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bantha_fodderSaid You Were Back In Town by Pen.
Pretender AU. Rated M. Jarod and Parker ARE SPIES ALSKJFLAKSJDF
This fic is the fault of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daygloparker.
**
Parker fucking hates London. All patchy drizzle and grey coats, and she sneers and taps her fingers on the table. She looks around the cafe; catalogues patrons and sips her latte. The bells ring out, and she looks at her watch.
He's late.
Five minutes later and she's considering giving up. She drains the dregs from her mug and pulls a face at the aftertaste just as a shape slides onto the chair opposite her.
"I'm sorry," she says, automatically, "That seat's taken."
The clatter of teeth, and a hand splays on the table. She looks up as she smells wet dog; meets his smile and blinks.
"Oh, fuck, no," she says. "I didn't fly all the fucking way to England to meet with you."
"Miss P.," Argyle says, "Don't be ungrateful. I'm doing you a favour."
"I'll be doing you a fucking injury if you don't tell me what I came to hear," she retorts, and his smile gets wider.
"I have the information you seek," he intones, like Darth Vader, and she rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, I just bet you do."
He slides a folder across the table. "You gotta memorise and destroy. I can't get caught, if they knew-" Argyle makes a slashing motion across his throat.
"That's great," she says, preoccupied as she flips through the folder. She tilts her head to one side. "Are you fucking serious?" she asks. "Is that even possible?"
"Put that away," he whispers, urgently. "Look at it in your hotel or something. You'd think they'd teach you spies to be more careful."
Parker flips her gaze up to Argyle's face. He's sweating a little, and he's definitely not cut out for snitch. "They do," she says, with a grin. "I just like to see you squirm." She tucks the folder away, and moves to stand.
"Miss P." Argyle puts out a hand like he's going to rest it on her arm, then thinks better and rests it on the table. "Has Jarod, you know, said anything about me?"
Parker draws in a sharp breath; rolls her eyes again, and pastes a sneer across her face, like what he said didn't matter. "He didn't pass me a note in study hall, no. I'm sure you've seen him more recently than I have." She leaves Argyle to pick up the bill.
The air outside the cafe is cold, and the water runs down her collar. She shakes her hair, drops her sunglasses to cover her eyes, and flags a cabbie to take her the two miles to her hotel.
When she flies out of Heathrow four hours later, economy class smells like cattle and stupidity, but at least it's dry.
*
"Thanks to the information that Miss Parker brought back from London, we've been able to finalise details for this operation." Parker pays attention as Raines outlines the mission parameters, she swears she does, but her gaze wanders to her father, who is staring very attentively at Raines, and she finds herself trying not to think about the time she thought she saw Raines leaving her father's apartment. She loves her father, but there are things she needn't think about.
She tunes back in just in time to hear, "The flight is direct to Kuala Lumpur, and no infiltration will be required. This is a simple in and out."
"Just me?" Parker asks, and beside her, Lyle's chair creaks.
"Yes, Angel," says her father. "I have complete confidence in you."
Parker holds her breath.
*
Broots drives the taxi from HQ to the airport. "Keep an eye out, Broots," she warns.
"Everything's fine, Miss Parker," he says, eyes on the road like he's preparing to pull out, but she can hear the jump in his voice.
"Sure it is," she says, and gets out.
At check in, she hands over a passport that has her photo but not her name, and she's done it a million times but it never, ever gets old.
She thinks about running.
She gets on the plane.
*
Kuala Lumpur is hot and disgusting, and as she walks through customs she can see the condensation on the windows. The train from the airport is crowded and stuffy. The taxi driver speaks the most incomprehensible English; he mumbles through his broken, yellowed teeth, and has the most disgusting breath, and she pretends that she doesn't speak a word of Malay.
She books into the hotel, but it's just for show: she'll spend all of the night and most of the next day getting her fucking job done, and if she's very lucky she'll have time for a quick nap after that before she has to check out.
She hates the fly in, fly out nature of these things. As she double checks her map of the city, she takes a look out her window and frowns.
The angle is all wrong, and she knows it's no coincidence.
At the main reception she's calm and polite, because that's who her passport says she is. "I'm sorry," she says, "I can't stay in my room. I believe I reserved the one two over?"
"I'm sorry," says the lovely young thing behind the desk. "That room's already taken."
"Can you tell me who took it?" Parker asks, and the young thing shakes his head. She tries her very best smile. "I would appreciate it," she says, and knows she's pushing her cover a little.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, and Parker sighs. She meets his eyes to thank him, and notices the tic in his eyelid. She narrows her eyes and follows his line of sight, and meets the bartender's gaze.
