I'll go first shall I? - Challenge #1 - 'Chasing tails'
Title: Chasing tails
Author: giantessmess
Pairing: Lou/Pat, Joy/Lou
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1, 429
Spoilers: Series 8
Challenge: 1
A/N: Links above are to character descriptions. May contain spoilers.
I don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s either duck my head under and pretend it doesn’t happen, or go ahead and get on with things. See no point pretendin’ I’m a bloody nun. Far from it.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Joy?”
I make a point of not answerin’ her. Louise breathes through her nose and laughs. “You know, I’ve got a couple of friends.”
“You what?”
“Friends?” She looks me up and down. “Couldn’t hurt to put yourself out there, could it?”
“This is not appropriate conversation for a management meeting.”
She shakes her head and orders another bottle of wine. Goin’ to drink herself into an early grave, that woman.
Of course I don’t want to be spendin’ all this time staring at her. For a start, it’s inappropriate. Two, it’s an embarrassment. Three, she’s a woman - a woman under my employ, no less. But that didn’t stop the situation with Kristy, it certainly doesn’t help things with Louise Stoke. Worse is my noticin’ how she takes pleasure in making me uncomfortable, when we both know she’s perfectly straight.
“Another day at the grindstone,” she says. “You sure you wouldn’t be happier - luxury hotel, bubbling spa? Breakfast in bed? I’ll pay.”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous.”
She breaks into a smile. I don’t know how to take her.
Maybe it’s because I’ve started noticin’ everything about her. Monday is that inappropriate top - reveals all this cleavage, like she went straight from the pub to the workplace. And I’ve no idea how to reprimand her. I’m not even sure I want to.
“You look like you’ve got something in your eye,” she says.
“I’m just thinkin’,” I snap. “That’s all.”
“Right. Well, keep at it.”
Even after months in the job, she’s still in that leather jacket. It’s like she’s on a bloody rock tour, not governing G-Wing.
I’ve seen a lot of women during my years in the service, who’ve formed unhealthy attachments to their prison officers. It’s not unheard of. One morning, I take a moment to notice how Louise looks in those jeans. There’s nothing professional about them, the way they curve - the impossible way they fit, at her age. I look up, and there’s Pat Kerrigan doin’ the same. For a moment we just stare at each other. She’s smiling too familiarly, like she’s finally gotten a joke. I’m tryin’ not to flinch. We’re even right now; she knows somethin’ and I know somthin’. Thankfully, she drops her gaze and goes about her business.
I almost wish Area never contacted Lou. I could have continued on, perfectly content, without the likes of her complicating my day. I notice things - I want to see them, I suppose. I want to think an us is impossible, because it’s a damn sight easier than trying. There’s a change, though. You see, Kerrigan is everywhere I usually am - staring but not staring. Chooses moments where Lou can’t find her out. All I can take away from this is that I have to stop Louise wearin’ those jeans. They’re simply obscene. I try and come up with solutions that won’t involve me mentioning how I’ve noticed them. Can’t have Kerrigan pinin’ after her wing Governor, though. Can’t have that goin’ on.
But it’s worse - there’s just more of the worst after that. I start seeing something else. I’m goin’ about my work, like all’s usual. Kerrigan’s talkin’ to one of the women, laughing about God knows what. Then Louise walks past, and there’s this second. You could frame it, it’s that shameless; her eyes dip and settle on Kerrigan. She just stands there, eyes a little glazed. Then she snaps out of it and walks off, but not without smiling at Kerrigan. Kerrigan nods back.
I find out from Donny Kimber that Pat Kerrigan’s been getting all sorts of letters. Love letters, from a woman. He seems upset when I tell him I’ve decided to intercept each and every one.
“But that’s not right, ma’am. What’s the harm in a few love letters?”
“I’m givin’ them back, don’t you worry.”
“It’s only from her girl, Sheena.”
“Yes, well.” I shake my head. “I have enough problems without you turning to mush over the women’s love lives. This isn’t your business.”
“Right.”
I open them as they come. Immediately, I think they smell of Lou, but it’s probably just some generic scent like soap or shampoo. They’re such sad letters. Promises of forever, and suchlike. There’s a lot of arguing as well, but nothing bitter. All of them are signed by Sheena Williams. Reply address is no doubt hers. All’s above board. But I still see Lou in them. I swear I’m not losin’ it - I really can recognise her turn of phrase. Some words sound like her to a T. Jokes, mostly. Her dry humour.
It’s going to be hard, Pat. I’m serious. But it’s not going to work if you lock yourself away like you’re saving yourself for Jesus. God knows I’m feeling the toll. God knows I can’t let myself in and have my way with you, (and no, I don’t think any of your solutions for that make any bloody sense). So of course you should see someone else. Of course. But at the same time, I’ll not pretend it doesn’t piss me off a tad. God, this is an impossible mess.
Does that answer your question?
I need a drink. I can hear Lou saying those words, clear as cut crystal. I don’t know what to do.
