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Dec. 27th, 2004 11:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleFluffy secret santa ficlet for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hermionesviolin: luckily she requested Giles/Olivia, since I've managed to fall completely in love with Olivia. (One day I will put down thoughts about Olivia and Nina and possibly Holden Webster and how they're outsider characters suddenly confronted with this world of magic and vampires, and why Knox and Jenny are the opposite, but for now - ficlet stuff.)
She’d known he was alive. That terrible day last year, when her mam had rung saying something the news and an earthquake “somewhere in California, didn’t that nice man-friend of yours live in Sunnydale?” she’d sat watching the bulletins and smoking, and all she could think was that Rupert was alive. He wasn’t at the bottom of some big hole in the ground. He was fighting monsters or killing zombies or whatever else he did, and he was alive.
Oh, it was nothing stupid, no big dramatic Mills-and-Boon-novel idea that she’d know if he was dead. She hadn’t even seen him for over a year, and that only for a couple of dinners and more than a couple of shags before some emergency called him back to America after all, despite the swearing up and down that he’d finished with it.
Just… he wasn’t dead. She was sure.
Still, when she answered the door six months later and found him on her step, looking none the worse for whatever had happened in Sunnydale, she thought that it was nice to have confirmation.
“Well, look who’s turned up.”
He smiled. Cautious, as if he thought she might hit him one and she thought it’d serve you right, mate. “Like a bad penny?”
“I’d’ve said it, but I was being nice. It’s my New Year’s resolution. Are you giving us a hug or what?”
He was reassuringly solid in her arms. Not that she’d thought he might be a ghost, anything daft – but the world he lived in, you could never be too sure.
“Next time,” she said, smacking him on the shoulder, “give us a ring, yeah? God knows, I don’t ask for much, not looking for declarations of undying love here, but an ‘I’m not dead’ every once in a while would be nice.”
“Sorry. A lot’s been going on.”
“End of the world?”
“For starters.” He was grinning, the bastard, but he did look sorry. Bloody men, she thought, and kissed him.
When they broke apart she felt light-headed, as if she’d been holding her breath since May.
“Were you just waiting to make your big entrance?” she asked suspiciously. “Turning up on Christmas Eve, saying you’ve just saved the world – this is just your new thing, isn’t it? I rumbled you on the Pink Floyd thing, so now you’ve got to be James Bond.” Something cold settled on her hand. She looked down, surprised, and then up at the thick clouds she could have sworn hadn’t been there a second ago.
A white Christmas on top of it all.
Somebody up there was taking the piss.
“Suppose you’d better come in, then,” she said, and grinned as she took his hand.
hermionesviolin: luckily she requested Giles/Olivia, since I've managed to fall completely in love with Olivia. (One day I will put down thoughts about Olivia and Nina and possibly Holden Webster and how they're outsider characters suddenly confronted with this world of magic and vampires, and why Knox and Jenny are the opposite, but for now - ficlet stuff.)She’d known he was alive. That terrible day last year, when her mam had rung saying something the news and an earthquake “somewhere in California, didn’t that nice man-friend of yours live in Sunnydale?” she’d sat watching the bulletins and smoking, and all she could think was that Rupert was alive. He wasn’t at the bottom of some big hole in the ground. He was fighting monsters or killing zombies or whatever else he did, and he was alive.
Oh, it was nothing stupid, no big dramatic Mills-and-Boon-novel idea that she’d know if he was dead. She hadn’t even seen him for over a year, and that only for a couple of dinners and more than a couple of shags before some emergency called him back to America after all, despite the swearing up and down that he’d finished with it.
Just… he wasn’t dead. She was sure.
Still, when she answered the door six months later and found him on her step, looking none the worse for whatever had happened in Sunnydale, she thought that it was nice to have confirmation.
“Well, look who’s turned up.”
He smiled. Cautious, as if he thought she might hit him one and she thought it’d serve you right, mate. “Like a bad penny?”
“I’d’ve said it, but I was being nice. It’s my New Year’s resolution. Are you giving us a hug or what?”
He was reassuringly solid in her arms. Not that she’d thought he might be a ghost, anything daft – but the world he lived in, you could never be too sure.
“Next time,” she said, smacking him on the shoulder, “give us a ring, yeah? God knows, I don’t ask for much, not looking for declarations of undying love here, but an ‘I’m not dead’ every once in a while would be nice.”
“Sorry. A lot’s been going on.”
“End of the world?”
“For starters.” He was grinning, the bastard, but he did look sorry. Bloody men, she thought, and kissed him.
When they broke apart she felt light-headed, as if she’d been holding her breath since May.
“Were you just waiting to make your big entrance?” she asked suspiciously. “Turning up on Christmas Eve, saying you’ve just saved the world – this is just your new thing, isn’t it? I rumbled you on the Pink Floyd thing, so now you’ve got to be James Bond.” Something cold settled on her hand. She looked down, surprised, and then up at the thick clouds she could have sworn hadn’t been there a second ago.
A white Christmas on top of it all.
Somebody up there was taking the piss.
“Suppose you’d better come in, then,” she said, and grinned as she took his hand.
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on 2004-12-28 02:14 am (UTC)One day I will put down thoughts about Olivia and Nina and possibly Holden Webster and how they're outsider characters suddenly confronted with this world of magic and vampires
[insert obligatory Katrina reference here *g*]