[fic] : robin hood (bbc) - [RPF]
Title: Questionable Content
Rating: G
Word count: 460 words
Characters: Richard Armitage and Lucy Griffiths. And Guy/Marian discussion.
Summary: In the commentary for 2x01 there's a spot of ribbing from Richard about the beardiness of Robin/Marian kisses. This is a lunch conversation on the same theme, over mysteriously ingrediented pies.
Warning: RPF
Disclaimer: I neither claim this fic to be any more than a product of my own imagination, nor assert it to be truthful beyond (hopefully) a semi-accurate suggestion of the cast's personalities.
A/N: I did not plan to write another piece of RPF, I really didn't! But for some reason it was bothering me that there was two? I wanted to make it a round three...I don't know. ;)
---
Lucy's hand is at her mouth, gingerly touching her grazed skin, as she walks over to the lunch table.
Richard is halfway through some sort of vegetable pie. He's not sure exactly what vegetables are in it, but it's better than the cheese and white bread option. Far too much cheese and white bread in Budapest. It's like Eastern Europe lives on the stuff. Sometimes he yearns for a bit of brown bread, seeds and grains and -
"Lucy, what happened to your face?"
Her lips and the skin around them are red and lightly scratched. She touches her hand to it again, and winces very slightly.
"Jonas," she says.
"Ah yes, of course," Richard says.
"Outlaw beards and romantic reunions are...not a good combination."
He laughs, and forks something in his pie. He's not sure exactly what it is. He thinks it might be broccoli. He hopes it's broccoli. Lucy is resting her chin thoughtfully in her hands.
"You don't have any lip salve on you, I suppose...?" she trails off as Richard starts to laugh.
"Now where exactly would I keep lip salve in this costume?"
"No pockets?"
"Not a one."
He returns to the pie of questionable content. He's no longer sure it's all vegetables, either. Lucy's barely started hers.
"What do you think this is?" she says, skewering a greenish lump and holding it aloft. "Brussel sprouts? Broccoli?" She puts in her mouth, chews, considering. "Broccoli. I think. Maybe it's the usual cook's day off? The food's not usually this...mysterious."
There's a pause. An almost-breeze lifts the edges of the curtain, but doesn't reach Richard. It's not as hot a day as yesterday, thankfully, when he was near-broiled. It's hard to smoulder through pouring sweat.
"Some days I miss my flatemate's mushy peas," Lucy says. A hot vegetable catches the edge of her mouth, and she winces. Her lips are more grazed than she thought. "Lip salve," she says.
"You what?"
"Lip salve. Lots of it. Lip salve central. Otherwise I'm going to be wincing everytime he goes in for a snog and that's hardly a good look now, is it?" He laughs, nods assent.
"Not terribly, no."
Lucy pushes her plate aside, finished. "All I can say is, you better be clean-shaven. Smooth. Very, very smooth."
"When was I ever anything else?" Lucy rolls her eyes. "I think you might be part of the problem. Two to tango, and all that."
"Oi." She throws a napkin at him, and it flops flat halfway across the table, slightly rumpled.
"Martial arts skills at your disposal and you choose to flop a napkin at me? I see."
He's wearing leather. And eyeliner. And he's mocking her? "There's a table in the way, Richard," she enunciates, and taps it.
He says nothing, only grins.
"You really must try to be less enthusiastic, Luce."
---
end.
FIC LIST.
Rating: G
Word count: 460 words
Characters: Richard Armitage and Lucy Griffiths. And Guy/Marian discussion.
Summary: In the commentary for 2x01 there's a spot of ribbing from Richard about the beardiness of Robin/Marian kisses. This is a lunch conversation on the same theme, over mysteriously ingrediented pies.
Warning: RPF
Disclaimer: I neither claim this fic to be any more than a product of my own imagination, nor assert it to be truthful beyond (hopefully) a semi-accurate suggestion of the cast's personalities.
A/N: I did not plan to write another piece of RPF, I really didn't! But for some reason it was bothering me that there was two? I wanted to make it a round three...I don't know. ;)
---
Lucy's hand is at her mouth, gingerly touching her grazed skin, as she walks over to the lunch table.
Richard is halfway through some sort of vegetable pie. He's not sure exactly what vegetables are in it, but it's better than the cheese and white bread option. Far too much cheese and white bread in Budapest. It's like Eastern Europe lives on the stuff. Sometimes he yearns for a bit of brown bread, seeds and grains and -
"Lucy, what happened to your face?"
Her lips and the skin around them are red and lightly scratched. She touches her hand to it again, and winces very slightly.
"Jonas," she says.
"Ah yes, of course," Richard says.
"Outlaw beards and romantic reunions are...not a good combination."
He laughs, and forks something in his pie. He's not sure exactly what it is. He thinks it might be broccoli. He hopes it's broccoli. Lucy is resting her chin thoughtfully in her hands.
"You don't have any lip salve on you, I suppose...?" she trails off as Richard starts to laugh.
"Now where exactly would I keep lip salve in this costume?"
"No pockets?"
"Not a one."
He returns to the pie of questionable content. He's no longer sure it's all vegetables, either. Lucy's barely started hers.
"What do you think this is?" she says, skewering a greenish lump and holding it aloft. "Brussel sprouts? Broccoli?" She puts in her mouth, chews, considering. "Broccoli. I think. Maybe it's the usual cook's day off? The food's not usually this...mysterious."
There's a pause. An almost-breeze lifts the edges of the curtain, but doesn't reach Richard. It's not as hot a day as yesterday, thankfully, when he was near-broiled. It's hard to smoulder through pouring sweat.
"Some days I miss my flatemate's mushy peas," Lucy says. A hot vegetable catches the edge of her mouth, and she winces. Her lips are more grazed than she thought. "Lip salve," she says.
"You what?"
"Lip salve. Lots of it. Lip salve central. Otherwise I'm going to be wincing everytime he goes in for a snog and that's hardly a good look now, is it?" He laughs, nods assent.
"Not terribly, no."
Lucy pushes her plate aside, finished. "All I can say is, you better be clean-shaven. Smooth. Very, very smooth."
"When was I ever anything else?" Lucy rolls her eyes. "I think you might be part of the problem. Two to tango, and all that."
"Oi." She throws a napkin at him, and it flops flat halfway across the table, slightly rumpled.
"Martial arts skills at your disposal and you choose to flop a napkin at me? I see."
He's wearing leather. And eyeliner. And he's mocking her? "There's a table in the way, Richard," she enunciates, and taps it.
He says nothing, only grins.
"You really must try to be less enthusiastic, Luce."
---
end.
FIC LIST.