FF: Crime Scene Daydreams
Fandom: Murder in Suburbia
Pairing: Ash/Scribbs
A/N: I wrote this during my lunch break at work and, despite Ann's valiant efforts to make it readable, it's a pointless batch of nonsense. Thanks to Ann for the beta, all remaining errors are mine, as I couldn't seem to stop myself from tweaking it afterwards (bad, ralst, bad).
Scribbs tried her best to hide a yawn as she followed Ash through the latest crime scene. She knew she should be asking questions and commenting on the copious amounts of blood and other bodily fluids - thank God she'd stocked up on the extra strong mints - but all her fuzzy mind seemed able to concentrate on was how Ash's new coat hid the sway and swell her of her friend's luscious backside. It was a little annoyance, in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to the severed head that she just spotted sitting on top the television, but it really was starting to irritate her.
"It seems a little over the top," Ash sighed, "even for suburbia."
Scribbs nodded absentmindedly as she tried to work out if it would seem odd if she gave Ash her birthday present - a short, leather jacket, perhaps - two months early. She could pretend she was being efficient, but Ash would never buy that, or that she'd simply mixed up the dates, which Ash most certainly would.
"He or she must have been covered in blood," Ash went on, bending to inspect the blood splatter that coated nearly the whole wall.
Perhaps she could even get away with a matching pair of leather trousers. Black, obviously, and cut low on the hips to add to that special Ash swagger that her inconsiderate friend always tried to mask. Ash would, naturally, make some comment about not being a biker chick and vow never to set foot, let alone leg, inside the tacky excuse for a pair of trousers, but Scribbs was sure that if she made a comment or two about old maids or stick-in-the-muds, Ash would at least give them a try.
"Chainsaw," Ash continued, "judging by the pattern, but SOCO will be able to tell us for sure."
Scribbs again nodded her agreement. If she could make some excuse and sneak off to the shops during her lunch hour, she could have the gift wrapped and sitting on Ash's desk first thing the next morning. No, scratch that, she decided, there was no way her uptight friend would ever forgive her for such a blatant display of 'inappropriate clothing' in the workplace. She should go round to Ash's tonight, maybe take a bottle of wine and surprise her with it. With a bit of luck, she could even talk Ash into putting on a little show, just so she could give her honest opinion on whether or not the leather made her look like a biker tart, of course.
"What do you think happened to the rest of the body?"
Maybe she should take two bottles? Scribbs wondered, her mind beginning to drift further as she played out that evening's activities in her head; Ash would meet her at the door, slightly flushed and breathing heavily - she wasn't quite sure why, but Scribbs was extremely fond of the visual - and pull her into the flat. Both hands on the lapels of her jacket or one? They both had their appeal but, on consideration, she thought a two handed pull would be more efficient, and Ash was nothing if not efficient. There would be a kiss, something brief and unexpected. Ash would panic - naturally - but instead of throwing her out and threatening grievous bodily harm, as she did the last time they 'accidentally' snogged, she'd demure quietly, and they'd retire to the lounge.
"Are you listening to me, Scribbs?"
Once seated, Scribbs decided, she'd open the wine and present it to Ash - she'd have to remember to make a detour into the kitchen on the way in, so she had glasses and a corkscrew to hand - and then, after the first sip, she'd present the gift.
"If you're worried about having to decapitate one of your dolls, I promise to buy you a new one after the case is closed."
Ash would make a fuss; even in Scribbs' daydreams she wasn't fool enough to imagine her partner would be anything less than flabbergasted at being presented with so much leather, but there would be a trace of excitement underneath that would cause Ash's eyes to sparkle and her chest to heave.
"Scribbs!"
Scribbs blinked. The breathless and excited Ash of her dreams suddenly morphed into the red-faced and annoyed Ash of her reality, and she was rather disconcerted to realise she found them equally as appealing, which meant it took far more effort than she would have liked to admit, not to take Ash into her arms and kiss the woman stupid right in the middle of a murder scene. Shit! Murder scene! She quickly looked around, her desperation masked by a bored smile, before pointing in the direction of the garden.
"Have you looked in the shed?" Ash appeared ready to implode. "Only from here it looks like it's got a new lock, and I'm pretty sure those crows aren't circling in the hopes of picking up gardening tips from Headless Harry over there."
The colour in Ash's cheeks receded as she turned to survey the shed in question before ordering someone from SOCO to follow her out into the garden.
As Scribbs watched her storm out, she was once again reminded of the tragedy that was Ash's new coat. It was a crime against nature, surely, to hide away such a delicious form under all that drab cloth. "Leather," she mumbled, a smile forming, "it's the only way to go."
