The Music That Connects Me to You
Fandom: Fringe
Characters: Astrid Farnsworth/Alternate Lincoln Lee
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: ~5,000
Summary: Is it a chemical that makes this moment true?
Notes: Amber'verse, speculative: postulates that at some point, the characters regain their knowledge of the previous timelines.
Thanks to samjohnsson for beta, which meant taking a much-deserved chainsaw to my ellipsis and asterisk addiction.
For monanotlisa.
Written for the "Fringe kinkmeme using the following prompt:
Dancing
Don't care who, don't care what pairing(s), don't care what 'verse. But there are Fringe characters and dancing.
Inspiring quote:
ASTRID: It's an entry stamp. It's a place called The Cavern. The industrial area is really happening in the underground club scene right now. ["Midnight"]
She'd been looking for an excuse to blow off steam for awhile now, so when Captain Lee tosses her a look laden with the need for distraction, Astrid has just the thing.
She gets it, really. The two Fringe teams have been getting along better these days, but that doesn't mean friction doesn't exist. The two Olivias are on tenterhooks around each other, especially when Peter's in the same room. Olivia can't forget that her alternate slept with her boyfriend; Liv can't forget that she bore Peter's son. The fact that neither of these things are true in the timeline they're all living in now (and Astrid has to pause at the thought, because unbelievably, this is her life) doesn't make the tension any less real.
Walter's better now, with Peter back in his life, and that's allowed Astrid the bandwidth to consider her own situation. It's interesting-and perhaps a little bit depressing-to consider how few her divergences are in the two timelines. She prefers her current circumstances (as if she has any choice about it): she gets out of the lab more often, at least. And Astrid is determined to maintain her closer friendship with Olivia even with Peter back in the picture.
In the time since the two Fringe teams started working together, Astrid's drawn a pretty clear picture of the other side's dynamics. Phillip Broyles is Phillip Broyles the universe(s) over, and everyone on both sides agrees that they'd rather remain in this timeline where both versions of Agent Broyles are still alive. He's a good man on either side of the bridge, and Astrid was relieved to discover in going through the case files that the other team managed to find the "Candyman" who hurt Colonel Broyles' son, even without Olivia standing in her alternate's shoes. It's that case, more than anything, which convinced Astrid that the two Olivias really are far more similar than they might otherwise like people to believe. Astrid doesn't have any personal cause to dislike the other Olivia, other than a general exasperation at how easily she was duped, and that's her own issue to work through.
As far as the others go, it's nothing but an unlooked-for joy to have the opportunity to work with Charlie Francis again. The other Walter Bishop barely acknowledges her presence, and Astrid's not particularly eager to draw his attention. And she quite frankly hopes that the two worlds remain linked if only so she has the chance to spend time with the other Astrid Farnsworth, so different and not at all, not in the ways that matter.
And Captain Lee...
Captain Lee is friendly. Captain Lee is hot. Captain Lee gives Astrid serious pause when he's being friendly and hot in her direction, not because she has any objection to either of those things, but because of the double vision with her own Agent Lee. Who she has to work with on a daily basis, and wondering what he's hiding under those suits isn't precisely contributing to her professional demeanor.
But Captain Lee's been volunteering to handle the information exchange on this side, and it's not hard to understand why. Agent Francis just got married and is sticking close to home, and Olivia (reasonably) doesn't want Liv anywhere near Peter if she can help it. Astrid's also inferred that Liv is trying to keep her engagement to Frank Stanton from imploding under the weight of all the old timeline's information, and that's a significant distraction for her.
It's obvious to everyone that Captain Lee is more than a little relieved to be in a place where he doesn't need to be face-to-face with Liv every day. His feelings about her aren't a secret to anyone on either side of the bridge. It occurs to Astrid that he's also probably at least somewhat relieved to be in a timeline where he's not in charge of the division, and therefore has the opportunity to escape its responsibilities for awhile.
They're working side-by-side, comfortably ensconced at linked computers. "So what do you do for fun after-hours, Astrid?"
"Don't drink, don't smoke," she replies, and they exchange delighted grins. Trading song lyrics has become a game to get them through the tedious cross-referencing, and it's surprising how many artists are common to both worlds. So far, U2 being absent on the other side is the biggest gap. "Well, I drink some."
