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osprey_archerTitle: Curiosity
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
osprey_archer
Pairing: Chuck/Ned
Rating: G
Beta:silksieve
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the show would be returning for a third season.
Summary: “Could you bring to life a pair of leather shoes and make them spontaneously tap dance?”
“So how dead does dead have to be before you can’t bring it back?” Chuck asked, slicing a peach in half.
Ned revivified a peach and put it to Chuck’s cutting board. “Hmm?”
“Dirt is technically made of dead stuff but it doesn’t revivify beneath your hands,” she said, cutting into the new peach. “I’m just wondering how close to life something has to be before your magic works on it.”
“It’s not magic,” Ned protested, as another peach bloomed red and orange in his hand.
“Could you bring to life a pair of leather shoes and make them spontaneously tap dance?”
“I doubt that a dismembered cow would want to tap dance, and anyway, no, not leather.”
“And I’ve seen you eat meat,” said Chuck. “Do you think it’s because it’s cooked that you can’t bring it back? Because leather goes through the tanning process which also changed its chemical composition, so maybe that makes you unable to bring things back, except I must have been autopsied, not to mention embalmed, so—”
Ned winced. “I don’t bring raw steaks to life, either.”
“But you did bring back that football player who was basically mummified.” Chuck’s knife paused. “You know what would be fun? If we went to the mummy room in the Museum of Natural History and—”
“No,” said Ned. “No, that would not be fun, the guards would probably hang us by our thumbs and also it isn’t like we could talk to the mummy—”
“I speak Egyptian!” said Chuck.
Ned gawped.
“Or modern Arabic, anyway,” she conceded. “And a mummy probably couldn’t talk any more than that poor football player. But maybe we could communicate through gestures. Wouldn’t it be exciting to find out who really killed Tutankhamen?”
Ned, in need of distraction, took a peach from his small supply of fresh fruit. “Haven’t you ever seen The Mummy?” he asked, through a mouthful.
“No, Aunts Lily and Vivian don’t like monster movies.” Chuck pared a peach in silence. Ned wished he could pat her shoulder in sympathy. He took another bite of peach instead, juicy and tart.
“What about taxidermy?” she asked. “Can you bring to life taxidermied animals?”
“I’ve never tried,” said Ned, and added—because Chuck was like a truth magnet—“Once I brought a bunch of dissection frogs to life and set them on my classmates.” She laughed, and Ned continued, encouraged. “And once I brought a bearskin rug to life in a fancy hotel, but it bit Emerson’s ankle so we caught it before anything else…died.”
He should have quit while he was ahead, instead of bringing up that last restriction on his power. He glanced at Chuck and she smiled, looking at his hand, clenched tight on his peach. Ned took another bite. The peaches weren’t very sweet this time of year.
“Chuck,” he said. “If people found out about this…power. Do you think I’d go to prison?”
“Prison?”
“For murder.”
“For something that happened when you were ten? I think most people would realize—”
“For…you.”
Chuck spun her knife on the counter, staring at her own hands and the light flashing off the blade. “I don’t know.”
Ned picked strands off his peach pit.
“Ned,” she said, her chin propped on her hands and her elbows propped on the counter. “How long have you had Digby?”
“Since I was a kid. I had him when we first met, remember?”
“Twenty years ago?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s in really good shape.” A lock of hair fell into her face. “Twenty’s awfully old for a dog. And Olive says you never take him to the vet….”
Ned swallowed.
“Am I going to live forever?”
The peach juice had dried his mouth, sugar sucking out all the moisture. “I don’t…”
“And if I do—I can’t bring you back, if you…and I’ll…I really want to hold your hand right now,” she said, voice cracked.
Ned wanted to hold her hand too. He revivified a peach for her instead, cupping it in his hands till it was warm and setting it on her cutting board. Chuck smiled as she held it.
At last she looked up, and skewered the new peach. “Ned?” she said, spinning the peach so the juice oozed on the cutting board, her grin growing.
“Yeah?” said Ned, trying to smile.
"Want to go to the dinosaur museum?"
Author:
osprey_archerPairing: Chuck/Ned
Rating: G
Beta:
silksieveDisclaimer: If I owned it, the show would be returning for a third season.
Summary: “Could you bring to life a pair of leather shoes and make them spontaneously tap dance?”
“So how dead does dead have to be before you can’t bring it back?” Chuck asked, slicing a peach in half.
Ned revivified a peach and put it to Chuck’s cutting board. “Hmm?”
“Dirt is technically made of dead stuff but it doesn’t revivify beneath your hands,” she said, cutting into the new peach. “I’m just wondering how close to life something has to be before your magic works on it.”
