FIC: Bump in the Night (1/1) The Bletchley Circle
TITLE: Bump in the Night
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Millie/Lucy
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Things are different since she shot a man
DISCLAIMER: The Bletchley Circle and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Stealth Purim gift for inlovewithnight
It’s late when Millie gets home, tired and sore from hours on her feet. She comes in, trying hard not to make any sound, slipping her shoes off in the hallway even though it’s likely to wreak havoc on her nylons. She closes the door behind her and locks it, shrugging off her coat in the dark.
“You don’t have to be quiet.”
She starts at the sound of Lucy’s voice, at any unexpected noise these days. Killing a man has changed her in ways she’s not sure she likes. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” Lucy turns on the small lamp beside her bed. She’s sitting up, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Can’t sleep?”
Lucy shrugs. Millie knows what’s in her own head and she has the ability to forget, to change it to suit her. Lucy doesn’t have that choice. Millie wanted her to stay outside the basement, but Lucy wouldn’t let go of where she’d clung to the back of Millie’s blouse. She can remember the feel Lucy’s fists against her spine almost as keenly as she can the feel of the gun in her hand.
“You shouldn’t lie to me.” Millie goes over to the stove and turns it on then takes the kettle over to the faucet. “Well, you shouldn’t try to lie to me. Because you’re very bad at it.” She gives Lucy a grin and a wink then turns the water off.
“I didn’t lie. I shrugged.” Lucy gets her robe off the end of the bed and tugs it on before slipping out from beneath the covers and moving over to the table. “I should get a job, you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I make enough money to keep us in tea and biscuits.” She gets two cups off the shelf and sets them in front of Lucy. “Besides, it’s not as if there’s a job out there that would use your skills. At least not one any man would let you have. You can do far more good as Susan suggested. Monitoring the papers and looking for new patterns.”
“Susan is the one who spots the patterns. I just sift through data.”
“I don’t think anyone as brilliant as you is allowed to use the phrase ‘just’ in there. You’re a bloody genius.” The kettle whistles and she brings it over to the table, pouring hot water in each of the cups. The tea bags bob and float and then sink to the bottom. They’ve been used twice already, and anything they get from them is going to be weak and not worth drinking. She sets the kettle back off the table and sinks down, sighing in relief. “I hate those shoes.”
“You love those shoes.”
“I love the look of them. I hate the way they feel after more than an hour. Or at least more than an hour of doing something other than dancing.” Millie smiles and stretches her legs out, bumping against Lucy’s. Her stockings slide against Lucy’s bare leg and she watches Lucy shiver, reaching for her tea as if to ward off a chill.
“How was work?”
“Like I said, enough to keep us in tea and biscuits, assuming they don’t ration those completely away.” She doesn’t move her leg, and neither does Lucy. She remembers vividly a night during the war with all the lights out and bombers overhead, all of them huddled in the dark. Lucy had clung to her, sitting on Millie’s lap and her arms around her, both of them breathing the same moist air. Millie had rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. Lucy had whispered that with Millie she wasn’t afraid. Afterwards, when the noises had died and they’d gone back to their room, she’d tucked Lucy in and kissed her forehead, wishing her sweet dreams.
Lucy’s fingers graze lightly on Millie’s knee and she jumps, taken by surprise. Lucy jerks her hand back as if she’d been burned and knocks the table, spilling dirty brown tea-water on the table. Millie reaches for a towel to stop the water as Lucy sets the cup back to rights, a shadow of fear in her eyes. It makes Millie want to find another gun, since the police had confiscated the one she’d used to kill Crowley, and find a dark alley and Harry and introduce them to each other. “You startled me, goose.”
“I’m sorry, Millie.”
“Is all right. You’re not hurt? The water didn’t get you?”
“No. No. I’m all right.” Lucy manages a smile and glances down. Her robe is a bit wet at the hem, but other than that she appears unscathed. “You?”
“Just fine.” She tosses the towel in the sink and puts her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t much in the mood for tea anyway.”
“And it wasn’t as if it was real tea,” Lucy adds, offering another smile. This one is less nervous and more impish and it makes Millie laugh.
