A little AU Spooks Fic
Because in my head, Ros and Andrew are still alive and waiting out their days in a Cypriot villa (more than likely formerly inhabited by Ruth). Purely for-fun speculation, and not very well thought-out and/or edited. Still. We can dream.
Andrew’s never seen someone look so annoyed at a swimming pool.
“Sun’s out,” he ventures by way of greeting. “Nice day today.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.” He lopes over to the deckchair and flops down on it.
She starts to unfold her arms, then thinks twice, and crosses them again before seating herself on the plastic edge of the other chair.
“I assume you’ve heard?”
“Yes.” He shades his eyes, wishing for his sunhat. “Heart attack.”
Even he can hear the quote-unquotes. There is the briefest of flickers around her mouth.
“They gave him a state funeral.”
“They didn’t give me a state funeral.”
“Six people came for mine.”
She is squinting at him, challenging him. He looks away with a laugh.
“A little bird told me he was part of Nightingale,” she continues in a knowing tone.
“Oh?” Andrew’s vaguely aware of his non-surprise. “And this is the same Nightingale group you accused me of being part of.”
“Suspected you of being part of. There is a difference.” She leans slightly sideways, resting an elbow on the armrest. Her arms are unfolded now, her free hand occasionally worrying at the thin material flapping around her legs.
“But now... you don’t?”
“For your sake, you should hope not.”
He smiles, because there is no malice in her voice, not anymore.
“They wouldn’t have given us Cyprus if they thought I was. That ought to ease your mind.” He stretches lazily and burrows deeper into the hard plastic back.
“It would, if I wasn’t so bloody bored.”
There is a minute of silence between them. A gull calls overhead.
“Have you ever thought of settling down?” He says, casually flicking his gaze from the far edge of the sea. Sees her back snap straight, and she looks halfway between killing him and running away. Or killing him, then running away.
“No. Never wanted to.”
“Have you given it a chance?”
Andrew reads her concession in the tilt of her chin. “Are you proposing to me?”
He flaps his hand and makes a face. “I’m more the slow-and-easy sort. I’d say: first date.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t thought this through yet.”
She stares for several seconds, then, gets up in a swirl of white, and he panics.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Need something to wear. Going down to the shops.”
She brushes by him with a small grin.
“Borrowing your bike.”
-Fin-
Andrew’s never seen someone look so annoyed at a swimming pool.
“Sun’s out,” he ventures by way of greeting. “Nice day today.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.” He lopes over to the deckchair and flops down on it.
She starts to unfold her arms, then thinks twice, and crosses them again before seating herself on the plastic edge of the other chair.
“I assume you’ve heard?”
“Yes.” He shades his eyes, wishing for his sunhat. “Heart attack.”
Even he can hear the quote-unquotes. There is the briefest of flickers around her mouth.
“They gave him a state funeral.”
“They didn’t give me a state funeral.”
“Six people came for mine.”
She is squinting at him, challenging him. He looks away with a laugh.
“A little bird told me he was part of Nightingale,” she continues in a knowing tone.
“Oh?” Andrew’s vaguely aware of his non-surprise. “And this is the same Nightingale group you accused me of being part of.”
“Suspected you of being part of. There is a difference.” She leans slightly sideways, resting an elbow on the armrest. Her arms are unfolded now, her free hand occasionally worrying at the thin material flapping around her legs.
“But now... you don’t?”
“For your sake, you should hope not.”
He smiles, because there is no malice in her voice, not anymore.
“They wouldn’t have given us Cyprus if they thought I was. That ought to ease your mind.” He stretches lazily and burrows deeper into the hard plastic back.
“It would, if I wasn’t so bloody bored.”
There is a minute of silence between them. A gull calls overhead.
“Have you ever thought of settling down?” He says, casually flicking his gaze from the far edge of the sea. Sees her back snap straight, and she looks halfway between killing him and running away. Or killing him, then running away.
“No. Never wanted to.”
“Have you given it a chance?”
Andrew reads her concession in the tilt of her chin. “Are you proposing to me?”
He flaps his hand and makes a face. “I’m more the slow-and-easy sort. I’d say: first date.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t thought this through yet.”
She stares for several seconds, then, gets up in a swirl of white, and he panics.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Need something to wear. Going down to the shops.”
She brushes by him with a small grin.
“Borrowing your bike.”
-Fin-