For those that don't know, on most mailing lists there's an attempt to keep the conversation on-topic. When the conversation veers, people put an "obligatory list/fandom" bit in at the bottom. On FUsion (the KF:TLC slash discussion list), these have often taken the form of brief story snippets. And somehow I seem to have posted about half of them...
So here are my obFUsions. None are titled; they were just tossed-off bits of fic. Enjoy. :)

all written during 1998



by Arduinna



"Oh, yeaaahhhh"



He could feel the power of the body under him, his own body rocking with every tiny movement. Reaching down, he caressed the hard shaft then wrapped his hand around it, moving rhythmically, legs flexing at the same time, bringing them into closer contact. He smiled to himself as the rumbling purr that came straight from the other's heart deepened -- he loved that sound, loved being the one who could draw that sound out into the darkness of the night. His body thrummed with the knowledge that all this leashed power and strength belonged to him, only to him.

"Peter," Kermit gasped.




"Peter, for god's sake, open your eyes, we're gonna crash!!!"

Peter's eyes snapped open and he twisted the wheel, stomping hard on brakes and clutch, narrowly avoiding the van stopped at the red light. As soon as the car had stopped completely, he looked at Kermit, sitting pale and shaken in the seat next to him. "Sorry, Kermit," he apologized. The dark head turned slowly toward him, and Peter could feel the heat of the glare blasting against his skin. "Let me make it up to you?" he asked hopefully.

"Just... get me home. In one piece," the other man said flatly, and turned back to look out the windshield again.

"Right." Peter set the car in motion again and started driving carefully toward Kermit's apartment. Leashed power, he mused, glancing over briefly at the other man. Wonder if he purrs...



"Kermit? You okay?"

"You're cute. Anyone ever tell you you're cute?"



"You're drunk!"

"You're cute. Life is good."

"Oh, jeez. C'mon, let's get you home."

"Your place or mine?"

"Are you giggling??"

"'course not! Mercs don't giggle. Isn't dignified."

"Oh, man. C'mon, that's it, one foot in front of the -- what are you doing?"


"Kermit, I hate to point this out -- but you've got your hand on my ass."

"And a cute little ass it is, too."

"Wait a minute."


"You're not drunk."

"Never said I was. So... your place or mine?"





"You coming to bed?"

"Mmm-hmmm. In a minute."

"You said that ten minutes ago."

"I know, but I had to answer something. I'll be right there."



"I'll be there in a minute."

"You've been saying that for the last hour!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you."

"Well, come on, then -- come to bed and make it up to me."

"Just one more download, and I'll be right there."


"Just one! I promise."



"Mmm? Oh, hi -- what are you doing here? Thought you were in bed. Just let me finish this, okay?"

"I don't believe you! I stand here stark naked, and you'd rather touch your keyboard than me??"

"I always want to touch you, you know that."

"Then why are you only using one hand?"

"I'm not touching the keyboard."

"You're using the mouse."

"Don't confuse the issue with technicalities."



And Kermit shot he at all the bad guys, and the bad guys they fell. And Kermit was pleased.

And Peter kicked mightily at the heads and bodies of those bad guys who remained standing, and the bad guys they fell. And Peter was pleased.

And Kermit and Peter looked they each upon the other's work, and were pleased.

And together left they, to celebrate victory as was most fitting -- and fitted they well together, indeed.

And we were pleased.



"What is that?"


"Why are you burning incense?"

"Incense helps set the mood. C'mere..."


"Mmmm? Damn, but you taste good..."

"I hate to tell you this, but incense makes me think of my father and the Ancient."



"Be right back."

"Right. Don't forget to open the window while you're up."



Kermit woke up slowly, identifying "hospital smell" before he totally regained consciousness. He hated hospitals. On the other hand, if he was waking up in a hospital, he was still alive. Sorta made the smell worth it.

Keeping his eyes shut, he tried to remember why he was here. There had been a firefight in a warehouse.... Cautiously, he stretched, grimacing as memory came painfully clear -- shot in the arm. Right. He could move his fingers, though, so the damage couldn't be that bad.

He opened his eyes, blinking at the darkness before he realized it must still be nighttime. Sounded like the middle of the night; everything had that hushed quality.

At least he wouldn't have to deal with visitors until the morning.

Relief flooded him at the thought of a few hours' peace without being forced to endure well-meaning well-wishes from co-workers. Being stuck in a hospital bed, vulnerable and damn-near naked, while people watched him was pretty close to his idea of hell. There were a few people he'd be glad to see, but most of the ones who'd show up he'd rather just said "welcome back" when he went back to work in a few days.