"Thanks anyway," says Parker, and walks the fifty feet to slide onto a barstool. "I'll have a scotch," she says, and taps her fingers on the bar.
The bartender smiles at her. "You lost something?" he asks.
"I didn't get the room I wanted," she says, with a half-hearted shrug and what she hopes is the appropriate amount of regret.
"Ah," he says, "You want a view of our beautiful city." She smiles at him.
"I do," she replies, and she freezes as a hand rests at the small of her back.
"Unfortunately," rumbles a familiar voice, and inwardly, she curses her fucking luck. "I got the best view in the hotel." The click of sunglasses by her ear, and Jarod drops onto the stool beside her, his hand still warm on her skin.
That's not difficult, though, the weather being hot as it is, and she smiles at his pink nose.
"Forget the sunscreen?" she asks, like he's an old friend she's pleased to see.
"The sights here are lovely, and I forgot myself in my enthusiasm," he grins back at her.
"Of course," she says, and as the bartender drops her scotch in front of her she knocks it back.
"Careful," Jarod warns. "You have other things to do tonight than just drink."
The bartender looks on curiously as Parker replies. "No I don't," she says, and the words taste bitter on her tongue. "You've taken care of that."
His hand drops from her skin, and he stands. He looks down at her. She hates that shit. "I haven't-" he starts, and she talks over him like he never opened his mouth.
"Oh please," she spits. "You've beaten me again, and I may as well go home."
He leans forward, and whispers in her ear. "Please come discuss this with me. We can make a plan that's mutually beneficial." Parker draws back and looks at him, and it's been years but he's the same as ever. She sighs.
"Okay, sure," she says, and precedes him from the bar.
It's not like she doesn't know the way.
*
In his room, he opens the blinds and looks out the window.
"The truth is," he says, "I could use your help."
She looks for the bugs.
*
Jarod sits on the little wicker chair and takes photos through the window. Parker looks up from her laptop at his sigh. "This job too hard for you?" she asks, and he turns to look at her.
"Working with you always is, Parker," he says, and looks back out the window.
She purses her lips and keeps rifling through her files. "You're lucky I even have this here," she snaps back. "I'm supposed to be a curtain wholesaler on a layover."
He looks at her in disbelief. "They'd believe it," she protests.
"Parker," he says. "No one could ever believe you're anything but a spy."
"Oh please," she says. "I've fooled everyone in the world."
"Not me," he says, and grins. She frowns.
"How did you get my room?" she asks, changing the subject.
"We're well connected, too, Parker." He doesn't answer the question; rises from the chair and as he stretches, she catches a glimpse of skin. She looks away.
"I guess I should get ready," she says, and slides off the bed. "I'll meet you back in thirty."
She gives her dress one final tug up as a knock sounds at her door. "I can't believe this is why you needed my help," she says as she opens her door. He closes it behind himself.
"Parker," he says, "I'd never want anybody else by my side as I infiltrated a religious facility." She meets his eyes, and the smile she gives him is almost genuine.
"Well," she says. "Let's go."
As she moves to brush past him he holds a hand out, and she can feel the warmth of his hand through the material at her waist. "I have a present for you," he says, his voice low, and he leaves his hand where it is. She turns at his touch on her shoulder, and he open his hand to reveal a thin white band nestled in his palm.
She looks at the ring in disbelief, then looks up at his face. "That'd better be a communicator," she says, and a grin splits his face as he slips it onto her finger.
"You're the best, Parker," he says, and ushers her out of the room.
*
As far as Jarod's plans go, it's not the best, but it's executed flawlessly because it's Jarod and it's Parker and they used to be partners once, so. There's one moment where they're hiding in a storage cupboard, and the man who saw them probably thinks they're hideous white people off having married person sex, and she spends five minutes laughing until she hiccups, and grateful for the band of platinum around her ring finger. His breath is warm on her ear the whole time, and she feels his chest shake as he holds the laughter back.
Back in Jarod's hotel room, they fight over the honours. "I had to pretend to be your wife," she snaps, and tightens his hold.
"Oh, like pretending to be your husband was a picnic," he snaps back.
"It's the least you owe me, after stealing my room."
Jarod takes a breath, and closes his eyes. "You're tired," he says. "And I'm tired. Give me first watch, but if it's not done by three, I'll wake you up and you can take it."
Parker meets his eyes. "Please," he says. "Parker, trust me."
