Fic: happiness is a warm gun (BSG/Chuck)
Title: happiness is a warm gun
Author: coffeesuperhero
Prompt: Laura Roslin walks into a bar and meets...Sarah Walker!
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Chuck
Characters: Laura Roslin (implied Laura Roslin/Diane Beckman), Sarah Walker
Word count: ~1500
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for drinking, some violence
Disclaimers: I have played fast and loose with both universes, so consider this an AU for both of 'em. Spoilers for absolutely none of Battlestar Galactica, but through season three of Chuck, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for the fun of intoabar. All characters & situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal, Josh Schwartz, Chris Fedak, Paul Marks, Warner Brothers Television and their various subsidiaries/any entity I forgot to name. Title from a Beatles song, which I also had nothing to do with, as well as the line from RED-- that's not mine, either.
Laura loves this bar. She comes here once a week, same night, like clockwork, but she orders something new every time. She found a battered copy of a bartender's guide in a used bookstore a year ago, and she's working her way through it. Retirement is mostly one long boring stretch of dwindling life, but one night a week, she slips into a seat at the bar and pretends that she's just in here for a cool drink and a relaxing evening after a long day of work.
Tonight she's feeling adventurous, and the new bartender is tall and sweet and exactly the kind of person who will blush adorably if she so much as winks at him, so she adjusts her glasses, smiles warmly at the bartender, and asks for an Oral Sex on the Beach.
He stammers and stutters and finally says, "Coming right up."
All she has to do is lift an eyebrow, and he blushes so deeply at his unintentional double entendre that is face is almost the color of her hair. She puts a little extra sass into her "Thank you," when he brings her the drink, and she smiles into her glass as he walks away to take an order from the young lady on her left, a beautiful blonde in a black minidress and heels. Oddly enough, the bartender seems less flustered by this new arrival than he does by Laura, but then, the blonde has only ordered a vodka tonic.
When the bartender brings her drink, the young lady takes a long sip from her glass and sighs, and the weight of the other woman's sigh makes Laura feel unexpectedly genial.
"Long day?" Laura asks, propping her elbow onto the bar and cradling her chin in her hand.
"The longest," the young woman replies, setting her glass down carefully. "Not over yet. I'm supposed to be grading exams," she laughs.
Laura wrinkles her nose and signals the bartender. "I would like another one of these," she tells him, pointing at her glass at winking at him, "and another of whatever this young lady is having." She beams over at her new drinking companion. "I taught for years," she explains, and raises her mostly empty glass in toast. "So I do understand the pain of grading final exams. I'm Laura," she mentions.
"Sarah Walker. It's nice to meet you, Laura," Sarah says, smiling her thanks to the bartender as he sets down a second round of drinks.
They talk for awhile, swapping horror stories, until finally Laura finishes her second drink and pays her tab. She tips the bartender, pressing a crisp twenty into his hand and letting her fingernails trail across his palm as she pulls her hand away. Laura shakes her head as he walks off, watching the blush spread across the back of his neck, and then she gives Sarah one last smile. "It was nice to meet you, Sarah," she says, surprising herself with the force of emotion behind the sentiment. She hadn't expected to miss her old life, but talking to someone in the middle of it has brought it all back, and now she just wants to go home and take a bath and drink some wine and forget.
She's half a block from the bar when she feels like someone is following her, and she ducks into an alley and sinks into the shadows, waiting for her tail to pass by. She's not at all surprised when it's Sarah, though from the younger woman's wide-eyed expression as Laura pulls her roughly into the alley, Sarah is more than a little shocked that someone else has the upper hand for once. They both pull out their guns at the same time, and Laura almost laughs out loud, because this is the first night in a very long time that she's felt alive. She wishes she had never left this behind.
"I am terribly sorry for misleading you earlier," Laura says, careful to keep her voice calm and even as she points her gun at Sarah's head. "My name is Laura Roslin. My codename, however, with which you are probably more familiar, is Red."
"I thought that stood for 'Retired, Extremely Dangerous,'" Sarah says, staring down the barrel of Laura's gun. "You don't look retired to me."
"I think it's about the hair," Laura laughs. "I told them it was too obvious, but that doesn't seem to be the case." She fakes right, just the tiniest jerk of her shoulders, but Sarah doesn't go for it. "You're good," she says, and then shoots an empty paint can off the fire escape above Sarah's head. The half-second's worth of distraction is all she needs, and suddenly Sarah is on the ground in front of her, her gun in Laura's hand. "I'm still better."
Sarah frowns suddenly, like she's waiting for someone who isn't coming, and Laura smiles down at her, realizing who Sarah must be expecting.
"Your partner won't be coming," Laura tells her, tucking Sarah's gun into her inside coat pocket. "The bartender? I suppose that's the infamous Agent Carmichael. Where on earth did you even find him?"
