Situations and Circumstances Chapter One
Title: Situations and Circumstances
Author:
Fandom: Covert Affairs
Rating: K
Warnings: N/A
Pairings (if applicable) Annie/Auggie
Character(s) (if applicable) Annie, Auggie,
Summary: That's all our life is, you know, the situations an circumstances we find ourselves in. "100 Situations" Challenge. 8/29 "Disease": "Annie, I'm dying," he croaked out. He lied upon the coach, his face ghostly pale, and fumbled around for his tea
Annie sped through the streets of Georgetown with little concern for the current speed limit. It was about eight minutes to Dupont Circle, where Auggie lived, but she was determined to make it in four.
She had tried calling Auggie five times, with all five times going directly to voicemail. It was right after the blind date that her sister had set her on - she should really stop trusting her sister when it came to men - and needed someone to rant to.
After the last time of him not picking up, she got the sick feeling in her gut. It wasn't the first time she had that feeling when it came to Auggie. The first time had been when he had run away with Tash, and there was no telling why he wasn't answering his phone this time.
She looked up when she realized she had parked her blood-red car. She was in front of Auggie's apartment. Making her way to the door, she fumbled for the key Auggie had given her a couple months back.
Stepping into his abode, she looked around for any signs that trouble had been here recently. Finding none, she called out, "Auggie!"
A groan alerted her to a person on the couch. She leaned up against the wall and smirked, "Auggie, why didn't you pick up your phone?"
"Annie, I'm dying," he croaked out. He lied upon the coach, his face ghostly pale, and fumbled around for his tea.
"Auggie, you are not dying," Annie responded, pulling up his feet to make room for her to sit. She took one of the few pillows he had, and placing it on her lap, pulled his feet back.
"I am too!" he whined, running his fingers through his already tousled hair, "I'm sore everywhere, exhausted, and freezing cold, even though it's July in DC."
"Auggie," she spoke softly, "You have the flu. Everyone gets it sometime or another, and we all have lived."
Despite her response, he shook his head. "I don't get the flu. None of the Andersons do. We're, like, immune."
"Auggie, you can't be immune to flues," she gently reminded him.
"Can too," he muttered, "My mom always got sick before she married, and afterwards, she was a hundred percent healthy. Explain that," he challenged with a smirk.
She got up from her position on the couch, ignoring his loud childlike whine, and went to the other side of the couch.
Brushing his hair aside, she placed the back of her slender hand on his forehead.
"Yup," she murmured, "You've got a fever, Aug."
"A fever? Are you sure that's not just my migraine seeping out through my head?" he groaned.
She lowered her voice as to not further his pain, "Why didn't you tell me you had a migraine?"
He stiffened slightly at the combination of her cool fingers, and her hot breath. "I don't know," he murmured sleepily, "But that feels nice," and closed his eyes dreamily.
"Here," she said and, shaking a pair of pills out of the bottle that was in her purse, handed them to him, along with his tea. "Ibuprofen. It should help alleviate the pain."
He sat up slightly and cringed as the sudden movement aggravated his pain, but obliged and swallowed the pills with a sip of the chamomile tea.
"Better?" she murmured, her slender fingers drifting lazily through his dark locks.
A sigh accidentally escaped his lips, "No, not yet. But I will be. I don't think I'm dying anymore," he chuckled breathlessly.
"Well, that's a relief," she murmured. A moment of silence passed, and then she whispered to him.
"Think you can make it to the bed?"
"Annie Walker, are you trying to seduce me?" he smirked, "Cause, honestly, I hate to think that all the time I spent thinking up the ways to woo you were for nothing."
She chuckled, despite herself, and clutching the offered hand, pulled him up.
Leaning on Annie, he stumbled all the way to the bedroom. Falling backwards on the bed he sighed in bliss. Pulling the covers over him, Annie perched herself on the edge of his bed, and started to run her fingers through his hair.
"Annie, do you have a hair fetish?" he asked, closing his eyes regardless, "Not that I . . . mind."
"Good night, Auggie," she murmured, kissing his forehead.
She walked away from him, and he stifled his disappointment when he responded with a "Night, Annie."
His eyes shot open as he felt a weight on the other side. Scooting over to him, Annie lied next to him in the bed.
"Now, I do think you're trying to seduce me," he murmured. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer to him, ignoring her surprised gasp.
"I might get you infected," he warned her.
"That's okay," she murmured, "Maybe then well have time for all those ideas you have on how to woo me."
