Jaguar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kittydesade) wrote2004-06-22 08:27 pm
kittydesade) wrote2004-06-22 08:27 pm
The FanFic Crossover Of Doom
Title: Defying Convention
Fandom: Monk/Law & Order: SVU/Dead Zone/Touching Evil
Rating: PG
Summary: A detectives convention brings together a number of erratic characters.
Notes: Inspired by USA Network commercials and a rant about crossovers on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanficrants. And crack.
Disclaimer: I own no one from Monk, Law & Order, The Dead Zone, or Touching Evil. They are all still property of their respective companies, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun and games. I promise to return them ... mostly intact.
It was chaos at the Milwaukee Convention center, everyone bumping into each other and cell phones creating a beeping cacophony of ring-tones. The front hall was lined with canopied tables, staffed by a series of harried looking women in their mid-forties who could have come off an assembly-line of the stereotype of career secretaries. People were shuffling through the black nylon line at a rate of three per quarter hour. The heat was not helping the mood of the crowd in the slightest.
So when the lanky man in the pale blue shirt tried to stand up on one of the tables there was not only a great deal of grumbling, it actually sounded as though the crowd might turn mutinous.
“Hey, Susan, I think I see my house…”
“Creegan…” A petite, pretty, and damp-looking woman tugged on his pants leg with an expression of long-suffering. “Get down, okay? Look, we’ve got our badges and our…” She opened a plastic bag and looked in it. “Convention booklets… look, there’s even a map with all the restaurants for ten blocks in any direction. Here, Creegan, look…”
Her companion failed to be distracted, and was proceeding to jump up and down on the table. The woman behind it looked torn between thumping him with the nearest object to hand and fleeing the scene. The table itself looked about to collapse.
“Creegan!”
“All right, all right.” He bounded down from the table, pouting like a child. “Ooh, pencils…” He reached out and grabbed a handful of convention-marked pencils out of a cup, startling the man who had been carefully arranging them for the past half hour. “Sorry…”
“No, no…” The man mumbled, drawing back from Creegan as though he was afraid of cooties. “It’s quite all right.”
“Adrian!” A harried looking woman with impossible hair pushed her way through the crowd. “Oh, there you are… it’s all right, I got everything straightened out at the desk…” She paused. Her companion was watching as Creegan attempted to get the police officer by the front doors to talk to him. It was a task made all the more difficult by the fact that it wasn’t an officer at all, but a carefully crafted replica. “Adrian… come on, just ignore him.”
“He’s…” Adrian blinked, an expression of slowly increasing horror on his face. “He’s…”
“You know, I feel sorry for that woman… she looks like she’s got almost as much to put up with as I do.”
That got Adrian’s attention. He gave his companion an indignant look. “I’m not that bad… am I? I mean, I don’t…” His hands fluttered helplessly in the direction of the thin man, who had just been dragged out by his friend. “I don’t… I’m not that bad.”
“You’re getting better,” she encouraged. “Come on, let’s go rest up before dinner, okay? I checked out the hotel room, they’ve got very nice bathrooms… oh, excuse me.”
“That’s quite all right…”
The tired, bedraggled cop stared after Adrian and his caretaker as they bustled away. “I’m surprised that man’s even able to come in here…” he muttered.
“Not everyone is as anti-social as you.” His partner nodded to the harassed woman behind the counter, clipped the badge to his shirt, handed the other one off. “Did you at least get her phone number?”
“I’m not your pimp.” The police detective clipped the convention badge to his shirt, glaring at the other man with an expression of fond annoyance. “Ask her yourself if you see her again.”
“I thought you were my boy.” The taller detective smirked, stretching up to get a look at the other two. “Ah well. Another opportunity gaily passes us by.”
“Like you were even looking. Be honest, have you had a single successful relationship with a woman since you joined the unit?”
“I didn’t have a successful relationship with a woman before I joined the unit, haven’t you been paying attention?” Twisted, self-deprecating humor, but the other man only rolled his eyes and kept walking.
"Come on, Munchkin, before we miss..."
-- a girl, lying in a bathtub, needle in her arm, and he knows instinctivly that it's too much, that if he doesn't get help --
"'scuse me."
For a second the police detective and the pale man with the bright blue eyes stared at each other.
"Hey, no problem," the pale man said after a second. "Crazy in here."
"And it's just going to get crazier before the weekend's over," Munch offered. The pale man nodded, kept walking. Munch stared. "There's a man with a bigger chip on his shoulder than Stabler."
"It's the heat," his partner shrugged. "Makes everyone grumpy. Come on, I want to get out of this crowd before something else happens."