"Subtle innuendos follow," Lincoln murmurs. "I think your Broyles would let me off official premises if he knows I had a reliable keeper."
And oh, there's the look, beseeching and loaded with the suggestive undertones that she's learned to expect from him. This version of Lincoln Lee flirts with everyone. He's kept it to a minimum with Broyles and Walter and Olivia, for obvious reasons, but she and Peter and his own alternate seem to be fair game.
The question of how far he's willing to take the flirting-isn't really a question, either. Peter usually laughs and gives as good as he gets, which doesn't help Astrid's ability to sleep at night without a little relief. Her Lincoln Lee just squints behind his glasses at his double, his expression impenetrable, and Astrid honestly isn't sure if he's offended or if he's biding his time before he knocks Captain Lee over the head and drags him into a supply closet. That image doesn't help her sleep, either.
As for the looks and comments he's been throwing at her...it's been awhile since Astrid was the focus of that kind of attention, and she's perfectly happy to see where it leads. "First of all, there's nothing 'subtle' about your innuendos. And second, you seem a little too gleeful about the idea of being kept."
"Depends on the length of the leash," Lincoln says without missing a beat, and Astrid has to cover her mouth to keep from-laughing, shrieking, she's not sure which. "Too much?"
"...not necessarily, no," she manages, although she can't match his even tone. Whatever they're doing has just been ratcheted up a couple of notches and she no longer has any doubt whatsoever about where it's headed. But not here. "A bit much for the workplace, though."
"Then take me out somewhere I can be inappropriate. More inappropriate," he amends with a grin.
This week isn't going to work for a couple of reasons, not the least of which is that Astrid already has a date to see her parents and her brother. She'll have to clear Lincoln's walkabout with Broyles first, too, so... "Dancing. Next Friday you're over here."
"Perfect. I cannot wait." Lincoln considers for a moment, then leans over to whisper in her ear. "Remember, though, I am not your dancing queen."
"We'll see about that," she tells him archly, and oh, she can't wait either.
The following week doesn't arrive soon enough. Broyles agrees to her request without an interrogation, which Astrid figures is overdue karma for the last three years.
She clears her schedule. Makes sure Walter is stocked up on all his favorite candy. Restocks her personal supplies, while she's at it. Makes it clear to the rest of the team that she isn't to be called for anything short of an emergency.
It's a lot of preparation for one yearned-for night off. But it's one Astrid's certain she's going to want to remember.
FBI agents deliver Captain Lee to the lab as usual, but there's nothing usual about her level of anticipation, or the way his presence seems to lighten the atmosphere. No one else seems to notice, but Astrid wishes she could bottle his energy. He nearly bounces over to her station, enthusiasm practically radiating off him in waves.
"We're still on?"
"Very on." She smiles as he takes a seat and logs on with a borrowed account. "I called some of my friends, they'll meet us at the club."
Lincoln hums approval as his fingers tap over the keys. "It's good you have friends outside of work. I assume they don't know what you actually do?"
"No. They know I work for the FBI, but..."
Lincoln nods, glancing over at her. "Yeah. On my side, obviously everyone knows about Fringe Division, but knowing is too much, for most people." He sighs, his expression turning rueful. "They see all the events in the news, but spending time with someone who deals with it every day is too close for comfort. I used to hang out with a lot of different people, but now..."
"It's hard to connect," Astrid says softly, and he nods again. "That's one of the downsides they don't tell you about the job."
"Yeah, but-saving the world, that counts for something," he says, cheerful again just like that.
"Counts for a lot," Astrid says, because that's how she gets through the days too. "So anyway, I figured we'd grab some dinner first. Then we'll stop by my apartment so I can change. It's too gauche to show up before 11."
"Am I suitable?"
She glances at him, ubiquitous cargo pants and black t-shirt and leather jacket, and nods. The club scene's become a lot more relaxed in the last couple years, people eventually trading style for comfort. For the guys, that was hardly any change at all, except for a general abandonment of too-tight leather pants (a shame, but probably a reprieve for their private parts); for the women, fewer high heels and more combat boots or even sneakers. And far less hairspray. Astrid still pulls out the miniskirt sometimes, but these days she usually opts for black jeans and a black cami under a red silk vest. Comfortable, breathable, and she no longer feels like she needs an elaborate system of ropes and pulleys just to go dancing.
