Fic: Pulling (2/3?)
I said the first bit was 1 of 2, but I wanted to post more and I'm not done yet. So maybe there will be 3 chapters, maybe more.
Title: Pulling (chapter 2)
Rating: PG
Notes: Part of a series I've decided to call Sooner or Later. Takes place during "Estate Agents." Do read chapter 1 first.
"You should have come home with me," Ash said.
"Why?"
"To pick out my clothes." She stepped into Scribbs's foyer, waited till Scribbs closed the door behind her, and held open her coat. "What do you think?"
Scribbs gave her a once-over. "It's fine."
"Yeah? Really? I wasn't sure. I called but your line was busy."
"Talking to Robin," Scribbs said as she went into the kitchen.
Ash moved to the doorway and watched her retrieve a jacket from a hanger that was dangling from the refrigerator door handle. The blonde's outfit surprised Ash a little -- she'd been expecting something flashy, something that showed some skin. Instead Scribbs was wearing a violet shirt, which revealed only a modest V at the throat and not even a hint of cleavage, and black trousers. Everything fit snugly, Ash noted with appreciation, but it still wasn't quite what she had pictured.
And as the blonde put on the jacket and swept her hair out from under the collar, Ash noted she hadn't done anything special with that either. It was loose and straight, the same as it had been when they'd left the station an hour before. Ash had spent almost as much time fretting about her own hair as she had about her clothes. In the end she'd left it up, but pulled a few bits loose in hopes of creating a casually mussed look.
"What did she want?" she asked idly, plucking at the dangling locks that brushed the back of her neck.
"To get together, but I told her we had plans."
Ash nodded approvingly. "Good. If you'd backed out I'd have killed you. I can't do this by myself."
Scribbs made a noncommittal noise and checked her watch.
"Although Robin could probably be of some help too," Ash mused. "For a heterosexual she certainly likes to chat up other women."
Scribbs smiled for the first time since Ash had arrived. "But she doesn't shag them."
"Right. So not much use after all, then."
Ash wandered back to the front door and peered through the frosted glass. The front walk and garden were distorted and dark, all the details swallowed up in the night. She wasn't sure if she would see the cab when it arrived, but she guessed the headlights would be bright enough to catch her eye.
"She could if she wanted to," Scribbs said behind her. "She could show you how to pull, no problem."
"No, thank you," Ash said under her breath. "Rather stay home and listen to the slag next door."
That was the truth. As frustrated and tightly wound as she'd been lately, she'd rather suffer through it than ask for help from Robin Gatecliff. In fact, she could blame Robin for the state she was in, at least partly -- Robin and her sadistic love of teasing Ash. A week earlier the detectives had gone to the forensics lab to inquire about some evidence, and Robin had pulled Scribbs aside -- to ask how she was doing after her breakup with Jamie, Scribbs told Ash later. Ash had busied herself looking at the notices posted on the corridor wall, keeping far enough away that she could only hear incomprehensible murmurs, but before long she was bored and impatient. She had glanced over at her partner and the technician and found them standing very close together. Scribbs had been facing slightly away from Ash so that the DI couldn't see her face, but she had a clear view of Robin's.
At that moment Robin had looked over the DS's shoulder and caught Ash watching. A sly expression had come over her face, and her hand, which had been on Scribbs's shoulder in a comforting gesture, slowly slid down the blonde's arm to her wrist. Ash's eyes had tracked the movement automatically. When they returned to Robin's the redhead was arching an eyebrow at her. Ash had felt her face go hot. Then Robin had tucked her hand between Scribbs's arm and her body, resting it at the small of Scribbs's back, and brought her mouth to the blonde's ear.
Ash's rational brain had known this was just one of Robin's little games, that she was more than likely telling Scribbs in a delighted whisper that she had her partner blushing like a schoolgirl. But it had looked like a much more intimate gesture, as it was obviously meant to, and even as she cursed her body for reacting so predictably, Ash couldn't tear her gaze away.
A moment later Scribbs had craned her neck to look at Ash, who had promptly turned away and pretended to be absorbed in a pamphlet advertising a pathology seminar. She never knew if the two of them shared a laugh at her because she kept her back turned until Scribbs joined her, and Ash had immediately launched into commentary about the evidence they'd come for.
Now, standing in Scribbs's foyer, she cursed Robin Gatecliff -- for being so bloody attractive, and for knowing she was, and for knowing Scribbs was dead gorgeous too, and using it. For putting pictures in Ash's head that wouldn't go away, that did not help when she was trying to think chaste thoughts.
