Real Ghostbusters: Spontaneous Combustion by Lethe

Spontaneous Combustion (Peter/Egon) is Peter and Egon in college. The story shows these two's developing friendship and the love that blossoms from it. Very cute, and Egon and Peter's voices are wonderfully done. This is a wonderful pick-me-up sort of fic with a bit of angst but not too much. And a good many bits to put a smile on one's face.

Excerpt:
He looked at me, his gaze now level and serious. "Psychology asks 'Why?' It has an effect, and it looks for a cause. Physics is the same. All the other sciences ask 'What?' I figure...." He hesitated, and then spoke with an earnestness that was evident in voice and motion of his hands. "If psychology is a study of how the mind interacts with itself and others, and physics is a study of how everything reacts to itself and others, then they're similar fields. Hell, I've applied some of my work in each course to the other. The profs think it's a revelation, but it's just because the two fields don't interact. I'm thinking..." He shrugged, gazing off into the distance, and I suspect it was because he was suddenly aware of his enthusiasm and was embarrassed by it. "I'm thinking about doubling. Getting a degree in Parapsych. A lot of people think it's nonsense. I don't even believe most of the gobbledygook that they usually teach. But it seems to be a way to mesh my interests..."

He fell silent and became fascinated with his feet.

I must admit, I was astonished. I cleared my throat. "Peter...the reason why I came to Columbia was because I wished to study parapsychology." His head shot up, and he gaped at me. I nodded at him. "I feel that there is more to this universe than simple equations or a vast theorem that will cover everything. I too believe that my chosen field alone cannot unbend itself enough to truly ask and discover 'why?'...and I want to find out."

It was from that moment that our daily meetings changed. While going to new dining establishments remained part of the routine, we began to frequent both the Butler Library on campus and the New York Public library downtown. We spent much of our time arguing, so vastly different were our opinions on parapsychology. He was convinced that much of it was a sham, a con job performed by trickery upon the gullible. I, on the other hand, believed that these things existed, but merely required scientific evidence. It was much like playing Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to his Houdini.

It's part of a series here, though I haven't had the chance to read the rest of the series yet.

Nero Wolfe: The Warm Room by Coelogyne and Parhelion

The Warm Room (Wolfe/Archie | NC17 | 26,446 words) has Wolfe and Archie flee to Egypt. I think they work well together, but don't ask my why. The author does these two right and doesn't gloss over either character's flaws. Nero and Archie travel to Egypt, and stuff happens. There's a nice mystery going on in addition to the slash. This story just... made me happy. Both Nero and Archie know each other so well that it's a lot of fun to watch them play off each other.

Excerpt:
Sometimes things happen over meals with Wolfe. Sometimes he spots the murderer or blackmailer and sometimes he expounds on his latest theory regarding oyster cultivation. Sometimes something much more remarkable happens. He put the omelette in front of me and said "Eat. You'll feel better." Then he pulled up a chair for himself and sat down to watch me. I ate. And damn him, he was right. It did make me feel better.

"You realize, of course, that I did not intend to badger you earlier," he said, softly. If I'd been sharper, I'd have said he said it gently. It was uncharacteristic. "But my... concern... for your well-being is paramount to my other worries. That we should both live such completely different lives and still co-habitate is a miracle I do not understand. Perhaps I am not meant to understand." He cleared his throat and watched me eat the omelette. I was still too sore to be mouthy, so I let him talk. "Perhaps you think I am an old fool for my convictions in regards to your relationships. You may rebuke me if you see fit, Archie, but surely you must understand this most basic sentiment."

"Did you say 'sentiment'?" The last of the omelette was gone and I pushed the plate back. Wolfe was silent. "You came to rescue me in nothing but a towel, which, might I add, was most impressive, because you were worried I might do something silly and still the only 'sentiment' you seem to have for me is anxiety that I might be hungry! And the real sentiment is dancing circles around both of us, and you haven't even seen it yet."

"Preposterous," he huffed. I pointed a finger at him, which I knew he hated, but it was dramatic and I did it anyway.

Nero Wolfe: Aesthetics by Jennifer Lon

Aesthetics (Wolfe-Archie | PG | 4,558 words) is the story of how Archie and Nero meet, from Saul's pov. It's good. Shows how Archie and Nero complement each other. And young Archie is always a plus. I feel silly saying it's cute because it's not really cute. But it is a fun read with good characterization.

Excerpt:
He opened his eyes again. "So, Monday night, I'm hanging around seeing if I can catch Grassman's goons, when Lonnie decides to send over a couple of his own. I shoot them, I go to jail, the crates get lifted, I get out of jail. End of story."

At some point Wolfe's finger started making little circles on the arm of his chair. I hadn't thought to warn the kid about it. I hadn't foreseen a situation where it would come up. It was too late now. Wolfe doesn't raise his voice when he's really angry. It gets low and tense. There's an edge to it you could shave with.

"Did it not occur to you to enlighten the authorities with what you had heard, Mr. Goodwin? Did it not occur to you that if you caught Mr. Grassman's 'goons' he would retaliate? Or that Mr. Brougham will do so once he is release, as he will no likely presume, as we have, that you told the police he was involved with the robbery? You have put yourself in grave danger, and you make no effort to avoid it. Are these the actions of a prudent man?"

If you had asked me before hand, I would have put it at ten to one the kid would lose his temper. I would have been wrong. Archie drew himself up and looked Wolfe in the eye.

Wild Wild West: The Night of Homecoming by Taliesin

The Night of Homecoming (Jim/Artie | NC17 | 8,544 words) has Jim drugged but aware and Artie nursing him. Revelations follow. I'm not entirely sure I believe how Jim's memories resurfaced, but whatever. Smile and nod, and I do like Jim's analysis of himself, his motives, and Artie. This is a very sweet story without being overly sentimental.