I try to catch Kerrigan when she receives her letters, but it’s hard to be there every time. If I spend any more time on the wing, people will start to wonder. She never gives anything away, though. She just smiles when Kimber hands the papers to her, all worn from my hours of analysis.
“Bit of light reading, hey?”
“You know it’s just procedure,” he replies.
The Julies seem as wary of her as I am.
“What’s this then? I thought Sheena’d done a number on you.”
“Well, we’re writing now.”
“Bleedin’ stupid,” Saunders shakes her head. “One thing I always say, I tell you. - never get involved with a junkie.”
“Never get involved with a junkie,” nods Johnston.
“Better off.”
“They’re just letters, Julies.”
“Just lookin’ out for you, mate.” The Julies exchange a glance, Kerrigan shrugs.
“Look, you don’t need to. It’s sorted. I’m not starting anything with her again.”
I worry that it’s gotten obsessive. It’s becoming abundantly clear that I’m obsessed with Lou Stoke. It’s sheer desperation, needing to prove she’s too twisted to want me. Desperate to prove there’s a reason she’ll never be interested. But none of this proves she’s breaking the law. The letters and glances don’t reveal anything, other than the fact that I have a healthy dose of paranoia, and that maybe I should have allowed Lou to set me up with her friend in the first place.
I decide enough’s enough - I need to get over this rubbish. I think of what she’d say if I just turned up in her office and asked her out. Just turned up and laid my cards out.
I decide to be done with it.
When I enter the office, the first thing I hear is a smash. To begin with I think I imagined it, because there’s no one in there. Just a desk with all its contents on the floor. But I hear other sounds soon - a murmur, a small laugh, shushing, and then a moan.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Kerrigan sniggers.
“Stop being… God.” A breath. “You’re just…cruel.”
“Cruel, eh? You want cruel?” Kerrigan laughs at something else, and Lou calls her a sadist, but she’s laughing. They’re both laughing.
I leave without a noise and pace towards my office. I slam the door. My heart’s beatin’ so fast there must be something wrong with it. All I can do is stare into space as it hits me, like I’ve downed a bottle of gin. Immediately, I realise I’m goin’ to have to fire her. There’ll be police. There’ll be Area’s nose in my business, like I’m the deviant - like I’m the rule-breaker. I feel like I’m drunk, or dyin’.
I never knew what to do with Louise Stoke, and I don’t know what to do now. I approach my bookshelf slowly, and find where I’ve hidden the drink. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been sober. All’s left is how long it’ll take me to become numb again.
Author: giantessmess
Pairing: Lou/Pat, Joy/Lou
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1, 429
Spoilers: Series 8
Challenge: 1
A/N: Links above are to character descriptions. May contain spoilers.
I don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s either duck my head under and pretend it doesn’t happen, or go ahead and get on with things. See no point pretendin’ I’m a bloody nun. Far from it.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Joy?”
I make a point of not answerin’ her. Louise breathes through her nose and laughs. “You know, I’ve got a couple of friends.”
“You what?”
“Friends?” She looks me up and down. “Couldn’t hurt to put yourself out there, could it?”
“This is not appropriate conversation for a management meeting.”
She shakes her head and orders another bottle of wine. Goin’ to drink herself into an early grave, that woman.
Of course I don’t want to be spendin’ all this time staring at her. For a start, it’s inappropriate. Two, it’s an embarrassment. Three, she’s a woman - a woman under my employ, no less. But that didn’t stop the situation with Kristy, it certainly doesn’t help things with Louise Stoke. Worse is my noticin’ how she takes pleasure in making me uncomfortable, when we both know she’s perfectly straight.
“Another day at the grindstone,” she says. “You sure you wouldn’t be happier - luxury hotel, bubbling spa? Breakfast in bed? I’ll pay.”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous.”
She breaks into a smile. I don’t know how to take her.
Maybe it’s because I’ve started noticin’ everything about her. Monday is that inappropriate top - reveals all this cleavage, like she went straight from the pub to the workplace. And I’ve no idea how to reprimand her. I’m not even sure I want to.
“You look like you’ve got something in your eye,” she says.
“I’m just thinkin’,” I snap. “That’s all.”
“Right. Well, keep at it.”
Even after months in the job, she’s still in that leather jacket. It’s like she’s on a bloody rock tour, not governing G-Wing.
I’ve seen a lot of women during my years in the service, who’ve formed unhealthy attachments to their prison officers. It’s not unheard of. One morning, I take a moment to notice how Louise looks in those jeans. There’s nothing professional about them, the way they curve - the impossible way they fit, at her age. I look up, and there’s Pat Kerrigan doin’ the same. For a moment we just stare at each other. She’s smiling too familiarly, like she’s finally gotten a joke. I’m tryin’ not to flinch. We’re even right now; she knows somethin’ and I know somthin’. Thankfully, she drops her gaze and goes about her business.
