Hobbies II
by Andi Petersen (FrenchPea)
"Wait, wait," said one person to the other, gesturing at
the computer screen loosely. "That is way cheesy."
"So what would you have me put?" the other asked, his
exasperated tone revealing the fact that he'd already gone through this several
times.
"Huh," said Darien, chewing his lip. "Um, something less
sappy."
"Such as?"
Darien shrugged. "Come on, Eberts. Does Hobbes really seem like the kinda guy who'd say
'I've loved you with all my soul since I met you'?"
Eberts sighed and looked down. "Not really."
Darien grinned triumphantly and leaned over to type
something on the keyboard.
Eberts looked up, read it, and a smile slowly spread
across his face. "Very good, Fawkes!
I think I'll leave writing Agent Hobbes to you from now on!"
The other man groaned good-naturedly. "Great, great.
Just what I need. Another project."
" 'Another' project?"
"Oh, um, yeah. I mean, yeah. Well, um..." Darien
gestured with both hands helplessly. 'Damn. Caught...'
***
Eberts' fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in an
address he had memorized.
"Fanfiction.net?" a voice said behind him, and he turned
to see Darien standing behind him, arms crossed across chest jauntily.
"Yes. It's where I post my stories."
"Cool," said Darien, grinning boyishly. He leaned in to
look as Eberts typed in his e-mail address and password at the Authors
screen. "Wow," he said as Eberts'
statistics came up. "Author of 23 stories, eh?"
Eberts nodded, smiling proudly. "And all of them are
slash."
A guffaw escaped Darien. "Someone's addicted," he
sing-songed, shaking a finger at Eberts. He watched curiously as Eberts
uploaded the story they had co-written. "Heh. What are we titling it?"
"Blood on My Collar," said Eberts.
"You are, like, way better at titles than me," Darien
said, still grinning.
"Thank you," said Eberts, pressing enter and waiting as
another screen came up. "I'm going to go look and see if there are any new
stories."
"Sounds good to me," said Darien, leaning in again and
squinting at the screen.
"Hm," Eberts said speculatively, clicking one of the
links. "New author."
Darien read the statistics out loud. "Pen-Name: Arnaud.
E-mail Address: thefohn@bioweaponsintl.com ...Bio: Bonjour, I'm a 27-year-old
who enjoys reading and writing almost any kind of slash there is. *Rolls eyes*
okay, especially Arnaud/Darien slash." He paused and blinked owlishly. "I'm
currently living in southern France and very regrettably single. What's a boy
to do? In terms of music, I like Dido, Fuel, Train, Lifehouse and U2. TV-wise,
I like (obviously) The Invisible Man as
well as Ed and The West Wing. I occasionally watch Farscape."
He skipped a long list of fics-in progress and looked to the bottom. "Well, that's
all for now, so au revoir and take care!"
Eberts smiled. "Sounds like a pleasant man."
Darien lifted his hand and pointed at the Author Photo.
Eberts' eyes widened and both of them coughed almost
simultaneously.
The photo was of a slim man in a pair of wet swim trunks
and a tank top standing on a sunny beach. The really scary thing was the fact
that the man's face was unmistakably Arnaud's--cleft chin, straight nose, and
stunning smile. Arnaud was wearing sunglasses and his dark hair was
sun-streaked, but it was definitely his.
Eberts looked at Darien, his eyes wide and more than
slightly reminiscent of a deer in headlights. "Your nose is bleeding," he said
to Darien.
Darien raised a slightly limp hand and pressed it to his
nose.
***
When they had finished ravishing Arnaud's collection of
stories, Darien turned to Eberts and said weakly, "Hey. Farscape's on tonight. You wanna come to my place an' order pizza,
maybe have a little beer?"
Eberts nodded. "Maybe forget this ever happened?"
Darien nodded.
Eberts turned the computer off and stood stiffly. "Shall
we?"
"Oh, sure," said Darien, opening the door and peeking
out to see that no one was there. "All clear."
"We really need
to get to know Arnaud better," they said in unison.
THE END! J