"I thought that looked like a hell of a tip," Sarah growls. "What did you do to him?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. He'll be asleep for a few hours, that's all. I did teach, you know," Laura adds, running a hand through her hair, her own gun still casually pointed at Sarah. "I taught hand-to-hand and undercover tactics to young NSA agents for thirty years. And make no mistake about it, young lady, I am retired. As thrilling a life as that is," she mutters, mostly to herself.
"Look, I'm sorry to bother you, but we need intel on Volkoff," Sarah explains. "That's why we tracked you down. We have information that indicates you might be able to help us."
"Volkoff?" Laura laughs. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in years," she says, and she's lying, but she's been out of the intelligence loop for long enough now that she has no idea who to trust, and she's not going to start with some hotshot young spy she's never even heard of.
"And anything you know about an agent named Frost," Sarah adds. "Look, can I get up so we can talk about this? The ground's wet. If I could just--"
"If you could just what? Just get up and reach around and grab the poison-tipped dart in your hair that you think is passing for a hair stick?" Laura favors her with a slow smile. "Credit me with a little sense, Agent Walker. And I don't know anything useful about either of those people, so. I'm going to walk out of this alley, and you are going to leave me in peace-- or next time, the bartender won't wake up."
She starts to back away, gun still aimed at Sarah but mostly hidden from view by the open flap of her coat.
"What's it like?" Sarah asks, just as Laura is almost to the end of the alley.
"What?"
"Retirement," Sarah says, like it's a four-letter word, and Laura thinks that for people like the two of them, it probably is.
"Dull," Laura says honestly, considering her options. "Who sent you?"
Sarah takes a breath. "General Beckman."
"Diane? Well, well," Laura murmurs, smiling at a hazy memory of her old partner and a bottle of wine and a ritzy hotel room and a long-forgotten job. "Wonders never cease. She always did like to be in charge," Laura drawls, laughing when Sarah can't keep the look of surprise off her face. Obviously that little detail had been left out of her briefing.
"Can you help us or not?"
Laura frowns thoughtfully. Retirement may be boring, but at least she's alive, and there aren't too many of her fellow spies who can say the same. Her fingers tighten around the grip of her gun, and she remembers the thrill of it all, the uncertainty, the way every little thing mattered. It's an odd feeling, wanting to choose a life of almost-certain death over a slow death of almost-certain life, but here she is, gun in her hand, ready for action, and she finds that there's really only one answer she wants to give.
"I could do with some excitement in my life again, Agent Walker," Laura says, holstering her gun as Sarah cautiously gets to her feet.
"Thank you," Sarah says. "Will you come with us to castle?"
"Take me to your leader," Laura says glibly, and even Sarah cracks a smile.
Author: coffeesuperhero
Prompt: Laura Roslin walks into a bar and meets...Sarah Walker!
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Chuck
Characters: Laura Roslin (implied Laura Roslin/Diane Beckman), Sarah Walker
Word count: ~1500
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for drinking, some violence
Disclaimers: I have played fast and loose with both universes, so consider this an AU for both of 'em. Spoilers for absolutely none of Battlestar Galactica, but through season three of Chuck, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for the fun of intoabar. All characters & situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal, Josh Schwartz, Chris Fedak, Paul Marks, Warner Brothers Television and their various subsidiaries/any entity I forgot to name. Title from a Beatles song, which I also had nothing to do with, as well as the line from RED-- that's not mine, either.
Laura loves this bar. She comes here once a week, same night, like clockwork, but she orders something new every time. She found a battered copy of a bartender's guide in a used bookstore a year ago, and she's working her way through it. Retirement is mostly one long boring stretch of dwindling life, but one night a week, she slips into a seat at the bar and pretends that she's just in here for a cool drink and a relaxing evening after a long day of work.
Tonight she's feeling adventurous, and the new bartender is tall and sweet and exactly the kind of person who will blush adorably if she so much as winks at him, so she adjusts her glasses, smiles warmly at the bartender, and asks for an Oral Sex on the Beach.
He stammers and stutters and finally says, "Coming right up."
All she has to do is lift an eyebrow, and he blushes so deeply at his unintentional double entendre that is face is almost the color of her hair. She puts a little extra sass into her "Thank you," when he brings her the drink, and she smiles into her glass as he walks away to take an order from the young lady on her left, a beautiful blonde in a black minidress and heels. Oddly enough, the bartender seems less flustered by this new arrival than he does by Laura, but then, the blonde has only ordered a vodka tonic.
When the bartender brings her drink, the young lady takes a long sip from her glass and sighs, and the weight of the other woman's sigh makes Laura feel unexpectedly genial.
"Long day?" Laura asks, propping her elbow onto the bar and cradling her chin in her hand.
"The longest," the young woman replies, setting her glass down carefully. "Not over yet. I'm supposed to be grading exams," she laughs.
Laura wrinkles her nose and signals the bartender. "I would like another one of these," she tells him, pointing at her glass at winking at him, "and another of whatever this young lady is having." She beams over at her new drinking companion. "I taught for years," she explains, and raises her mostly empty glass in toast. "So I do understand the pain of grading final exams. I'm Laura," she mentions.