She lets go, and goes to wash the makeup off her face. She rifles through the suitcase she brought over from her room, and in the silence of the bathroom she fills the bath and flexes her toes.
She takes her luxuries where she can.
Moonlight streams through the room, and, "You better wake me," she murmurs to him as she climbs into the bed. It smells like him, and the next thing she knows his hand is on her shoulder.
"Parker," he says, and she moves to the window.
In the moonlight, she watches. She watches Jarod sleep, and she watches the little people on the street below, and when the time is right, she watches the lights in the room two buildings across and on the same level turn on.
"Parker," breathes Jarod from the bed, and she pulls the trigger.
When it's over, she turns; watches Jarod as he slides out of the bed and puts his shoes on. "We should move rooms," he says, and she nods.
In her room, he gets into the bed, and after a moment, she crawls in beside him.
He turns out the light.
*
In the dawn light, she says, "We should check out soon." Listens to the footsteps in the hall.
"Oh, yeah," he says, like maybe he forgot they were on a mission; and maybe she did, too, because it's then that she remembers they're not supposed to have the same mission parameters.
"I wasn't supposed to collect intel," she says.
"I wasn't supposed to kill him," he replies. His voice is deep and rough and she closes her eyes; breathes in and kisses him. His skin is soft and her hand traces the familiar scars upon his skin. She kisses him hard and bites his lip just like always, but fucking in a bed is something novel for them. She seduces marks on beds in hotel rooms, and Jarod's anything but a mark. A rival, an enemy; a bitch who left her when she needed him the most; but he's never just a guy to seduce, and when she rides him she leaves scratches on his skin.
Afterwards, she rests her forehead on his shoulder as she slumps on top of him. She listens to his heart beat.
"Okay," she says into the skin above his heart. He curls his hand into the small of her back.
"Parker," he says. "You don't have to stay with them. You could always-" He breaks off as Parker pushes away.
"We're not having this conversation," she says, and starts rummaging through her suitcase. "My flight leaves in three hours."
"Yeah," he says, roughly, bitterly, "We should go." She feels his gaze, hot on her body, but she refuses to meet his eyes. She shuts the bathroom door between them; turns the shower on, and doesn't think about his hands on her skin or the pastries that he used to buy whenever they were in Italy.
When she steps out again, pressed and clean and looking just like a curtin wholesaler from Delaware, her room is empty.
Of course, she thinks, and latches her suitcase shut.
*
She waits for the plane to start taxiing, and flips through a fashion magazine. Tilts her head at the improbability of the dresses, and longs for a bad habit in which she can indulge; cigarettes and full cream milk and alcohol, all the things she's long since given up. The seat beside her creaks, and she looks up. "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," she says, and looks down again at her magazine.
"Parker," says Jarod, as he does up his seatbelt. "What a coincidence." He places his hands on the armrests, and rests a hand on her wrist.
He keeps it there all through takeoff, and when he removes his hand, her skin is cold.
*
Debrief is short: "Mission went as expected," she says, and her father smiles.
"That's my girl," he says, pleased, and behind him, Raines makes a face at her.
She smiles back.
Sydney catches her on her way to Weapons. "Parker," he says, concerned. "Do you need to talk to me?"
"Syd," she replies," if I needed to see you, I'd make an appointment," and her voice is harsh but not unkind.
"That may be," he says, quietly. "But I like to let you know I'm here, all the same."
She smiles at him, and the smile comes more easily.
*
"Hey, Sis," says Lyle, as she returns her weapons. He leans against the counter. "How'd the mission go?" he asks.
"It went as expected," she snaps.
"Of course it did." He grins at her, and meets her eyes.
He knows, but he still looks away first.
Fucking twins.
*
When her phone rings, she looks at it in distaste.
"What?" she snaps, as she refills her wine glass. Some habits, she thinks.
"How's the family?" Jarod's voice rumbles through the miles to her, and she shivers.
Some habits, she thinks, and hates herself.
She doesn't hang up.
END
Pretender AU. Rated M. Jarod and Parker ARE SPIES ALSKJFLAKSJDF
This fic is the fault of
daygloparker. **
Parker fucking hates London. All patchy drizzle and grey coats, and she sneers and taps her fingers on the table. She looks around the cafe; catalogues patrons and sips her latte. The bells ring out, and she looks at her watch.
He's late.
Five minutes later and she's considering giving up. She drains the dregs from her mug and pulls a face at the aftertaste just as a shape slides onto the chair opposite her.
