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chase_acow
Title: The Resistance Fighter Next Door
Fandom: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Rating: Teen+ (mild cursing)
Disclaimer: Not mine! This is not the cyborg you’re looking for.
Summary: A small afternoon in the Connor household.
Word count: ~ 1,500
A/N: For the Sarah Connor Chronicles fic/art exchange organized by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
svmadelyn. Written for taraljc from the butchered prompt: Sarah and Derek. UST, sex, or just companionship, now that it's not just Sarah and John against the world, but they've got this whole little family thing going (even tho it includes a killer robot from the future).
A knock sounded against the door Tuesday afternoon when Derek was the only one around to notice. John was at the kitchen table, poking at various bits of computer with his headphones shoved so far down his ears that he probably wouldn’t hear an entire battalion of terminators tap dancing over the roof. Sarah was out back, going through her second daily workout routine and likely giving the teenagers across the alley enough material for a year’s worth of wet dreams. The machine was thankfully making itself scarce, he was nearly sure that it was in the garage, but he’d have to make sure later.
The knock was more insistent this time, echoing through the old wood until he finally reached the door. He pulled it open and was slightly startled to find no one on the other side until a small gasp drew his attention downward. She was a young girl, only came up to his armpit, and her long brown hair was pulled to either side of her head in two messy braids. She was staring up at him with wide, glazed over eyes and an open mouth.
“Can I help you?” he finally asked when it was obvious that she was just going to stand there and stare at him. She was dressed in a little green uniform with some kind of beret barely hanging off the back of her head.
She immediately dropped the small box she was holding and spun around to run away as fast as she could with her small arms and legs pumping like mad. He watched her disappear down the street with some confusion, but bent over to swipe the box up off the stoop before he stepped back and closed the door. It turned out to be a colorful box full of cookies, so he went back into the kitchen.
“Next time,” John started to say as he walked over to lean against the counter, his arms crossed and eyebrow lifted in a familiar Connor expression number three. He reached out and snagged the box, opening it and stuffing a cookie in his mouth before he continued, “maybe you should try putting pants on first.”
Derek grunted and ran his hand through his still wet hair, shrugging. No one had finished the laundry when he was getting ready for his shower, so the towels were still in the dryer. As tight as ship as Sarah ran when it came to the mission, house chores often slid by the wayside. Dirty dishes tended to stay in the sink and dirty clothes spilled out of the laundry room until someone finally broke.
Since he’d been there, it had been him twice as much as John or Sarah. He’d have thought they’d get the walking toaster to pull its weight around the house, but apparently it had a free pass to waste time dancing or God knew what else.
It was still less work than he was used to doing, even when he’d been den mother to a pack of soldiers who should have known better than to leave their dirty socks in the living room. At least he didn’t have to cook anymore, now that dubious pleasure was Sarah’s unless she relegated to John who’d call out for pizza if given the choice. It was abundantly clear from the future in Derek’s past that John had learned everything he knew from her.
His cooking, if you could call it that, had been legendary as what would end the human race if the machines didn’t get there first. Even soldiers who had never been in the same bunker as the legend had known the raw egg story. Kyle used to love to tell it whenever they met up with other units for downtime.
He padded back to the laundry room just in time to hear the ding of the dryer and rumble of the tumbler shutting down. The air was warm and heavy with the smell of fabric softener. The sunlight glinted through the single window and highlighted the dust and lint swirling through the currents of a small breeze. He dug around the piles of clothes until he came up with a pair of his jeans which smelled clean enough to wear at least once or twice more.
He’d just finished zipping the fly when the door to the backyard burst open and Sarah plowed through, her mind a million miles or more likely, a few years away. She looked as remote as a statue, just like the photograph his brother had carried around for so long. He still wondered what their first meeting was like, if Kyle had stuttered as much as he had around the women back home. When Sarah had figured out that he was the one. Sarah’s movement startled him back to the present as she started to brush past him before she stopped and actually looked at him.
“You better not have taken all the hot water again,” she said advancing on him and poking her finger hard against his chest. He was just thankful she was a nail-biter otherwise he might have been gushing blood. She continued, “I’ll feed you to Cameron, if that’s the only way I can get control of my bathroom back. I swear, you’re worse than a thirteen year old girl.”
This was an old dance, and they both knew their steps by heart; only so close, but not any further. She fought with words, and he fought with his body. They weren’t friends, they’d never be friends, but there was the bond of soldiers in between them. A kinship that they were generally just as happy to overlook on most days.
“What are you going to do if I did?” Derek taunted, feeling himself react to her proximity and the smell of clean sweat clinging to her skin. She was still flushed from her exertion, and she looked alive, a fiery spark danced in her eyes that wasn’t always there. He felt daring, chafed from too much time spent indoors. “Spank me?”
