ficlet: paris in the springtime (sarah/sark)
Fandoms: Alias & Chuck
Author: headnodic
Characters/Pairings: Sark, Sarah (tinges of Chuck/Sarah)
Rating: PGish
Word Count: 334
Prompt: written for choco_cherries week 32 (prompt: window)
Note: Could be spoilery for recent Chuck episodes. Sark is timeless -- from nowhere specific in Alias canon.
Across from her sits a cold, hard man with gun metal gray thoughts and blood red hopes. The game is tenuous but they both smile, snakes beneath attractive blonde faces.
"Wine, Agent Walker?" he asks with careful hands on the chilling bottle. They're almost as careful as his gently clipped accent.
Bright poppies beneath the Eiffel Tower and lovers walking bridges like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie.
Paris is always perfect this time of year. She knows he doesn't see it the way she does. She can tell by his narrow focus on her face that whatever he might seem, he is completely about the business at hand. The palpable romance and promise in the air is lost on him as they sit across a wrought iron table at the sidewalk café. It's the mission and nothing else. And so it should be for her because the window of opportunity could close.
That perfect cup of coffee on the room service tray shattering as she reached for the ringing cell phone beside.
"Business, Mr. Sark," she responds, but her fingers slide her glass toward him the way she might unwillingly concede the gun strapped to her inner thigh beneath her sundress.
He doesn't answer her until both glasses are filled with a local red wine of good vintage and he's leaning back to appraise her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Windows to a corrupted soul, dark and glittering maliciously. The hairs on her arms prickle; she raises an eyebrow.
"Eliminate the target and Mr. Bartowski is all yours." A photo pushed toward her; a pretty brunette, dimpled and seemingly harmless.
Eve Shaw smiling and blowing kisses
Tears threaten and her resolve wavers. A month ago this might have been nothing but what she had to do. Part of the job. Now she wondered if this woman had children, a husband, people who loved her.
Chuck smiling in the early morning light from across the pillows.
"What's her name?"
Author: headnodic
Characters/Pairings: Sark, Sarah (tinges of Chuck/Sarah)
Rating: PGish
Word Count: 334
Prompt: written for choco_cherries week 32 (prompt: window)
Note: Could be spoilery for recent Chuck episodes. Sark is timeless -- from nowhere specific in Alias canon.
Across from her sits a cold, hard man with gun metal gray thoughts and blood red hopes. The game is tenuous but they both smile, snakes beneath attractive blonde faces.
"Wine, Agent Walker?" he asks with careful hands on the chilling bottle. They're almost as careful as his gently clipped accent.
Bright poppies beneath the Eiffel Tower and lovers walking bridges like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie.
Paris is always perfect this time of year. She knows he doesn't see it the way she does. She can tell by his narrow focus on her face that whatever he might seem, he is completely about the business at hand. The palpable romance and promise in the air is lost on him as they sit across a wrought iron table at the sidewalk café. It's the mission and nothing else. And so it should be for her because the window of opportunity could close.
That perfect cup of coffee on the room service tray shattering as she reached for the ringing cell phone beside.
"Business, Mr. Sark," she responds, but her fingers slide her glass toward him the way she might unwillingly concede the gun strapped to her inner thigh beneath her sundress.
He doesn't answer her until both glasses are filled with a local red wine of good vintage and he's leaning back to appraise her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Windows to a corrupted soul, dark and glittering maliciously. The hairs on her arms prickle; she raises an eyebrow.
"Eliminate the target and Mr. Bartowski is all yours." A photo pushed toward her; a pretty brunette, dimpled and seemingly harmless.
Eve Shaw smiling and blowing kisses
Tears threaten and her resolve wavers. A month ago this might have been nothing but what she had to do. Part of the job. Now she wondered if this woman had children, a husband, people who loved her.
Chuck smiling in the early morning light from across the pillows.
"What's her name?"