"I'm sorry," she says, automatically, "That seat's taken."
The clatter of teeth, and a hand splays on the table. She looks up as she smells wet dog; meets his smile and blinks.
"Oh, fuck, no," she says. "I didn't fly all the fucking way to England to meet with you."
"Miss P.," Argyle says, "Don't be ungrateful. I'm doing you a favour."
"I'll be doing you a fucking injury if you don't tell me what I came to hear," she retorts, and his smile gets wider.
"I have the information you seek," he intones, like Darth Vader, and she rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, I just bet you do."
He slides a folder across the table. "You gotta memorise and destroy. I can't get caught, if they knew-" Argyle makes a slashing motion across his throat.
"That's great," she says, preoccupied as she flips through the folder. She tilts her head to one side. "Are you fucking serious?" she asks. "Is that even possible?"
"Put that away," he whispers, urgently. "Look at it in your hotel or something. You'd think they'd teach you spies to be more careful."
Parker flips her gaze up to Argyle's face. He's sweating a little, and he's definitely not cut out for snitch. "They do," she says, with a grin. "I just like to see you squirm." She tucks the folder away, and moves to stand.
"Miss P." Argyle puts out a hand like he's going to rest it on her arm, then thinks better and rests it on the table. "Has Jarod, you know, said anything about me?"
Parker draws in a sharp breath; rolls her eyes again, and pastes a sneer across her face, like what he said didn't matter. "He didn't pass me a note in study hall, no. I'm sure you've seen him more recently than I have." She leaves Argyle to pick up the bill.
The air outside the cafe is cold, and the water runs down her collar. She shakes her hair, drops her sunglasses to cover her eyes, and flags a cabbie to take her the two miles to her hotel.
When she flies out of Heathrow four hours later, economy class smells like cattle and stupidity, but at least it's dry.
*
"Thanks to the information that Miss Parker brought back from London, we've been able to finalise details for this operation." Parker pays attention as Raines outlines the mission parameters, she swears she does, but her gaze wanders to her father, who is staring very attentively at Raines, and she finds herself trying not to think about the time she thought she saw Raines leaving her father's apartment. She loves her father, but there are things she needn't think about.
She tunes back in just in time to hear, "The flight is direct to Kuala Lumpur, and no infiltration will be required. This is a simple in and out."
"Just me?" Parker asks, and beside her, Lyle's chair creaks.
"Yes, Angel," says her father. "I have complete confidence in you."
Parker holds her breath.
*
Broots drives the taxi from HQ to the airport. "Keep an eye out, Broots," she warns.
"Everything's fine, Miss Parker," he says, eyes on the road like he's preparing to pull out, but she can hear the jump in his voice.
"Sure it is," she says, and gets out.
At check in, she hands over a passport that has her photo but not her name, and she's done it a million times but it never, ever gets old.
She thinks about running.
She gets on the plane.
*
Kuala Lumpur is hot and disgusting, and as she walks through customs she can see the condensation on the windows. The train from the airport is crowded and stuffy. The taxi driver speaks the most incomprehensible English; he mumbles through his broken, yellowed teeth, and has the most disgusting breath, and she pretends that she doesn't speak a word of Malay.
She books into the hotel, but it's just for show: she'll spend all of the night and most of the next day getting her fucking job done, and if she's very lucky she'll have time for a quick nap after that before she has to check out.
She hates the fly in, fly out nature of these things. As she double checks her map of the city, she takes a look out her window and frowns.
The angle is all wrong, and she knows it's no coincidence.
At the main reception she's calm and polite, because that's who her passport says she is. "I'm sorry," she says, "I can't stay in my room. I believe I reserved the one two over?"
"I'm sorry," says the lovely young thing behind the desk. "That room's already taken."
"Can you tell me who took it?" Parker asks, and the young thing shakes his head. She tries her very best smile. "I would appreciate it," she says, and knows she's pushing her cover a little.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, and Parker sighs. She meets his eyes to thank him, and notices the tic in his eyelid. She narrows her eyes and follows his line of sight, and meets the bartender's gaze.
"Thanks anyway," says Parker, and walks the fifty feet to slide onto a barstool. "I'll have a scotch," she says, and taps her fingers on the bar.
The bartender smiles at her. "You lost something?" he asks.
"I didn't get the room I wanted," she says, with a half-hearted shrug and what she hopes is the appropriate amount of regret.
"Ah," he says, "You want a view of our beautiful city." She smiles at him.
"I do," she replies, and she freezes as a hand rests at the small of her back.