The day passes entirely too slowly, the non-movement of the clock almost constituting its own Fringe event. Even Walter's latest experiment (something about teaching the lab rats to sing) doesn't help pass the time. But finally the hours tick over and the files are cleared and they haven't received any calls requiring Fringe Division attention, so it's safe to escape into the early evening.
Astrid drives to the restaurant, a hole-in-the-wall Moroccan place she'd found. "I hope this'll be all right. I thought if you wanted lamb, this was the place to try it."
"Because of the sheep. You were thinking of me!" Lincoln looks inordinately delighted. "And I'd love to. It's been...I don't even remember. I was a kid, I think, the last time it was really available."
They're seated in a darkened corner, and Lincoln glances around appreciatively. "I like this. The secret life of Astrid Farnsworth."
She thinks about that for a moment. "I don't think of it as secret. Just separate." And it's not like she wouldn't have brought the others here if they'd asked, but it's just as well they hadn't. Olivia and Peter and Walter are open books, having spilled their lives all over the lab as a result of their unique history. Astrid doesn't have any such skeletons in her past, and that little bit of separation helps her pretend she has a life outside of the division. Perhaps as an offering of proof she finds herself talking about her parents, and her brother ("So that's why you're so good with our Astrid," Lincoln comments), and the pot of mint tea is half gone by the time their dinners arrive.
At her suggestion Lincoln had ordered the traditional lamb tagine, and Astrid watches the intent look on his face as he takes the first bite. "Is it okay? If not, we can get something else."
She admires the long line of his throat as he swallows. "No, it's good, it's just...different than I remember, maybe. I do like it."
They spend the rest of dinner trading stories about the precursors to their careers: Astrid and her early love of computers and language, Lincoln and his determination to be accepted into the Academy and all the extra technical classes he'd taken to get there. She'd known, intellectually at least, that he was just as much of a nerd as any of them, but it's still satisfying to hear him wax poetic about math and science.
Despite the small size of the restaurant they aren't rushed along, granted time to sit and savor the strong, heavily spiced coffee and a luscious dessert of pears and figs in honey syrup. It's too sweet for more than a few bites, but the coffee is wonderful and so is the expression on Lincoln's face, a reflection of bliss as he drinks.
There's still plenty of time so they head back to her apartment to relax for awhile. Her place is tiny but Astrid's made it as comfortable as possible, warm with throw covers and patterned rugs and pillows.
She'd thought they might watch something to pass the time but they end up chatting over a glass of wine about movies and media and the differences between the two worlds. It's utterly fascinating, the way their universes developed in parallel with so many similarities and critical differences. Astrid thinks she could devote the rest of her life to exploring the divergences, writing dozens of treatises that could never be read.
At long last it approaches the promised hour, and Astrid excuses herself to get ready. She sticks to her comfortable outfit, splurging on makeup and teasing her hair into a riot of curls. She's gotten in the habit of toning it down for work, but big hair will definitely be appropriate for the venue.
Lincoln takes a turn in the restroom while she washes the wine glasses. When he comes back out-
Oh, he cheats. Astrid's always liked boys in makeup and Lincoln must've smuggled some over in one of his many pockets. Not much and relatively restrained, but the guyliner and a subtle smudge of shadow does good things for his already pretty eyes. Judging by the revitalized height of his hair, it looks like he'd borrowed some of her styling gel, too. It takes her a second to realize Lincoln's wearing a decorative cuff on the same ear where he usually wears his communications cuff, as if he feels naked without the adornment.
"Don't want to risk losing it," he says, dropping his Show-Me and tech cuff on the kitchen table. Astrid hands him the fake ID she'd manufactured in the lab-a copy of her Lincoln's driver's license with the picture replaced. She'd carefully avoided mentioning that part of the excursion to Agent Broyles.
Lincoln glances at the ID and laughs. "Well, that makes getting the details right easy. You can introduce me as 'Lee,' if you want," he offers. "I can be your Lincoln's hot cousin if you ever take him out."
