Alias fic: A Murder-free Dinner; PG-13
Title: A Murder-Free Dinner
Rating: PG-13
Words: 650
Disclaimer: I don't own Alias.
Characters: Jack Bristow, Irina Derevko
Summary: like a date, but with more murder
Notes: Written for The Shiny Happy Ficathon.
The mood is very romantic - the low lights, the soft sound of the violins in the background, the two of them sitting beside each other, the wine - but as with everything about them, it is not what it seems.
She pours the wine for him. He swirls the wine in the glass before smelling it and taking a sip. It tastes excellent.
“If we were in a different era of our lives, I would have assumed the wine will be laced with poison.” He says, deadpan.
“Oh, please.” She replies with a scoff as she lifts her glass to her lips, “Not poison.”
“Sodium pentothal then?”
A smile appears on her face, the one that tells him not to bother with waiting for an answer. And for the first time in his life (this second life), he doesn’t care if he doesn’t get answers.
The waiter arrives with their meal. They look at each other for a second before they started eating.
“I didn’t expect that our first outing as a newly resurrected couple would be a simple reconnaissance operation.” She says, “Though I did expect something a little bit more… exciting.”
He leans towards her so that she’ll be the only one who will be able to hear him, “I’m thinking it’s best if we stop including murders during our rendezvous.”
She pouts, “It wouldn’t be half as fun.” She states and then adds, “Besides, if you think about it, we’re doing the world a favor by killing off bad, useless people.”
“We’re also supposed to be dead.”
“Yes. And so…?” she asks, slicing her food with her knife with smooth precision.
“And we promised Kendall that we’ll behave and that we’ll lay low on this one.”
She turns to look at him and gives him a look, “Even Kendall knows you don’t listen to him.”
“I listen to Kendall.” He replies and takes a bit of the steak she sliced from her plate, “Sometimes.” Only when he gets something in return.
He knows that she knows there’s something he’s not telling her. But she lets it go, knowing full well that she’ll get his answers from him, probably later, in bed.
The dinner is exquisite but what he enjoyed the most is that he can openly watch her. It wouldn’t seem strange to everybody in the restaurant - to them, they’re an old married couple having a romantic dinner - but it is strange for them. For the first time, he is sure that she doesn’t have an ulterior motive for anything. For the first time, they can actually act like an old married couple (albeit with a violent history and are supposed to be dead).
For the first time since he found out the truth about her, he isn’t afraid of eating food she’s offers him.
“It was a barbiturate.” She says after dinner and they were walking along the side street. Their arms are linked together; they’re just another pair having a late-night stroll. They don’t look like they’re following their target.
He glances at her with a puzzled expression. She explains, “The last time you declined the wine, I put a barbiturate in it…” she trails off as she shrugs her shoulders, “I’m not going to do that again to you, if you’re worried about it.”
“That’s good to know.” He says dryly. He feels her put a hand on his arm.
“Of course, it wasn’t a lethal dose…”
“Irina. It’s fine.”
She glances at him and smiles, “Good.”
He smiles back at her. He can get used to this- free from stress and from Rambaldi, with Kendall popping in once in a while asking for minute favors like reconnaissance operations, and murder-free dinners. It might take her a while to wrap her head around it, but she’s Irina Derevko.
“Because come to think of it, putting barbiturates in a bottle of good wine is just wasteful.”
Rating: PG-13
Words: 650
Disclaimer: I don't own Alias.
Characters: Jack Bristow, Irina Derevko
Summary: like a date, but with more murder
Notes: Written for The Shiny Happy Ficathon.
The mood is very romantic - the low lights, the soft sound of the violins in the background, the two of them sitting beside each other, the wine - but as with everything about them, it is not what it seems.
She pours the wine for him. He swirls the wine in the glass before smelling it and taking a sip. It tastes excellent.
“If we were in a different era of our lives, I would have assumed the wine will be laced with poison.” He says, deadpan.
“Oh, please.” She replies with a scoff as she lifts her glass to her lips, “Not poison.”
“Sodium pentothal then?”
A smile appears on her face, the one that tells him not to bother with waiting for an answer. And for the first time in his life (this second life), he doesn’t care if he doesn’t get answers.
The waiter arrives with their meal. They look at each other for a second before they started eating.
“I didn’t expect that our first outing as a newly resurrected couple would be a simple reconnaissance operation.” She says, “Though I did expect something a little bit more… exciting.”
He leans towards her so that she’ll be the only one who will be able to hear him, “I’m thinking it’s best if we stop including murders during our rendezvous.”
She pouts, “It wouldn’t be half as fun.” She states and then adds, “Besides, if you think about it, we’re doing the world a favor by killing off bad, useless people.”
“We’re also supposed to be dead.”
“Yes. And so…?” she asks, slicing her food with her knife with smooth precision.
“And we promised Kendall that we’ll behave and that we’ll lay low on this one.”
She turns to look at him and gives him a look, “Even Kendall knows you don’t listen to him.”
“I listen to Kendall.” He replies and takes a bit of the steak she sliced from her plate, “Sometimes.” Only when he gets something in return.
He knows that she knows there’s something he’s not telling her. But she lets it go, knowing full well that she’ll get his answers from him, probably later, in bed.
The dinner is exquisite but what he enjoyed the most is that he can openly watch her. It wouldn’t seem strange to everybody in the restaurant - to them, they’re an old married couple having a romantic dinner - but it is strange for them. For the first time, he is sure that she doesn’t have an ulterior motive for anything. For the first time, they can actually act like an old married couple (albeit with a violent history and are supposed to be dead).
For the first time since he found out the truth about her, he isn’t afraid of eating food she’s offers him.
“It was a barbiturate.” She says after dinner and they were walking along the side street. Their arms are linked together; they’re just another pair having a late-night stroll. They don’t look like they’re following their target.
He glances at her with a puzzled expression. She explains, “The last time you declined the wine, I put a barbiturate in it…” she trails off as she shrugs her shoulders, “I’m not going to do that again to you, if you’re worried about it.”
“That’s good to know.” He says dryly. He feels her put a hand on his arm.
“Of course, it wasn’t a lethal dose…”
“Irina. It’s fine.”
She glances at him and smiles, “Good.”
He smiles back at her. He can get used to this- free from stress and from Rambaldi, with Kendall popping in once in a while asking for minute favors like reconnaissance operations, and murder-free dinners. It might take her a while to wrap her head around it, but she’s Irina Derevko.
“Because come to think of it, putting barbiturates in a bottle of good wine is just wasteful.”