"Unfortunately," rumbles a familiar voice, and inwardly, she curses her fucking luck. "I got the best view in the hotel." The click of sunglasses by her ear, and Jarod drops onto the stool beside her, his hand still warm on her skin.
That's not difficult, though, the weather being hot as it is, and she smiles at his pink nose.
"Forget the sunscreen?" she asks, like he's an old friend she's pleased to see.
"The sights here are lovely, and I forgot myself in my enthusiasm," he grins back at her.
"Of course," she says, and as the bartender drops her scotch in front of her she knocks it back.
"Careful," Jarod warns. "You have other things to do tonight than just drink."
The bartender looks on curiously as Parker replies. "No I don't," she says, and the words taste bitter on her tongue. "You've taken care of that."
His hand drops from her skin, and he stands. He looks down at her. She hates that shit. "I haven't-" he starts, and she talks over him like he never opened his mouth.
"Oh please," she spits. "You've beaten me again, and I may as well go home."
He leans forward, and whispers in her ear. "Please come discuss this with me. We can make a plan that's mutually beneficial." Parker draws back and looks at him, and it's been years but he's the same as ever. She sighs.
"Okay, sure," she says, and precedes him from the bar.
It's not like she doesn't know the way.
*
In his room, he opens the blinds and looks out the window.
"The truth is," he says, "I could use your help."
She looks for the bugs.
*
Jarod sits on the little wicker chair and takes photos through the window. Parker looks up from her laptop at his sigh. "This job too hard for you?" she asks, and he turns to look at her.
"Working with you always is, Parker," he says, and looks back out the window.
She purses her lips and keeps rifling through her files. "You're lucky I even have this here," she snaps back. "I'm supposed to be a curtain wholesaler on a layover."
He looks at her in disbelief. "They'd believe it," she protests.
"Parker," he says. "No one could ever believe you're anything but a spy."
"Oh please," she says. "I've fooled everyone in the world."
"Not me," he says, and grins. She frowns.
"How did you get my room?" she asks, changing the subject.
"We're well connected, too, Parker." He doesn't answer the question; rises from the chair and as he stretches, she catches a glimpse of skin. She looks away.
"I guess I should get ready," she says, and slides off the bed. "I'll meet you back in thirty."
She gives her dress one final tug up as a knock sounds at her door. "I can't believe this is why you needed my help," she says as she opens her door. He closes it behind himself.
"Parker," he says, "I'd never want anybody else by my side as I infiltrated a religious facility." She meets his eyes, and the smile she gives him is almost genuine.
"Well," she says. "Let's go."
As she moves to brush past him he holds a hand out, and she can feel the warmth of his hand through the material at her waist. "I have a present for you," he says, his voice low, and he leaves his hand where it is. She turns at his touch on her shoulder, and he open his hand to reveal a thin white band nestled in his palm.
She looks at the ring in disbelief, then looks up at his face. "That'd better be a communicator," she says, and a grin splits his face as he slips it onto her finger.
"You're the best, Parker," he says, and ushers her out of the room.
*
As far as Jarod's plans go, it's not the best, but it's executed flawlessly because it's Jarod and it's Parker and they used to be partners once, so. There's one moment where they're hiding in a storage cupboard, and the man who saw them probably thinks they're hideous white people off having married person sex, and she spends five minutes laughing until she hiccups, and grateful for the band of platinum around her ring finger. His breath is warm on her ear the whole time, and she feels his chest shake as he holds the laughter back.
Back in Jarod's hotel room, they fight over the honours. "I had to pretend to be your wife," she snaps, and tightens his hold.
"Oh, like pretending to be your husband was a picnic," he snaps back.
"It's the least you owe me, after stealing my room."
Jarod takes a breath, and closes his eyes. "You're tired," he says. "And I'm tired. Give me first watch, but if it's not done by three, I'll wake you up and you can take it."
Parker meets his eyes. "Please," he says. "Parker, trust me."
She lets go, and goes to wash the makeup off her face. She rifles through the suitcase she brought over from her room, and in the silence of the bathroom she fills the bath and flexes her toes.
She takes her luxuries where she can.
Moonlight streams through the room, and, "You better wake me," she murmurs to him as she climbs into the bed. It smells like him, and the next thing she knows his hand is on her shoulder.
"Parker," he says, and she moves to the window.
In the moonlight, she watches. She watches Jarod sleep, and she watches the little people on the street below, and when the time is right, she watches the lights in the room two buildings across and on the same level turn on.