“It’s not magic,” Ned protested, as another peach bloomed red and orange in his hand.
“Could you bring to life a pair of leather shoes and make them spontaneously tap dance?”
“I doubt that a dismembered cow would want to tap dance, and anyway, no, not leather.”
“And I’ve seen you eat meat,” said Chuck. “Do you think it’s because it’s cooked that you can’t bring it back? Because leather goes through the tanning process which also changed its chemical composition, so maybe that makes you unable to bring things back, except I must have been autopsied, not to mention embalmed, so—”
Ned winced. “I don’t bring raw steaks to life, either.”
“But you did bring back that football player who was basically mummified.” Chuck’s knife paused. “You know what would be fun? If we went to the mummy room in the Museum of Natural History and—”
“No,” said Ned. “No, that would not be fun, the guards would probably hang us by our thumbs and also it isn’t like we could talk to the mummy—”
“I speak Egyptian!” said Chuck.
Ned gawped.
“Or modern Arabic, anyway,” she conceded. “And a mummy probably couldn’t talk any more than that poor football player. But maybe we could communicate through gestures. Wouldn’t it be exciting to find out who really killed Tutankhamen?”
Ned, in need of distraction, took a peach from his small supply of fresh fruit. “Haven’t you ever seen The Mummy?” he asked, through a mouthful.
“No, Aunts Lily and Vivian don’t like monster movies.” Chuck pared a peach in silence. Ned wished he could pat her shoulder in sympathy. He took another bite of peach instead, juicy and tart.
“What about taxidermy?” she asked. “Can you bring to life taxidermied animals?”
“I’ve never tried,” said Ned, and added—because Chuck was like a truth magnet—“Once I brought a bunch of dissection frogs to life and set them on my classmates.” She laughed, and Ned continued, encouraged. “And once I brought a bearskin rug to life in a fancy hotel, but it bit Emerson’s ankle so we caught it before anything else…died.”
He should have quit while he was ahead, instead of bringing up that last restriction on his power. He glanced at Chuck and she smiled, looking at his hand, clenched tight on his peach. Ned took another bite. The peaches weren’t very sweet this time of year.
“Chuck,” he said. “If people found out about this…power. Do you think I’d go to prison?”
“Prison?”
“For murder.”
“For something that happened when you were ten? I think most people would realize—”
“For…you.”
Chuck spun her knife on the counter, staring at her own hands and the light flashing off the blade. “I don’t know.”
Ned picked strands off his peach pit.
“Ned,” she said, her chin propped on her hands and her elbows propped on the counter. “How long have you had Digby?”
“Since I was a kid. I had him when we first met, remember?”
“Twenty years ago?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s in really good shape.” A lock of hair fell into her face. “Twenty’s awfully old for a dog. And Olive says you never take him to the vet….”
Ned swallowed.
“Am I going to live forever?”
The peach juice had dried his mouth, sugar sucking out all the moisture. “I don’t…”
“And if I do—I can’t bring you back, if you…and I’ll…I really want to hold your hand right now,” she said, voice cracked.
Ned wanted to hold her hand too. He revivified a peach for her instead, cupping it in his hands till it was warm and setting it on her cutting board. Chuck smiled as she held it.
At last she looked up, and skewered the new peach. “Ned?” she said, spinning the peach so the juice oozed on the cutting board, her grin growing.
“Yeah?” said Ned, trying to smile.
"Want to go to the dinosaur museum?"
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-10 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 12:27 am (UTC)It also has a color palette like the set designer has stock in paint companies. I find it charming, but I understand that other people think it's garish.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-10 07:43 pm (UTC)favorite part = ned telling chuck about the frogs. probably some much-needed therapy on his part... it makes sense the show always starts with some episode in his childhood, actually, because there's no way we would probably find out about it otherwise. unless it was halloween/the twins were around.
anyway, lovely fic!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 12:36 am (UTC)Ned has got to be one of the most inhibited characters ever. Given how much of his past revolves around his freaky powers it makes sense (didn't you write a ficlet about this once? Ned Considers Talking to a Psychologist), but still, all his human contacts are people he met through work.
Also, there's something just a little masochistic about baking all those pies that he can't eat.
I really like Ned.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:25 am (UTC)Yeah, I did... and if you ever feel like writing a PD drabble,
Very true. Poor Ned!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 06:22 am (UTC)Pushing Daisies doesn't seem to have much of a fanfic community, which makes me sad.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 11:49 pm (UTC)Forgive me for asking, but how on earth did you come up with your name? I would have thought a soliloquy was, by definition, the possession of a single person. :)