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Thoughtcrimes: Cascades
Yeah, so it was bound to happen eventually... Thoughtcrimes fic.
Title: Cascades
Genre: Thoughtcrimes, Gen
Rating: PG-13 (minor language)
Synopsis: Happy Hour seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, then she remembered she was a telepath with no tolerance.
Author’s Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
matterothemind challenge #26: beer
Disclaimer: Not mine, the characters belong to people with a lot more money than me. I’m just borrowing them to play and making not profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was her own fault really, she supposed. In an effort to fit in with the guys in the department, she had said yes. That was her first mistake. Sticking around for another round? That was her second.
In high school, she had been the good girl, barely sneaking a single sip underage, figuring she would get more than enough in college and for the rest of her life. That was before being locked in a mental institution which, surprisingly enough, did not approve of giving patients any form of alcoholic beverage. Doctor Welles freed her from there but, again, was not the type to pop open a can of Coors and let her at it. So when some of her coworkers invited her with for Happy Hour at the Downtowner, she was intrigued not just from the social aspect, but from the taste of the forbidden fruit aspect as well.
She had let it slip that she never really drank beer, and Dunnick, kind man that he was, insisted on finding her the best of the best to start her education. One pint of Guinness later, and she laughing with the other agents at some joke Williams was regaling them with, the taste of malt sweet and heavy on her tongue.
A second pint made it her way with a wink and a, “You’re not so bad, McAllister.” It seemed only polite to accept, and soon she found herself watching the condensation slide down the final inch or so of the glass, getting lost with the last of the cascading bubbles.
Williams was telling a particularly bawdy tale that had eyes rolling and more than one of “the guys” protesting it wasn’t exactly the type of story to be sharing in front of a lady. Williams, of course, countered, that Freya wasn’t exactly a lady, so it all worked out.
While she tried to figure out whether she should be offended or amused by this, she realized an unexpected side effect of alcohol. In retrospect, she really should have thought of it before and taken precautions or even avoided the situation all together. It was just that she had wanted to fit in so badly, years of being secluded and outcast taunting her with every overheard invitation, that she had ignored the obvious and pressed on ahead. So now she sat, in a room crowded with increasingly drunken comrades, with mental blocks cascading down like the bubbles in her beer.
“Naw, she still counts as a lady,” Patterson insisted. “Watch yer mouth and be proper,” he drawled, taking another sip of his own Guinness. She’s still an unknown, could be testing us, reporting back to the uppy-ups.
“I don’t know if Williams even knows the meaning of the word proper,” Dunnick jibbed. He pretended to trace idle patterns in the wood bar before him, but Freya knew he was actually fully aware of everything going on around him. She reminds me of my brother’s youngest. Gotta look out for her. Ain’t seen too much of this world yet from the look of it.
“I know the meaning, just choose to ignore it,” Williams grinned. His eyes roamed her body, ending with a suggestive wink. She’s a hot little thing. Wonder how many more rounds ‘til we see what she’s made of.
She bit back a reply, not trusting herself to stick solely to words. As she contemplated the benefits of leaving now and seeming like she was running away versus staying and finishing the last of the rather decent beer that was already bought and paid for, a familiar weight settled around her shoulders. She looked up to find Brendan, hip leaning into her stool ever so casually, bland smile firmly in place. She could have kicked herself, never even feeling him approach. It looked like more than just her mental guard was slipping.
“You giving my partner a hard time?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He’s an asshole, just ignore him. He gave her a subtle little wink, this one far more welcomed than Williams’ leer, to let her know he was purposely broadcasting his thoughts to her as he ordered a Corona.
Shit. Of course her watchdog of a partner had the show up. “I’d never dream of it,” Williams said, batting his eyes in false innocence. He gestured towards Dean’s beer. “Since when do you drink?”
“Well, there was that brief time during Prohibition, but other than that, pretty much always,” Brendan shrugged. He helped himself to a stool, quite obviously putting himself between Freya and her drunken admirer. He gave a nod of thanks as Dunnick pushed a bowl of over-salted popcorn his way, nudging it in Freya’s direction as he grabbed a handful for himself.
