Orange-Flavored Kiss (The Juicy Remix)

Orange-Flavored Kiss
(The Juicy Remix)

A Miracles/Supernatural Crossover
by Emma DeMarais

Original Fic: Orange-Flavored Kiss, by Sailorhathor
Remix: Orange-Flavored Kiss (The Juicy Remix)
Pairing: Paul/Dean
Word Count: 300
Rating: Parental Supervision Suggested for children under 13
Summary: Any sleep without nightmares is good sleep. Really good sleep? Has dreams.

        Dean finds himself sitting on a bed with Paul. No words spoken, just knowing glances.

        In his hands are an orange and his pocketknife. He cuts a slice from the orange, not caring when the juice coats his hand and slicks his fingers.

        Putting aside the rest of the orange, he raises the wedge to his mouth to eat it only to have Paul take his other hand and bring it to his mouth. Dean watches, entranced, as the flat of Paul's tongue licks the sticky sweetness from his palm. Paul's eyes flick up to stare at him as he sucks each finger into his mouth suggestively.

        Breathing quicker, Dean cuts another slice - licking the blade just to see Paul's hard swallow - and offers it to him.

        Paul bites into it lustily, making rivulets of juice run down his chin. The half-eaten slice falls away forgotten as Dean lunges in to lap up the juice from Paul's skin - stubble rough against his taste buds.

        The flavor of orange and Paul all in one is intoxicating and he chases it into Paul's mouth, sharing an orange-flavored kiss: bright with passion and sweet with promise.

        Wanting more, Dean cuts a slice and squeezes it over Paul's neck - any excuse to let his mouth wander. He runs his tongue over Paul's collarbone, into the hollow of his throat and up the curve of his neck.


        Dean wakes, fully aroused and somewhat annoyed with the echo of Paul's begging in his ear and the image of himself smiling in return.

        With an orange peel grin.

        He shakes himself, perplexed. Weird dream...

        Still, he makes a mental note to himself as he settles back down.

        Buy fruit. Something juicy...

This fic was written for Round 5 at [info]remixthedrabble. The original author was my friend Laurel (Sailorhathor) whose fic I remixed.

This is hands down my favorite of Laurel's fic - always has been. I'm sorry, but two hot guys sharing an orange? Way too sensual to not have imprinted on your brain for the future. I never forgot it and kept going back to it. "Oranges are juicy" my mind would think and off I'd go. LOL. So now I have my very own version as homage to the delicious original.

Just to show you how delectable this morsel is, it got remixed by *another* Miracles person in the same round! Go read Melody's remix too: Succulent (The Orchard of Dreams Remix). She covers Paul's POV, which gives us a wonderful rounding out of the original tale.

I decided that since Imaginary Reality was based on the original Orange-Flavored Kiss that my own Orange-Flavored Kiss should be part of Imaginary Reality. (Lost yet? LOL) Since OFK inspired IR I decided my OFK should be a prequel to IR. (Now you're really lost!)

Just go read the Confession post on Imaginary Reality. It has links to pretty pictures of hot men and you can forget all about this prequel nonsense. ;-)

After all, it's all about the hot men.

And oranges. /grins/

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories or
Back to Brokeback Mothman

Coffee and Companionship

Coffee and Companionship
A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Rating: Parental Supervision Suggested for children under 13
Spoilers: "The Ferguson Syndrome"
Summary: Paul and Alva need each other but neither would admit it.
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        They pass the thermos of coffee between them now almost on autopilot.

        Whether it be during research - stacks of books, papers, newspapers creating a fortress around them in the depths of forgotten library basements - or on a late night supernatural stakeout - shivering in Alva's old car - Paul's presence has become normal to Alva, familiar even.

        They split up from time to time, but Alva's grown to try to avoid that unless absolutely necessary. If pressed he would probably say it's because of the potential for danger or something more practical like only having one car, but in truth he finds himself out of sorts when Paul's away.

        If he had to put it into words, he might actually admit he misses Paul.

        But that's not Alva's way; he admits nothing.

        He just paces, rants and worries his hands until things are set to rights again.


        Paul was tentative the first time he showed up at Sodalitas Quaerito, nervous even.

        Meeting Alva had thrown him for a loop at a time when life already had him reeling. He spent hours staring at the ceiling of his bedroom in his spartan apartment, so like a monk's cell, imagining himself a fool for throwing in his lot with Alva so impulsively.

        He'd grown up following Poppi's lead in so many things this smacked of rebellion of a sort - against his father figure, against what his father figure stood for.