She laughs too because-she can't imagine it, frankly. Lincoln seems to catch the thought and winks at her.
"He might surprise you."
Friday is retro night at The Underneath. Astrid finds it comforting to sink into music she already knows, the familiar synthesized beats of '80s night still offering an unsurpassed invitation to dance. The club is really no more than a glorified warehouse with a makeshift bar, but as long as the music is loud and there's room to move, Astrid isn't all that picky.
Astrid's friends had all been eager to meet her date and she introduces Lee to them as they arrive: Jimmie, whose mannerisms and intonations are more stereotypically queer than any gay man Astrid knows, but who is happily married to Lynn, at the bar negotiating a drink order; Richard and Garth, joined at the hip (and elsewhere) for the past ten years; her college roommate Niki and fellow linguistics nerd Erika, still friends after a disastrous blind date set-up; and all the others she knows, friends and acquaintances.
It's interesting, watching people respond to him. Lincoln is charming, of course, easy in his conversation and mannerisms. Astrid can't help wondering if there's something else at play, if people can somehow vaguely sense that he's Not From Here and therefore fascinatingly exotic. Or maybe that's just her.
"You want a drink?"
"Whatever you're having," Lincoln says, distracted, eyes measuring the crowd. Well, his tough luck if he doesn't like what she brings him.
Astrid doesn't drink a lot, as a rule. When she indulges she prefers fruity, girly drinks; she learned within a year of working at Fringe Division not to even try to keep up with Olivia Dunham when she's on a tear. As far as tonight goes, there's no reason to get plastered when the whole point is to remember every detail. But one drink, however watered down, is part of the price of admission as far as Astrid is concerned.
She leaves Lincoln under Garth's watchful eye, after exchanging a look-he's practically unshakeable, and Lincoln won't faze him in the least.
The music currently playing is a precursor to the main event: a little Pet Shop Boys, a touch of Berlin, a dash of the Romantics. Songs to get everyone in the mood before the evening really gets going. Astrid's been following this particular DJ from club to club for years. He'd actually done a stint at the Cavern (now closed for good, after a very brief ghoulish resurgence in popularity after Valerie Boone's "vampire" rampage), circulating around the other clubs as whim took him.
"Zeke!" She waves to get his attention from where he's set up behind his equipment. He sees her and grins.
"Astrid! Hey, girl." He leans down to so she can kiss his cheek, his proper due. "How can I set you up tonight?"
"Your classic set. And...one request." She names it and Zeke smirks.
"Love it. Will do."
She stops at the bar to grab drinks and help Lynn with her armful of cups. "Nice one, A," Lynn murmurs as they approach their group, which for Lynn is practically applause. Everyone seems to agree, accepting "Lee" into their circle without hesitation, and Astrid feels badly about the lie of omission they're perpetrating. But there really is no other choice.
Lincoln, of course, doesn't look the slightest bit self-conscious about his girly drink. They all toast with their plastic cups-"to Friday!" and the opportunity to see each other, increasingly rare with their varying schedules-and then Zeke opens with a landmark song and from that point, it's all a blur of sound and motion and sweat.
I got to be your friend now, baby / And I would like to move in just a little bit closer
"Oh, honey," Jimmie moans in her ear at one point. "He is hot. Where'd you find that?"
Astrid smirks. "I'd tell you, but..."
His eyes roll. "...you'd have to kill me, right, with your giant FBI gun."
I feel so extraordinary / Something's got a hold on me / I get this feeling I'm in motion / A sudden sense of liberty
Astrid settles into a kind of trance when she's dancing, where everything outside falls away. She can go for hours, barely stopping to drink or socialize or even pee when she's in the zone. And Lincoln seems perfectly willing to keep up with her for as long as she wants to go.
I wanna know what you're thinking / There are some things you can't hide / I wanna know what you're feeling. / Tell me what's on your mind
For all of his casual demeanor and relaxed manner, after talking to Lincoln for a few hours Astrid's gathered the distinct impression that he doesn't really have the opportunity to blow off steam as often as he'd like. It's an added joy to see him enjoying himself with absolutely no demands on his time, far from the grim realities of his world.