She was torn between frowning at his protectiveness and basking in the extra layer of safety it brought. She dutifully ate a couple pieces of popcorn, washing them down with another slug of her beer.
Which was apparently mistake number three for the night.
The cool liquid washed down her throat, taking with it some of the last of the shielding she had remaining. Thoughts ran rampant through her mind, voices blending together, images flashing, and she no longer knew which was which.
Brendan’s here, he’ll look out for her. Asshole. Smug little bastard. She’s way out of her league here. Aw, just when the quiet little freak was starting to open up like a normal person. Where does he get off? Should I buy another round to help keep the peace? Wonder if there’s any way of getting her out from under his thumb long enough to have some fun...
You okay? This one came through loud and clear, and she looked up to see Brendan’s concerned gaze watching her every move. She subtly shook her head, gripping on to her glass as if that could ground her, even though it was what got her into this trouble in the first place. “Eat some more popcorn and drink some water, it should help,” he told her softly.
The idea of more liquid entering her body reminded her just how much she had drank so far and just how much she should probably use the bathroom. It also had the added bonus of being a bit more secluded from the current crowd, hopefully giving her the chance to wrestle control over her failing mental blocks.
She stood, wobbled for the briefest second as the alcohol hit her once more. Out of reflex, she closed her eyes to steady herself, instantly regretting it as voices swirled together into a maelstrom of noise. The hand on her arm helped her center herself as much as the whispered, “Too much?”
She forced her eyes open, focused on the concerned hazel that stared right back at her. The noise faded to the background, only one voice shining through the din. Let’s get you out of here.
She glanced behind him, the voices thankfully only a low murmur, though she had the attention of pretty much everyone in their group, whether they admitted it or not. “Guess I really have no tolerance when it comes to this stuff,” she grinned without humor.
“It happens to the best of us,” Dunnick consoled her. Poor dear.
Williams just scoffed. “Come on, the night’s just beginning...” Let’s see how far gone we can get her, could be entertaining, if nothing else...
“Nah, I think it’s over for me,” she said gamely. She gathered her purse and pulled out a few dollars tip for the bartender for putting up with them.
Brendan finished his Corona and pulled out his keys. “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to mess with the subway,” he offered. I’ll buy you a burger on the way; help fight that beer in your system.
“You don’t have to bother,” she gave a token protest. She desperately hoped he realized it was only token and just for show. As much as she wanted to save face in front of the others, the thought of a subway crowded with unblocked people was not something she was looking forward to. Not for the first time, she wished her partner had been granted the same gift, the same curse, she had; it would have made communicating so much easier.
“No bother,” he insisted, helping her with her coat. “And before you say it, it’s not even out of my way. Plus, we’ll all feel better knowing you made it home safe.” Quick trip, followed by a long discussion on the dangers of alcohol.
She caught a glimpse of most of the others nodding in agreement and groaned. From their viewpoint, it was a mild embarrassment factor. From hers, it was going to be a long night of lecturing. Somehow though, she really could not bring herself to mind.
She said her goodbyes and let her partner follow her out into the cool night air. A pressure as physical as the weight of the coat on her back seemed to lift and the cacophony of voices faded to a white noise in the background. She took a deep breath, pleased to find only the slight drunken disorientation remained and her walls were falling back into place once more.
“You going to be okay?” Brendan asked.
She thought about it for a moment: the drink, the dangers, the feeling of protectiveness from both her partner and most of her fellow agents. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I think I will be.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Cascades
Genre: Thoughtcrimes, Gen
Rating: PG-13 (minor language)
Synopsis: Happy Hour seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, then she remembered she was a telepath with no tolerance.
Author’s Notes: For
matterothemind challenge #26: beerDisclaimer: Not mine, the characters belong to people with a lot more money than me. I’m just borrowing them to play and making not profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was her own fault really, she supposed. In an effort to fit in with the guys in the department, she had said yes. That was her first mistake. Sticking around for another round? That was her second.
