Couple of drabbles and a bit more
Here are some random things I wrote awhile back for various things. I'm feeling very melancholy for Allan right now. Hopefully if my last post made anyone sad, these will make up for that.
Disclaimer: I don't own Allan or anyone else, they would have fared better if I did. Tiger Aspect and BBC own.
Title: Believe Me
Rating: G
Characters: Allan, Guy, the Gang
Maybe slight spoiler for 3x12
A/N: written for the Rewrite S3 ficathon, cross-posted to TMR ages ago, it really belongs here.
“You believe me, Guy?” Allan pleaded.
Gisborne shrugged. Then he spoke. “It sounds like something Isabella would do.” His eyes met Robin’s. “To divide us.”
Robin hesitated, undecided. He wanted to trust Allan. But the past… Finally he sighed and said, “John, take him with you. Keep an eye on him.” John nodded slowly.
Robin turned back to Allan. “If you’ve betrayed us, Allan a Dale, you will deal with me. Understand?” His look was fierce.
Allan nodded quickly, relieved. “Yeah. Course. Don’t worry. I’m with you.”
Robin shifted his attention to Guy and Much. “We go to the tunnel.”
Title: Good At This
Characters: Allan
Word Count: 100
Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Prompt: Allan: Five-fingered discount
A/N: written for drabblefest
Bright blue eyes scanned the marketplace. No one was paying him any mind. A small smile played over Allan A Dale’s mouth. This was going to be so simple.
Easy does it now, he thought. This ain’t the first time, so keep your head.
He sidled up to a small table loaded down with bread and cheese. One hand slipped out from under his ratty cloak. In an instant, a loaf of bread had disappeared. Another second and a small hunk of cheese vanished into the folds of his mantle.
Allan grinned as he sauntered away. Effortless, really. Just effortless.
Title: One Cold Night
Characters: Guy/Allan
Word Count: 120
Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Prompt: Guy/Allan: accident
A/N: another for drabblefest
A snowstorm howled outside Locksley. It had been going on for days now. Guy didn’t think he would ever be warm again.
“Allan, I’m starving!” He shouted. “Where is the soup you promised?”
Allan’s voice drifted from the kitchens. “Yeah, yeah, coming! Don’t get in a twist.” He backed into the room, carrying two large steaming bowls of soup. The smell was heavenly.
A particularly loud gust of wind crashed against the house, blowing one of the shuttered windows open. Allan started, losing his grip on one of the bowls. In slow motion, he saw the boiling hot soup spray directly onto Guy’s lap. He heard the man hiss in pain.
“Aw, God, Guy, I’m sorry. It was an accident.”