bakerstreet | The Intimacy Meme

The Intimacy Meme

The Intimacy Meme

(Shamelessly taken from... all the rest and modified!)

Intimacy is the glue of any relationship, albeit romantic or friendship. It's getting to the root of humanity, and expanding upon ourselves and letting others in.

Rules:
1. Post with your character.
2. Go to rng and roll from 1-6.
3. Post to others.
4. Profit

Scenes:
1. First Kiss. Maybe you've been harboring feelings or maybe this is random. But it feels good to be that close to someone.

2. Love Confession. You have been head over heels for this person and now it's time to try and get close to them.

3. Secrets. You've been hiding yourself from someone and now it's time to stop. They need to know the real you.

4. First Time. First time you have sex is always nerve racking, but it's in these moments that you show how much you truly care about someone.

5. Shower. Perhaps you've been together for awhile. Maybe you've told each other everything. Maybe you're just dirty and need to get cleaned up. But letting the water flow between two people is still pretty intimate.

6. Post-Coital Bed. Do you feel talkative after sex? Want to ponder the meaning of life / if you guys are more than a one-night stand? Better to do it after the deed probably.. at least your partner will be in a good mood?

7. Road Trip. Good for that bonding experiance you never had! Bad diner food and weird landmarks you never knew you wanted to see! Will it bring you closer to your friend / lover?

8. Drunk. Are you the happy or sad kind? Clingy, or flighty? Maybe you just need a hug, to snuggle close.. to whoever's around at the time!

9. Winter. What could be a better time to curl up with a book, or exchange soft words in the glow of the fire? Hot chocolate time!

10. Free verse. Did I leave something out? Want to combine? Make up your own or pick from the others.

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"You were handed over to a vampire from the start," Lindsey reminded and had pulled himself together to look up at Dean as he said that. "They expect the demon to have needs." He tried to smile wryly, but it turned out more as a grimace as if even he found that train of thought distasteful. Yet it was a stark reminder of the truth and how he had been denying that part of himself, what he was holding onto for Dean.

Dean visibly flinched, quickly looking down at the table in front of him. "Uh...yeah...I've heard all about that guys needs. So as long as I'm alive they're fine."

"They're fine?" Lindsey asked, voice laden with scoff and sarcastic disbelief. "The demon never wanted to kill you, Dean. But I think you know that." Because, obviously, the demon wanted so much more. And worse.

"Doesn't really matter though, does it?" He finally looks up again, starting to get pissed. "That soul they stuck you with is never gonna let that happen, so we're good, right?"

Lindsey had the tact to look down contritely when he sensed Dean's rising anger. "Yeah, right. Heh, bound for perpetuity." The problem was what his soul wanted wasn't that different from what the vampire did, they just differentiated on method of how they'll go about achieving it, and whether they cared that Dean was rejecting it.

He turned away on the pretense to look for a waiter. "We're done here? I'll call for the bill."

Dean blinked a few times, coming back to where they are and what they're doing. He'd just been taken out for a nice dinner and was coming down from the overwhelming urge to punch this dude in the face. He knew hs hands were already starting to shake and looked away, hoping he wasn't turning red. "Yeah....yeah sounds good."

Getting the feeling that with this conversation their evening came to an abrupt end, Lindsey lamented that he got into it in the first place. Should have gone back to something more neutral, the weather would've been better than this.

When the server came, Lindsey handed the man a card then finally glanced back to Dean. He nearly gave in to his overwhelming desire to apologize, his eyes were ready for it, yet what came out was the question, "Do you want to head back?"

[John Watson was in love with his best friend. That was the only explanation as to why he was skulking around the back of a stranger's house at four in the morning. It was the only thing that made sense, considering that he knew without a doubt that he should be at home, asleep in the bed that he would have to leave in three hours to get ready for work.

It was also the only thing that explained the feelings that had been creeping up more and more when he least expected them. The tightness in his stomach when he first caught a glimpse of Sherlock in the morning, the fact that he'd actually found himself texting Sherlock first on a couple of occasions. The fear that one day Sherlock would look at him and see right through him and then what? He had no idea how Sherlock would react to the feelings that, despite John's best intentions, had sprung up for his flatmate.

In fact, he'd spent the last couple of months just waiting for that moment to come. For Sherlock to deduce what nearly everyone in their circle already claimed to know, but he hadn't. And John was beginning to wonder if he ever would. Maybe it was because he didn't want to. Or maybe it was because feelings had never really been Sherlock's srong point.

John felt a shock of cold as he stepped into a mud puddle and he sighed loudly. He pulled his foot out of the mire. That was it. He should be at home, warm in bed, sleeping. Not traipsing through who knows where with Sherlock.]

Sherlock, you have five minutes to find what you're looking for before I go to the front door and ring the bell.

[Sherlock was completely unaware of any feelings that John, or anyone else, would have for him. Anything remotely romantic or to do with feelings had never been his strong point and he had no idea when anyone even found him remotely good looking.

When John spoke, he looked over before shaking his head and carrying on searching for what he knew was there somewhere.]

Be patient John. Things like this take time. [He replied before crouching and looking through a keyhole into a shed.]

I have been patient. And cold. And now I'm covered in mud.

[Covered might be a bit of an overstatement, but a good couple of inches on his left leg and the entirety of his shoe was so it was close enough in John's book.]

At least fill me in on what we're searching for.

"Uh...yeah, sure. It's getting late anyway," he smiled despite how awkward he felt. "Thanks for giving me a night out. I mean if I had gone by myself I would have ended up in some dive bar eating dinner at a drive thru so...thanks."

Don't exaggerate mor than you have to, john. [He replied before looking over at him.]