"Sarah Walker. It's nice to meet you, Laura," Sarah says, smiling her thanks to the bartender as he sets down a second round of drinks.
They talk for awhile, swapping horror stories, until finally Laura finishes her second drink and pays her tab. She tips the bartender, pressing a crisp twenty into his hand and letting her fingernails trail across his palm as she pulls her hand away. Laura shakes her head as he walks off, watching the blush spread across the back of his neck, and then she gives Sarah one last smile. "It was nice to meet you, Sarah," she says, surprising herself with the force of emotion behind the sentiment. She hadn't expected to miss her old life, but talking to someone in the middle of it has brought it all back, and now she just wants to go home and take a bath and drink some wine and forget.
She's half a block from the bar when she feels like someone is following her, and she ducks into an alley and sinks into the shadows, waiting for her tail to pass by. She's not at all surprised when it's Sarah, though from the younger woman's wide-eyed expression as Laura pulls her roughly into the alley, Sarah is more than a little shocked that someone else has the upper hand for once. They both pull out their guns at the same time, and Laura almost laughs out loud, because this is the first night in a very long time that she's felt alive. She wishes she had never left this behind.
"I am terribly sorry for misleading you earlier," Laura says, careful to keep her voice calm and even as she points her gun at Sarah's head. "My name is Laura Roslin. My codename, however, with which you are probably more familiar, is Red."
"I thought that stood for 'Retired, Extremely Dangerous,'" Sarah says, staring down the barrel of Laura's gun. "You don't look retired to me."
"I think it's about the hair," Laura laughs. "I told them it was too obvious, but that doesn't seem to be the case." She fakes right, just the tiniest jerk of her shoulders, but Sarah doesn't go for it. "You're good," she says, and then shoots an empty paint can off the fire escape above Sarah's head. The half-second's worth of distraction is all she needs, and suddenly Sarah is on the ground in front of her, her gun in Laura's hand. "I'm still better."
Sarah frowns suddenly, like she's waiting for someone who isn't coming, and Laura smiles down at her, realizing who Sarah must be expecting.
"Your partner won't be coming," Laura tells her, tucking Sarah's gun into her inside coat pocket. "The bartender? I suppose that's the infamous Agent Carmichael. Where on earth did you even find him?"
"I thought that looked like a hell of a tip," Sarah growls. "What did you do to him?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. He'll be asleep for a few hours, that's all. I did teach, you know," Laura adds, running a hand through her hair, her own gun still casually pointed at Sarah. "I taught hand-to-hand and undercover tactics to young NSA agents for thirty years. And make no mistake about it, young lady, I am retired. As thrilling a life as that is," she mutters, mostly to herself.
"Look, I'm sorry to bother you, but we need intel on Volkoff," Sarah explains. "That's why we tracked you down. We have information that indicates you might be able to help us."
"Volkoff?" Laura laughs. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in years," she says, and she's lying, but she's been out of the intelligence loop for long enough now that she has no idea who to trust, and she's not going to start with some hotshot young spy she's never even heard of.
"And anything you know about an agent named Frost," Sarah adds. "Look, can I get up so we can talk about this? The ground's wet. If I could just--"
"If you could just what? Just get up and reach around and grab the poison-tipped dart in your hair that you think is passing for a hair stick?" Laura favors her with a slow smile. "Credit me with a little sense, Agent Walker. And I don't know anything useful about either of those people, so. I'm going to walk out of this alley, and you are going to leave me in peace-- or next time, the bartender won't wake up."
She starts to back away, gun still aimed at Sarah but mostly hidden from view by the open flap of her coat.
"What's it like?" Sarah asks, just as Laura is almost to the end of the alley.
"What?"
"Retirement," Sarah says, like it's a four-letter word, and Laura thinks that for people like the two of them, it probably is.
"Dull," Laura says honestly, considering her options. "Who sent you?"
Sarah takes a breath. "General Beckman."
"Diane? Well, well," Laura murmurs, smiling at a hazy memory of her old partner and a bottle of wine and a ritzy hotel room and a long-forgotten job. "Wonders never cease. She always did like to be in charge," Laura drawls, laughing when Sarah can't keep the look of surprise off her face. Obviously that little detail had been left out of her briefing.
"Can you help us or not?"
Laura frowns thoughtfully. Retirement may be boring, but at least she's alive, and there aren't too many of her fellow spies who can say the same. Her fingers tighten around the grip of her gun, and she remembers the thrill of it all, the uncertainty, the way every little thing mattered. It's an odd feeling, wanting to choose a life of almost-certain death over a slow death of almost-certain life, but here she is, gun in her hand, ready for action, and she finds that there's really only one answer she wants to give.
"I could do with some excitement in my life again, Agent Walker," Laura says, holstering her gun as Sarah cautiously gets to her feet.
"Thank you," Sarah says. "Will you come with us to castle?"
"Take me to your leader," Laura says glibly, and even Sarah cracks a smile.