A honk from outside startled her back to the present. She hadn't noticed the cab's lights after all.
"Here we go," Scribbs said.
Ash didn't recognize the address Scribbs gave to the driver once they were inside the car. Scribbs told her it was a martini bar she'd been to with Jamie once, for a mate's birthday do. Trusting that Scribbs knew what she was doing, Ash settled back against the seat, uncomfortable though it was.
"So," she said, taking a deep breath. "How do we begin?"
Scribbs gave her a slightly puzzled look. "We can't begin till we get there, Ash."
"No, I mean yes, but we've got to formulate our strategy now. Otherwise we're going in blind. That's just foolish."
"Oh. Right," Scribbs said with mock seriousness.
"Well then? Come on, Scribbs, I'm counting on you. Think of me... think of me as a tourist, just arrived in your native land. I don't know the language, the customs -- I need you to act as my guide. Otherwise some terrible harm might come to me."
"That's a little extreme." But Scribbs was smiling.
Ash reached across the seat and seized her partner's wrist. "Fine, then. Some terrible harm might come to you if you don't help me. I'm just about at that point."
She expected Scribbs to reply with some teasing remark, but the blonde looked away and bit her lip. Ash frowned.
"I'll do my best," Scribbs said quietly.
Ash withdrew her hand. Scribbs kept her face turned to the window, hiding it from her partner's gaze. It was unsettling. Thankfully the moment didn't last long. Scribbs soon spoke again, in a lighter voice.
"The thing is, this isn't the kind of thing you can plan. You have to sort of... go with the flow."
"I can do that," Ash said.
Scribbs chuckled. "Right."
"I can!"
**********
"How long d'you think we're staying? Shall I book a cab now? Because later on we'll never get one, it'll be a nightmare. And if we--"
"Ash!"
"What?"
They had been at the bar, Tuscon, less than ten minutes. There hadn't been time for much talk between checking their coats, getting drinks and, in Ash's case, a lot of looking around, taking in their surroundings. It was a nice enough place, well lit, clean and not too crowded. The patrons seemed to be mostly in their 30s and 40s. Pop music played softly in the background, not loud enough to interfere with conversation.
Scribbs handed Ash a martini and lifted a second to her lips. "I thought you said you could go with the flow."
Ash made a face. She sipped from her glass. "Something's not right. I feel like something's... off."
"That's only natural, when you're doing something you've never done before."
"No, no, I mean..." Ash swept the room with a glance. "The bar. It's not what I expected. Why did you bring me here?"
Scribbs frowned. "I thought this would be your kind of place."
"But you should have brought me to your kind of place. That's the whole point!"
Scribbs looked at her hard for a moment. Ash glared back, frustrated that things were already going south. She hadn't thought her request unreasonable, or difficult to comprehend, but Scribbs seemed to have misunderstood.
"You expected," Scribbs said slowly, as if coming to a realization, "to go someplace seedy. Someplace cheap."
"Well... someplace a little darker, anyway."
Watching groups of people -- whom she could easily imagine were lawyers, business people, architects, unwinding after a busy day at the office -- carrying on sedate conversations, punctuated by occasional but gentle laughter, Ash felt disappointed. What she had come for seemed impossible, here. It was just too... classy. She was even beginning to feel a little self-conscious about the low cut of her blouse, even with the camisole underneath.
"It's just I feel like at any minute I could run into my accountant," she said.
"Man or woman?" Scribbs muttered into her glass.
"Man. So no good."
Scribbs sucked back the last of her drink and signaled the bartender. Ash blinked.
"Another? Already?"
As the bartender approached and took the empty glass, Scribbs turned to Ash. "Unless you really want to leave."
Ash bit her lip, uncertain. She glanced at the bartender -- a young man in a sleeveless red top even tighter than Scribbs's -- and then around the room. Scribbs sighed.
"Honestly, Ash, your chances are as good here as anywhere else. Take it from the expert."
There was an edge in her voice that gave Ash pause, the same one she'd heard in the cab. But after a beat the blonde was asking for another martini in a familiar, cheerful tone and smiling at the man who produced it. Still, Ash felt a wave of guilt.
"I'm sorry, okay? I won't question your choices anymore, I promise. I put myself entirely in your hands."
She put on the most earnest expression she could, and smiled when Scribbs seemed at least a little appeased. The blonde sampled her drink, then cleared her throat.
"Okay."
"Okay," Ash echoed, folding her hands on the bar, ready to receive knowledge.