        Those concerns disappear when he's with Alva; this is where he belongs.

        He might not fully trust Alva, but when he's by his side Paul's doubts no longer plague him.

        He wishes he could thank Alva for that, but that's not Paul's way.

        He just keeps showing up, keeps working cases side by side, keeps sharing Alva's bad coffee.

More Miracles fic, because I'm full of surprises... ;-)

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories

Dying is the Easy Part

Dying is the Easy Part
A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Rating: Parental Supervision Suggested for children under 13
Spoilers: "Paul is Dead"
Summary: It was hard to go see Tommy and harder still to return.
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        He hears Alva yelling, calling his name, the sound fading into the distance as oblivion tugs at him, as death beckons him back into the fold.

        Returning to the world of the living isn't as easy as he'd hoped.

        Tommy was right; something wants to keep him here.

        All he has to do is stop struggling, he thinks, just let go, but one thought pervades his addled mind: Matty.

        Matty needs him. Evie needs him.

        He has to come back.

        So he fights, comes back kicking and screaming, gasping as the cold hits him with a shock to the system, pain welcoming him back to life with a vengeance.

        And then Alva is there with towels, rubbing him down to warm him. It hurts, but it's what he needs, shaking so hard he almost can't hold the steaming cup that appears in front of him to drink.

        He feels like hell. He needs to curl up in a ball in a warm bed and sleep for a week.

        But that has to wait. Matty's still missing.

        "I need to see Evie," he manages.

        He has the information he died for. He needs to be sure he didn't die in vain.

        Hours later, when Matty's safe at home in his mother's arms, Alva helps him to his apartment, the last of his scant strength failing.

        Alva draws a bath, steaming hot, and Paul knows it's what he needs to chase the chill from his bones, but it's hard. He died in a tub. He wishes he could never see one again.

        Still, he gets in, eyes wide open, letting the heat sink in.

        Alva - to his credit - doesn't leave, but doesn't look either, just keeps rambling on as Paul silently grieves for Tommy.

        And maybe a little for himself.

Surprise! More Miracles fic!

I figured since you all saw my last fic in advance you deserved something brand spanking new to make up for it. ;-)

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories

Alva Keel - Revelations

Alva Keel - Revelations
A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Rating: Parental Supervision Suggested for children under 13
Spoilers: Entire Series
Summary: 50 Prompts, 1 sentence each, based on the character Alva Keel
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

#01 - Blend
It's not his favorite single malt scotch, but it's 12 years old and imported from Scotland - it will do.

#02 - Stain
He gets Paul to the hospital in time, then stares at the blood staining his hands, his jacket, his shirt and then shakes himself out of his stupor - the blood doesn't form words for him, that's for special people who are not him.

#03 - Island
'No man is an island' had been pounded into him by his father, but until Paul held out his hand to him, pulling him from what would have been his coffin had Paul and Evie not found him in time, Alva never truly believed that sharing his mission with the two of them truly made them a part of him.

#04 - Apple
She looks more like a model than a grad student as she lays the apple on his desk with a seductive smile, but Alva doesn't notice - he just winds up eating the apple mindlessly hours later, still absorbed in the same research that kept him from noticing her in the first place.

#05 - Paper
It's his first published paper - and he's the youngest ever to do so in that journal - yet his father can't even muster a 'good show, lad' for him when he proudly hands him a copy.

#06- Relax
"Ha," Paul says, "as if Keel even knew how to relax."

#07 - Leaves
Modern music is for heathens he decides while enduring yet another loud rock song until one lyric cuts through the din and a memory of clearing the leaves from his mother's grave hits him so hard he has to leave rather than risk hearing the line 'brush the leaves aside so you can reach us' again.

#08 - Proof
"People don't care about faith any longer," Alva cried, "what they want is proof: proof that they can touch and label and put in a box where they know it'll be safe and where they can hide it from small children who aren't ready for the ugly truth of the world."

#09 - Ugly
When he falls asleep at his desk, face down on Paul's open file, he dreams of a hideous man - a man so malicious and evil he wakes up in a sweat praying that Paul's father can't be that horrible person.

#10 - Book
He runs his fingers over the intricately carved leather spine of the book, wearing protective gloves in the environmentally controlled rare book room, and a sense of reverence comes over him - in his world knowledge is his religion and this might well be his bible.

#11 - Brood
He thought he was a world-class brooder, but then he met Paul.

#12 - Mesh
They don't even have to say anything - they work as a team automatically: Evie gets the girl to safety, Paul holds the man down and Alva begins the exorcism ritual as if they were of one mind all along.