I almost wish Area never contacted Lou. I could have continued on, perfectly content, without the likes of her complicating my day. I notice things - I want to see them, I suppose. I want to think an us is impossible, because it’s a damn sight easier than trying. There’s a change, though. You see, Kerrigan is everywhere I usually am - staring but not staring. Chooses moments where Lou can’t find her out. All I can take away from this is that I have to stop Louise wearin’ those jeans. They’re simply obscene. I try and come up with solutions that won’t involve me mentioning how I’ve noticed them. Can’t have Kerrigan pinin’ after her wing Governor, though. Can’t have that goin’ on.
But it’s worse - there’s just more of the worst after that. I start seeing something else. I’m goin’ about my work, like all’s usual. Kerrigan’s talkin’ to one of the women, laughing about God knows what. Then Louise walks past, and there’s this second. You could frame it, it’s that shameless; her eyes dip and settle on Kerrigan. She just stands there, eyes a little glazed. Then she snaps out of it and walks off, but not without smiling at Kerrigan. Kerrigan nods back.
I find out from Donny Kimber that Pat Kerrigan’s been getting all sorts of letters. Love letters, from a woman. He seems upset when I tell him I’ve decided to intercept each and every one.
“But that’s not right, ma’am. What’s the harm in a few love letters?”
“I’m givin’ them back, don’t you worry.”
“It’s only from her girl, Sheena.”
“Yes, well.” I shake my head. “I have enough problems without you turning to mush over the women’s love lives. This isn’t your business.”
“Right.”
I open them as they come. Immediately, I think they smell of Lou, but it’s probably just some generic scent like soap or shampoo. They’re such sad letters. Promises of forever, and suchlike. There’s a lot of arguing as well, but nothing bitter. All of them are signed by Sheena Williams. Reply address is no doubt hers. All’s above board. But I still see Lou in them. I swear I’m not losin’ it - I really can recognise her turn of phrase. Some words sound like her to a T. Jokes, mostly. Her dry humour.
It’s going to be hard, Pat. I’m serious. But it’s not going to work if you lock yourself away like you’re saving yourself for Jesus. God knows I’m feeling the toll. God knows I can’t let myself in and have my way with you, (and no, I don’t think any of your solutions for that make any bloody sense). So of course you should see someone else. Of course. But at the same time, I’ll not pretend it doesn’t piss me off a tad. God, this is an impossible mess.
Does that answer your question?
I need a drink. I can hear Lou saying those words, clear as cut crystal. I don’t know what to do.
I try to catch Kerrigan when she receives her letters, but it’s hard to be there every time. If I spend any more time on the wing, people will start to wonder. She never gives anything away, though. She just smiles when Kimber hands the papers to her, all worn from my hours of analysis.
“Bit of light reading, hey?”
“You know it’s just procedure,” he replies.
The Julies seem as wary of her as I am.
“What’s this then? I thought Sheena’d done a number on you.”
“Well, we’re writing now.”
“Bleedin’ stupid,” Saunders shakes her head. “One thing I always say, I tell you. - never get involved with a junkie.”
“Never get involved with a junkie,” nods Johnston.
“Better off.”
“They’re just letters, Julies.”
“Just lookin’ out for you, mate.” The Julies exchange a glance, Kerrigan shrugs.
“Look, you don’t need to. It’s sorted. I’m not starting anything with her again.”
I worry that it’s gotten obsessive. It’s becoming abundantly clear that I’m obsessed with Lou Stoke. It’s sheer desperation, needing to prove she’s too twisted to want me. Desperate to prove there’s a reason she’ll never be interested. But none of this proves she’s breaking the law. The letters and glances don’t reveal anything, other than the fact that I have a healthy dose of paranoia, and that maybe I should have allowed Lou to set me up with her friend in the first place.
I decide enough’s enough - I need to get over this rubbish. I think of what she’d say if I just turned up in her office and asked her out. Just turned up and laid my cards out.
I decide to be done with it.
When I enter the office, the first thing I hear is a smash. To begin with I think I imagined it, because there’s no one in there. Just a desk with all its contents on the floor. But I hear other sounds soon - a murmur, a small laugh, shushing, and then a moan.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Kerrigan sniggers.
“Stop being… God.” A breath. “You’re just…cruel.”
“Cruel, eh? You want cruel?” Kerrigan laughs at something else, and Lou calls her a sadist, but she’s laughing. They’re both laughing.
I leave without a noise and pace towards my office. I slam the door. My heart’s beatin’ so fast there must be something wrong with it. All I can do is stare into space as it hits me, like I’ve downed a bottle of gin. Immediately, I realise I’m goin’ to have to fire her. There’ll be police. There’ll be Area’s nose in my business, like I’m the deviant - like I’m the rule-breaker. I feel like I’m drunk, or dyin’.
I never knew what to do with Louise Stoke, and I don’t know what to do now. I approach my bookshelf slowly, and find where I’ve hidden the drink. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been sober. All’s left is how long it’ll take me to become numb again.