Pairing: Ash/Scribbs
A/N: I wrote this during my lunch break at work and, despite Ann's valiant efforts to make it readable, it's a pointless batch of nonsense. Thanks to Ann for the beta, all remaining errors are mine, as I couldn't seem to stop myself from tweaking it afterwards (bad, ralst, bad).
Scribbs tried her best to hide a yawn as she followed Ash through the latest crime scene. She knew she should be asking questions and commenting on the copious amounts of blood and other bodily fluids - thank God she'd stocked up on the extra strong mints - but all her fuzzy mind seemed able to concentrate on was how Ash's new coat hid the sway and swell her of her friend's luscious backside. It was a little annoyance, in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to the severed head that she just spotted sitting on top the television, but it really was starting to irritate her.
"It seems a little over the top," Ash sighed, "even for suburbia."
Scribbs nodded absentmindedly as she tried to work out if it would seem odd if she gave Ash her birthday present - a short, leather jacket, perhaps - two months early. She could pretend she was being efficient, but Ash would never buy that, or that she'd simply mixed up the dates, which Ash most certainly would.
"He or she must have been covered in blood," Ash went on, bending to inspect the blood splatter that coated nearly the whole wall.
Perhaps she could even get away with a matching pair of leather trousers. Black, obviously, and cut low on the hips to add to that special Ash swagger that her inconsiderate friend always tried to mask. Ash would, naturally, make some comment about not being a biker chick and vow never to set foot, let alone leg, inside the tacky excuse for a pair of trousers, but Scribbs was sure that if she made a comment or two about old maids or stick-in-the-muds, Ash would at least give them a try.
"Chainsaw," Ash continued, "judging by the pattern, but SOCO will be able to tell us for sure."
Scribbs again nodded her agreement. If she could make some excuse and sneak off to the shops during her lunch hour, she could have the gift wrapped and sitting on Ash's desk first thing the next morning. No, scratch that, she decided, there was no way her uptight friend would ever forgive her for such a blatant display of 'inappropriate clothing' in the workplace. She should go round to Ash's tonight, maybe take a bottle of wine and surprise her with it. With a bit of luck, she could even talk Ash into putting on a little show, just so she could give her honest opinion on whether or not the leather made her look like a biker tart, of course.
"What do you think happened to the rest of the body?"
Maybe she should take two bottles? Scribbs wondered, her mind beginning to drift further as she played out that evening's activities in her head; Ash would meet her at the door, slightly flushed and breathing heavily - she wasn't quite sure why, but Scribbs was extremely fond of the visual - and pull her into the flat. Both hands on the lapels of her jacket or one? They both had their appeal but, on consideration, she thought a two handed pull would be more efficient, and Ash was nothing if not efficient. There would be a kiss, something brief and unexpected. Ash would panic - naturally - but instead of throwing her out and threatening grievous bodily harm, as she did the last time they 'accidentally' snogged, she'd demure quietly, and they'd retire to the lounge.
"Are you listening to me, Scribbs?"
Once seated, Scribbs decided, she'd open the wine and present it to Ash - she'd have to remember to make a detour into the kitchen on the way in, so she had glasses and a corkscrew to hand - and then, after the first sip, she'd present the gift.
"If you're worried about having to decapitate one of your dolls, I promise to buy you a new one after the case is closed."
Ash would make a fuss; even in Scribbs' daydreams she wasn't fool enough to imagine her partner would be anything less than flabbergasted at being presented with so much leather, but there would be a trace of excitement underneath that would cause Ash's eyes to sparkle and her chest to heave.
"Scribbs!"
Scribbs blinked. The breathless and excited Ash of her dreams suddenly morphed into the red-faced and annoyed Ash of her reality, and she was rather disconcerted to realise she found them equally as appealing, which meant it took far more effort than she would have liked to admit, not to take Ash into her arms and kiss the woman stupid right in the middle of a murder scene. Shit! Murder scene! She quickly looked around, her desperation masked by a bored smile, before pointing in the direction of the garden.
"Have you looked in the shed?" Ash appeared ready to implode. "Only from here it looks like it's got a new lock, and I'm pretty sure those crows aren't circling in the hopes of picking up gardening tips from Headless Harry over there."
The colour in Ash's cheeks receded as she turned to survey the shed in question before ordering someone from SOCO to follow her out into the garden.
As Scribbs watched her storm out, she was once again reminded of the tragedy that was Ash's new coat. It was a crime against nature, surely, to hide away such a delicious form under all that drab cloth. "Leather," she mumbled, a smile forming, "it's the only way to go."