"Parker," breathes Jarod from the bed, and she pulls the trigger.
When it's over, she turns; watches Jarod as he slides out of the bed and puts his shoes on. "We should move rooms," he says, and she nods.
In her room, he gets into the bed, and after a moment, she crawls in beside him.
He turns out the light.
*
In the dawn light, she says, "We should check out soon." Listens to the footsteps in the hall.
"Oh, yeah," he says, like maybe he forgot they were on a mission; and maybe she did, too, because it's then that she remembers they're not supposed to have the same mission parameters.
"I wasn't supposed to collect intel," she says.
"I wasn't supposed to kill him," he replies. His voice is deep and rough and she closes her eyes; breathes in and kisses him. His skin is soft and her hand traces the familiar scars upon his skin. She kisses him hard and bites his lip just like always, but fucking in a bed is something novel for them. She seduces marks on beds in hotel rooms, and Jarod's anything but a mark. A rival, an enemy; a bitch who left her when she needed him the most; but he's never just a guy to seduce, and when she rides him she leaves scratches on his skin.
Afterwards, she rests her forehead on his shoulder as she slumps on top of him. She listens to his heart beat.
"Okay," she says into the skin above his heart. He curls his hand into the small of her back.
"Parker," he says. "You don't have to stay with them. You could always-" He breaks off as Parker pushes away.
"We're not having this conversation," she says, and starts rummaging through her suitcase. "My flight leaves in three hours."
"Yeah," he says, roughly, bitterly, "We should go." She feels his gaze, hot on her body, but she refuses to meet his eyes. She shuts the bathroom door between them; turns the shower on, and doesn't think about his hands on her skin or the pastries that he used to buy whenever they were in Italy.
When she steps out again, pressed and clean and looking just like a curtin wholesaler from Delaware, her room is empty.
Of course, she thinks, and latches her suitcase shut.
*
She waits for the plane to start taxiing, and flips through a fashion magazine. Tilts her head at the improbability of the dresses, and longs for a bad habit in which she can indulge; cigarettes and full cream milk and alcohol, all the things she's long since given up. The seat beside her creaks, and she looks up. "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," she says, and looks down again at her magazine.
"Parker," says Jarod, as he does up his seatbelt. "What a coincidence." He places his hands on the armrests, and rests a hand on her wrist.
He keeps it there all through takeoff, and when he removes his hand, her skin is cold.
*
Debrief is short: "Mission went as expected," she says, and her father smiles.
"That's my girl," he says, pleased, and behind him, Raines makes a face at her.
She smiles back.
Sydney catches her on her way to Weapons. "Parker," he says, concerned. "Do you need to talk to me?"
"Syd," she replies," if I needed to see you, I'd make an appointment," and her voice is harsh but not unkind.
"That may be," he says, quietly. "But I like to let you know I'm here, all the same."
She smiles at him, and the smile comes more easily.
*
"Hey, Sis," says Lyle, as she returns her weapons. He leans against the counter. "How'd the mission go?" he asks.
"It went as expected," she snaps.
"Of course it did." He grins at her, and meets her eyes.
He knows, but he still looks away first.
Fucking twins.
*
When her phone rings, she looks at it in distaste.
"What?" she snaps, as she refills her wine glass. Some habits, she thinks.
"How's the family?" Jarod's voice rumbles through the miles to her, and she shivers.
Some habits, she thinks, and hates herself.
She doesn't hang up.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 01:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 08:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 01:26 am (UTC)This was excellent.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 08:13 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 02:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 08:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 05:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 08:15 pm (UTC)I have found a download for Island of the Haunted and tP:2001. Do you know how excited I am? SUPER EXCITED.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 07:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 08:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-25 09:54 pm (UTC)DID I MENTION, I LOVE THIS SO MUCH?
BECAUSE I DO
SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIES
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-29 01:24 pm (UTC)OMG DID I MENTION I FOUND AN EXCELLENT DOWNLOAD SOURCE FOR IOTH/TP2001?
Also, where are Kara and Lee: spies?
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-29 03:20 pm (UTC)ASJDKAJSGFKJASDKJAHDKJDS NO.
They're, uh. They're coming along. Honest.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-26 12:22 am (UTC)did i mention that i love
AMAZING.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-29 01:25 pm (UTC)(OMG SPIEEEES)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-30 07:08 pm (UTC)I'm also citing you as the reason that I have successfully hunted down (or been handed, actually) the link to the Pretender movies that I never saw. Damn yoooooou.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-30 09:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-14 02:37 pm (UTC)