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Monday--Helping hand

Greetings folks,

Your friendly neighborhood Mod here, filling in on short notice.

Today is Monday, and we could all use a little help getting through a Monday...so let's make that today's theme.

Remember the rules
-No more than five prompts in a row. If someone fills one of your prompts, you are then free to prompt again!
-No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
-No spoilers in prompts!
-If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.

And as always, format your prompts properly:

Hawaii 5-0, Steve/Danny, let me help you with that
Supernatural, Sam/Dean, a hand up
Criminal Minds/White Collar, Spencer Reid/Neal Caffrey, You can borrow that

Go forth and have fun!

Comments

(Deleted comment)
mtxref_fic
Jun. 5th, 2012 04:20 am (UTC)
The past few months, Cobb had settled back in to civilian life: from the jobs he'd done in the past three years, he had enough money saved to cover the bills and groceries for the three of them for a while. Even still, he'd taken up teaching drawing classes at a community college offering night courses for adults, just for something to do while trying to land a legit job dreamsharing, even if that meant more corporate espionage. There were companies that used it to keep order in the ranks, and he hoped Arthur could come up with something among his contacts.

The next job came, but it wasn't what he expected.

It was an ordinary Saturday morning, making crepes with Philippa hanging at his side, watching him flip the paper-thin pancake juust right, James in the living room watching Redwall, when the doorbell rang.

"Just a moment!" he called, switching off the stove and, with Philippa trailing him and the skillet still in his hand, going to the door.

"Maybe it's Uncle Arthur," Philippa said.

When he opened the door, he found Ariadne standing there, a suitcase on the step beside her, a rucksack over one shoulder and a portfolio in the other hand. "Hey... Cobb, if this isn't a good time," she faltered.

"No, no, not at all: I was just making breakfast," he said, stepping aside to let her step inside. She'd seen the worst corners of his mind and what lurked in it, he wasn't embarrassed to let her see him in pyjama bottoms and a worn UCLA tee-shirt.

"Who's this?" Philippa asked, looking from Ariadne to him as the girl stepped into the entryway.

"This is Ariadne Cabot, she's a student of mine," he said.

((The rest can be found Here.))

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