“That’s right. Not even close to the real thing.” Millie sighs and reaches up, scratching at the back of her neck. Lucy shakes her head and reaches for Millie’s hand, tugging her over to the bed. Millie sits on the edge, closing her eyes and feeling Lucy crawl along the mattress on her knees until she’s behind Millie, carefully working the pins out of her hair. She hears the soft ‘plink’ of them as they land in the dish, but her concentration is focused on Lucy’s fingers running through the strands as they come free.
When she’s finished with the pins, Lucy leans into Millie and sets the dish on the bedside table. When she settles back, her hands are on Millie’s shoulders, her thumbs settled on the slope of her neck. “Millie?”
“Yes?” She doesn’t recognize her own voice, the breathless anticipation in it. She wants to reprimand herself, because Lucy’s done this for her before several times, but tonight feels different. It feels like there are blackout curtains and bombers overhead, sirens warning destruction in the distance. When Lucy doesn’t say anything, she lets out the breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Yes, Lucy?”
“I do have bad dreams.”
“I know.”
“I get scared. Sometimes of real things. Sometimes of things that can’t be real. But the real things are scarier. Like Harry. Like Crowley.” Her voice is soft, like a child’s in so many ways. “I don’t want to be afraid.”
“You don’t need to be. I’ll protect you.” She turns slightly and looks over her shoulder. Lucy’s looking at her, but Millie imagines she’s seeing something else. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lucy.” She reaches up and brushes her thumb along Lucy’s jaw. “I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“You should.” Millie nods, moving her hand so her palm is cupping Lucy’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek. “I don’t lie about important things.”
“And I’m important?”
Millie nods again. She can’t look away from Lucy’s wide, trusting eyes. “I’ll say it and you’ll remember it forever, won’t you?”
“No. Not forever.” Lucy swallows hard and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Millie’s mouth. Millie’s chest tightens and she’s afraid to move and break the spell. Lucy kisses her again, no harder, but longer, letting it linger until they’re sharing the same breath again. “But long enough.”
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Millie/Lucy
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Things are different since she shot a man
DISCLAIMER: The Bletchley Circle and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Stealth Purim gift for inlovewithnight
It’s late when Millie gets home, tired and sore from hours on her feet. She comes in, trying hard not to make any sound, slipping her shoes off in the hallway even though it’s likely to wreak havoc on her nylons. She closes the door behind her and locks it, shrugging off her coat in the dark.
“You don’t have to be quiet.”
She starts at the sound of Lucy’s voice, at any unexpected noise these days. Killing a man has changed her in ways she’s not sure she likes. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” Lucy turns on the small lamp beside her bed. She’s sitting up, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Can’t sleep?”
Lucy shrugs. Millie knows what’s in her own head and she has the ability to forget, to change it to suit her. Lucy doesn’t have that choice. Millie wanted her to stay outside the basement, but Lucy wouldn’t let go of where she’d clung to the back of Millie’s blouse. She can remember the feel Lucy’s fists against her spine almost as keenly as she can the feel of the gun in her hand.
“You shouldn’t lie to me.” Millie goes over to the stove and turns it on then takes the kettle over to the faucet. “Well, you shouldn’t try to lie to me. Because you’re very bad at it.” She gives Lucy a grin and a wink then turns the water off.
“I didn’t lie. I shrugged.” Lucy gets her robe off the end of the bed and tugs it on before slipping out from beneath the covers and moving over to the table. “I should get a job, you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I make enough money to keep us in tea and biscuits.” She gets two cups off the shelf and sets them in front of Lucy. “Besides, it’s not as if there’s a job out there that would use your skills. At least not one any man would let you have. You can do far more good as Susan suggested. Monitoring the papers and looking for new patterns.”
“Susan is the one who spots the patterns. I just sift through data.”