I'd hardly call that covered.

I'm looking for something that was used in the robbery we are investigating. It caused 3 deaths and one near fatal injury.

The thing about Clint and messing up shots was that he rarely did, even under siege by a not unattractive lady. He'd been in the bar to meet a contact, but that had been several hours ago, and the information had already been passed along to his superiors. The proper thing to do would have been walking out and finding something else to do, but the beer was decent.

And so were the darts.

Except when Agatha decided to raise the cheating stakes and used her foot. Clint's dart didn't miss the board, but it did fly half an inch to the side, landing just outside the center ring and breaking his perfect streak.

He turned, eyebrow raised. "There a reason for the dirty tricks?"

It was supposed to be a night out with Nat. Find a suitable dive, hustle some pool, and do a little relaxing. They'd barely found the place when she'd been called away on business and he'd been left alone. Deciding there was no reason not to go through with the plans anyway, Clint had struck up a conversation with some frat boys and proceeded to get them thoroughly drunk. The ensuing game had been very fruitful. For him.

Once the little group had left, grumbling about bad luck, he'd made his way to the bar and ordered a shot of vodka in his partner's honor. Unfortunately, only a little made it into his mouth. The rest was dumped onto the front of his shirt when someone bumped against his elbow at exactly the wrong minute.

"Well, shit. I hate alcohol abuse."

"Aww, man. That's just wrong." Because he wasn't the only one who hated to see good liquor wasted. She reached for the pile of napkins on the bar, passing him a couple and wincing slightly.

"Sorry. Doofus over there decided to see if I'd make a good ping-pong ball. Apparently the answer is 'no'." Another glare turned towards the retreating back of the doofus in question who hadn't even bothered to apologize. Great addition to the gene pool.

"Look, I'll get you another shot." Make that two, because now he was going to smell like vodka all night, and that was just wrong.

"And you'll be more at ease," Lindsey concluded. The waiter returned for his signature and he scribbled it quickly before he waving the man off. He gathered his jacket and got up. "You want me to drop you off at a bar instead? I can disappear... probably should find some real dinner."

[ there were things that, even as a head of a very important branch of a very important secret service, one just simply could not get out of. miss moneypenny is quite busy now, after all, and (in her words) "can not be arsed to play messenger" when the very lives of everyone in mi6 depend on the memos she sends out. (q knows for certain that this is not an exaggeration. her memos are quite godly.)

still, it did make things rather difficult when the intended recipient of information on the latest from q branch is clear across several seas, and the only person suitable to deliver the briefing is the head of q branch himself, who has a rather troublesome fear of flying. in this case, the math does not work in their favor, and so drastic measures were had, which explains why q is now currently half-sprawled along one of the more comfortable chairs in the craft, clutching an armrest in one hand and a half-full glass of brandy in another.

unfortunately, while the liquor had done its job in dulling his senses, his blasted genius mind continues to whirr away at its usual frantic speed, meaning he's still quite aware of what exactly is happening, though now it simply means his body will be too sluggish to do anything useful, if in the event of an actual crisis.

he points the glass of brandy towards his "babysitter." ]

I tol'... [ he licks his lips, as if tasting the words on them. ] I told you. Didn't I? [ the ice tinkles noisily in his glass. ] You should've given me the pills. Knocked me out! Two seconds. Flat.

[ he blinks slowly behind his askew glasses, feels the plane give a gentle bump (of course in his mind, it feels like a great big lurch that clearly means something is wrong with the machinery dear god get him off of this thing), and he groans, pressing the glass to his forehead. ]

Don't. Just don't say a thing.

"Waste of expensive booze is what it is." There wasn't much point in not agreeing, or accepting her apology, because she had bumped into him and spilled the liquor. Nat might have thrown a fit and broken a few limbs, so in retrospect, her absence was a good thing.

He took the proffered napkins and pressed them against the wet area on his shirt, letting the liquid soak in for a couple of seconds before swiping them up and down a few times. Once most of the damage had been fixed, he balled them up and deposited the damp mess onto the bar. Someone else's problem now.

"I was drinking Stolichnaya, if you're buying."

Well, she'd said she was buying. Maybe later she'd lift a wallet to pay for the depletion of her own funds. "Stolichnaya it is. Good taste," she said, holding up two fingers to the bartender and nodding her head at Clint. She placed her own empty bottle of beer on the bar, indicating another as she pulled out the money to put down on the counter.

In fact, she thought she might go lift the wallet of the boob who'd bumped into her in the first place. Give karma a little push so it could deliver some retribution and all that.

Dean frowned but followed after Lindsey. "No, I'm honestly still out of it from the whole near death thing. Of you're hungry...I mean I have new fancy blood. You don't need to go out and hurt anybody."

"Didn't you just say you're out of it?" Lindsey's brows furrowed slightly although he did give Dean a questioning glance. It was true that Dean was pumped up from the steak dinner and it was tempting, but Lindsey couldn't help thinking that Dean didn't offer because he was thinking of him.

"Are you getting symptoms already?"

Dean shrunk back a little, turning red with embarrassment. "No...I'm fine....just forget it, do what you want.". He was, he completely was but he didn't need Lindsey pointing it out.

Lindsey gave Dean a sardonic smile as they left to go back to the car. "Don't worry, I'll end the date with a good night kiss." He was, although he had to wonder why, but he was trying to defuse the earlier tension and hope to salvage the night still.

(( I've been trying to think all day to figure out how to make Lindsey lose his soul. I'm thinking a curse is best, and it'll be temporary because W&H will work to break it, but how best to bring it about. Disgruntled client? ))

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The Intimacy Meme

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