The pose made Scribbs laugh, and as always, it was like a light flipped on inside Ash. With a renewed sense of hope she listened to what Scribbs had to say.
Title: Pulling (chapter 2)
Rating: PG
Notes: Part of a series I've decided to call Sooner or Later. Takes place during "Estate Agents." Do read chapter 1 first.
"You should have come home with me," Ash said.
"Why?"
"To pick out my clothes." She stepped into Scribbs's foyer, waited till Scribbs closed the door behind her, and held open her coat. "What do you think?"
Scribbs gave her a once-over. "It's fine."
"Yeah? Really? I wasn't sure. I called but your line was busy."
"Talking to Robin," Scribbs said as she went into the kitchen.
Ash moved to the doorway and watched her retrieve a jacket from a hanger that was dangling from the refrigerator door handle. The blonde's outfit surprised Ash a little -- she'd been expecting something flashy, something that showed some skin. Instead Scribbs was wearing a violet shirt, which revealed only a modest V at the throat and not even a hint of cleavage, and black trousers. Everything fit snugly, Ash noted with appreciation, but it still wasn't quite what she had pictured.
And as the blonde put on the jacket and swept her hair out from under the collar, Ash noted she hadn't done anything special with that either. It was loose and straight, the same as it had been when they'd left the station an hour before. Ash had spent almost as much time fretting about her own hair as she had about her clothes. In the end she'd left it up, but pulled a few bits loose in hopes of creating a casually mussed look.
"What did she want?" she asked idly, plucking at the dangling locks that brushed the back of her neck.
"To get together, but I told her we had plans."
Ash nodded approvingly. "Good. If you'd backed out I'd have killed you. I can't do this by myself."
Scribbs made a noncommittal noise and checked her watch.
"Although Robin could probably be of some help too," Ash mused. "For a heterosexual she certainly likes to chat up other women."
Scribbs smiled for the first time since Ash had arrived. "But she doesn't shag them."
"Right. So not much use after all, then."
Ash wandered back to the front door and peered through the frosted glass. The front walk and garden were distorted and dark, all the details swallowed up in the night. She wasn't sure if she would see the cab when it arrived, but she guessed the headlights would be bright enough to catch her eye.
"She could if she wanted to," Scribbs said behind her. "She could show you how to pull, no problem."
"No, thank you," Ash said under her breath. "Rather stay home and listen to the slag next door."
That was the truth. As frustrated and tightly wound as she'd been lately, she'd rather suffer through it than ask for help from Robin Gatecliff. In fact, she could blame Robin for the state she was in, at least partly -- Robin and her sadistic love of teasing Ash. A week earlier the detectives had gone to the forensics lab to inquire about some evidence, and Robin had pulled Scribbs aside -- to ask how she was doing after her breakup with Jamie, Scribbs told Ash later. Ash had busied herself looking at the notices posted on the corridor wall, keeping far enough away that she could only hear incomprehensible murmurs, but before long she was bored and impatient. She had glanced over at her partner and the technician and found them standing very close together. Scribbs had been facing slightly away from Ash so that the DI couldn't see her face, but she had a clear view of Robin's.
At that moment Robin had looked over the DS's shoulder and caught Ash watching. A sly expression had come over her face, and her hand, which had been on Scribbs's shoulder in a comforting gesture, slowly slid down the blonde's arm to her wrist. Ash's eyes had tracked the movement automatically. When they returned to Robin's the redhead was arching an eyebrow at her. Ash had felt her face go hot. Then Robin had tucked her hand between Scribbs's arm and her body, resting it at the small of Scribbs's back, and brought her mouth to the blonde's ear.
Ash's rational brain had known this was just one of Robin's little games, that she was more than likely telling Scribbs in a delighted whisper that she had her partner blushing like a schoolgirl. But it had looked like a much more intimate gesture, as it was obviously meant to, and even as she cursed her body for reacting so predictably, Ash couldn't tear her gaze away.
A moment later Scribbs had craned her neck to look at Ash, who had promptly turned away and pretended to be absorbed in a pamphlet advertising a pathology seminar. She never knew if the two of them shared a laugh at her because she kept her back turned until Scribbs joined her, and Ash had immediately launched into commentary about the evidence they'd come for.
Now, standing in Scribbs's foyer, she cursed Robin Gatecliff -- for being so bloody attractive, and for knowing she was, and for knowing Scribbs was dead gorgeous too, and using it. For putting pictures in Ash's head that wouldn't go away, that did not help when she was trying to think chaste thoughts.
A honk from outside startled her back to the present. She hadn't noticed the cab's lights after all.
