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booshslashhavenTitle: Untitled Crackiness
Pairing: Freelance Scientist/Bob Fossil
Summary: Freelance Scientist would do anything to get a job at the Velvet Onion.
Word Count: 509
Rating: PG because I felt a bit queasy about explicit Bobby Bob Bob action.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, except for the some extrapolation of a corporate mascot of sorts. No infringement intended.
Author’s Notes: Written by myself with some help by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
checkerdandy. The first complete fanfic I've ever written. Eek!
Monday morning, 10:00. The Freelance Scientist glanced nervously at his watch then looked at the neon sign. “The Velvet Onion.” He stumbled up the front steps and cursed his lack of depth perception. He headed towards the office in the back and he felt a shiver go through his periodontal atrium. He wished it was a judder, but it was simply nerves. The Freelance Scientist desperately needed a job. He had lost his last bartending position for alarming some customers. Silly tarts. His manager wouldn’t even give him a good reference. This club was his last chance and he would do anything to get a job.
He opened the door to the office and all he could see at first was a whirl of limbs clad in baby blue. Slowly, the man came into focus along with the strains of an old hit. Was that “Dancing Queen”? The Freelance Scientist stared in disbelief. Had he come at the right time? He was just about to make himself known when his eyes fastened on it. There was a small patch of bare skin where the man’s shirt didn’t quite cover his expansive stomach. The patch grew as the man seemed to be plucking invisible sandwiches out of the air and eating them. The Freelance Scientist felt that he should be repulsed, but he wasn’t. He found the sight entrancing. Yes, and a little erotic, too. Just at the moment when he would have reached for the man, the music stopped and Bob Fossil said, “And that’s why I’m having the time of my life.”
The Freelance Scientist took a deep breath, chuckled confidently and said, “Gentlemen,” to the entire room.
A look of confusion appeared on Fossil’s face. What was this guy about? “Who the freak are you?” he demanded.
“I’m a freelance scientist,” he replied, flipping up his eye patch for a quick wink then flipping it down again. Fossil felt a slight thrill. “I am in search of a bartending position. I was sacked at my last job unfairly. I was only explaining what a judder is.” He noticed Bob Fossil’s frown. “Let me explain.”
The man handed over a bottle of Metz and said, “Try this.” Fossil gave a suspicious look, but complied with the tall man’s request. His body trembled head to foot and his generous midsection jiggled. A button ricocheted off the wall and almost struck the Freelance Scientist.
“Holy shit sauce!” Fossil exclaimed.
The Freelance Scientist found such nonsensical exclamations irresistible. He felt that he had found a similar spirit and prayed that he could get a job at the Velvet Onion. He was not without an ace up his sleeve. He leant in and whispered, “It’s perfectly humane,” and moved for the kiss.
Tuesday evening. The music was pumping and the lights were low. Behind the bar stood a tall man wearing an eye patch. Hidden from view was a hickey on his neck. He thought about the scene that took place the day before. He chuckled to himself and muttered, “Well almost!”
Pairing: Freelance Scientist/Bob Fossil
Summary: Freelance Scientist would do anything to get a job at the Velvet Onion.
Word Count: 509
Rating: PG because I felt a bit queasy about explicit Bobby Bob Bob action.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, except for the some extrapolation of a corporate mascot of sorts. No infringement intended.
Author’s Notes: Written by myself with some help by
checkerdandy. The first complete fanfic I've ever written. Eek!Monday morning, 10:00. The Freelance Scientist glanced nervously at his watch then looked at the neon sign. “The Velvet Onion.” He stumbled up the front steps and cursed his lack of depth perception. He headed towards the office in the back and he felt a shiver go through his periodontal atrium. He wished it was a judder, but it was simply nerves. The Freelance Scientist desperately needed a job. He had lost his last bartending position for alarming some customers. Silly tarts. His manager wouldn’t even give him a good reference. This club was his last chance and he would do anything to get a job.
He opened the door to the office and all he could see at first was a whirl of limbs clad in baby blue. Slowly, the man came into focus along with the strains of an old hit. Was that “Dancing Queen”? The Freelance Scientist stared in disbelief. Had he come at the right time? He was just about to make himself known when his eyes fastened on it. There was a small patch of bare skin where the man’s shirt didn’t quite cover his expansive stomach. The patch grew as the man seemed to be plucking invisible sandwiches out of the air and eating them. The Freelance Scientist felt that he should be repulsed, but he wasn’t. He found the sight entrancing. Yes, and a little erotic, too. Just at the moment when he would have reached for the man, the music stopped and Bob Fossil said, “And that’s why I’m having the time of my life.”
The Freelance Scientist took a deep breath, chuckled confidently and said, “Gentlemen,” to the entire room.
A look of confusion appeared on Fossil’s face. What was this guy about? “Who the freak are you?” he demanded.
“I’m a freelance scientist,” he replied, flipping up his eye patch for a quick wink then flipping it down again. Fossil felt a slight thrill. “I am in search of a bartending position. I was sacked at my last job unfairly. I was only explaining what a judder is.” He noticed Bob Fossil’s frown. “Let me explain.”
The man handed over a bottle of Metz and said, “Try this.” Fossil gave a suspicious look, but complied with the tall man’s request. His body trembled head to foot and his generous midsection jiggled. A button ricocheted off the wall and almost struck the Freelance Scientist.
“Holy shit sauce!” Fossil exclaimed.
The Freelance Scientist found such nonsensical exclamations irresistible. He felt that he had found a similar spirit and prayed that he could get a job at the Velvet Onion. He was not without an ace up his sleeve. He leant in and whispered, “It’s perfectly humane,” and moved for the kiss.
Tuesday evening. The music was pumping and the lights were low. Behind the bar stood a tall man wearing an eye patch. Hidden from view was a hickey on his neck. He thought about the scene that took place the day before. He chuckled to himself and muttered, “Well almost!”
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 02:19 am (UTC)Amazing. The pairing is so creative and yet it works in some bizarrely cracky way.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 02:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 04:27 am (UTC)“And that’s why I’m having the time of my life.”
THAT made me wee laughing. Brilliant.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 08:13 am (UTC)Give me more Freelance Scientist loving!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 11:08 am (UTC)I was laughing out loud through the whole thing.
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Date: 2009-02-21 05:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 05:42 pm (UTC)Freelance scientist and his eyepatch wins.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-22 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-23 05:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-23 09:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-24 10:08 am (UTC)BOB LOVES EYE PATCHES! ALL HIS HEROES WEAR THEM!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:33 am (UTC)hnn. You win one free Crackfic award.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 06:32 am (UTC)+1 for you.
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Date: 2011-03-28 06:36 am (UTC)I'm still toying with writing a sequel but I feel that nobody would care anymore.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 08:10 am (UTC)