Sighing, he shifted to get more comfortable, determined to get as much sleep as possible so he'd heal as fast as possible. As he moved, something slid down the pillow to bump against his neck. Curious, Kermit lifted his good hand to grab it, feeling the familiar shape of his sunglasses.

Peter. It had to have been. Somehow, Peter had gotten in past the nursing staff, and left him his sunglasses for the morning.

Kermit grasped the glasses firmly and shut his eyes, falling asleep with a smile on his face.



"Kermit?" Peter called as he drew on his jacket. It had been a long day, and he couldn't wait to get home. Maybe he could talk Kermit into one of those patented full-body massages -- the kind that left everything limp and happy. He stilled for a minute, eyes half-closing and a smile stealing across his face at the thought. Blinking himself back to the present, he glanced around to make sure nobody had noticed his distraction, then frowned as he realized almost nobody was there to notice his reaction. And Kermit hadn't appeared, either. Where the heck was everybody?

A muffled curse almost drowned out by triumphant laughter caught his attention. It was coming from the captain's office, of all places! He walked over and peered in cautiously, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

Blake, Jody, Strenlich (Strenlich?!), Skalany, and his own Kermit were ranged around the captain's desk, playing a game.

"Simms is gonna kill you all when she gets back and finds out you were using her office for a game room," Peter announced, grinning.

"Pete!" Kermit waved him over urgently. "C'mere, I've almost won!" He ignored the jeers that met this statement, and Skalany's muttered 'in your dreams, pal, this game is mine.' "Blake was in the center but he missed his question, and if I roll a five I'm in. Where've you been, anyway?" he asked as Peter came up behind him and casually rested a hand on his shoulder, one thumb invisibly brushing across the back of Kermit's neck in greeting.

"Working," Peter said succinctly. "You know, doing cop-things -- catching bad guys, saving the world for humanity, stuff like that."

A chorus of uninterested "oh yeah, that"s met him, and he grinned again, making himself more comfortable against Kermit's chair.

"Simms really is gonna kill you, you know," he said. Glancing over the board, he noticed one completely empty pie, compared with the others, most of which were at least half full. "So who's the green?"

Nobody answered, but all eyes swivelled to Strenlich, who looked defensive.

"Having a tough day, Chief?" Peter asked sympathetically.

"Everyone else gets easy questions when they have a chance at a piece of pie!" Strenlich objected. "Hell, Skalany got 'What's the name of Princess Leia's home planet' -- I got 'How many times can an Imperial hand-rifle be shot before it runs out of charge?'"

Stifled laughter erupted from everyone at the table, and Strenlich fumed quietly, glaring.

"Tough break, Chief," Peter said cheerfully. "So whose turn is it?"

"Mine," Kermit said. He held a cupped hand up toward Peter's face. "Wanna blow on this for luck?"

Peter prayed that he wasn't turning as red as he thought, but from the smirks on his co-workers' faces wasn't too hopeful about it. "Bastard," he whispered into Kermit's ear as he leaned down, blowing lightly on the die.

"I don't think this is fair," Skalany objected. Peter raised his head and smiled sweetly at her, only belatedly realizing the picture he presented: one arm wrapped around Kermit's shoulder's for balance, his other hand, cupping Kermit's to hold it steady while he blew, chin nearly resting on Kermit's shoulder. Whoops.

Before he could move or say anything, Kermit's spoke up. "All's fair in love and war, Skalany."

Oh, damn, he was turning red again, he could feel it. He was supposed to have control of that sort of thing these days, wasn't he?

The other players all sort of gaped, clearly torn in how to answer Kermit's comment, then just laughed and let it pass. Even Jody seemed more amused than anything.

"Can we get back to playing now?" Kermit asked. Peter blinked, and stood back up, but kept one hand on Kermit's shoulder. The hell with it.

"In a hurry to get home, Kermit?" Skalany asked sweetly, laughing at the menacing look she got in return.

Kermit growled -- it would have been a lot more effective if he hadn't sounded so pleased with himself at the same time -- and rolled the die. He twisted his head up to glance at Peter, smiling. "You must bring me luck," he said quietly. Peter smiled back, and watched as Kermit moved his piece the five places into the center.

After some hurried consultation, the others decided on a category and Blake pulled a card. Before he read the question, he sent Peter an admonishing look. "No helping, Peter; Kermit has to answer this himself."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Peter replied. "C'mon, read it, already."

Blake nodded, then glanced at the card and groaned. Lifting resigned eyes to Kermit, he asked, "What system did Yoda live in when Luke went to study with him?"

