Pros fic: Brussel Sprouts and Infatuation
Title: Brussel Sprouts and Infatuation
Fandom: The Professionals
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: OFC and the rest of CI5 (third person POV of CI5)
Rating: G
Summary: A very short, third person POV of CI5. Not a Mary Sue in sight. "We all had our favourite." Janice clearly had hers.
Author's Notes: A few folks have been writing third person POVs on the Pros fanfic group, so being the little sheep that I am *grin* I thought that I would have a go too. I was trying for mildly amusing and slightly melancholy. Hmmm. Maybe a bit too ambitious. And if you've read any other of my Pros stuff - this is completely different! Oh, and any similarities to the utterly fantastic story, Stephanie's Secret, by Dinah, are completely accidental.
Big thanks as always to Sue for the beta and invaluable suggestions!
Brussel Sprouts and Infatuation
We each had our favourite. It was hard not to, a whole building full of fit, attractive men and an office full of very appreciative women.
For me, it was Bodie. He would only have to walk past me in the corridor and I would be giggling and blushing, trying not to fall over my own feet in an attempt to look sophisticated.
For Tracey, two desks to my left, it was Doyle's scruffy charms that brightened her day. For Samantha: Murphy. For Colleen, well, she had quite a thing for Jax. Even Mr Cowley - one burst of his fiery Scottish temper and Jean had to take a moment to compose herself. No matter what any of them said, every single woman in the typing pool had their eye on a least one of the men and sometimes not just the one.
A shared nod on the stairs, a smile in passing, would take on epic proportions once the encounter had been rehashed again and again. And if one of them actually asked one of us girls out for a drink; well, let's just say that terrorists could take over the Houses of Parliament and that would be of less importance.
It was the danger, you see. We weren't exactly sure what it was they did all the time; we knew most of it, but there were always things that went on that were above our clearance levels.
But, we knew that they had guns. And fast cars. They were our very own personal James Bonds; James Bonds who could do with a hairbrush now and then and wore jeans so tight they were positively indecent.
Bodie was more often in suits and I do so like a man in a suit.
Sometimes I was ashamed of myself: a woman of my age lusting after these young men. And what would my Bill say if I told him over dinner one night, "Oh, you'll never guess what I did at work today, dear. I imagined myself being propelled into the stationery cupboard by a rather dapper young CI5 agent; ravished quite thoroughly, in fact. How are the brussel sprouts?"
Probably nothing, I mused, he'd be too busy reading the paper to notice I'd said anything.
"Janice?" A voice broke into my thoughts and I looked up to see Betty's cheery smile. "Are you coming?"
"Is it that time already?" I asked, pushing back from the desk for the last time. Now that thought made me pause and Betty must have noticed because she gave my shoulder a squeeze.
"C'mon," she said. "Everybody's waiting. Can't have a party without the party girl."
I pulled on my cardigan, and, with a final sweep of hand across the Formica desk that had been my home for so many years, I followed her towards the meeting room.
The door was closed and Betty waited before it, gesturing for me to go in first.
I sighed and plastered on a smile; I would say goodbye to the few people that had turned up and then head home to Bill. There was dinner to be made after all and a home to keep.
The handle was stiff to turn and I tightened my hold, pushing the door and stepping inside.
A cacophonous cheer roared out from the enormous group of people packed into the room. The girls from the office, cleaners, agents and even the venerable Mr Cowley were applauding my entrance and I fought back the tears that threatened to fall, determined not to embarrass myself in front of all of these lovely people. Party poppers exploded and glasses clinked as all of my friends and co-workers stood under the enormous sign:
'Happy Retirement!'
I blinked back the tears, feeling silly and awkward, almost tempted to beat a hasty retreat - but Betty was behind me, ushering me forwards and I had no choice.
A few steps and I found myself surrounded by people, talking and laughing and patting my back. Someone shoved a glass of whisky into my hand and I took it, sipping carefully, deciding that it was all right, it was just this once.
I don't know what I said, there were so many familiar faces all giving me their best and it was hard to keep track. So, I just chatted and sipped and smiled at everyone, as the room got warmer and slightly more blurred. Someone topped up my glass and I thanked them profusely.
A tap on my arm and I turned, the smile still on my face, and I almost dropped the glass in my hand when I saw Bodie grinning at me, his hand resting on my sleeve.
"We can't stay - got a job on," he said and he gestured to his curly haired partner at his side with his free hand. "We just wanted to say we'll miss you." And then he leant forwards and kissed my cheek.
I felt like a schoolgirl again - all giddy and nervous - and I barely managed a stuttered, 'Thanks,' as I gawked at him. My face must have been scarlet.
Doyle leant in then and he too gave me a peck on the cheek, which was nice, but I have to admit that I was fixated on the sparkling blue eyes and the knowing smirk plastered on the lips of the man in front of me. Bodie was fully aware of the effect he had.
"See you later, love," he said, letting go of my arm and giving it a pat. "Behave yourself." A waggle of eyebrows and then he was turning away, following Doyle to the door.
I let out a soft sigh and turned back to the others, amused to see a whole host of jealous stares all aimed in my direction. I smiled even harder.
And later that night, when Bill asked me how the retirement do went, I answered, "Fine," and touched my fingers to my cheek, before going to the kitchen to make him a nice cup of tea.