In high school, she had been the good girl, barely sneaking a single sip underage, figuring she would get more than enough in college and for the rest of her life. That was before being locked in a mental institution which, surprisingly enough, did not approve of giving patients any form of alcoholic beverage. Doctor Welles freed her from there but, again, was not the type to pop open a can of Coors and let her at it. So when some of her coworkers invited her with for Happy Hour at the Downtowner, she was intrigued not just from the social aspect, but from the taste of the forbidden fruit aspect as well.
She had let it slip that she never really drank beer, and Dunnick, kind man that he was, insisted on finding her the best of the best to start her education. One pint of Guinness later, and she laughing with the other agents at some joke Williams was regaling them with, the taste of malt sweet and heavy on her tongue.
A second pint made it her way with a wink and a, “You’re not so bad, McAllister.” It seemed only polite to accept, and soon she found herself watching the condensation slide down the final inch or so of the glass, getting lost with the last of the cascading bubbles.
Williams was telling a particularly bawdy tale that had eyes rolling and more than one of “the guys” protesting it wasn’t exactly the type of story to be sharing in front of a lady. Williams, of course, countered, that Freya wasn’t exactly a lady, so it all worked out.
While she tried to figure out whether she should be offended or amused by this, she realized an unexpected side effect of alcohol. In retrospect, she really should have thought of it before and taken precautions or even avoided the situation all together. It was just that she had wanted to fit in so badly, years of being secluded and outcast taunting her with every overheard invitation, that she had ignored the obvious and pressed on ahead. So now she sat, in a room crowded with increasingly drunken comrades, with mental blocks cascading down like the bubbles in her beer.
“Naw, she still counts as a lady,” Patterson insisted. “Watch yer mouth and be proper,” he drawled, taking another sip of his own Guinness. She’s still an unknown, could be testing us, reporting back to the uppy-ups.
“I don’t know if Williams even knows the meaning of the word proper,” Dunnick jibbed. He pretended to trace idle patterns in the wood bar before him, but Freya knew he was actually fully aware of everything going on around him. She reminds me of my brother’s youngest. Gotta look out for her. Ain’t seen too much of this world yet from the look of it.
“I know the meaning, just choose to ignore it,” Williams grinned. His eyes roamed her body, ending with a suggestive wink. She’s a hot little thing. Wonder how many more rounds ‘til we see what she’s made of.
She bit back a reply, not trusting herself to stick solely to words. As she contemplated the benefits of leaving now and seeming like she was running away versus staying and finishing the last of the rather decent beer that was already bought and paid for, a familiar weight settled around her shoulders. She looked up to find Brendan, hip leaning into her stool ever so casually, bland smile firmly in place. She could have kicked herself, never even feeling him approach. It looked like more than just her mental guard was slipping.
“You giving my partner a hard time?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He’s an asshole, just ignore him. He gave her a subtle little wink, this one far more welcomed than Williams’ leer, to let her know he was purposely broadcasting his thoughts to her as he ordered a Corona.
Shit. Of course her watchdog of a partner had the show up. “I’d never dream of it,” Williams said, batting his eyes in false innocence. He gestured towards Dean’s beer. “Since when do you drink?”
“Well, there was that brief time during Prohibition, but other than that, pretty much always,” Brendan shrugged. He helped himself to a stool, quite obviously putting himself between Freya and her drunken admirer. He gave a nod of thanks as Dunnick pushed a bowl of over-salted popcorn his way, nudging it in Freya’s direction as he grabbed a handful for himself.
She was torn between frowning at his protectiveness and basking in the extra layer of safety it brought. She dutifully ate a couple pieces of popcorn, washing them down with another slug of her beer.
Which was apparently mistake number three for the night.
The cool liquid washed down her throat, taking with it some of the last of the shielding she had remaining. Thoughts ran rampant through her mind, voices blending together, images flashing, and she no longer knew which was which.
Brendan’s here, he’ll look out for her. Asshole. Smug little bastard. She’s way out of her league here. Aw, just when the quiet little freak was starting to open up like a normal person. Where does he get off? Should I buy another round to help keep the peace? Wonder if there’s any way of getting her out from under his thumb long enough to have some fun...