Sarah’s eyes flared dangerously before she narrowed her gaze and tensed her muscles. He’d lay even money that she felt the attraction too, but he doubted the odds would ever be in favor of him getting laid. That wasn’t what he was to Sarah Connor, and he was really all right with that. He had the feeling that if they ever fucked, they’d both be busy thinking about the one that wasn’t there. Some baggage was too heavy for even a machine to haul.
Like a dial turning up, he could see Sarah’s still pent up energy beating against her cool exterior, and figured some of what he was thinking much be showing on his face. He took a step back, aware that the small confines of the room favored her in a fight, and equally aware that she’d been spoiling for some action even more than he was. A small respite was good, but if this dry spell went on, it would start to affect their reflexes and they couldn’t afford to let that happen.
They all knew that it was just the calm in the center of the storm.
Another knock interrupted whatever Sarah was about to say or do, and Derek didn’t consider it cowardice to appreciate a well timed diversion. They were locked in some kind of staring war, but he could hear footsteps going to the door, and the creak of the hinges as it swung open.
A heartbeat later, John yelled from the front of the house, “Derek, I think it’s for you!”
Backing away slowly, just in case Sarah decided that she’d like to see his head mounted on the wall despite potential eye witnesses. Derek made it to the hallway and slid along the wall until it opened into the living room. He turned and saw John smirking at him from the open front door. He had only a fraction of a second to shift his confusion to apprehension.
On the other side of the screen door was a trio of young teenage girls gawking at him. In the lead was the same little girl who’d come to the door earlier. Derek felt a blush go all the way up to the roots of his hair as the girls started giggling and speaking to each other behind their cupped hands. It was obvious they had been hoping for an encore of his previous show.
John let loose a cackle so evil that no one back home would believe it had come from the man who didn’t even crack a smile when Mencia and Genevro did a drag duet during a talent-less show of the 132 SOC. If the Connor he knew had known had a sense of humor, he’d hidden it so far up his ass that it would have taken an exploratory mission just to find it.
“Who’s inspiring masturbatory fantasies now, Reese?” Sarah asked from behind him, proving again that she was a mind reader no matter what she said to the contrary. She rolled her eyes at him before she stepped away into the bathroom for her own shower.
He did what any decent resistance fighter would do when faced with overwhelming forces; Derek turned and retreated.
Fandom: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Rating: Teen+ (mild cursing)
Disclaimer: Not mine! This is not the cyborg you’re looking for.
Summary: A small afternoon in the Connor household.
Word count: ~ 1,500
A/N: For the Sarah Connor Chronicles fic/art exchange organized by
svmadelyn. Written for taraljc from the butchered prompt: Sarah and Derek. UST, sex, or just companionship, now that it's not just Sarah and John against the world, but they've got this whole little family thing going (even tho it includes a killer robot from the future).A knock sounded against the door Tuesday afternoon when Derek was the only one around to notice. John was at the kitchen table, poking at various bits of computer with his headphones shoved so far down his ears that he probably wouldn’t hear an entire battalion of terminators tap dancing over the roof. Sarah was out back, going through her second daily workout routine and likely giving the teenagers across the alley enough material for a year’s worth of wet dreams. The machine was thankfully making itself scarce, he was nearly sure that it was in the garage, but he’d have to make sure later.
The knock was more insistent this time, echoing through the old wood until he finally reached the door. He pulled it open and was slightly startled to find no one on the other side until a small gasp drew his attention downward. She was a young girl, only came up to his armpit, and her long brown hair was pulled to either side of her head in two messy braids. She was staring up at him with wide, glazed over eyes and an open mouth.
“Can I help you?” he finally asked when it was obvious that she was just going to stand there and stare at him. She was dressed in a little green uniform with some kind of beret barely hanging off the back of her head.
She immediately dropped the small box she was holding and spun around to run away as fast as she could with her small arms and legs pumping like mad. He watched her disappear down the street with some confusion, but bent over to swipe the box up off the stoop before he stepped back and closed the door. It turned out to be a colorful box full of cookies, so he went back into the kitchen.
“Next time,” John started to say as he walked over to lean against the counter, his arms crossed and eyebrow lifted in a familiar Connor expression number three. He reached out and snagged the box, opening it and stuffing a cookie in his mouth before he continued, “maybe you should try putting pants on first.”
Derek grunted and ran his hand through his still wet hair, shrugging. No one had finished the laundry when he was getting ready for his shower, so the towels were still in the dryer. As tight as ship as Sarah ran when it came to the mission, house chores often slid by the wayside. Dirty dishes tended to stay in the sink and dirty clothes spilled out of the laundry room until someone finally broke.
Since he’d been there, it had been him twice as much as John or Sarah. He’d have thought they’d get the walking toaster to pull its weight around the house, but apparently it had a free pass to waste time dancing or God knew what else.
It was still less work than he was used to doing, even when he’d been den mother to a pack of soldiers who should have known better than to leave their dirty socks in the living room. At least he didn’t have to cook anymore, now that dubious pleasure was Sarah’s unless she relegated to John who’d call out for pizza if given the choice. It was abundantly clear from the future in Derek’s past that John had learned everything he knew from her.