Fandom: The Professionals
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: OFC and the rest of CI5 (third person POV of CI5)
Rating: G
Summary: A very short, third person POV of CI5. Not a Mary Sue in sight. "We all had our favourite." Janice clearly had hers.
Author's Notes: A few folks have been writing third person POVs on the Pros fanfic group, so being the little sheep that I am *grin* I thought that I would have a go too. I was trying for mildly amusing and slightly melancholy. Hmmm. Maybe a bit too ambitious. And if you've read any other of my Pros stuff - this is completely different! Oh, and any similarities to the utterly fantastic story, Stephanie's Secret, by Dinah, are completely accidental.
Big thanks as always to Sue for the beta and invaluable suggestions!
Brussel Sprouts and Infatuation
We each had our favourite. It was hard not to, a whole building full of fit, attractive men and an office full of very appreciative women.
For me, it was Bodie. He would only have to walk past me in the corridor and I would be giggling and blushing, trying not to fall over my own feet in an attempt to look sophisticated.
For Tracey, two desks to my left, it was Doyle's scruffy charms that brightened her day. For Samantha: Murphy. For Colleen, well, she had quite a thing for Jax. Even Mr Cowley - one burst of his fiery Scottish temper and Jean had to take a moment to compose herself. No matter what any of them said, every single woman in the typing pool had their eye on a least one of the men and sometimes not just the one.
A shared nod on the stairs, a smile in passing, would take on epic proportions once the encounter had been rehashed again and again. And if one of them actually asked one of us girls out for a drink; well, let's just say that terrorists could take over the Houses of Parliament and that would be of less importance.
It was the danger, you see. We weren't exactly sure what it was they did all the time; we knew most of it, but there were always things that went on that were above our clearance levels.
But, we knew that they had guns. And fast cars. They were our very own personal James Bonds; James Bonds who could do with a hairbrush now and then and wore jeans so tight they were positively indecent.
Bodie was more often in suits and I do so like a man in a suit.
Sometimes I was ashamed of myself: a woman of my age lusting after these young men. And what would my Bill say if I told him over dinner one night, "Oh, you'll never guess what I did at work today, dear. I imagined myself being propelled into the stationery cupboard by a rather dapper young CI5 agent; ravished quite thoroughly, in fact. How are the brussel sprouts?"
Probably nothing, I mused, he'd be too busy reading the paper to notice I'd said anything.
"Janice?" A voice broke into my thoughts and I looked up to see Betty's cheery smile. "Are you coming?"
"Is it that time already?" I asked, pushing back from the desk for the last time. Now that thought made me pause and Betty must have noticed because she gave my shoulder a squeeze.
"C'mon," she said. "Everybody's waiting. Can't have a party without the party girl."
I pulled on my cardigan, and, with a final sweep of hand across the Formica desk that had been my home for so many years, I followed her towards the meeting room.
The door was closed and Betty waited before it, gesturing for me to go in first.
I sighed and plastered on a smile; I would say goodbye to the few people that had turned up and then head home to Bill. There was dinner to be made after all and a home to keep.
The handle was stiff to turn and I tightened my hold, pushing the door and stepping inside.
A cacophonous cheer roared out from the enormous group of people packed into the room. The girls from the office, cleaners, agents and even the venerable Mr Cowley were applauding my entrance and I fought back the tears that threatened to fall, determined not to embarrass myself in front of all of these lovely people. Party poppers exploded and glasses clinked as all of my friends and co-workers stood under the enormous sign:
'Happy Retirement!'
I blinked back the tears, feeling silly and awkward, almost tempted to beat a hasty retreat - but Betty was behind me, ushering me forwards and I had no choice.
A few steps and I found myself surrounded by people, talking and laughing and patting my back. Someone shoved a glass of whisky into my hand and I took it, sipping carefully, deciding that it was all right, it was just this once.
I don't know what I said, there were so many familiar faces all giving me their best and it was hard to keep track. So, I just chatted and sipped and smiled at everyone, as the room got warmer and slightly more blurred. Someone topped up my glass and I thanked them profusely.
A tap on my arm and I turned, the smile still on my face, and I almost dropped the glass in my hand when I saw Bodie grinning at me, his hand resting on my sleeve.
"We can't stay - got a job on," he said and he gestured to his curly haired partner at his side with his free hand. "We just wanted to say we'll miss you." And then he leant forwards and kissed my cheek.
I felt like a schoolgirl again - all giddy and nervous - and I barely managed a stuttered, 'Thanks,' as I gawked at him. My face must have been scarlet.
Doyle leant in then and he too gave me a peck on the cheek, which was nice, but I have to admit that I was fixated on the sparkling blue eyes and the knowing smirk plastered on the lips of the man in front of me. Bodie was fully aware of the effect he had.
"See you later, love," he said, letting go of my arm and giving it a pat. "Behave yourself." A waggle of eyebrows and then he was turning away, following Doyle to the door.
I let out a soft sigh and turned back to the others, amused to see a whole host of jealous stares all aimed in my direction. I smiled even harder.
And later that night, when Bill asked me how the retirement do went, I answered, "Fine," and touched my fingers to my cheek, before going to the kitchen to make him a nice cup of tea.