(no subject)
Fandom: CSI (Las Vegas)
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Challenge: 78 - Surrender
Rating: PG13?
Word Count: 231
Title:
Ultimatum
“Hey, uh, Catherine?”
She looks up from her desk, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah?”
“You wanna get some food? Maybe hit the diner down the street?”
Her eyes slide past me, and back again. Her mouth quirks.
“Exactly what were you planning on eating?”
Cocky. Bitch.
I don’t even try to hide my irritation.
“We need to talk.”
“Ah.”
She puts down her pen.
***
In the diner, she orders a club sandwich and salad.
“Smoked platter with fries. Extra pickles,” I tell the waiter. “And a big glass of water.”
“Soda water for me,” Catherine finishes.
When he walks away, she looks at me.
“We need to talk?”
“You remember what happened on Thursday night?”
She smirks.
“Hard to forget.”
“Yeah. Well. Greg… remembers it too.”
Her smile drops.
“He saw us…”
“Yeah. He told me about it. He thought we were making out.”
“Ah.”
The waiter brings our drinks, and we sip them, avoiding each others’ eyes. This had to happen, sooner or later.
“The way I see it,” I begin, “is that we’ve got two options. We either take this to the next level or… we just give it up.”
Too much, or not enough. She looks at me, not liking our choices any more than I do.
“Or,” she suggests, lifting her eyebrows, “we take it somewhere else.”
I smile into my glass.
I was hoping she’d suggest that.
*****
Fandom: Discworld, Monstrous Regiment
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Challenge: 78 - Surrender
Word Count: 127
Rating: PG (mentions of battle, wounded soldiers).
Title:
Bargaining
Once upon a time, I thought there was freedom in surrender.
I still do, at times. Yielding to her mouth, or her touch, I can let myself go, at least a little.
But… there are other types of surrender: The fluttering of a white rag on the wind.
We had to bargain, to get our wounded back.
She was among them, this time, the soldiers herded into enemy cells. We traded three men to get her back.
We got a bargain.
She’d needed a surgeon when she got back. Most of them did.
I sit by her bedside, absently stroking her sweat-dampened hair. They gave her something to make her sleep, but it should have worn off by now.
“Don’t give up,” I murmur. “Don’t give up.”
*****
Well? What do you think?
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Challenge: 78 - Surrender
Rating: PG13?
Word Count: 231
Title:
Ultimatum
“Hey, uh, Catherine?”
She looks up from her desk, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah?”
“You wanna get some food? Maybe hit the diner down the street?”
Her eyes slide past me, and back again. Her mouth quirks.
“Exactly what were you planning on eating?”
Cocky. Bitch.
I don’t even try to hide my irritation.
“We need to talk.”
“Ah.”
She puts down her pen.
***
In the diner, she orders a club sandwich and salad.
“Smoked platter with fries. Extra pickles,” I tell the waiter. “And a big glass of water.”
“Soda water for me,” Catherine finishes.
When he walks away, she looks at me.
“We need to talk?”
“You remember what happened on Thursday night?”
She smirks.
“Hard to forget.”
“Yeah. Well. Greg… remembers it too.”
Her smile drops.
“He saw us…”
“Yeah. He told me about it. He thought we were making out.”
“Ah.”
The waiter brings our drinks, and we sip them, avoiding each others’ eyes. This had to happen, sooner or later.
“The way I see it,” I begin, “is that we’ve got two options. We either take this to the next level or… we just give it up.”
Too much, or not enough. She looks at me, not liking our choices any more than I do.
“Or,” she suggests, lifting her eyebrows, “we take it somewhere else.”
I smile into my glass.
I was hoping she’d suggest that.
*****
Fandom: Discworld, Monstrous Regiment
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Challenge: 78 - Surrender
Word Count: 127
Rating: PG (mentions of battle, wounded soldiers).
Title:
Bargaining
Once upon a time, I thought there was freedom in surrender.
I still do, at times. Yielding to her mouth, or her touch, I can let myself go, at least a little.
But… there are other types of surrender: The fluttering of a white rag on the wind.
We had to bargain, to get our wounded back.
She was among them, this time, the soldiers herded into enemy cells. We traded three men to get her back.
We got a bargain.
She’d needed a surgeon when she got back. Most of them did.
I sit by her bedside, absently stroking her sweat-dampened hair. They gave her something to make her sleep, but it should have worn off by now.
“Don’t give up,” I murmur. “Don’t give up.”
*****
Well? What do you think?