The fact that he can actually dance is almost a superfluous bonus. But it's a welcome discovery nevertheless.
At this moment you mean everything / With you in that dress my thoughts I confess verge on dirty
"You know, Astrid," Niki drawls in her ear, "not to be a complete cliché or anything, but I would make an exception for that one. When you're done with him."
Astrid laughs and pushes Niki away, flipping her the bird with a blown kiss on top, but it's true that Astrid hasn't had a steady relationship in quite awhile, since before going to work at Fringe Division. She can't entirely blame work for that, but the particular secrecy of the job hasn't helped.
I'll take my chance cause luck is on my side or something / I know what you're thinking I tell you something I know what you're thinking
Lincoln grins at her like he'd caught the gist of the conversation. Not a difficult trick, considering he's drawn the attention of nearly everyone in the club. He catches her wrist and pulls her in close, saving his breath for dancing but making it clear to everyone that he's with her. Astrid hadn't really needed the affirmation, but the gesture is sweet anyway.
Would you open your arms out to me / We can make love not war / And live at peace in our hearts
Zeke calls out, "This one's for my girl and her new boy."
The distinctive base voice comes up, and then the beat, and Lincoln whoops a laugh. "No, seriously?"
"Seriously," she says, "this is all you." She pushes him toward the middle of the floor, where a space is already opening up for him.
Lincoln goes willingly, foot tapping out the rhythm, and he turns back to fix her with a smoky gaze as he mouths the words and starts to move.
"I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt / So sexy it hurts."
The crowd is screaming now as he vamps it up. Astrid's laughing nearly too hard to breathe, grateful that he's refrained from actually whipping his shirt off-and a little surprised that people aren't trying to stuff money down his pants.
He's perceptive enough to know when to quit, too, pulling her in to dance to the rest of the song about halfway through, and the crowd collapses into a seething mass around them again.
When the song's done, Lincoln wipes a hand over his forehead in an exaggerated motion. "Whew. I need a breather after that."
He heads toward the back and Astrid takes the break as a chance to catch up, especially with Dick and Garth, who'd driven all the way from Jersey for the occasion. She's missed them terribly since moving to Boston, and somehow all their plans to meet in Manhattan for a long weekend never work out. It's gotten to the point where she has to remind herself that she's allowed to take vacations; her annual leave has the tendency to accrue until there's no way she can use it all, so for the last two years she's been donating hours to the Voluntary Leave Transfer Program for those agents who really need it. But again, with Peter back in the picture, Walter won't be alone and Olivia will still have a partner in the field. A good time, Astrid thinks, to start paying attention to her own life again.
So come on and give it to me anyway you can / Anyway you want to do it / I'll take it like a man
Lincoln's heading back her way when a tall guy with dark spiky hair stops him with a hand on his arm, leaning in for a word. He listens, smiling, then shakes his head and says a few words before he makes his way back to her.
"Very friendly people here," Lincoln says in her ear, his tone amused and approving. "Guy offered to blow me in the bathroom."
She turns an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "And you turned him down?"
"I'd rather dance with the one who brought me," he says, and pulls her back onto the floor.
But shoot it in the right direction / Make making it your intention-ooh yeah
In seconds they're pressed close by the density of the crowd, and more than that. His hand is on her back, slipping under her vest and then up her side, thumb barely grazing the swell of her breast. He's hard against her and she's nearly riding his leg and this isn't just a precursor to sex, they're practically fucking on the dance floor. They're not the only ones, but Astrid does prefer privacy.
Ahhh, baby! my heart is full of love and desire for you / So come on down and do what you got to do / You started this fire down in my soul / Now can't you see it's burning out of control
"I'm going to take you home with me now," she says, gasping in his ear.
"Thank you," he says, with odd, deliberate courtesy. She pulls back to see his face, curious, and he grins. "Was hoping you wouldn't leave me at the mercy of Blowjob Guy."
There's nothing you and I won't do / I'll stop the world and melt with you
After hasty goodbyes and promises to do this again soon, Astrid drives home, steadily and carefully. Lincoln cooperates by keeping his hands to himself. That lasts until she parks and they meet around the front of the car: he reaches over to take her hand and they grin at each other and run like crazy people up the stairs to her apartment.