#13 - Soft
He smoothes Matty's soft baby hair as the boy settles into his nap and not for the last time Alva has to remind himself why he decided long ago never to have children of his own.

#14 - Shelf
He puts the book back on the shelf, fingers lingering lovingly on the spine; he doesn't just read his books he communes with them and where people have left him, his books are always there for him.

#15 - Alone
He sits in the darkened office, the lamp on his desk the sole light and thinks they're all gone now, it's just me.

#16 - Fall
Paul will not fall like Chad did; Alva promises himself he won't let that happen.

#17 - Knot
There's a knot in his stomach as the police raid the motel room, Evie tense at his side waiting, and when they bring Matty out he feels it unwind, only later realizing it never quite went away.

#18 - Crowd
There were so many people at the funeral he couldn't even count them, but it made it easy to slip away into the crowd, to run and hide behind a distant mausoleum and sob out his loneliness and grief after his father yelled at him not to blubber like a baby in front of all the important people.

#19 - Denial
Long after Paul storms out Alva's still telling himself it will blow over, he'll be back.

#20 - Train
The train pulls out of the station and unlike the other teenagers going off to university there's no one on the platform waving goodbye.

#21 - Fur
The women enter the party in grand furs and pearls on the arm of tuxedoed escorts, but little Alva knows his mother is the most beautiful of all of them by far.

#22 - Chrome
It's just a scratch on the bumper, but his father beats him silly over it and confines him to his room so long the staff sneak him food, feeling bad enough to risk Dr. Keel's well-known wrath.

#23 - Heart
Without her, the house is no home; its heart died with her.

#24 - Intention
"When I grow up I want to be a doctor just like Daddy!"

#25 - Push
He worries, paces long nights after the others have gone home, thinking perhaps he's wrong - that in trying not to interfere he's inadvertently pushed Paul towards the path of evil.

#26 - Look
Evie sees 'the look' and obeys it wordlessly, knowing to stay away, and then Paul comes along and takes it as an invitation to stir things up, the bastard.

#27 - Weight
Perhaps he has put on a few pounds over the years, but he's not his father.

#28 - Spider
Idiots: not one of them has any medical training nor their wits about them while the young man is rapidly turning blue from lack of oxygen so he curses his father's usefulness under his breath as he performs what's not so euphemistically called a jungle tracheotomy to save the man's life.

#29 - Robe
Before Paul, before Evie, he had lost weekends where he never showered, shaved or got out of his robe, he just stared at the walls and struggled to stay sane in the face of so much evil that he alone saw and understood.

#30 - Umbrella
He misses his umbrella the second he steps out of the car and into the driving rain, but the violence of the train hitting Paul's car is seared into his mind and he thinks of nothing else but getting to him until he sees it all and he's frozen in place: Paul, so near death, the blood and Tommy...

#31 - Surface
He breaks the surface gasping for air, for once letting his guard down as the primal fear of drowning envelops him in unfamiliar panic.

#32 - Idea
He's in the bath of all places, but he gets out dripping wet all over the floor just to write down his idea: Sodalitas Quaerito - the perfect name.

#33 - Diamond
He remembers her hands - frail towards the end but always soft, always gentle - overpowered by oversized diamond rings by day and far more human at night after she shed her jewelry to come tuck him into bed.

#34 - Blind
The doctor says it's only temporary, but the blindness sets him into a near panic despite Paul and Evie's reassurances they'll take care of him because no one takes care of him - ever.

#35 - Flow
He watches momentarily mesmerized as the water flows into the ice filled tub and every fiber of his being wants to scream no!, but instead he watches as Paul lowers himself into the frigid waters and prepares to die.

#36 - Movement
He screams his name, but Paul is so still - so unresponsive - that Alva's sure he's lost him.

#37 - More
He reads everything he can find, seeking some sort of explanation for her voice, for this impossible yet somehow possible miracle, but refuses to admit to himself what he wants isn't answers, it's more - a way to hear her speak to him again.

#38 - Honey
His accent is perfect, honey smooth, and the woman melts under his silver tongued flattery, finally letting him into the restricted archives 'just for a minute'.

#39 - Weather
The weather in Scotland this time of year is always foul, but he'd rather walk to town in a bloody downpour than spend one more minute in that house with his father.

#40 - Blue
She has lovely blue eyes, red hair, freckles all over and is from the wrong side of town, which means Alva thinks she's perfect as his first girlfriend - as if he's only bringing her home to spite his father.

