Mr. Sheppard
Title: Mr. Sheppard
Pairing: Carson/John
Genre: preslash
Word Count: 650
Rating: PG
For the West Wing Title Challenge and the prompt Red for au100
AN: Inspired by a small incident I had today :) Many thanks to severusslave for the quick beta :)
The red square call button was glowing mockingly. For the tenth time in the last minute Carson pressed it, impatiently tapping with his right foot. He had considered taking the stairs, but seven levels was a bit too much and he didn't want to arrive at the meeting that was about to decide the fate of his family business gasping for air. He did the only thing he could do: wait.
After a few seconds, the button stopped glowing and Carson pressed it immediately. It wasn't that he wanted to get to the meeting - he would have done anything in the world to avoid it actually, but he had no choice. The small bookstore his family had had for the past fifty years was about to be bought by some huge company that had never sold a book.
His legal counselor, a man in his sixties who never talked about legal matters when they met, had said the company wanted the building, or better said, the land on which it was built. He also said they had no choice than to sell, mentioning something about corporation lawyers and trials and a lot of things Carson didn't want to think about.
The red button continued glowing, but there was no sound to suggest the elevator was descending. He was beginning to worry someone from security might walk by and find his presence there suspicious. Luckily enough, the elevator was in a private area and he didn't have the entire population of Glasgow walking behind him as he stared at the elevator doors.
"Come on," he muttered, pressing the button one more time.
He still didn't know what he was going to tell the CEO when he was face to face with him. Half of Carson's friends had suggested the right thing to say, the right way to say it and some of them the right way to curse the man after all Carson's right words failed miserably.
"Mr. Sheppard," Carson muttered, trying to form a few coherent phrases that would at least start the conversation. "I have come here today to talk to you about my bookstore. I believe…" The button stopped glowing, and Carson pressed it again. "I believe it would… could be very profitable for you if you…"
He began pacing in front of the elevator door, twisting his hands nervously. This Sheppard probably didn't even know about the bookstore. He needed to explain in a way that wouldn't bore the man to death how important it was. The problem was he had no idea what this man found boring. Maybe the idea of a bookstore was boring altogether. Who reads books these days, anyway?
"My bookstore is… If you would… Ah, crap." Maybe he would do more harm if he talked to the man. Maybe if he left, they would forget about the bookstore and everything would be okay. He made a few steps away from the damned elevator, then quickly turned around. He wasn't thinking straight anymore.
"I… This bookstore is… Ye idiot!" he said, looking at his reflection in the metallic doors.
A second later, he heard steps behind and turned quickly, hoping that whoever was coming didn't hear his admission. A tall dark haired man was walking towards him, breathing heavily.
"Mr. Beckett?" the man asked, looking straight into his eyes.
"Aye," Carson answered, nodding.
"I'm Sheppard," the man said, extending his right hand. "Sorry, the elevator's broken." The man smiled and Carson smiled, relieved, shaking his hand. "The secretary said you were coming up, and when you didn't, I came to investigate."
"Well, it's… I thought it was taking it awfully long to get here," Carson said smiling, following the man towards the stairs.
"My apologies," Sheppard said sincerely. "So, tell me about your bookstore. Do you still have the chocolate jar on the counter?"
Carson smiled broadly. "Aye, we do."
Pairing: Carson/John
Genre: preslash
Word Count: 650
Rating: PG
For the West Wing Title Challenge and the prompt Red for au100
AN: Inspired by a small incident I had today :) Many thanks to severusslave for the quick beta :)
The red square call button was glowing mockingly. For the tenth time in the last minute Carson pressed it, impatiently tapping with his right foot. He had considered taking the stairs, but seven levels was a bit too much and he didn't want to arrive at the meeting that was about to decide the fate of his family business gasping for air. He did the only thing he could do: wait.
After a few seconds, the button stopped glowing and Carson pressed it immediately. It wasn't that he wanted to get to the meeting - he would have done anything in the world to avoid it actually, but he had no choice. The small bookstore his family had had for the past fifty years was about to be bought by some huge company that had never sold a book.
His legal counselor, a man in his sixties who never talked about legal matters when they met, had said the company wanted the building, or better said, the land on which it was built. He also said they had no choice than to sell, mentioning something about corporation lawyers and trials and a lot of things Carson didn't want to think about.
The red button continued glowing, but there was no sound to suggest the elevator was descending. He was beginning to worry someone from security might walk by and find his presence there suspicious. Luckily enough, the elevator was in a private area and he didn't have the entire population of Glasgow walking behind him as he stared at the elevator doors.
"Come on," he muttered, pressing the button one more time.
He still didn't know what he was going to tell the CEO when he was face to face with him. Half of Carson's friends had suggested the right thing to say, the right way to say it and some of them the right way to curse the man after all Carson's right words failed miserably.
"Mr. Sheppard," Carson muttered, trying to form a few coherent phrases that would at least start the conversation. "I have come here today to talk to you about my bookstore. I believe…" The button stopped glowing, and Carson pressed it again. "I believe it would… could be very profitable for you if you…"
He began pacing in front of the elevator door, twisting his hands nervously. This Sheppard probably didn't even know about the bookstore. He needed to explain in a way that wouldn't bore the man to death how important it was. The problem was he had no idea what this man found boring. Maybe the idea of a bookstore was boring altogether. Who reads books these days, anyway?
"My bookstore is… If you would… Ah, crap." Maybe he would do more harm if he talked to the man. Maybe if he left, they would forget about the bookstore and everything would be okay. He made a few steps away from the damned elevator, then quickly turned around. He wasn't thinking straight anymore.
"I… This bookstore is… Ye idiot!" he said, looking at his reflection in the metallic doors.
A second later, he heard steps behind and turned quickly, hoping that whoever was coming didn't hear his admission. A tall dark haired man was walking towards him, breathing heavily.
"Mr. Beckett?" the man asked, looking straight into his eyes.
"Aye," Carson answered, nodding.
"I'm Sheppard," the man said, extending his right hand. "Sorry, the elevator's broken." The man smiled and Carson smiled, relieved, shaking his hand. "The secretary said you were coming up, and when you didn't, I came to investigate."
"Well, it's… I thought it was taking it awfully long to get here," Carson said smiling, following the man towards the stairs.
"My apologies," Sheppard said sincerely. "So, tell me about your bookstore. Do you still have the chocolate jar on the counter?"
Carson smiled broadly. "Aye, we do."