They're finally inside and she'd expected the pace to continue, breathless and out of control, but Lincoln leans in and kisses her softly. Gently at first, the kiss deepening as they lean into each other, until her hands are flat against his back to keep him in place while she tastes him, licks at his tongue, nips at his mouth.
She's got her back against the door and at some point his hands crept under her ass, and now he lifts and she wraps her legs around his waist and sometimes being petite is a very convenient thing. Astrid's pretty sure she can skip the ground rules discussion since Lincoln's proven he's perfectly willing to take direction, but there is one thing she particularly wants tonight. She reluctantly pulls back to catch his eyes. "I'm a modern girl. I know I'm responsible for my own orgasms."
"Not tonight," Lincoln grins, tilting his hips up toward her pelvis.
She grins back. "Hold your horses, soldier. I just meant to say, there's one thing I can't get on my own."
"Well, I hear if you're flexible enough," he wisecracks, and she leans in to bite at his lip.
"No, fool. It's just..." she runs her finger along his mouth. "I want you to kiss me. A lot. So I feel it tomorrow and maybe even the next day and I..."
Getting overemotional is definitely not in the program. Lincoln looks at her, his expression thoughtful, but he refrains from commenting as she takes a breath and gets herself back under control. "Okay?"
"Twist my arm," he murmurs, and leans in again. It's just so intimate, kissing someone she trusts. He wasn't wrong before; it's become increasingly hard to talk to anyone outside of the division, never mind date. The last time Astrid brought a random guy home she got off, sure, but that's all it was.
That's all this is, she needs to keep reminding herself. But she hadn't wanted that last guy to stick around, much less kiss her like this, and it's the pure primal human contact she's been craving.
"...no, really," Lincoln says earnestly when they come up for air, "you want to twist my arm, I can take it, I don't mind a little-"
"Oh, my God, don't you ever shut up," Astrid says, and motions for him to let her down. He does, grinning. "I see I've got to keep your mouth occupied to keep all your ridiculousness from falling out of it."
"Probably the best option," he agrees, and follows her to the bedroom. She pauses, then giggles and cues up an album. If music is the common thread of the evening, there's only one band that fits the theme.
Lincoln laughs as he recognizes the opening song. "I've met my side's Jake. He is just that hot. And Ana is amazing."
"Braggart," she says, and starts to pull off her soaked vest when Lincoln stops her.
"Let me."
You said Fight fire with fire Fire with fire Fire with fire / Through desire, desire, desire Through your desire
He undresses her slowly, hands trailing over her skin, and stands obediently for Astrid to do the same. When they're both naked Lincoln begins kissing her again, moving with her as she backs toward the bed and draws him down.
Harder you get / Caught in my sweat / Now I'm too wet / To want it all
His mouth leaves hers only to travel her body, never losing contact as he licks the sweat off her breasts and her belly and from in between her thighs.
The softest touches, deeper than the ocean / Give it to me faster, feel it, feel it
Astrid hears a noise and realizes it's her, a low keening sound from her own throat. She touches Lincoln's shoulder and he rises to meet her, no awkward fumbling with the condom at all, his tongue tracing over her lower lip as if asking for permission to enter. She opens to him gladly, above and below, and they move together as easily as they did on the dance floor. This dance continues long after the music's done, but Astrid knows she's never going to hear those lyrics again without the memory of Lincoln against her, inside her.
Exhaustion finally takes hold deep into the small hours. They're both falling asleep when Lincoln murmurs against her ear. "You should ask other-me out. I bet he'd dance with you."
It's such a random comment that Astrid doesn't give it much thought, certainly not then and not over the next few days, while Lincoln's sense-memory is still so clear. But weeks go by and she finds herself watching her own Lincoln out of the corner of her eye. He's not the same, she knows that, and comparing the two of them won't do anyone any good. But still...
"Lincoln, do you dance?" she asks one day, the words falling out of her mouth without any groundwork whatsoever.
He glances over at her, his expression quizzical. "You mean like, at a club? Not...well. I never know what to do with my feet."
