...and one additional treat
Feb. 27th, 2019 05:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enemyofperfectI had hazy dreams of writing far more treats than just the one, but if I could only manage one, I'm glad it was for phoenixfalls, who wrote for me my first Chocolate Box lo these several years ago!
Title: Couples
Fandom: Person of interest
Pairing: Sameen Shaw/John Reese, but like, as bros?
Rating: Teen and Up
Contains: Snark, bad jokes, Shaw's frustration with civilian pastimes.
Word count: 663
Summary: The good thing about getting a number who's on his way to a couples retreat is that it narrows down the possibilities for violence. The bad thing about it that Shaw has to go to a couples retreat, too.
The good thing about getting a number who's on his way to a couples retreat is that it narrows down the possibilities for violence. The bad thing about it that Shaw has to go to a couples retreat, too.
"Family-run resort, my ass," she mutters. "You couldn't have bumped off a couple of cousins and gotten us in as staff, Harold?"
The vaguely agitated static that follows is either a protest against her language or Finch trying to say he doesn't copy, she isn't sure which. It's these painfully scenic mountains they're right in the middle of--radio signal doesn't travel worth a damn. Supposedly Finch'll have it sorted out by lunchtime, but Shaw isn't holding her breath.
Except she is holding her breath, kind of, because there's a freaking cucumber slice over each of her eyes, and every sound could be a hostile who's got the drop on her.
"You know what, I'm giving spa day a pass," Shaw says abruptly. It's ridiculous anyway. The number's off fishing or day drinking or whatever the men are slated for while their wives relax, and her presence here is completely unnecessary. He's probably going to turn out to be the perpetrator anyway, not the victim. He's got that vibe.
An attendant hurries over, a thing Shaw can watch happen because she's got all the vegetables off her face now, thank god. "Is something wrong, ma'am?"
"Nope. Peachy. Here, you can have these." And one cucumber hand off later, Shaw is free as one of Harold's disturbingly predictable aliases.
Weirdly, John's already in their cabin when she gets back to it. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the creep?"
He gives her a sad hound face and nods at the laptop he's got set up beside him. A webcam, with motion alerts enabled, showing their number stretched out on the bed in his own cabin. The resolution is actually good enough to show he's breathing. Guess the signal's a little better inside the resort than it is outside it.
"Thought it was an excuse when he said he needed a rest," John says. "But maybe not." He quits the sad eyes and looks unconvincingly innocent instead. "Get kicked out of yoga class?"
"I'll kick your ass at yoga." She can't get too annoyed, though. It's hilarious to see him trying to dress down. Kind of like a dog with its fur half shaved. "Nobody was acting weird, so I left. At least, not weirder than going to a couples retreat just so they can completely avoid the people they're married to. What is that, anyway--reverse psychology? Keep us apart until we can't help but screw each other's brains out?"
"I didn't know you missed me that much, Shaw," John deadpans.
She rolls her eyes. "Straight people are a fucking trip." But since the number's staying put for the time being and she's already restless as hell-- "So, wanna have sex?"
He thinks it over for a minute. "Make this a trip for fucking, you mean?"
Oh my god. "Just for that, you better make me come at least three times."
That feral grin is a much better look on him than the polo shirt. "Promises, promises."
"Seriously, do you even understand the concept of humor?" But she's already got her fly open, and he's already scoping out the load-bearing possibilities of the furniture on hand. She gives it ten minutes tops before he's too wound up for complete sentences, let alone bad jokes.
"Hey Harold," says John, ever the teacher's pet, "you might wanna tune out for the next hour or two. Just a heads up." The squawk of static in response could mean anything, but that's Finch's problem. Shaw is much more interested in John's assessment of his own stamina. Hard to say if it'd be more fun to get that much of a workout, or just break him in fast and dirty.
Either way, though--yeah, this weekend is looking up.