"Here we go," Scribbs said.
Ash didn't recognize the address Scribbs gave to the driver once they were inside the car. Scribbs told her it was a martini bar she'd been to with Jamie once, for a mate's birthday do. Trusting that Scribbs knew what she was doing, Ash settled back against the seat, uncomfortable though it was.
"So," she said, taking a deep breath. "How do we begin?"
Scribbs gave her a slightly puzzled look. "We can't begin till we get there, Ash."
"No, I mean yes, but we've got to formulate our strategy now. Otherwise we're going in blind. That's just foolish."
"Oh. Right," Scribbs said with mock seriousness.
"Well then? Come on, Scribbs, I'm counting on you. Think of me... think of me as a tourist, just arrived in your native land. I don't know the language, the customs -- I need you to act as my guide. Otherwise some terrible harm might come to me."
"That's a little extreme." But Scribbs was smiling.
Ash reached across the seat and seized her partner's wrist. "Fine, then. Some terrible harm might come to you if you don't help me. I'm just about at that point."
She expected Scribbs to reply with some teasing remark, but the blonde looked away and bit her lip. Ash frowned.
"I'll do my best," Scribbs said quietly.
Ash withdrew her hand. Scribbs kept her face turned to the window, hiding it from her partner's gaze. It was unsettling. Thankfully the moment didn't last long. Scribbs soon spoke again, in a lighter voice.
"The thing is, this isn't the kind of thing you can plan. You have to sort of... go with the flow."
"I can do that," Ash said.
Scribbs chuckled. "Right."
"I can!"
**********
"How long d'you think we're staying? Shall I book a cab now? Because later on we'll never get one, it'll be a nightmare. And if we--"
"Ash!"
"What?"
They had been at the bar, Tuscon, less than ten minutes. There hadn't been time for much talk between checking their coats, getting drinks and, in Ash's case, a lot of looking around, taking in their surroundings. It was a nice enough place, well lit, clean and not too crowded. The patrons seemed to be mostly in their 30s and 40s. Pop music played softly in the background, not loud enough to interfere with conversation.
Scribbs handed Ash a martini and lifted a second to her lips. "I thought you said you could go with the flow."
Ash made a face. She sipped from her glass. "Something's not right. I feel like something's... off."
"That's only natural, when you're doing something you've never done before."
"No, no, I mean..." Ash swept the room with a glance. "The bar. It's not what I expected. Why did you bring me here?"
Scribbs frowned. "I thought this would be your kind of place."
"But you should have brought me to your kind of place. That's the whole point!"
Scribbs looked at her hard for a moment. Ash glared back, frustrated that things were already going south. She hadn't thought her request unreasonable, or difficult to comprehend, but Scribbs seemed to have misunderstood.
"You expected," Scribbs said slowly, as if coming to a realization, "to go someplace seedy. Someplace cheap."
"Well... someplace a little darker, anyway."
Watching groups of people -- whom she could easily imagine were lawyers, business people, architects, unwinding after a busy day at the office -- carrying on sedate conversations, punctuated by occasional but gentle laughter, Ash felt disappointed. What she had come for seemed impossible, here. It was just too... classy. She was even beginning to feel a little self-conscious about the low cut of her blouse, even with the camisole underneath.
"It's just I feel like at any minute I could run into my accountant," she said.
"Man or woman?" Scribbs muttered into her glass.
"Man. So no good."
Scribbs sucked back the last of her drink and signaled the bartender. Ash blinked.
"Another? Already?"
As the bartender approached and took the empty glass, Scribbs turned to Ash. "Unless you really want to leave."
Ash bit her lip, uncertain. She glanced at the bartender -- a young man in a sleeveless red top even tighter than Scribbs's -- and then around the room. Scribbs sighed.
"Honestly, Ash, your chances are as good here as anywhere else. Take it from the expert."
There was an edge in her voice that gave Ash pause, the same one she'd heard in the cab. But after a beat the blonde was asking for another martini in a familiar, cheerful tone and smiling at the man who produced it. Still, Ash felt a wave of guilt.
"I'm sorry, okay? I won't question your choices anymore, I promise. I put myself entirely in your hands."
She put on the most earnest expression she could, and smiled when Scribbs seemed at least a little appeased. The blonde sampled her drink, then cleared her throat.
"Okay."
"Okay," Ash echoed, folding her hands on the bar, ready to receive knowledge.
The pose made Scribbs laugh, and as always, it was like a light flipped on inside Ash. With a renewed sense of hope she listened to what Scribbs had to say.