Astrid smiles at him, nodding, completely ready to let it go-
He adds with a diffident look, "I did have a girlfriend who took me to dance lessons. Rumba, tango, nothing really modern."
-but oh, the images she has now: moving around the floor in Lincoln's arms, completely in sync, hips pulled in tight together. Astrid actually has to swallow once before she says, "You know, I've always wanted to learn."
{end}
Title and summary from "Paul McCartney" by the Scissor Sisters. (And JUST BECAUSE, go and watch Jarrow's vid to this song, forever one of my favorites. Download it here and the rest of his work, while you're there.)
Don't drink, don't smoke
What do you do
Subtle innuendos follow
Must be something inside
- "Goody Two Shoes," Adam Ant
Playlist (the representative sample):
"You Spin Me 'Round," Dead or Alive
"True Faith," New Order
"What's on Your Mind," Information Society (song samples Leonard Nimoy's voice, for extra associative giggles)
"Come on Eileen," Dexy's Midnight Runners
"Rio," Duran Duran
"Respect," Erasure
"I'm Too Sexy," Right Said Fred
"Mickey," Toni Basil
"Relax," Frankie Goes to Hollywood
"Don't Leave Me This Way," The Communards
"I Melt with You," Modern English
"Fire with Fire," Scissor Sisters
"Harder You Get," Scissor Sisters
"Sex and Violence," Scissor Sisters
Relevant to absolutely nothing: Red!Lincoln is an '80s guy, but I figure Blue!Lincoln is more fond of '70s rock like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Queen, Supertramp, and Rush (his favorite). Both Lincolns, of course, love the Beatles.
Extended Club Mix
This might just be the most self-indulgent remix in the history of fanfic. The two-point-five people who share both Fringe and my previous fandom will get the joke.
Astrid launches herself bodily in their direction when the two of them arrive. Dick catches her with his absurdly quick reflexes and spins her around with no effort whatsoever. "Astrid!"
She hugs him tight, stretching out her hand to Garth. "I'm so glad you guys came up tonight. It's such a long drive."
"Worth the effort. We don't see you enough," Dick says, hugging her back. Garth squeezes her hand, nodding assent.
"We were overdue for a road trip. You know Dick gets antsy if he stays in one place too long."
Dick lets her go, snorting denial at his partner. "Stuck with you all these years."
"Places, not people," Garth replies mildly. "So Astrid, I understand you have someone new you wanted us to meet tonight?"
"I- yeah. He's just visiting, though," Astrid says, feeling compelled to explain when she hasn't had that urge with anyone else. "Lee lives too far away for this to be a real thing."
"You like him enough to want to introduce him to your friends. That counts, no matter how long he's here," Garth says, the same way he always gets to the heart of what matters.
"Besides," Dick murmurs in her ear, "I don't know anyone more desperately in need of a fling than you. You've sounded stressed, even over email." He draws back and adds, "That assumes he meets with our approval, of course."
"Oh, of course." Astrid wrinkles her nose at him. "Come and meet him." She leads them over to where she'd left Lincoln comfortably chatting with the others. "Lee, these are my very good friends, Richard and Garth."
"Pleasure to meet you," Lincoln says, a gleam in his eye that tells Astrid the words aren't just courtesy. Separately, they're both gorgeous; the two of them together are a devastating combination.
"Likewise," Dick immediately says, stretching out a hand to shake. "And any friend of Astrid can call me 'Dick.'"
Lincoln's mouth opens to reply with what Astrid's pretty sure will be an outrageously inappropriate remark, but he visibly checks himself and turns to her instead. "Astrid, little help here?"
"Ohhhhh, no," she says, laughing. "I would pay good money to watch you two-" she doesn't say go at it, just. "-bounce innuendo off each other all night."
"Don't hesitate on my account," Garth puts in, sounding amused. "Dick's been missing having a sparring partner around."
"Pretty sure I can accommodate you there, Dick," Lincoln virtually purrs, and the temperature seems to go up by noticeable degrees.
"Wow. Hot in here," Astrid says into the air, and then catches Lincoln's eye. "You want a drink?"
