariadne, because they always end up working out of Paris, so that she can still attend classes, and Eames hates Paris. Hates it with a passion so bigoted and without foundation that he suspects he inherited it.

"Ah! I was right! You weren't doing it correctly. No wonder it hurt, you idiot."

"Shut it. Oil isn't going to make anything smaller and it isn't going to make anything bigger!"

Bravo platoon as a fraternity.

"I'm leaving, Brad."

"People on the Internet are writing porn about us..."

While Draco holds Rosmerta under a spell, there is more to her relationship with another Malfoy than meets the eye.

“I don't think the definition of 'easy' includes being shot at by Russians and getting cock-blocked by your best friends!” Arthur shouts.

This could be the beginning of something amazing ... if Dom and Mal will only stay out of Arthur's way. A story in which there are Russians, Arthur spends a lot of time in his underwear, and (sadly) no one gets laid.

In which Eames embarks on a campaign of seduction and Arthur mostly just wants someone to hang out with other than Cobb.

After his mother "retires," Arthur finds himself in need of a new business partner. He gets a bit more than he bargained for with Eames. OR; in which Arthur becomes a real boy.

Hate him, love him. It doesn’t matter. He’s still Arthur’s.

Brad's a cop, Nate's an FBI agent. They go undercover as a gay couple.

What happens after.

In a world without stars, the Last Centurion loses the Pandorica, loses his charge and loses his mind.

SHIELD takes a chance on hiring a mysterious amnesiac man, and Agent Coulson finds that Rory Williams is the best damn secretary he's ever had.

John doesn’t know when he started thinking people had to justify being happy.

"Can we lock her up forever?" asks John, dead serious.

"That's what I was thinking," agrees Rodney fervently.

Charles liked to tell people that the first time they met, Serik punched a kitten. (Or, the one where Erik is an angry Vulcan, Charles is still a telepath, and grief still shapes their lives.)

"Me. You could practice on me. If I'm telling you that you can do it, it can't be wrong to practice - just in case - "

Months after the Cuban Missile Crisis, Hank starts to realise how deeply Erik’s departure has affected the professor, and what it implies about their leader.

"But God knows this can't last. You're going to find someone you do want and I'd just as soon finish this before that happens."

Eames is silent for a long time before he says, "It's not going to happen."

"Statistically speaking," Arthur starts, but Eames doesn't let him finish.

"Statistically speaking, love," and his voice is almost a cruel imitation of Arthur's, "if it hasn't happened in thirty-three years, it's not likely to happen now."

In which there is pining, Merlin bakes, Arthur borrows batteries he doesn't actually need, and did I mention the pining?

Harvey and Mike go to Vegas for business. Harvey's never been good at sharing his things.

Mike and Harvey wake up in Vegas. It's pretty much all downhill from there.

In which Kirk and Spock have had sex half a dozen times, but this time it counts.

“Just once,” Eames says, “I wish you’d let me come round when I’m not in mortal peril.”

Arthur doesn’t quite know when renting a house in Westchester and pretending to be in a civil union with Eames came to constitute "lying-low" but however it happened, he wants a do-over. Pretending to be married fic!

In which Eames writes (sometimes horrible) horoscopes to woo Arthur, much to the chagrin of everyone (read: Dom), and manages to even mess that up. Go figure.

Arthur knows exactly where they are, even with the snow landing fast and thick around them. He knows the woods they’re in better than anyone in the kingdom, recognises every laden bough as he would a brother, and all Merlin’s talk about being lost is just wasted air. Arthur could never be lost in Camelot, not on these lands he’s ranged over since boyhood, this soil he’s fought and lost and bled for.

“...where we’re going, Arthur,” Merlin is saying, and Arthur turns to him with a sigh, because apparently ignoring Merlin isn’t going to make him stop talking. “We’ve passed that stump four times now.”

One day Arthur finds a quote scrawled on his desk. His competitive streak forces him to reply.

Eames is a movie star down on his luck. Arthur is the writer sent to interview him.