Fic: Mel’s Secret (1/1)
Title: Mel’s Secret (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Carter Baum, Sam Cowley, Clarence Hurt, Gerry Campbell, Charles Winstead, Mel/Johnny
Genres: Angst, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: For the movie, natch! :)
Summary: Carter Baum wonders how everyone else can’t see what he’s seeing.
Date Of Completion: October 11, 2009
Date Of Posting: October 30, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 672
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for my LJ Third Anniversary Fic Request Meme for crimsonquills. Pairing: Mel/Johnny. Prompt: Third Person Perspective. :)
Apparently I’m channelling Carter lately! He insisted upon being the narrator once again. ;)
Oh, my God.
I quickly glanced around the cramped room. Sam and Campbell and Hurt seemed unaware of what was going on, though the ex-Texas Rangers rarely gave away anything by their expressions.
Something flickered in Winstead’s eyes. He knew.
Oh, Mel.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I’m as ‘normal’ as they come, liking women very well, thank you very much, but I’d have to be blind not to see the sexual tension between my closest friend in the Bureau and Public Enemy No. 1.
Dillinger was draped on the bars of his cell, showing off his considerable charms, and I could recognize a handsome man’s assets even if I wasn’t affected by them.
Well, at least not that much.
I could see the gangster’s profile, the smirk on his face, the insolent way he chewed his gum, and the way his amber eyes sparkled as he raked his gaze up and down Mel’s body.
Mel, for god’s sake, might have his hands jammed into his jacket pockets but he was smiling with what looked like amused affection, and his body was leaning against the wall, but canting toward John.
How could anyone not see what was going on?
True, I know Mel’s secret.
Apparently Johnny Dillinger knows it, too.
Forget the exchange of words, or most of them. They were establishing masculine bonafides, talking about Mel’s shooting of Pretty Boy Floyd (“I was aiming for his leg. He moved at the last second,” told to me in confidence), about death and the lights going out in a man’s eyes, yet they were dancing a mating dance. I mean, seriously, Johnny saying that Mel had ‘qualities’ and wasn’t like other coppers?
Sure, lots of people would curl their lips in disgust and call it a dance of perversion, but the notion really doesn’t bother me. I figure this world is tough enough without tossing love out the window.
I keep Mel’s secret because it isn’t mine to tell.
I help him hide it because I know what he’d lose if it came out.
At least he seemed aware enough to keep up a covering dialogue, but he was totally focused on Johnny Dillinger.
Then again, maybe he’d forgotten to keep even that much cover.
“And what keeps you up nights, Mr. Dillinger?” The smooth Southern accent was like silk.
John’s gum-chewing was insouciant as he practically invited Mel to jump his bones.
Oh, please don’t answer ‘You.’
“Coffee.”
Relieved, I watched as Mel’s smile grew soft.
Mel…!
But he began to walk away and I hoped that we could get of out here fast.
“See ya on down the road,” Johnny drawled.
Mel went up close to the bars. I didn’t dare look at anyone, especially Winstead, who saw too damned much.
“No you won’t, Mr. Dillinger. The only way you’ll be walking out of this cell is when we take you out to execute you.”
His expression was a mix of amusement and affection despite his words, supposedly menacing but said in a soft drawl with a smile lingering on his lips and crinkling his eyes.
“We’ll see about that.” Johnny also sounded amused.
Get a room, you two!
Johnny paralleled Mel as he walked to the other side of his cell. “Better find yourself another line of work, Melvin.”
Mel paused, struggling with some indefinable emotions. Was it the talk about seeing a man dying, or the fact that Johnny had spoken Mel’s name?
Whatever it was, Mel was affected.
He finally shook it off and left the room with me right behind him.
At the doorway I paused as the other men pushed past me to follow Mel.
I looked back and saw John Dillinger leaning against the bars, eyes focused on Mel. His gaze was intense and admiring, his tongue running over his lips.
His eyes met mine, sparkling as he grinned a lopsided grin.
Arrogant to the end.
I turned and walked through the doorway.
