Escape (Where's Waldo?/Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego)
Title: Escape
Author: lady_ganesh
Rating: PG
Summary/Prompt: Waldo/Carmen: hide and seek - "I know of a place where they will never find us."
Thanks to lindentreeisle for beta work!
The buzzing at his hip tells him he's got a call. When Waldo flips open the phone it's a text message: Found you.
She's good; impossibly good, better than anyone he's ever known.
She can pick him out of a crowd with effortless ease. She's cute as a button and sharp as a tack; sometimes he wonders if he can think of her as anything but a cliché. He'd like to write her a poem, but it'd be sweet, and it'd rhyme, and Carmen's not the kind of person to like that sort of thing. He doesn't want to disappoint her.
The next text message is just a set of GPS coordinates. He knows from experience it'll be a hotel, much nicer than the hostels he's used to. Waldo has money; he just never sees the sense of wasting it on room service when he could be outside, enjoying the people as they pass by, eating a hot dog from a cart or a taco from a converted bus.
Carmen's different. She likes high-rise hotels, room service, diamond earrings. The one thing they do have in common is the game. She likes to search; he likes to be found. He asked her once if she wanted him to do the hunting for a change.
She turned to him, her brown hair long over her naked shoulders, her face placid and thoughtful. "I get hunted enough," she said finally.
He likes it better this way, anyway. He hides, she seeks. It's simple.
She's not as he expects her at the hotel. Usually there's a fur coat, a bottle of champagne, Carmen spread out over the bed like the world's sweetest after-dinner mint. Today she's pacing across the floor, high heels clicking, still in her trenchcoat.
"Carmen," he says, because he can't quite find the words for the question in his throat.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean for things to end this way."
He has never, ever asked Carmen what she does for a living. He has never wanted to know. The gnawing in his stomach is telling him he's about to find out, is about to find out more than either of them ever wanted him to know.
"Don't," he says, as if that alone can stop things from happening.
"They're right on my tail," she said. "You're probably not safe here. They'll think you're an accomplice. I shouldn't have--"
"Stop," he says, and kisses her, a familiar act made more precious by its rarity. She resists him at first, her lean arms tense, but then she relaxes into him, pulling him closer, kissing him back. "I know-- there's a place we can go. You won't be found. I promise."
She pulls away from him. "It won't work."
"Then we'll do something else."
"I don't know," she says.
"You'll like it," he says. "It's beautiful. You could paraglide."
She raises an elegant eyebrow. He has never hoped to keep her. He is an amusement to her, he knows; pedestrian and conventional in his practical striped sweaters and walking stick. But maybe he could protect her, for a bit. Maybe they could have some happiness. "I know you like a challenge."
"You'll get tired of me."
"Maybe." He is not sure such a thing is possible, but it seems wisest to concede it.
"I'll get tired of you."
"Probably."
Half a smile edges across her face. "I'll find out if you own any different shirts."
He doesn't. "I'll find out if you wear any other hats."
"We'll have to go quickly," she says.
"I can do that."
"All right," she says. "But if anyone--"
"No," Waldo says. "We won't talk about that. Do you have any luggage?"
"Nothing I need."
He takes her hand. "Then let's go."
Author: lady_ganesh
Rating: PG
Summary/Prompt: Waldo/Carmen: hide and seek - "I know of a place where they will never find us."
Thanks to lindentreeisle for beta work!
The buzzing at his hip tells him he's got a call. When Waldo flips open the phone it's a text message: Found you.
She's good; impossibly good, better than anyone he's ever known.
She can pick him out of a crowd with effortless ease. She's cute as a button and sharp as a tack; sometimes he wonders if he can think of her as anything but a cliché. He'd like to write her a poem, but it'd be sweet, and it'd rhyme, and Carmen's not the kind of person to like that sort of thing. He doesn't want to disappoint her.
The next text message is just a set of GPS coordinates. He knows from experience it'll be a hotel, much nicer than the hostels he's used to. Waldo has money; he just never sees the sense of wasting it on room service when he could be outside, enjoying the people as they pass by, eating a hot dog from a cart or a taco from a converted bus.
Carmen's different. She likes high-rise hotels, room service, diamond earrings. The one thing they do have in common is the game. She likes to search; he likes to be found. He asked her once if she wanted him to do the hunting for a change.
She turned to him, her brown hair long over her naked shoulders, her face placid and thoughtful. "I get hunted enough," she said finally.
He likes it better this way, anyway. He hides, she seeks. It's simple.
She's not as he expects her at the hotel. Usually there's a fur coat, a bottle of champagne, Carmen spread out over the bed like the world's sweetest after-dinner mint. Today she's pacing across the floor, high heels clicking, still in her trenchcoat.
"Carmen," he says, because he can't quite find the words for the question in his throat.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean for things to end this way."
He has never, ever asked Carmen what she does for a living. He has never wanted to know. The gnawing in his stomach is telling him he's about to find out, is about to find out more than either of them ever wanted him to know.
"Don't," he says, as if that alone can stop things from happening.
"They're right on my tail," she said. "You're probably not safe here. They'll think you're an accomplice. I shouldn't have--"
"Stop," he says, and kisses her, a familiar act made more precious by its rarity. She resists him at first, her lean arms tense, but then she relaxes into him, pulling him closer, kissing him back. "I know-- there's a place we can go. You won't be found. I promise."
She pulls away from him. "It won't work."
"Then we'll do something else."
"I don't know," she says.
"You'll like it," he says. "It's beautiful. You could paraglide."
She raises an elegant eyebrow. He has never hoped to keep her. He is an amusement to her, he knows; pedestrian and conventional in his practical striped sweaters and walking stick. But maybe he could protect her, for a bit. Maybe they could have some happiness. "I know you like a challenge."
"You'll get tired of me."
"Maybe." He is not sure such a thing is possible, but it seems wisest to concede it.
"I'll get tired of you."
"Probably."
Half a smile edges across her face. "I'll find out if you own any different shirts."
He doesn't. "I'll find out if you wear any other hats."
"We'll have to go quickly," she says.
"I can do that."
"All right," she says. "But if anyone--"
"No," Waldo says. "We won't talk about that. Do you have any luggage?"
"Nothing I need."
He takes her hand. "Then let's go."