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Fic: Summer in the City
Title: Summer in the City
Fandom: The Office/How I Met Your Mother
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Characters: Karen Filippelli/Barney Stinson
Notes: Written for the Porn Battle, though it's not actually particularly porny. If you like the idea of this crossover (though not necessarily this pairing),![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cashewdani got there first, and you should definitely check out these two fics; they (A) are legendary, and (B) were inspiration.
"He just … left," says Karen. "Left me standing there in the middle of the street in New York City. Looking like an idiot."
"Nnnnnooooo," says the guy sitting beside her at the bar. "God, no. Jim's the idiot." He's better-looking than Jim and he's been buying Karen scotch and sodas for a couple hours; that's enough for her. She doesn't even care that he's completely, 100% full of crap.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's me," Karen says, matter-of-fact. "Considering I dated the guy in the first place, when he was still in love with this other girl the whole time." A half-second's pause for breath, and then she continues, "And you can drop the act. Unless you turn out to be a total creep, you're gonna get laid tonight." She takes a sip of her drink and tries not to hate herself too much when she says, "You're in the right place at the right time."
"Huh," he says, tilting his head and considering her for a moment. "Well, in that case," he extends a hand, "Barney Stinson."
"I kind of figured your name wasn't really Maverick Mitchell." She shakes his hand firmly. "I'm still Karen."
"Huh," he says again, more thoughtful this time. "You know your Top Gun, still-Karen."
"I know my eighties Tom Cruise movies," she corrects dryly.
Barney Stinson chuckles; Karen has the thought that it's probably the most genuine thing she's heard out of him all night. One side of his mouth goes upward, and he leans in and murmurs a suggestion that raises her eyebrows.
"Really?" she says, and then -- for what feels like the first time in years -- she laughs.
"This really wasn't," Barney grunts, "part of the original plan--"
"Oh my God, do you always talk this much?" Karen demands, shoving the bulky laser tag vest off her shoulders and grabbing him by the tie.
"--But it's going to be legend - wait for it--"
She doesn't wait for it.
The lights are psychedelic and disorienting, if Karen opens her eyes; purple and green and pink neon, flashing off and on. If she thinks too much about this -- a laser tag arena with a catchphrase-spouting asshole in New York City; kids running and shouting somewhere in the distance, not that far from this dark corner -- she isn't going to go through with it, so she hauls Barney in and kisses him fiercely.
Barney growls something low and appreciative into her mouth; presses her harder against the wall with his body. Karen lifts her leg up alongside his hip and he hooks a warm hand under the back of her knee and holds her there, and that's the one nice thing about this guy -- he can take a hint, and really fast.
She wraps one arm around his shoulders, wrecking the clean lines of his suit jacket, and the other hand splays tight across the back of his neck. He grinds up against her and they both hiss; he tangles a hand in her dark hair and does it again, and Karen hears it as he shudders a two-syllable name (one that definitely isn't hers) into her neck.
Barney is nipping at her throat and un-buttoning her jeans with one hand, a hot and heavy weight against her, and Karen closes her eyes, smells expensive cologne, and thinks, Screw you, Jim Halpert.
Fandom: The Office/How I Met Your Mother
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Characters: Karen Filippelli/Barney Stinson
Notes: Written for the Porn Battle, though it's not actually particularly porny. If you like the idea of this crossover (though not necessarily this pairing),
cashewdani got there first, and you should definitely check out these two fics; they (A) are legendary, and (B) were inspiration."He just … left," says Karen. "Left me standing there in the middle of the street in New York City. Looking like an idiot."
"Nnnnnooooo," says the guy sitting beside her at the bar. "God, no. Jim's the idiot." He's better-looking than Jim and he's been buying Karen scotch and sodas for a couple hours; that's enough for her. She doesn't even care that he's completely, 100% full of crap.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's me," Karen says, matter-of-fact. "Considering I dated the guy in the first place, when he was still in love with this other girl the whole time." A half-second's pause for breath, and then she continues, "And you can drop the act. Unless you turn out to be a total creep, you're gonna get laid tonight." She takes a sip of her drink and tries not to hate herself too much when she says, "You're in the right place at the right time."
"Huh," he says, tilting his head and considering her for a moment. "Well, in that case," he extends a hand, "Barney Stinson."
"I kind of figured your name wasn't really Maverick Mitchell." She shakes his hand firmly. "I'm still Karen."
"Huh," he says again, more thoughtful this time. "You know your Top Gun, still-Karen."
"I know my eighties Tom Cruise movies," she corrects dryly.
Barney Stinson chuckles; Karen has the thought that it's probably the most genuine thing she's heard out of him all night. One side of his mouth goes upward, and he leans in and murmurs a suggestion that raises her eyebrows.
"Really?" she says, and then -- for what feels like the first time in years -- she laughs.
"This really wasn't," Barney grunts, "part of the original plan--"
"Oh my God, do you always talk this much?" Karen demands, shoving the bulky laser tag vest off her shoulders and grabbing him by the tie.
"--But it's going to be legend - wait for it--"
She doesn't wait for it.
The lights are psychedelic and disorienting, if Karen opens her eyes; purple and green and pink neon, flashing off and on. If she thinks too much about this -- a laser tag arena with a catchphrase-spouting asshole in New York City; kids running and shouting somewhere in the distance, not that far from this dark corner -- she isn't going to go through with it, so she hauls Barney in and kisses him fiercely.
Barney growls something low and appreciative into her mouth; presses her harder against the wall with his body. Karen lifts her leg up alongside his hip and he hooks a warm hand under the back of her knee and holds her there, and that's the one nice thing about this guy -- he can take a hint, and really fast.
She wraps one arm around his shoulders, wrecking the clean lines of his suit jacket, and the other hand splays tight across the back of his neck. He grinds up against her and they both hiss; he tangles a hand in her dark hair and does it again, and Karen hears it as he shudders a two-syllable name (one that definitely isn't hers) into her neck.
Barney is nipping at her throat and un-buttoning her jeans with one hand, a hot and heavy weight against her, and Karen closes her eyes, smells expensive cologne, and thinks, Screw you, Jim Halpert.