His cooking, if you could call it that, had been legendary as what would end the human race if the machines didn’t get there first. Even soldiers who had never been in the same bunker as the legend had known the raw egg story. Kyle used to love to tell it whenever they met up with other units for downtime.
He padded back to the laundry room just in time to hear the ding of the dryer and rumble of the tumbler shutting down. The air was warm and heavy with the smell of fabric softener. The sunlight glinted through the single window and highlighted the dust and lint swirling through the currents of a small breeze. He dug around the piles of clothes until he came up with a pair of his jeans which smelled clean enough to wear at least once or twice more.
He’d just finished zipping the fly when the door to the backyard burst open and Sarah plowed through, her mind a million miles or more likely, a few years away. She looked as remote as a statue, just like the photograph his brother had carried around for so long. He still wondered what their first meeting was like, if Kyle had stuttered as much as he had around the women back home. When Sarah had figured out that he was the one. Sarah’s movement startled him back to the present as she started to brush past him before she stopped and actually looked at him.
“You better not have taken all the hot water again,” she said advancing on him and poking her finger hard against his chest. He was just thankful she was a nail-biter otherwise he might have been gushing blood. She continued, “I’ll feed you to Cameron, if that’s the only way I can get control of my bathroom back. I swear, you’re worse than a thirteen year old girl.”
This was an old dance, and they both knew their steps by heart; only so close, but not any further. She fought with words, and he fought with his body. They weren’t friends, they’d never be friends, but there was the bond of soldiers in between them. A kinship that they were generally just as happy to overlook on most days.
“What are you going to do if I did?” Derek taunted, feeling himself react to her proximity and the smell of clean sweat clinging to her skin. She was still flushed from her exertion, and she looked alive, a fiery spark danced in her eyes that wasn’t always there. He felt daring, chafed from too much time spent indoors. “Spank me?”
Sarah’s eyes flared dangerously before she narrowed her gaze and tensed her muscles. He’d lay even money that she felt the attraction too, but he doubted the odds would ever be in favor of him getting laid. That wasn’t what he was to Sarah Connor, and he was really all right with that. He had the feeling that if they ever fucked, they’d both be busy thinking about the one that wasn’t there. Some baggage was too heavy for even a machine to haul.
Like a dial turning up, he could see Sarah’s still pent up energy beating against her cool exterior, and figured some of what he was thinking much be showing on his face. He took a step back, aware that the small confines of the room favored her in a fight, and equally aware that she’d been spoiling for some action even more than he was. A small respite was good, but if this dry spell went on, it would start to affect their reflexes and they couldn’t afford to let that happen.
They all knew that it was just the calm in the center of the storm.
Another knock interrupted whatever Sarah was about to say or do, and Derek didn’t consider it cowardice to appreciate a well timed diversion. They were locked in some kind of staring war, but he could hear footsteps going to the door, and the creak of the hinges as it swung open.
A heartbeat later, John yelled from the front of the house, “Derek, I think it’s for you!”
Backing away slowly, just in case Sarah decided that she’d like to see his head mounted on the wall despite potential eye witnesses. Derek made it to the hallway and slid along the wall until it opened into the living room. He turned and saw John smirking at him from the open front door. He had only a fraction of a second to shift his confusion to apprehension.
On the other side of the screen door was a trio of young teenage girls gawking at him. In the lead was the same little girl who’d come to the door earlier. Derek felt a blush go all the way up to the roots of his hair as the girls started giggling and speaking to each other behind their cupped hands. It was obvious they had been hoping for an encore of his previous show.
John let loose a cackle so evil that no one back home would believe it had come from the man who didn’t even crack a smile when Mencia and Genevro did a drag duet during a talent-less show of the 132 SOC. If the Connor he knew had known had a sense of humor, he’d hidden it so far up his ass that it would have taken an exploratory mission just to find it.
“Who’s inspiring masturbatory fantasies now, Reese?” Sarah asked from behind him, proving again that she was a mind reader no matter what she said to the contrary. She rolled her eyes at him before she stepped away into the bathroom for her own shower.
He did what any decent resistance fighter would do when faced with overwhelming forces; Derek turned and retreated.
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no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:19 pm (UTC)I liked what you said about Kyle always beeing between them even if only through the fact that he isn't there.
I would totally go sell cookies to get a view like that by the way.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 11:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:52 pm (UTC)Oh, but what excellent images they would be. XD
I loved it.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 11:06 pm (UTC)True story! Thank you, I'm glad that you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 05:28 am (UTC)Hee! I loved this fic. Just the interaction and Derek's thoughts. I especially loved the above line as well as the Girlscouts turning back up in hopes of an encore *grin*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 11:12 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it, and thanks for dropping a note too!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-29 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-29 02:00 am (UTC)I hope your computer woes works itself out.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-29 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-29 03:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-10 08:26 pm (UTC)