Ficlet: The Dresden Files: A Narrow Escape
Written for fanfic50, cross posted to dresdenfic.
Title: A Narrow Escape
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 39. Slash
Word Count: 428
Rating: G
Summary: Harry finds himself in a tight spot.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
"Come on, Bob! Hurry up, will ya?" Harry risked a glance over his shoulder. "What are you doing back there, anyway? Waiting for an engraved invitation?"
"That particular comeback was not amusing when you were a boy," came the imperious reply from directly behind. "I fail to see why you think it has improved with age. Shift a bit more to the left. Say, an inch and three quarters."
Harry puffed out a frustrated breath. "Sure thing, Bob. I'll just whip out my handy dandy ruler, why don't I? Oh, wait. That's right, I can't because my. HANDS. ARE. TIED." To emphasize his point, he strained against the rune-inscribed bonds that lashed his wrists together behind the back of the chair. In immediate response, a pulse of magical energy sent a shock of pain up his arms. "OW, DAMMIT!"
"Which only proves my point. Patience is a virtue."
"Patience is gonna get me killed if you don't hurry up. They could come back any second."
"Then do as I have instructed. Exactly as I have instructed. Move an inch and three quarters to the left. I will help guide you," said the ghost in a tone that brooked no argument. "Too much or too little in either direction may mean the difference between freedom or slashed wrists and bleeding to death."
"Beat the Clock was never one of my favorite games," grumbled Harry but he began to slowly inch his wrists to the left.
"A bit more … still more … not quite…," advised Bob, who was also Listening for the sound of approaching voices or footsteps beyond the cell door. "There! Precisely there!"
Frowning, Harry felt the bindings snag on something. He held his breath at the sudden contact, expecting another jolt of magical pain. Nothing happened.
"As I thought," said Bob, who stood half in and half out of the rough wooden wall behind the chair. He sounded quite pleased with himself. "The base metal is iron. The structure is old enough that all of the nails and fittings must be made entirely of-"
"Bob? No offense, but could you pat yourself on the back later? I'm not out of this yet," said Harry as he began to saw the bindings against the rusty point of the magic-nulling iron nail.
"Yes, of course. My apologies."
The ghost folded his arms across his narrow chest and watched closely as Harry worked.
"Incidentally," he said conversationally, as if this were not a dire life and death situation, "When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?"
Title: A Narrow Escape
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 39. Slash
Word Count: 428
Rating: G
Summary: Harry finds himself in a tight spot.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
"Come on, Bob! Hurry up, will ya?" Harry risked a glance over his shoulder. "What are you doing back there, anyway? Waiting for an engraved invitation?"
"That particular comeback was not amusing when you were a boy," came the imperious reply from directly behind. "I fail to see why you think it has improved with age. Shift a bit more to the left. Say, an inch and three quarters."
Harry puffed out a frustrated breath. "Sure thing, Bob. I'll just whip out my handy dandy ruler, why don't I? Oh, wait. That's right, I can't because my. HANDS. ARE. TIED." To emphasize his point, he strained against the rune-inscribed bonds that lashed his wrists together behind the back of the chair. In immediate response, a pulse of magical energy sent a shock of pain up his arms. "OW, DAMMIT!"
"Which only proves my point. Patience is a virtue."
"Patience is gonna get me killed if you don't hurry up. They could come back any second."
"Then do as I have instructed. Exactly as I have instructed. Move an inch and three quarters to the left. I will help guide you," said the ghost in a tone that brooked no argument. "Too much or too little in either direction may mean the difference between freedom or slashed wrists and bleeding to death."
"Beat the Clock was never one of my favorite games," grumbled Harry but he began to slowly inch his wrists to the left.
"A bit more … still more … not quite…," advised Bob, who was also Listening for the sound of approaching voices or footsteps beyond the cell door. "There! Precisely there!"
Frowning, Harry felt the bindings snag on something. He held his breath at the sudden contact, expecting another jolt of magical pain. Nothing happened.
"As I thought," said Bob, who stood half in and half out of the rough wooden wall behind the chair. He sounded quite pleased with himself. "The base metal is iron. The structure is old enough that all of the nails and fittings must be made entirely of-"
"Bob? No offense, but could you pat yourself on the back later? I'm not out of this yet," said Harry as he began to saw the bindings against the rusty point of the magic-nulling iron nail.
"Yes, of course. My apologies."
The ghost folded his arms across his narrow chest and watched closely as Harry worked.
"Incidentally," he said conversationally, as if this were not a dire life and death situation, "When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?"