"It's a detectives convention," Munch said, squinting as they walked out into the sunlight. "And, more to the point, it's Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Barring cattle mutilations or some rowdy frat boys, what could possibly happen here?"
Fandom: Monk/Law & Order: SVU/Dead Zone/Touching Evil
Rating: PG
Summary: A detectives convention brings together a number of erratic characters.
Notes: Inspired by USA Network commercials and a rant about crossovers on
fanficrants. And crack. Disclaimer: I own no one from Monk, Law & Order, The Dead Zone, or Touching Evil. They are all still property of their respective companies, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun and games. I promise to return them ... mostly intact.
It was chaos at the Milwaukee Convention center, everyone bumping into each other and cell phones creating a beeping cacophony of ring-tones. The front hall was lined with canopied tables, staffed by a series of harried looking women in their mid-forties who could have come off an assembly-line of the stereotype of career secretaries. People were shuffling through the black nylon line at a rate of three per quarter hour. The heat was not helping the mood of the crowd in the slightest.
So when the lanky man in the pale blue shirt tried to stand up on one of the tables there was not only a great deal of grumbling, it actually sounded as though the crowd might turn mutinous.
“Hey, Susan, I think I see my house…”
“Creegan…” A petite, pretty, and damp-looking woman tugged on his pants leg with an expression of long-suffering. “Get down, okay? Look, we’ve got our badges and our…” She opened a plastic bag and looked in it. “Convention booklets… look, there’s even a map with all the restaurants for ten blocks in any direction. Here, Creegan, look…”
Her companion failed to be distracted, and was proceeding to jump up and down on the table. The woman behind it looked torn between thumping him with the nearest object to hand and fleeing the scene. The table itself looked about to collapse.
“Creegan!”
“All right, all right.” He bounded down from the table, pouting like a child. “Ooh, pencils…” He reached out and grabbed a handful of convention-marked pencils out of a cup, startling the man who had been carefully arranging them for the past half hour. “Sorry…”
“No, no…” The man mumbled, drawing back from Creegan as though he was afraid of cooties. “It’s quite all right.”
“Adrian!” A harried looking woman with impossible hair pushed her way through the crowd. “Oh, there you are… it’s all right, I got everything straightened out at the desk…” She paused. Her companion was watching as Creegan attempted to get the police officer by the front doors to talk to him. It was a task made all the more difficult by the fact that it wasn’t an officer at all, but a carefully crafted replica. “Adrian… come on, just ignore him.”
“He’s…” Adrian blinked, an expression of slowly increasing horror on his face. “He’s…”
“You know, I feel sorry for that woman… she looks like she’s got almost as much to put up with as I do.”
That got Adrian’s attention. He gave his companion an indignant look. “I’m not that bad… am I? I mean, I don’t…” His hands fluttered helplessly in the direction of the thin man, who had just been dragged out by his friend. “I don’t… I’m not that bad.”
“You’re getting better,” she encouraged. “Come on, let’s go rest up before dinner, okay? I checked out the hotel room, they’ve got very nice bathrooms… oh, excuse me.”
“That’s quite all right…”
The tired, bedraggled cop stared after Adrian and his caretaker as they bustled away. “I’m surprised that man’s even able to come in here…” he muttered.
“Not everyone is as anti-social as you.” His partner nodded to the harassed woman behind the counter, clipped the badge to his shirt, handed the other one off. “Did you at least get her phone number?”
“I’m not your pimp.” The police detective clipped the convention badge to his shirt, glaring at the other man with an expression of fond annoyance. “Ask her yourself if you see her again.”
“I thought you were my boy.” The taller detective smirked, stretching up to get a look at the other two. “Ah well. Another opportunity gaily passes us by.”
“Like you were even looking. Be honest, have you had a single successful relationship with a woman since you joined the unit?”
“I didn’t have a successful relationship with a woman before I joined the unit, haven’t you been paying attention?” Twisted, self-deprecating humor, but the other man only rolled his eyes and kept walking.
"Come on, Munchkin, before we miss..."
-- a girl, lying in a bathtub, needle in her arm, and he knows instinctivly that it's too much, that if he doesn't get help --
"'scuse me."
For a second the police detective and the pale man with the bright blue eyes stared at each other.
"Hey, no problem," the pale man said after a second. "Crazy in here."
"And it's just going to get crazier before the weekend's over," Munch offered. The pale man nodded, kept walking. Munch stared. "There's a man with a bigger chip on his shoulder than Stabler."
"It's the heat," his partner shrugged. "Makes everyone grumpy. Come on, I want to get out of this crowd before something else happens."
"It's a detectives convention," Munch said, squinting as they walked out into the sunlight. "And, more to the point, it's Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Barring cattle mutilations or some rowdy frat boys, what could possibly happen here?"