Post by Seek on May 29, 2011 6:49:00 GMT 10
Title: Beef
Rating: R
Word count: 260
Pairing: Clary/Mattes
Round/Fight: 4/A
Summary: Clary and Mattes examine a crime scene. Set in the DeadAlive universe, where Clary and Mattes are FBI agents. Based on an X-Files quote.
WARNING: Graphic. Biological matter.
-
I am staring suspiciously at the smears on the ground, next to the bloodstains. Probably just my imagination, except that I’m sure I’ve seen this once or twice in Violent Crimes, and abruptly, the smell of apple pie coming from the nearby McDs just doesn’t seem as tempting any longer.
Don’t throw up. At least not in front of Clary, or I’ll never live this down. Senior Agent Matthias Tunstall, with a drawer full of commendations and at least seven years worth of experience…and he throws up after seeing what looks suspiciously like…
I find my voice. I thought I’ve had a strong stomach, but I’ve been wrong on occasions. In my defense, evisceration is a lot more passe than the tissue I’m seeing, daubed all over the floor. Clary is bent down, poking at it with latex gloves, as if she sees this sort of thing every day. Maybe she has. It’s an unspoken rule: we don’t ask for more information about each other’s pasts than we’re willing to volunteer.
“What is that? Next to it. Is that, uh... oh, my... ugh. Is that brain? Is that brain matter there?”
She rolls her eyes; it’s a look of classic Clary disapproval. “No,” she says, very sardonically. “It’s ground beef.”
I make a note to myself: no hamburgers tonight.
“Ground beef,” I repeat, sceptically.
“Yeah.” Pause. Clary sighs, glances up at me and says, matter-of-factly, “If you’re going to hurl, Mattes, do it outside.”
Typical, blunt, Clary-fashion, I think, a few minutes later, as I’m retching into a drain outside.
Rating: R
Word count: 260
Pairing: Clary/Mattes
Round/Fight: 4/A
Summary: Clary and Mattes examine a crime scene. Set in the DeadAlive universe, where Clary and Mattes are FBI agents. Based on an X-Files quote.
WARNING: Graphic. Biological matter.
-
I am staring suspiciously at the smears on the ground, next to the bloodstains. Probably just my imagination, except that I’m sure I’ve seen this once or twice in Violent Crimes, and abruptly, the smell of apple pie coming from the nearby McDs just doesn’t seem as tempting any longer.
Don’t throw up. At least not in front of Clary, or I’ll never live this down. Senior Agent Matthias Tunstall, with a drawer full of commendations and at least seven years worth of experience…and he throws up after seeing what looks suspiciously like…
I find my voice. I thought I’ve had a strong stomach, but I’ve been wrong on occasions. In my defense, evisceration is a lot more passe than the tissue I’m seeing, daubed all over the floor. Clary is bent down, poking at it with latex gloves, as if she sees this sort of thing every day. Maybe she has. It’s an unspoken rule: we don’t ask for more information about each other’s pasts than we’re willing to volunteer.
“What is that? Next to it. Is that, uh... oh, my... ugh. Is that brain? Is that brain matter there?”
She rolls her eyes; it’s a look of classic Clary disapproval. “No,” she says, very sardonically. “It’s ground beef.”
I make a note to myself: no hamburgers tonight.
“Ground beef,” I repeat, sceptically.
“Yeah.” Pause. Clary sighs, glances up at me and says, matter-of-factly, “If you’re going to hurl, Mattes, do it outside.”
Typical, blunt, Clary-fashion, I think, a few minutes later, as I’m retching into a drain outside.