Except that I feared that it wouldn’t be the end.
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Carter Baum, Sam Cowley, Clarence Hurt, Gerry Campbell, Charles Winstead, Mel/Johnny
Genres: Angst, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: For the movie, natch! :)
Summary: Carter Baum wonders how everyone else can’t see what he’s seeing.
Date Of Completion: October 11, 2009
Date Of Posting: October 30, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 672
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for my LJ Third Anniversary Fic Request Meme for crimsonquills. Pairing: Mel/Johnny. Prompt: Third Person Perspective. :)
Apparently I’m channelling Carter lately! He insisted upon being the narrator once again. ;)
Oh, my God.
I quickly glanced around the cramped room. Sam and Campbell and Hurt seemed unaware of what was going on, though the ex-Texas Rangers rarely gave away anything by their expressions.
Something flickered in Winstead’s eyes. He knew.
Oh, Mel.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I’m as ‘normal’ as they come, liking women very well, thank you very much, but I’d have to be blind not to see the sexual tension between my closest friend in the Bureau and Public Enemy No. 1.
Dillinger was draped on the bars of his cell, showing off his considerable charms, and I could recognize a handsome man’s assets even if I wasn’t affected by them.
Well, at least not that much.
I could see the gangster’s profile, the smirk on his face, the insolent way he chewed his gum, and the way his amber eyes sparkled as he raked his gaze up and down Mel’s body.
Mel, for god’s sake, might have his hands jammed into his jacket pockets but he was smiling with what looked like amused affection, and his body was leaning against the wall, but canting toward John.
How could anyone not see what was going on?
True, I know Mel’s secret.
Apparently Johnny Dillinger knows it, too.
Forget the exchange of words, or most of them. They were establishing masculine bonafides, talking about Mel’s shooting of Pretty Boy Floyd (“I was aiming for his leg. He moved at the last second,” told to me in confidence), about death and the lights going out in a man’s eyes, yet they were dancing a mating dance. I mean, seriously, Johnny saying that Mel had ‘qualities’ and wasn’t like other coppers?
Sure, lots of people would curl their lips in disgust and call it a dance of perversion, but the notion really doesn’t bother me. I figure this world is tough enough without tossing love out the window.
I keep Mel’s secret because it isn’t mine to tell.
I help him hide it because I know what he’d lose if it came out.
At least he seemed aware enough to keep up a covering dialogue, but he was totally focused on Johnny Dillinger.
Then again, maybe he’d forgotten to keep even that much cover.
“And what keeps you up nights, Mr. Dillinger?” The smooth Southern accent was like silk.
John’s gum-chewing was insouciant as he practically invited Mel to jump his bones.
Oh, please don’t answer ‘You.’
“Coffee.”
Relieved, I watched as Mel’s smile grew soft.
Mel…!
But he began to walk away and I hoped that we could get of out here fast.
“See ya on down the road,” Johnny drawled.
Mel went up close to the bars. I didn’t dare look at anyone, especially Winstead, who saw too damned much.
“No you won’t, Mr. Dillinger. The only way you’ll be walking out of this cell is when we take you out to execute you.”
His expression was a mix of amusement and affection despite his words, supposedly menacing but said in a soft drawl with a smile lingering on his lips and crinkling his eyes.
“We’ll see about that.” Johnny also sounded amused.
Get a room, you two!
Johnny paralleled Mel as he walked to the other side of his cell. “Better find yourself another line of work, Melvin.”
Mel paused, struggling with some indefinable emotions. Was it the talk about seeing a man dying, or the fact that Johnny had spoken Mel’s name?
Whatever it was, Mel was affected.
He finally shook it off and left the room with me right behind him.
At the doorway I paused as the other men pushed past me to follow Mel.
I looked back and saw John Dillinger leaning against the bars, eyes focused on Mel. His gaze was intense and admiring, his tongue running over his lips.
His eyes met mine, sparkling as he grinned a lopsided grin.
Arrogant to the end.
I turned and walked through the doorway.
Except that I feared that it wouldn’t be the end.