Excerpt:
"Jim? How are you, buddy?" Artie's concerned tones recovered Jim from his unpleasant distration. A wet cloth passed gently over his face, soothing away the signs of agitation. Slowly his heart stopped pounding in his chest as he relaxed under Artie's tender care.

Jim drifted with the gentle damp strokes of the cloth. Artie bathed him down to the waist before pulling the sheet back up over his newly-clean chest. This time, undistracted by his nakedness, Jim listened to the softly murmured reassurances that tumbled from Artie's lips, and was amazed at the number of endearments which crept into the soothing litany. What had he been missing here?

When James was awake under such care, Artie took his cues from his partner. Jim growled and groused, and accepted his partner's assistance with much thanks, but little grace. Artie was always there, patiently accepting both thanks and the occasional curse without complaint, but he remained mostly silent. Here and now, Jim was getting a taste of Artie's true feeling. He had no doubt that this was indicative of Artie's bedside manner when he was dead to the world. It was too practiced, and entirely too familiar, to be new. Only when James West was unconscious did Artemus Gordon reveal the depth of his affection. There was something terribly sad about that.

Peter Pan: The Screaming of Coneys by lah

The Screaming of Coneys (Hook/Peter | PG13 | 1,760 words) is James Hook and his thoughts with some decidely creepy sexual undertones. When examined closely, Neverland is a rather fucked-up place, and this story examines it with a deft hand.

Excerpt:
What sort of a man is he, James thinks as he reaches over to pick at the carcass of a roasted coney; what sort of a man doesn't know his own past? A man who's not real, someone inside him shrieks, *a man like the sunsets and the false seas.*

In a fit of petulance (also undignified for a man of his rank), James rips off a hind leg and throws it against the cabin wall; it echoes with a thud and drowns out the music for a moment.

It's all Pan's fault, somehow -- Peter Pan and his band of brats, who fly in strange formations like a gaggle of scraggly geese. James orders his men to shoot them out of the sky, but their guns have grown old and slow in the eternal lazy heat, and the boys scatter before their bullets reach them.

Lord of the Rings: Like Father, Like Son by Adina

Like Father and Like Son (Gloin/Thranduil, Legolas/Gimli | R | 1,000 words) are two companion pieces, with Gloin and Thranduil musing on their sons' relationship. Though it's more about Gloin and Thranduil's relationship. Not a happy ending-- no ending at all since, really, life doesn't have an ending-- just reflections on times past. Very touching.

Excerpt:
Legolas is honorable--according to my son--and he seems truly to care for Gimli. When he hurts Gimli--he will, he's an elf--it will not be intentional. Will that comfort Gimli? Legolas may regret hurting him, may even grieve as he rips my son's heart out and walks away, but he'll still rip, he'll still walk.

An elf came to my cell, eighty years ago. He didn't know my name then and I pray he still doesn't. It was a long time ago and I've grown older--even if he hasn't--and all dwarves look the same, don't they? Short and stunted, hairy and unlovely. *He* told me that, after all.

Good Omens: Falling Rain by ariastar

Falling Rain (Crowley/Aziraphale | PG13 | 7,682 words) is the story of Noah and his Ark and the beginning of The Arrangement. Long and nicely detailed. Crowley/Aziraphale is a difficult couple to write well, but this is fantastic-- slow and gradual and both beings stay themselves. And the ending! So beautiful.

Excerpt:
He felt suddenly very small. All around the little piece of wood on which he was floating was water; vast water, stretching on all sides to the slightly curved horizon, all calm water, smooth water, brightly shining in the afternoon sun.

"Wow," Crowley observed coolly.

Aziraphale gave him a slightly amused look. "It is impressive, isn't it?" he agreed.

"Sure." Crowley drew his knees up to his chest, and huddled in a ball, doing his very best to look as though he wasn't sort-of-cowering. Anyway, this much holy water would make any demon really bloody nervous.

"Say," Crowley said after a few moments, "it's not going to rain anymore, is it?"

"No," Aziraphale said dreamily. Crowley frowned and scooted up the roof a bit until he could see what the angel was doing. Aziraphale was half-lying, propped up on his elbows with his wings spread about him, gazing into the clouds and looking just as silly as he had on the ladder. "No," Aziraphale said again. "Only forty days and nights of rain were scheduled, I believe."

"So what happens now?"

"Now? Oh." The angel frowned a bit, obviously thinking hard. His countenance suddenly clearing, he said, "Ah yes! Now is the hundred and fifty days in which we sit here on the water, enjoying the view, I assume."

Good Omens: A Young Man's Fancy by Demoness-Sweet

A Young Man's Fancy (Wensleydale/Brian | PG | 918 words) is Wensleydale and Brian. It's a short little piece of fluff that I love. Because it's humorous! And it's fluff! There is not enough well-written fluff in the world, though this story does help.

Excerpt:
When Brian saw Wensleydale ten years later, sitting like he always did, back perfectly straight, he strolled over and just looked. Still a pansy, he decided, the hair was still perfect, the collar was still spotless, and even the loss of the glasses didn't help much.

And so Brian sat down and whispered "Boo" just for fun. And Wensleydale had jumped, perfectly straight and nearly smashed his face in with the large book he had been reading. And predictably, Wensleydale-like, stood red faced, hands on his hips, mouth pursed and eyes sparkling. Brian had grinned and proclaimed that he was kidnapping Wensleydale for lunch. Like a train he barged out of the library, Wensleydale pink with embarrasement and the girls at the front desk giggling at them.