Angel: Translation Was Never Possible (Fred/Lilah)
For mosca, who requested an Angel ficlet with Fred/Lilah.
Title: Translation Was Never Possible
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Fred/Lilah
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Everything that could once be said in them has ceased to exist.
Notes: Set during early S5
Fred first became aware of Lilah's presence in the office when she chuckled behind her and moaned, "Brains." Lilah drew the vowels out, and Fred was spinning around in her chair before Lilah finished hissing the s.
"You're not a zombie," Fred announced.
Lilah flipped the bottom of her blouse up, exposing the vicious, dark red of her wound. "Longinus might say otherwise."
Fred rolled her eyes. "You're not Jesus, either."
"Really?" Lilah slid onto Fred's desk, dislodging a week's worth of data on flying snails. "That's not what you said--"
"I didn't--" Fred interrupted, then blushed. "I didn't mean that."
Lilah smiled, shifted on the desk. A manila folder hit the floor, followed by a slow flutter of pie charts. "You should go lock the door," she murmured, hooking a finger into one of the buttonholes of Fred's lab coat. She tugged once, and let go at Fred's nod.
Fred circled around her desk, never turning her back to Lilah as she sauntered backwards. She groped behind her until the door hit her palm, and she pushed back until the latch clicked.
Lilah braced her arms against the desk, set one heel against the edge. She looked over her shoulder at Fred.
"I should be working," Fred finally protested.
"Maybe this is part of my evil plan," Lilah replied. She shrugged out of her blouse, and Fred swallowed back the rest of her guilt.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Margaret Atwood's Marsh Languages. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Title: Translation Was Never Possible
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Fred/Lilah
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Everything that could once be said in them has ceased to exist.
Notes: Set during early S5
Fred first became aware of Lilah's presence in the office when she chuckled behind her and moaned, "Brains." Lilah drew the vowels out, and Fred was spinning around in her chair before Lilah finished hissing the s.
"You're not a zombie," Fred announced.
Lilah flipped the bottom of her blouse up, exposing the vicious, dark red of her wound. "Longinus might say otherwise."
Fred rolled her eyes. "You're not Jesus, either."
"Really?" Lilah slid onto Fred's desk, dislodging a week's worth of data on flying snails. "That's not what you said--"
"I didn't--" Fred interrupted, then blushed. "I didn't mean that."
Lilah smiled, shifted on the desk. A manila folder hit the floor, followed by a slow flutter of pie charts. "You should go lock the door," she murmured, hooking a finger into one of the buttonholes of Fred's lab coat. She tugged once, and let go at Fred's nod.
Fred circled around her desk, never turning her back to Lilah as she sauntered backwards. She groped behind her until the door hit her palm, and she pushed back until the latch clicked.
Lilah braced her arms against the desk, set one heel against the edge. She looked over her shoulder at Fred.
"I should be working," Fred finally protested.
"Maybe this is part of my evil plan," Lilah replied. She shrugged out of her blouse, and Fred swallowed back the rest of her guilt.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Margaret Atwood's Marsh Languages. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.