Groans rose around the table; Kermit smiled slowly.


"I can't believe you got a question like that," Strenlich grumbled. Kermit's smile widened.

"Victory comes to the righteous, Chief," he said piously, eliciting an outraged chorus of protest from the other detectives.

Chuckling, Peter said, "C'mon, Kermit, we'd better get out of here before they get ugly."

"Good idea, Peter. Wouldn't want them to feel overwhelmed in the presence of genius, anyway."

Peter choked back more laughter, pointing out, "You know, Kermit, most of them are armed -- are you sure that was a good idea?"

"You'll protect me," Kermit said smugly.

Breath catching, Peter stared at him for a moment. "True," he agreed softly, and reached out to touch him once, lightly, on the arm. Kermit smiled back at him, then broke the moment by turning back to their co-workers, who were studiously ignoring them.

"Hey, Chief!"

Strenlich turned to them, face a study in contrasts as he tried to scowl past the smile tugging at his lips. "What?"

"Thanks for bringing in the game, it was a lot of fun." Laughing, Kermit beat a hasty retreat, dragging Peter with him, Strenlich's mock-bitter 'You're so welcome, glad I could make your day' echoing behind them along with the laughter of the other players.

As they made their way through the now-empty squadroom, Peter heard Skalany comforting Strenlich with an offer of a beer, the others chiming in with offers of a rematch in the bar with just the four of them. He smiled.

"Sorry you're going to miss the next game?" he asked as he and Kermit headed down the stairs.

"Nah. I figure I'm going to be having a lot more fun than they are."

A quick, knowing hand brushed down Peter's back and butt, then disappeared again, and he shivered happily.

"Yeah, I think you're right."

Funny, how the day's tensions could just fade away....



"What --"

"Don't ask."

"But --"

"I said, 'don't ask'," Kermit growled, striding toward his office and totally ignoring the water dripping in his wake.

Silence fell, as everyone watched his progress while pretending not to notice anything untoward. As soon as Kermit closed the door, the room began buzzing with speculation.

Kermit leaned back against the door, pulling off his sunglasses to clean them, but after one look at his soggy handkerchief changed his mind and just let them dangle from his fingers. He tipped his head back to hear better, a slow grin spreading across his face as he caught random snatches of conversation: "...chased someone into a lake?" " department..." "shootout at a carwash?"


No need for his compatriots to find out the truth.

After all, what was a hot summer day without a fire hydrant spraying water everywhere to keep the kids cool?



Peter slipped silently into the apartment, ghosting toward the sturdy figure that drew him like a beacon. He'd been thinking, dreaming, about this for hours.

A whisper-light touch, an indrawn breath of anticipation, a reaching hand -- and a bitten-off curse. Whirling, he stared into the sink, where an empty bowl and spoon bore witness to his dismay.


"Dammit, Peter, would you stop sneaking around like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack! When did you get home?" Kermit twisted around on the couch to stare at him.



"What is this?" Peter asked, holding up the empty bowl.

After an almost unnoticeable pause, Kermit lifted an eyebrow and replied, "It's a bowl, Pete."

"I can see that. What was in the bowl?"

"Ice..." Kermit's voice trailed off, and he smiled brightly.

"Ice cream," Peter agreed, grim-voiced. "My ice cream. My one and only treat."

Clearly offended, Kermit glared. Peter ignored him.

"Which I was looking forward to all night. Dammit, Kermit, you know I wanted that!"

"Well, I don't see what you're shouting at me for," Kermit grumbled.

"Because you're the one who ate it!"

"I am not! You wanna yell at someone, you yell at your old man."


"You heard me. He stopped by to drop off a book for you -- that's it on the table -- and I told him to help himself to whatever he wanted while I got the last book you borrowed from him. All of a sudden I heard him say 'Chunky Monkey' in that exact same tone of voice you get, and the next thing I knew he was chowing down on your ice cream. I'm surprised he waited long enough to use a bowl -- unlike some people I know. What is it with you Caines, anyway? Some sort of genetic addiction to that stuff or something?"


~ fin ~

Feedback of any sort, from one line to detailed crit, is always welcome, at arduinna at trickster dot org.


No title


Stories home

Alias | Boston Legal | Boy Meets World | CSI | Dead Zone | due South | Forever Knight | Forever Knight/Highlander | HighlanderI Spy | Invisible Man | Kung Fu: TLC | M*A*S*H | Night Court | Peacemakers | The Professionals | Quantum LeapThe Sentinel | Sesame Street | Stargate Atlantis | Stargate SG-1 | Starsky and Hutch | Various/Misc.

Site home