#41 - Double
His breath catches and he stops short in the middle of Paddington Station because the woman walking towards him looks just like her.

#42 - Braid
Evie comes in with her long hair in a braid once and Alva looks at her so funny, almost sad in a way, that she never does it again.

#43 - Thread
His mother plucks a loose thread from his smart new suit and primps him with pride, saying, "There's my little man - so handsome!"

#44 - Angles
If they can't use his credentials, they'll use Evie's; there's always an angle, always a way to get in.

#45 - Daydream
He goes into his office giving strict orders not to be disturbed, but ends up daydreaming the hours away - cursing himself for getting nothing done, but helpless knowing he's a slave to the anniversary; he can't not think about her and try to recall as many memories as possible so he'll never forget what she looked like or the sound of her voice.

#46 - Nightmare
Paul wakes with a start, a flare of terror on his face, but when Alva asks he shuts down, shuts him out, like he always does and like Alva's afraid he always will.

#47 - Honor
It's considered an honor to teach at Harvard, but Alva can't stand it; he's frustrated by the staid bureaucracy and grumbles that if he wanted stuffy politics he could have stayed at Cambridge and had better tea in the bargain.

#48 - Palm
The date's going well and they're having the kind of in depth intellectual grad student conversation that Alva can really sink his teeth into, but then she coyly offers to read his palm and he's immediately turned off, signaling the waiter for the check.

#49 - Screen
Paul sneaks a peek at the laptop screen over his shoulder, sees the nude photographs displaying elaborate mystical tattoos and chuckles, saying, "Keel, if that's your idea of Internet porn you frighten me."

#50 - Warmth
She's no saint, but Deborah's embrace is real - human - and carries a warmth to it Alva didn't even realize he was missing in his icy tower until she came into his life.


I'm not sure there's anyone left in the Miracles fandom who hasn't already read these. ;-)

My thanks to Sailorhathor, Deejay, Melody, and Melissima (whom I dragged into the fandom!) for reading the sentences in advance and assuring me that I hadn't forgotten all the canon and that I wasn't off base on my assessments of Alva and his upbringing in particular.

FWIW the song referred to in #7 Leaves is "Far Behind" by Candlebox. I have a hard time hearing that one myself, the lyrics are pretty haunting for someone who's lost a loved one.

I confess I claimed this at [info]1character originally in January of 2006. It was my first ever attempt at Miracles (my favorite show ever) fic and it came to a screeching halt after about two and a half sentences. /headslam/ It took me until August of 2008 - and [info]ficfinishing - to finally get it done. Past August it was mostly laziness on my part - a reluctance to give it one last good edit/polish pass. Mea culpa.

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories

Saviors and Apostles

Saviors and Apostles
A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Rating: Parental Supervision Suggested for children under 13
Spoilers: "The Ferguson Syndrome," "Hand of God"
Summary: Alva agonizes over whether to disclose information to Paul.
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        The desk lamp shines a golden circle on the files on Alva's desk, a stark spotlight in the pitch black night of the long silent SQ office, illuminating what he keeps hidden from Paul during the day.

        He turns the pages - a sketch of Paul from a vision, a woman's dreams of a man she never met - of a father Paul never knew, photographs of words in blood burned into his brain so he sees them even when his eyes are closed and sleep fails him once again.

        This is not the first night he's plucked these files from their hiding place and stared at them, torn.

        Perhaps it's time he shares these files with Paul. He has a connection with the God is Nowhere people. He deserves to know, or at least that's how Paul would see it.

        Alva is a man constrained, paralyzed even, by the question of fate versus free will.

        Would his actions send Paul down a treacherous path leading to his downfall, to the downfall of all mankind, or will it play a part in saving Paul from evil? If so, which path? Does revealing the secret cement the path for good or does it avert him from it?

        Will his inaction cost him more than making a decision? If Paul discovers he knew all this and did nothing? He could lose Paul, lose his role in this great end story, lose his chance to put all the hard work and hard won knowledge to use.

        Alva Keel was never meant to save the world.

        But apostles are important to the cause too and Alva's accepted that this is his role in the larger picture.

        Apostles can also be martyrs.

        And Alva's resigned to the idea that could be his fate as well.


New Miracles fic!
A big thank you to my friend Leda_speaks for her relatively new comm [info]drabble123. I had hoped once I finally got around to signing up that it might finally revive my long dormant Miracles muse and so far it seems to be working smashingly! Now I can move on to longer Miracles fic, which I have been desperately wanting to do.