“I don’t think anyone as brilliant as you is allowed to use the phrase ‘just’ in there. You’re a bloody genius.” The kettle whistles and she brings it over to the table, pouring hot water in each of the cups. The tea bags bob and float and then sink to the bottom. They’ve been used twice already, and anything they get from them is going to be weak and not worth drinking. She sets the kettle back off the table and sinks down, sighing in relief. “I hate those shoes.”
“You love those shoes.”
“I love the look of them. I hate the way they feel after more than an hour. Or at least more than an hour of doing something other than dancing.” Millie smiles and stretches her legs out, bumping against Lucy’s. Her stockings slide against Lucy’s bare leg and she watches Lucy shiver, reaching for her tea as if to ward off a chill.
“How was work?”
“Like I said, enough to keep us in tea and biscuits, assuming they don’t ration those completely away.” She doesn’t move her leg, and neither does Lucy. She remembers vividly a night during the war with all the lights out and bombers overhead, all of them huddled in the dark. Lucy had clung to her, sitting on Millie’s lap and her arms around her, both of them breathing the same moist air. Millie had rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. Lucy had whispered that with Millie she wasn’t afraid. Afterwards, when the noises had died and they’d gone back to their room, she’d tucked Lucy in and kissed her forehead, wishing her sweet dreams.
Lucy’s fingers graze lightly on Millie’s knee and she jumps, taken by surprise. Lucy jerks her hand back as if she’d been burned and knocks the table, spilling dirty brown tea-water on the table. Millie reaches for a towel to stop the water as Lucy sets the cup back to rights, a shadow of fear in her eyes. It makes Millie want to find another gun, since the police had confiscated the one she’d used to kill Crowley, and find a dark alley and Harry and introduce them to each other. “You startled me, goose.”
“I’m sorry, Millie.”
“Is all right. You’re not hurt? The water didn’t get you?”
“No. No. I’m all right.” Lucy manages a smile and glances down. Her robe is a bit wet at the hem, but other than that she appears unscathed. “You?”
“Just fine.” She tosses the towel in the sink and puts her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t much in the mood for tea anyway.”
“And it wasn’t as if it was real tea,” Lucy adds, offering another smile. This one is less nervous and more impish and it makes Millie laugh.
“That’s right. Not even close to the real thing.” Millie sighs and reaches up, scratching at the back of her neck. Lucy shakes her head and reaches for Millie’s hand, tugging her over to the bed. Millie sits on the edge, closing her eyes and feeling Lucy crawl along the mattress on her knees until she’s behind Millie, carefully working the pins out of her hair. She hears the soft ‘plink’ of them as they land in the dish, but her concentration is focused on Lucy’s fingers running through the strands as they come free.
When she’s finished with the pins, Lucy leans into Millie and sets the dish on the bedside table. When she settles back, her hands are on Millie’s shoulders, her thumbs settled on the slope of her neck. “Millie?”
“Yes?” She doesn’t recognize her own voice, the breathless anticipation in it. She wants to reprimand herself, because Lucy’s done this for her before several times, but tonight feels different. It feels like there are blackout curtains and bombers overhead, sirens warning destruction in the distance. When Lucy doesn’t say anything, she lets out the breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Yes, Lucy?”
“I do have bad dreams.”
“I know.”
“I get scared. Sometimes of real things. Sometimes of things that can’t be real. But the real things are scarier. Like Harry. Like Crowley.” Her voice is soft, like a child’s in so many ways. “I don’t want to be afraid.”
“You don’t need to be. I’ll protect you.” She turns slightly and looks over her shoulder. Lucy’s looking at her, but Millie imagines she’s seeing something else. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lucy.” She reaches up and brushes her thumb along Lucy’s jaw. “I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“You should.” Millie nods, moving her hand so her palm is cupping Lucy’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek. “I don’t lie about important things.”
“And I’m important?”
Millie nods again. She can’t look away from Lucy’s wide, trusting eyes. “I’ll say it and you’ll remember it forever, won’t you?”
“No. Not forever.” Lucy swallows hard and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Millie’s mouth. Millie’s chest tightens and she’s afraid to move and break the spell. Lucy kisses her again, no harder, but longer, letting it linger until they’re sharing the same breath again. “But long enough.”