I do wish I'd finished it just a few minutes earlier, so I could have come up with a better title before the collection went live -- but I did have an awful lot of fun writing it!
phoenixfalls, who wrote for me my first Chocolate Box lo these several years ago!Title: Couples
Fandom: Person of interest
Pairing: Sameen Shaw/John Reese, but like, as bros?
Rating: Teen and Up
Contains: Snark, bad jokes, Shaw's frustration with civilian pastimes.
Word count: 663
Summary: The good thing about getting a number who's on his way to a couples retreat is that it narrows down the possibilities for violence. The bad thing about it that Shaw has to go to a couples retreat, too.
The good thing about getting a number who's on his way to a couples retreat is that it narrows down the possibilities for violence. The bad thing about it that Shaw has to go to a couples retreat, too.
"Family-run resort, my ass," she mutters. "You couldn't have bumped off a couple of cousins and gotten us in as staff, Harold?"
The vaguely agitated static that follows is either a protest against her language or Finch trying to say he doesn't copy, she isn't sure which. It's these painfully scenic mountains they're right in the middle of--radio signal doesn't travel worth a damn. Supposedly Finch'll have it sorted out by lunchtime, but Shaw isn't holding her breath.
Except she is holding her breath, kind of, because there's a freaking cucumber slice over each of her eyes, and every sound could be a hostile who's got the drop on her.
"You know what, I'm giving spa day a pass," Shaw says abruptly. It's ridiculous anyway. The number's off fishing or day drinking or whatever the men are slated for while their wives relax, and her presence here is completely unnecessary. He's probably going to turn out to be the perpetrator anyway, not the victim. He's got that vibe.
An attendant hurries over, a thing Shaw can watch happen because she's got all the vegetables off her face now, thank god. "Is something wrong, ma'am?"
"Nope. Peachy. Here, you can have these." And one cucumber hand off later, Shaw is free as one of Harold's disturbingly predictable aliases.
Weirdly, John's already in their cabin when she gets back to it. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the creep?"
He gives her a sad hound face and nods at the laptop he's got set up beside him. A webcam, with motion alerts enabled, showing their number stretched out on the bed in his own cabin. The resolution is actually good enough to show he's breathing. Guess the signal's a little better inside the resort than it is outside it.
"Thought it was an excuse when he said he needed a rest," John says. "But maybe not." He quits the sad eyes and looks unconvincingly innocent instead. "Get kicked out of yoga class?"
"I'll kick your ass at yoga." She can't get too annoyed, though. It's hilarious to see him trying to dress down. Kind of like a dog with its fur half shaved. "Nobody was acting weird, so I left. At least, not weirder than going to a couples retreat just so they can completely avoid the people they're married to. What is that, anyway--reverse psychology? Keep us apart until we can't help but screw each other's brains out?"
"I didn't know you missed me that much, Shaw," John deadpans.
She rolls her eyes. "Straight people are a fucking trip." But since the number's staying put for the time being and she's already restless as hell-- "So, wanna have sex?"
He thinks it over for a minute. "Make this a trip for fucking, you mean?"
Oh my god. "Just for that, you better make me come at least three times."
That feral grin is a much better look on him than the polo shirt. "Promises, promises."
"Seriously, do you even understand the concept of humor?" But she's already got her fly open, and he's already scoping out the load-bearing possibilities of the furniture on hand. She gives it ten minutes tops before he's too wound up for complete sentences, let alone bad jokes.
"Hey Harold," says John, ever the teacher's pet, "you might wanna tune out for the next hour or two. Just a heads up." The squawk of static in response could mean anything, but that's Finch's problem. Shaw is much more interested in John's assessment of his own stamina. Hard to say if it'd be more fun to get that much of a workout, or just break him in fast and dirty.
Either way, though--yeah, this weekend is looking up.
I do wish I'd finished it just a few minutes earlier, so I could have come up with a better title before the collection went live -- but I did have an awful lot of fun writing it!