She excuses herself to have a word with Zeke and grab the drinks, tossing glances back every other second. The whole group is laughing and Astrid couldn't be more pleased at how Lincoln's been accepted by her friends. The music starts up for real shortly after she gets back, and for awhile there's nothing but sound and motion and Lincoln matching her joy in the movement.
But tonight I'm on the edge, you better shut me in the fridge 'cause I'm burning up / With the vision in my brain and the music in my veins and the dirty rhythm in my blood
Astrid takes a time out to check on them, leaving Lincoln to dance with Erika. Dick's been on and off the dance floor, but Garth doesn't dance at all, claiming gracelessness. She's never gotten that impression, but it's just another puzzle piece to his enigma. "So does Lee get your seal of approval, or do I have to let him down gently?"
"I think you'd need a hose, at this point," Dick grins. "But yeah, I like him."
Garth nods, looking thoughtful. "He's an agent too?"
"Something like that," she hedges. "But catch me up on what you've been doing?"
She's interested, but it's half an excuse to hear Garth talk. Astrid's never been able to place Garth's accent: she hears a touch of Greece, a hint of New York, and once in a while the tiniest smidgen of Scottish brogue, of all things. He works as a UN translator and Astrid practices her languages with him when she can, envious of the half-dozen others he knows.
Dick's a detective at a police station in Jersey. Astrid's had vague thoughts about bringing him into the division's secrets, especially if the department becomes a bigger concern like it is on the other side, in which case they'll need as many good people as they can get. She can easily see Dick dealing with Fringe events with the same determination and humor he brings to everything else he does. But bringing him on would mean they needed more people because the events have gotten out of hand on this side, and she's not so selfish to want that.
On a far more prurient note Dick has, no lie, the finest ass she's ever seen on a human being. It also helps that-bless him-he's wearing a pair of leather pants so snug they're practically tights.
Astrid has a lot of self-restraint, but some opportunities are too good to pass up. "Dick, do me a favor?"
"Anything."
Good lord, she still has no immunity to how blue his eyes are. The only remedy is to send him away. "Go dance with Lee."
Dick laughs and nods, kissing Garth's cheek before he heads onto the floor. Garth looks after him, chuckling. "That...was a very good call."
Sometimes it's impossible to tell what Garth is thinking. Sometimes, they're on exactly the same page.
Oh we move like cagey tigers / We couldn't get closer than this / The way we walk The way we talk The way we stalk The way we kiss
It's exactly like she'd pictured, only better: Lincoln and Dick move together, hips gyrating perfectly in sync and barely inches apart, never touching.
Astrid leans against Garth, a little breathless. "I'm having very naughty thoughts about your partner."
His chuckle is low but somehow she hears his every word, even through the din of the club. "I suspect mine are similar about your friend."
It's a lot like life / This play between the sheets / With you on top and me underneath
On the floor, Lincoln and Dick look at each other and simultaneously crack up, nearly doubling over with laughter. Astrid glances up at Garth but he just shakes his head. "No idea."
This, she has to investigate. Astrid heads back into the crowd, pushing her way through to their space. Dick nods at her, still laughing, and gives Lincoln a wink before he cedes the floor.
"What was so funny?"
"Tell you later," Lincoln says, and pulls her close in to dance to a slightly slower song.
There is something about you, baby, so right / I wouldn't be without you, baby, tonight
It's much later when she remembers the exchange. She and Lincoln are curled together on her bed, taking a breather between...exertions. "I was a little afraid you and Dick were going to run off together."
Lincoln grins. "Tempting. Especially if that partner of his was included in the package. But aside from wanting to be with you...Dick and I would have an issue."
"What's that?"
"We'd just end up fighting over which one of us Garth should fuck first," he says, without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment, and Astrid forgets to breathe as that image hits her right in the throat. "Still, it's a shame that they don't share."
"...yeah," she says because she's had those thoughts too, wrong and dirty, about her friends. But at least now she knows she's not the only one. "I'm afraid you'll just have to make do with me."
"Not any kind of sacrifice whatsoever," Lincoln says, and kisses her again.
Bonus Tracks:
"Hyperactive," Thomas Dolby
"Love Cats," The Cure
"Master and Servant," Depeche Mode
"Something About You," Level 42