This is the first of 20 drabbles for Miracles and 60 total drabbles for my 3 claims at the comm. I've really only steadily drabbled for my own comm and done a hodge podge outside of it so I'm excited about the prospect of serious drabbling away from home as it were. ;-)

/waves to all her Miracles friends/

I missed you guys, but I'm back!

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories

Pavlovian Dog (The Operant Conditioning Remix)

Pavlovian Dog
(The Operant Conditioning Remix)

A Miracles/Supernatural Crossover
by Emma DeMarais

Pairing/Characters: Paul/Dean
Rating: Parental Supervision Suggested for children under 13
Word Count: 100
Spoilers: None
Summary: Paul taps into his empathic connection to Dean during phone sex
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        Just a taste, Paul thought, almost salivating at the idea of sampling Dean's dirty mind during phone sex.

        He reached out with his thoughts, seeking.

        The empathic connection struck like lightning, pleasure flooding, overwhelming him, lowering his defenses so that his emotion slammed into Dean as well.

        A garbled shout came down the phone line and Paul felt himself plunge into the abyss, falling after Dean, with Dean, inside of Dean's head, his body, his soul...

        Paul's body arced off the bed - Dean's release multiplying his own.

        Despite the distance, the miles between them, their connection made them one.


This fic was written for Round 7 at [info]remixthedrabble. The original author was [info]sailorhathor whose fic I remixed was Pavlovian Dog.

If any of you haven't sampled her Paul/Dean fic? Let me just say GUH. That's such a hot pairing. I mean really: Jensen Ackles and Skeet Ulrich? Where's the firehose bad?

Hopefully everyone who has taken the basic Psych 101 in college will get the funky remix subtitle. If not, read up on Pavlov, Classical Conditioning and Operant Conditioning. It's good to know and interesting too!

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories or
Back to Brokeback Mothman

Black and Chrome

Black and Chrome
A Miracles/Supernatural Crossover
by Emma DeMarais

Series/Universe: Imaginary Reality
Pairing/Characters: Paul/Dean, Sam
Rating: Adult
Spoilers: Pilot and Nightmare (Supernatural), The Ferguson Syndrome (Miracles)
Summary: Dean dreams of two of his favorite things: Paul and the Impala
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        The sun shone down hot and orange in the Southern sky, a hint of a cool breeze swept in from the Gulf and Dean's boots scuffed against the gravely dirt as he walked back down the deserted county road he'd parked the Impala on. He came to a full halt when he turned the final curve and spotted someone leaning up against the car, foot casually placed on his hand-polished chrome bumper.

        His ire flared then vanished as if it had been salted and burned when he recognized who was waiting for him there.


        His step quickened in anticipation and as he approached the sly smile on Paul's lips made his heart rate speed up as well. It felt like weeks since they'd seen each other. Dean knew there was something wrong with that line of thinking, but he ignored it, already reaching his hand out to touch Paul as he drew near.

        "Thought you'd never show up," Paul murmured, pulling him into a languid kiss. Dean sank into Paul's arms, Paul's kiss, Paul's spell. Every time they came together Paul brought the most delicious peace with him. Dean always felt at ease, safe, able to be completely himself with no judgment.

        "Got tied up," Dean muttered, his frustration coming through despite the contentedness already seeping down to his bones.

        "Mmm," Paul teased, lips brushing Dean's ear. "Too bad it wasn't me doing the tying." The flush of interest that Paul's rumbling voice caused paled in comparison to when Paul peeled himself off the Impala and brought his whole body into full contact with Dean's. "I was a good boy scout," Paul continued, whispering tantalizingly. "I know lots of interesting knots."

        Snappy comebacks failed Dean as Paul slid down his body, lowering himself to his knees while his nimble fingers worked Dean's jeans open.

        "God, Paul..." Dean rasped out, barely able to form words as Paul's long fingers stroked him, the broad flat tongue laving him warm and wet and inviting. As he gazed down, Paul's' white shirt and khakis turned into a priest's outfit, complete with a stiff white priest's 'dog collar' - the same black outfit he wore when impersonating a priest, but in Paul's case it looked right on him, like he might actually be a priest. Oddly the sight of Paul in black priest's garb kneeling at his chrome bumper turned Dean on; blasphemy wasn't exactly new in his line of work so he wasn't horribly disturbed by it even it if did seem strange.

        Paul paused long enough to gaze up at Dean, eyes bright and expression pleasant even as his words sent a little chill down Dean's spine.

        "Who said it was God?"