You okay? This one came through loud and clear, and she looked up to see Brendan’s concerned gaze watching her every move. She subtly shook her head, gripping on to her glass as if that could ground her, even though it was what got her into this trouble in the first place. “Eat some more popcorn and drink some water, it should help,” he told her softly.
The idea of more liquid entering her body reminded her just how much she had drank so far and just how much she should probably use the bathroom. It also had the added bonus of being a bit more secluded from the current crowd, hopefully giving her the chance to wrestle control over her failing mental blocks.
She stood, wobbled for the briefest second as the alcohol hit her once more. Out of reflex, she closed her eyes to steady herself, instantly regretting it as voices swirled together into a maelstrom of noise. The hand on her arm helped her center herself as much as the whispered, “Too much?”
She forced her eyes open, focused on the concerned hazel that stared right back at her. The noise faded to the background, only one voice shining through the din. Let’s get you out of here.
She glanced behind him, the voices thankfully only a low murmur, though she had the attention of pretty much everyone in their group, whether they admitted it or not. “Guess I really have no tolerance when it comes to this stuff,” she grinned without humor.
“It happens to the best of us,” Dunnick consoled her. Poor dear.
Williams just scoffed. “Come on, the night’s just beginning...” Let’s see how far gone we can get her, could be entertaining, if nothing else...
“Nah, I think it’s over for me,” she said gamely. She gathered her purse and pulled out a few dollars tip for the bartender for putting up with them.
Brendan finished his Corona and pulled out his keys. “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to mess with the subway,” he offered. I’ll buy you a burger on the way; help fight that beer in your system.
“You don’t have to bother,” she gave a token protest. She desperately hoped he realized it was only token and just for show. As much as she wanted to save face in front of the others, the thought of a subway crowded with unblocked people was not something she was looking forward to. Not for the first time, she wished her partner had been granted the same gift, the same curse, she had; it would have made communicating so much easier.
“No bother,” he insisted, helping her with her coat. “And before you say it, it’s not even out of my way. Plus, we’ll all feel better knowing you made it home safe.” Quick trip, followed by a long discussion on the dangers of alcohol.
She caught a glimpse of most of the others nodding in agreement and groaned. From their viewpoint, it was a mild embarrassment factor. From hers, it was going to be a long night of lecturing. Somehow though, she really could not bring herself to mind.
She said her goodbyes and let her partner follow her out into the cool night air. A pressure as physical as the weight of the coat on her back seemed to lift and the cacophony of voices faded to a white noise in the background. She took a deep breath, pleased to find only the slight drunken disorientation remained and her walls were falling back into place once more.
“You going to be okay?” Brendan asked.
She thought about it for a moment: the drink, the dangers, the feeling of protectiveness from both her partner and most of her fellow agents. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I think I will be.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
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I've often thought how cheated Freya must feel about missing out on what we all take for granted ; knocking back beers with friends & experiencing that wonderful dozy feeling when you've had one too many , your first time with a guy / girl ( i know the movie doesn't touch on this too much but i came to my own conclusion that Freya was a virgin), basically all the fun things you do when you're trying to find out who you are!
Freya's had to forfeit all those things because of her 'gift' & it does make me feel so sorry for her! I love Brendan's concern for her & his acceptance of her reading his mind (sigh) - lovely stuff!
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I fell in love with Thoughtcrimes as I was watching it for the first time, and I love the sense of displacement for Freya. She did miss out on so much, and now she has to try to get at least some of that back. Wonderful fodder for fic.
Thank you again!
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I actually don't see them that much as a romantic pairing myself, but can understand why some people do. Maybe if the series had been picked up they would have explored it more and I would see it more. I see it as Brendan having a protective streak in him, especially when it comes to Freya, and her reveling in the fact that someone actually cares and wants to make sure she's okay instead of sending her away again.
I can see the undercurrents there though, and it would be interesting to know where they would have taken it had they been given the chance.