Author:
Fandom: Covert Affairs
Rating: K
Warnings: N/A
Pairings (if applicable) Annie/Auggie
Character(s) (if applicable) Annie, Auggie,
Summary: That's all our life is, you know, the situations an circumstances we find ourselves in. "100 Situations" Challenge. 8/29 "Disease": "Annie, I'm dying," he croaked out. He lied upon the coach, his face ghostly pale, and fumbled around for his tea
Annie sped through the streets of Georgetown with little concern for the current speed limit. It was about eight minutes to Dupont Circle, where Auggie lived, but she was determined to make it in four.
She had tried calling Auggie five times, with all five times going directly to voicemail. It was right after the blind date that her sister had set her on - she should really stop trusting her sister when it came to men - and needed someone to rant to.
After the last time of him not picking up, she got the sick feeling in her gut. It wasn't the first time she had that feeling when it came to Auggie. The first time had been when he had run away with Tash, and there was no telling why he wasn't answering his phone this time.
She looked up when she realized she had parked her blood-red car. She was in front of Auggie's apartment. Making her way to the door, she fumbled for the key Auggie had given her a couple months back.
Stepping into his abode, she looked around for any signs that trouble had been here recently. Finding none, she called out, "Auggie!"
A groan alerted her to a person on the couch. She leaned up against the wall and smirked, "Auggie, why didn't you pick up your phone?"
"Annie, I'm dying," he croaked out. He lied upon the coach, his face ghostly pale, and fumbled around for his tea.
"Auggie, you are not dying," Annie responded, pulling up his feet to make room for her to sit. She took one of the few pillows he had, and placing it on her lap, pulled his feet back.
"I am too!" he whined, running his fingers through his already tousled hair, "I'm sore everywhere, exhausted, and freezing cold, even though it's July in DC."
"Auggie," she spoke softly, "You have the flu. Everyone gets it sometime or another, and we all have lived."
Despite her response, he shook his head. "I don't get the flu. None of the Andersons do. We're, like, immune."
"Auggie, you can't be immune to flues," she gently reminded him.
"Can too," he muttered, "My mom always got sick before she married, and afterwards, she was a hundred percent healthy. Explain that," he challenged with a smirk.
She got up from her position on the couch, ignoring his loud childlike whine, and went to the other side of the couch.
Brushing his hair aside, she placed the back of her slender hand on his forehead.
"Yup," she murmured, "You've got a fever, Aug."
"A fever? Are you sure that's not just my migraine seeping out through my head?" he groaned.
She lowered her voice as to not further his pain, "Why didn't you tell me you had a migraine?"
He stiffened slightly at the combination of her cool fingers, and her hot breath. "I don't know," he murmured sleepily, "But that feels nice," and closed his eyes dreamily.
"Here," she said and, shaking a pair of pills out of the bottle that was in her purse, handed them to him, along with his tea. "Ibuprofen. It should help alleviate the pain."
He sat up slightly and cringed as the sudden movement aggravated his pain, but obliged and swallowed the pills with a sip of the chamomile tea.
"Better?" she murmured, her slender fingers drifting lazily through his dark locks.
A sigh accidentally escaped his lips, "No, not yet. But I will be. I don't think I'm dying anymore," he chuckled breathlessly.
"Well, that's a relief," she murmured. A moment of silence passed, and then she whispered to him.
"Think you can make it to the bed?"
"Annie Walker, are you trying to seduce me?" he smirked, "Cause, honestly, I hate to think that all the time I spent thinking up the ways to woo you were for nothing."
She chuckled, despite herself, and clutching the offered hand, pulled him up.
Leaning on Annie, he stumbled all the way to the bedroom. Falling backwards on the bed he sighed in bliss. Pulling the covers over him, Annie perched herself on the edge of his bed, and started to run her fingers through his hair.
"Annie, do you have a hair fetish?" he asked, closing his eyes regardless, "Not that I . . . mind."
"Good night, Auggie," she murmured, kissing his forehead.
She walked away from him, and he stifled his disappointment when he responded with a "Night, Annie."
His eyes shot open as he felt a weight on the other side. Scooting over to him, Annie lied next to him in the bed.
"Now, I do think you're trying to seduce me," he murmured. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer to him, ignoring her surprised gasp.
"I might get you infected," he warned her.
"That's okay," she murmured, "Maybe then well have time for all those ideas you have on how to woo me."