        The blare of a truck horn jolted Dean awake and it took the adrenaline rush a second or two to pass before he turned to face the driver's side where Sam was cursing under his breath as he gripped the steering wheel.

        "Stupid idiot," Sam groused. "He was the one heading over the center line."

        Dean had evidently fallen asleep with his leather jacket folded as a makeshift pillow against the car door, but at some point it had fallen into his lap and he was left with a crick in his neck and a persistent erection straining at his jeans.

        "Pull over and find us a motel," Dean told him, wincing at the glare of the oncoming headlights.

        Sam glanced over at him, brow furrowed. "You were the one who said you wanted to drive straight through to Missouri."

        Dean shifted, trying not to give away how uncomfortable he was in his pants.

        "I changed my mind." As Sam took the next exit off the interstate, where several motel signs proclaimed their neon vacancies, Dean let his road weary eyes fall closed.

        If he held on to the dream just a little longer maybe, just maybe, it would pick up again when he went to bed.

        Preferably with Paul in the dog collar.


This fic was written for my friend [info]sailorhathor for her birthday. I got lucky last year and drew Laurel for my Yuletide recipient (yay!), but the bunny the muse made me write lacked the Paul/Dean sexiness I knew she enjoyed. I figured even though I'm late for her birthday this new installment of the Imaginary Reality Series (which is based on her Paul/Dean though not in the same universe) should make up somewhat for writing her a gen Yuletide fic. /grins/ It's only R sadly, but Paul on his knees in a dog collar has to count for something. ;-)

Happy Birthday, Laurel!

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories or
Back to Brokeback Mothman

The Truth of Names

The Truth of Names
A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Pairing/Characters: Alva/Paul
Rating: Parental supervision suggested for children under 13
Spoilers: Series
Summary: In Alva's nightmares Paul inexplicably leaves him but reality proves to be even more unbelievable
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        "Alva, we need to talk." Paul stood at Alva's office door, looking somber. "I've come to a decision. My true vocation is with the church. I'm going back to working with Poppi."

        Alva closed his book, blinking at Paul. "This is all very sudden. Have you thought this through?"

        "I really didn't have to," Paul scoffed lightly. "I mean, it's not like I'm really getting anywhere here. We look at the same phenomena and have just as few answers, but at least the Monsignor's well funded. Nothing like the Catholic church to fund your cause."

        Alva rose from his desk to approach Paul. "But the Ferguson case... They didn't believe it, but you did! How can you put that aside?"

        "It's like you said, Alva," Paul pointed out. "A poltergeist can make things happen rather than a ghost so it wasn't Tommy healing me. He didn't make a miracle happen. He was just a sick kid who died."

        "What, do you attribute your survival to just mere luck?" Alva asked, aghast.

        "Maybe just good doctors." Paul shrugged. "Regardless, I've wound up in the hospital a half dozen times since I started working for you and it hasn't even been a year! I'm thinking it's safer for me to work for the church."

        "Please," Alva said, his whisper intense yet quiet. "Don't go."

        "Alva... Alva..."

        Alva woke to Paul shaking his shoulder; he'd fallen asleep on the couch again.

        "Is everything all right?" Paul looked at him worriedly. "It sounded like you were having a nightmare."

        Alva sat up abruptly, his defenses still down and Paul hurriedly sat beside him, hand on his shoulder.

        "What is it?"

        "It's nothing," Alva muttered. "Nothing at all."

        "Keel, please..."

        Alva huffed. "At least I know this is real."

        "How's that?"

        "You never call me by my first name unless I'm dreaming."

        Paul furrowed his brow. "I thought that's what you wanted me to call you?"

        Alva just shrugged, a loose motion given his still drowsy state. "I suppose it doesn't matter."

        "It matters... To me." Paul's hand on his shoulder moved behind Alva's neck. "Please, just talk to me for once?" Alva let his eyes fall closed, all his attention on Paul's hand, heavy and warm on the back of his neck.

        "I dreamed... I dreamed you quit and went back to the church. You left me."

        "Would that be so bad?" When Alva's eyes flashed open and turned to look at Paul, Paul looked surprised. "It's just... It looked like a really bad dream. I didn't think losing an employee would be that bad of a nightmare."

        Alva looked at the floor, unable to meet Paul's eyes any longer.

        "I had hoped you perhaps felt a bit more loyalty to us, to me," he amended, "than just as an employer."

        "Is that really what this is about?" Paul demanded.

