fics: drabble meme responses
I was putting off posting until I'd finished them all, but that'll take all year, so here are the first three. Christ but it's a challenge and a half! (Mainly because it appeals to my sense of symmetry to make each one exactly a hundred words.)
- - -
Pennsylvania Avenue, Midnight.
The State Within; George and Nicholas.
Prompt from afiakate. Minor spoilers.
Nicholas was waiting for her on the street. At least, George assumed he was waiting for her. It was after midnight and threatening snow.
They hadn't spoken since the coverup. He was leaving for London in the morning, she'd heard; recalled for other duties. Brits and their goddamn euphamisms. If he was planning on offering whatever half-truth explanation MI6 had given her clearance to hear, she didn't want it.
He did still owe her. Diplomatic favours, she'd imagined he meant. Not her style.
She'd showered before returning to work late, but hadn't eaten. She took her coat and went downstairs.
- - -
The Rain in Spain.
Spooks/Life; Crews and Ros.
Prompt from afiakate. Spoilers for Life S2 and Spooks S6.
"It's complicated," Ros said finally, to shut him up.
The American watched her critically over the breadth of the taxi they'd been forced to share. "Okay, now I am even more interested. What could be more complicated than my reason for being in Spain? I mean, you have to agree, my reason is pretty complicated." He smiled happily. "I know you want to tell me."
The thing was, Ros actually did want to. If only to better his ridiculous story about weddings, ex-fiancées, the Russian mafia and orange groves.
"I'm dead," she said sweetly.
She never could resist a challenge.
- - -
Lost in Translation.
Spooks; Ruth and Tom in the field (ha).
Prompt from lost_spook. Set S2, no spoilers.
"Where did you learn Portuguese anyway?"
Ruth watched the fields rushing past the window, fighting a growing nervousness. "Um, gosh, I don't even remember. It's easy really - última flor do Lácio. You'll pick it up."
"Of course," Tom said dubiously.
"But you have Latin, don't you? Didn't you learn it in school?"
Tom laughed. "Ruth, what century do you live in?"
Ruth buried her hands between her knees to stop herself fidgeting. Septuagenarian village-dweller or no, a weapons dealer was still a weapons dealer. "Right," she said brightly. "Lucky I'm here then, isn't it."
"Lucky you're here," Tom agreed.
- - -
- - -
Pennsylvania Avenue, Midnight.
The State Within; George and Nicholas.
Prompt from afiakate. Minor spoilers.
Nicholas was waiting for her on the street. At least, George assumed he was waiting for her. It was after midnight and threatening snow.
They hadn't spoken since the coverup. He was leaving for London in the morning, she'd heard; recalled for other duties. Brits and their goddamn euphamisms. If he was planning on offering whatever half-truth explanation MI6 had given her clearance to hear, she didn't want it.
He did still owe her. Diplomatic favours, she'd imagined he meant. Not her style.
She'd showered before returning to work late, but hadn't eaten. She took her coat and went downstairs.
- - -
The Rain in Spain.
Spooks/Life; Crews and Ros.
Prompt from afiakate. Spoilers for Life S2 and Spooks S6.
"It's complicated," Ros said finally, to shut him up.
The American watched her critically over the breadth of the taxi they'd been forced to share. "Okay, now I am even more interested. What could be more complicated than my reason for being in Spain? I mean, you have to agree, my reason is pretty complicated." He smiled happily. "I know you want to tell me."
The thing was, Ros actually did want to. If only to better his ridiculous story about weddings, ex-fiancées, the Russian mafia and orange groves.
"I'm dead," she said sweetly.
She never could resist a challenge.
- - -
Lost in Translation.
Spooks; Ruth and Tom in the field (ha).
Prompt from lost_spook. Set S2, no spoilers.
"Where did you learn Portuguese anyway?"
Ruth watched the fields rushing past the window, fighting a growing nervousness. "Um, gosh, I don't even remember. It's easy really - última flor do Lácio. You'll pick it up."
"Of course," Tom said dubiously.
"But you have Latin, don't you? Didn't you learn it in school?"
Tom laughed. "Ruth, what century do you live in?"
Ruth buried her hands between her knees to stop herself fidgeting. Septuagenarian village-dweller or no, a weapons dealer was still a weapons dealer. "Right," she said brightly. "Lucky I'm here then, isn't it."
"Lucky you're here," Tom agreed.
- - -