        "It doesn't matter. If you're not leaving, it was all just a dream. Best to forget it all." Alva rose and went to the sink to splash water on his face. Paul stood as well, watching as he dried his face off, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

        "God, for once - for once - why can't you say what's really on your mind?" Paul said, raising his voice in frustration. "I tell you, Keel. The more you shut me out..."

        "What?" Alva shot back. "The more likely you are to go back to Father Calero's waiting arms?"

        "That's not fair!"

        "What's more likely is if I tell you you'll run, not walk, and forget about all this, about me," Alva blurted out before he could stop himself.

        Paul stood staring at him, stunned.

        Alva wished desperately he could take the words back, but he couldn't.

        Silence fell over the room, only their harsh breathing splitting the air.

        "You're important, Paul," Alva finally said quietly. "And I want very much for you to stay with SQ."


        Alva let his eyes fall closed again.

        "You're an excellent investigator..."

        "That's not the reason!" Paul interrupted.

        When Alva opened his eyes again Paul had moved to a mere step away.

        "You've held the truth from me," Paul said in a quiet voice. "No more, Alva. It's the truth, the whole truth, and no sin of omission leaving anything out. If you can't be completely open with me then we shouldn't be together."

        The final words made Alva's breath catch in his lungs.

        "This has nothing to do with our working relationship," Alva countered.

        Paul's fingers closed gently around Alva's wrist, white knuckled against the sink edge.

        "Then it's even more important for you to tell me." He moved in close, moving into Alva's personal space. "Tell me... I won't judge you. Whatever you say, it's all right. I just need to hear you say it."

        Alva's body thrummed with barely restrained energy - it coiled in him and it was all he could do to remain motionless.

        "Please..." Alva whispered, near to trembling with the effort required to take this tiny yet huge step. "Don't leave me."

        He moved in the tiniest amount, tilting his head just so, and Paul met him halfway - kissing ardently, one hand still binding Alva's wrist as the other buried in his hair, pulling him closer.

        Alva sank into the kiss, bursting with gratitude and relief.

        There was an impatience, a voracious hunger to the kiss, and yet there was an incredible sense of peace washing over Alva. He wasn't losing Paul. He wouldn't lose him. He'd been so afraid, but Paul was his now. He didn't need to fear anything.

        As the kiss broke, Paul's thumb swiped over Alva's pulse point on his wrist, slow motions that meant to calm, but just kept Alva's heart racing.

        "I'm not going anywhere," Paul told him. Alva merely nodded his understanding, fighting down a nameless joy that bubbled up inside him. "But you?" Paul continued. "You need some real sleep." He tugged Alva by the wrist to come with him. "We'll tell Evie we're taking a day off. You deserve one."

        Alva opened his mouth to protest - ever the boss - then shut it, smiling.

        He closed his office door behind him, grabbing his coat as Paul did the same. "An excellent suggestion."

        Paul smirked and paused to deliver a brief yet tender kiss. "I'm glad you see things my way."

        They headed for the door, Alva feeling a smile grace his face.

        "I rather like your way."


I confess this was just a little ficlet I dashed off during a group chat with [info]melissima and [info]t_vo0810 after we group skype watched Paul is Dead together (it was T's first time seeing it - I dragged her into the fandom like I did Mel) and were enjoying a good post-ep shared squee.

I hadn't planned on publishing it, but Mel and T read it and I sent it to [info]deejay to entertain her while she was laid up so it seemed silly that pretty much half of the people I knew in the fandom had already read it so why not publish it?

So forgive it being a) slashy (I normally only write gen with these two) and b) not quite up to my usual quality. I decided to publish the same version I wrote in chat without modification because if I start futzing with this I'll for sure never get it out.

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories

Chasing the Chill

Chasing the Chill
A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Pairing/Characters: Paul/Alva
Rating: Parental supervision suggested for those under 13
Spoilers: None
Summary: Both Alva and Paul are traumatized by a horrific event
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        The clouds had loosed their most pelting rain upon the earth just after Paul began his weary trudge back to the motel, as if the heavens wished to wash away the horrors that the night, and Paul, had witnessed.

        Once inside the simple rustic room - carelessly dripping on the scuffed wooden floorboards - he collapsed into a chair, letting his head fall into his hands. No matter how many times he played out the night's nightmarish events in his head he couldn't find a way that Alva or he could have saved those who perished, the echoes of their anguished screams still haunting him.

        Paul wasn't sure how long he sat unmoving, mindless in memory, but when car headlights flashed their beams across the flimsy drapes he went to the door in hopes it was Alva returning from his attempt to explicate the inexplicable to the police.

        Alva stood statue still in the middle of the parking lot, eyes turned skyward - in question or complaint Paul wasn't sure. Already soaked to the skin, Paul darted out and dragged an unresisting Alva out of the pummeling rain on auto-pilot.

        "Cold..." Alva murmured, eyes vacant with shock.

        With gentle hands Paul began to peel the sodden layers from Alva's shivering form. He paused only long enough to turn up the heat and remove their shoes then led Alva to the bed, stripping both of them completely before urging Alva beneath the thick homey quilts.

        "Cold..." Alva repeated and Paul understood that it wasn't the temperature he was talking about: the chill Alva felt was inside.

        Under the covers he molded his body to Alva's, trusting in the heat to build between them, chasing the chill away. Paul tightened his arms around him, prayed for the blessing of forgetting and waited for the thaw.


I wrote this for [info]deejay's birthday, but pathetically was not able to manage any porn squish it down to 300 words and get it published until now. Mea culpa. Clearly I suck in more ways than one because I realized I only published ONE fic in 2009 for my THREE [info]drabble123 claims and that one wasn't even a Miracles fic! /is made of fail/

I confess it wasn't until I was prepping to post the finished fic that it occurred to me how good this would have been with their roles reversed - with Alva taking care of Paul (a la Paul is Dead). It's making me want to write a mirror fic... Hmm...

Very special thanks to betas [info]t_vo0810 and [info]melissima for their assistance with this fic.

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories

Family Ties (The Heart Stopping Remix)

Family Ties
(The Heart Stopping Remix)

A Miracles Fanfic
by Emma DeMarais

Pairing/Characters: Alva, Evelyn
Rating: Parental supervision suggested for children under 13
Word Count: 300
Spoilers: Paul is Dead
Summary: At the police station Alva tells Evie what Paul did to help save her son
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

        Once Paul was settled with a cup of hot tea, Alva brought a cup of coffee to Evelyn, pressing it into her shaking hands.

        "They'll find Matty," Alva reassured her, keeping Paul in his peripheral vision as he sat beside her. "They'll find the woman who took your son, I'm certain."

        "How can you be so sure?" Evelyn looked at him, forlorn.

        Alva laid a hand on her arm. It was foreign to him to be physically reassuring, but if the kidnapping of a friend's child wasn't the time to let go of his standoffishness, there wasn't one.

        "I know because Paul got the information about her from Tommy."

        Evelyn frowned. "Tommy appeared to Paul?"

        "No." Alva's hand tensed despite himself. "Paul went to him."

        "How..." Evelyn blinked, confused.

        Alva lowered his voice. "Paul died, Evie. For you, for Matty. He made me arrange to have a doctor stop his heart, to kill him, so he could seek out Tommy in the spirit realm and ask him about Matty."

        Evelyn's hand went to her mouth as she gasped. "No..."

        "He was gone over four minutes." The memory, still fresh, made Alva's own chest clench and he glanced briefly at Paul, needing that reassurance. "We almost couldn't get him back."

        "Oh god..." Evelyn's stoic mask crumbled. "All those hurtful things I said to Paul before... I just said them because I was upset. Paul knows that doesn't he? He knows he's family, right?"

        Alva let Evelyn follow his glance to where Paul sat huddled, still ashen pale.

        "Perhaps it would be good for you to tell him that."

        Evelyn nodded and rose, but before Alva's hand could fall away she took hold of it, giving it a squeeze.

        "Alva, just so you know..." She managed a heartfelt smile. "You're family too."


This fic was written for Round 7 at [info]remixthedrabble. The original author was [info]melodyunity whose fic I remixed was Family Ties. This was a scene that would have been so amazing in canon, but then again the whole episode just left me wanting more, More, MORE! (Not that I didn't want more of the show period. It is my favorite TV show ever.)

I actually published a fic already called Family Ties so this holds the distinction of being my first duplicated fic name in 750+ fic. (I console myself with the fact that the funky remix name in parentheses keeps them from being truly identical.)

The original fic was written for [info]yuletide. If you've never given that small fandom holiday fic exchange a try? DO IT! OMG the best fandom experience you may ever have. These people know the real meaning of yuletide cheer. Happiest community of fen I've ever had the good fortune to be lured into by my F-list. /nods/ Sign ups are going on now so head over and check it out!

P.S. Today is my LJ Anniversary. 4 years! Yay! F-listers head on over to [info]mlleemma for a ficcy treat. :-)

Emma DeMarais

Comment on this story on LiveJournal

Back to The Stories