I've been bitten
May. 1st, 2003 09:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jenboo.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionby a Turnbull bunny. It happened on the bus this morning while I was coming out of my habitual light doze. This is exactly 1000 words (I had to do a little trimming).
Renfield Turnbull took the martini glass from the bartender and sipped thoughtfully. Celebrating graduation from Depot hadn’t been high on his list until Carl had invited him out for a drink. Now that he was on his second Cosmopolitan, he was extremely glad of the invitation. He thanked God for perceptive gaydar as he weaved his way towards the small table where his companion waited.
He wasn’t sure he could call this a date. They were simply having a drink and making merry in a way that made them both feel happy and accepted. Like there was a future for them in spite of the path their hearts had chosen for them.
“Do you mind if I dance? There’s a hot looking number over in the corner I’d like to get to know better,” Carl asked when Ren got back to the table and sat down.
“By all means, Carl. I’ll save our table.”
With that, Carl melted into the crowd of writhing bodies. Ren continued to sip his Cosmo and watch the people near his perch. As the level of his drink diminished, so did his ability to remain still in the wake of the infectious rhythm. He sat, bouncing in his chair, grinning at the sight of so many men enjoying the freedom that came from knowing everyone in the room was of like mind.
A warm hand on his left shoulder stopped his movement. Heart pounding in his chest, he remained frozen while a silky baritone voice asked him if he wanted to dance. Ren nodded, thanked his benefactor kindly and stood, tossing back the rest of his drink and setting the martini glass on the table.
It was too loud to ask for names. They just went out to the floor and started to dance, touching here and there benignly at first. Ren took advantage of the mirrored wall behind his partner to study the shorter man’s body. Tight jeans over the curves of his buttocks and strong-looking thighs. White t-shirt with long sleeves and three buttons at the neck. Brilliant smile with a crooked tooth. Sable hair and blue-grey eyes.
They danced through several songs and when the DJ started up ‘Last Dance’, Ren boldly wrapped his arms around the handsome man’s waist for the slow introduction. Smiling blue eyes held a flicker of nervousness before they glanced toward the back of the club. Ren shook his head and kissed the beautiful smile with the crooked tooth, holding on just a little tighter and swaying to the music. The dark-haired man’s arms folded around Ren and kissed Ren back tentatively.
When the fast part of the song kicked in, they broke their hold on each other to really get into moving to the music. At some point, Ren noticed that Carl had found them and the dark-haired man moved back a little to make Carl feel welcome. When the song ended, Carl told Ren he’d meet him out front.
Ren smiled into the blue eyes and moved close to the man’s right ear.
“Thank you,” he said directly into the man’s ear.
A warm, sweat-damp hand settled on the back or Ren’s neck and soft lips captured his for a sweet kiss. “Thank you kindly,” the mystery dancer replied. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Grinning madly, Ren went to the coat check to retrieve his jacket. He felt tonight was an omen, a sign that his world was bright and full of promise.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Six Years Later…
“Constable Renfield Turnbull, reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Welcome to Chicago, Constable. You will be working with our Deputy Liaison Officer, Constable Benton Fraser most of your time here. You’ll find a list of your duties on your desk. There’s a supply closet down the hall should you need pencils, pens and the like. You will find success here if you remember one thing, Constable. Stay out of my way.”
Turnbull gulped and tried to recover, praying that his nerves wouldn’t get the best of him. Inspector Thatcher was rumored to be a demanding taskmistress and Constable Fraser was practically legendary, even with his exile to this Consulate.
Turnbull spent most of his first day arranging his desk and answering phones. Constable Fraser was apparently liaising with the Chicago Police Department on an important case. Just at the end of his shift, a man in blue jeans and a plaid jacket came up the stairs. The three-buttoned neck of a white t-shirt peeked out from the open coat. Turnbull looked up to ask how he could be of service and his heart stopped.
Turnbull’s mind raced back to a night in a club and a man who had danced with him half the night.
Above the clear blue-grey eyes, a Stetson perched on the man’s head. Dear God, it couldn’t be.
“Good afternoon. You must be Constable Turnbull. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Constable Benton Fraser.”
“C-c-constable, it’s nice to meet you. I’m a constable as well, I’m here to assist you in any c-constable way I c-c-can, sir.” In standing up, Turnbull knocked over his desk chair. He ignored the crash, extending his hand in greeting to Constable Fraser.
Fraser cleared his throat nervously and accepted the hand he was offered. “Yes, well. Thank you kindly. I’m certain we’ll work well together. Is Inspector Thatcher in?”
“Yes, sir, she is, sir!”
“Ah. Then perhaps I should change into uniform before I go in to make my report. I have a spare in my office. If you’ll excuse me.”
Constable Fraser smiled distractedly at Turnbull, his eyes resting on the face of the taller constable for a moment. Then it seemed recognition struck and the smile widened almost imperceptibly. Then he simply nodded to Turnbull and walked toward his office, whistling a tune Renfield recognized and hadn’t heard in years. He grinned and righted his chair, thinking this posting was going to turn out better than he’d expected.
Renfield Turnbull took the martini glass from the bartender and sipped thoughtfully. Celebrating graduation from Depot hadn’t been high on his list until Carl had invited him out for a drink. Now that he was on his second Cosmopolitan, he was extremely glad of the invitation. He thanked God for perceptive gaydar as he weaved his way towards the small table where his companion waited.
He wasn’t sure he could call this a date. They were simply having a drink and making merry in a way that made them both feel happy and accepted. Like there was a future for them in spite of the path their hearts had chosen for them.
“Do you mind if I dance? There’s a hot looking number over in the corner I’d like to get to know better,” Carl asked when Ren got back to the table and sat down.
“By all means, Carl. I’ll save our table.”
With that, Carl melted into the crowd of writhing bodies. Ren continued to sip his Cosmo and watch the people near his perch. As the level of his drink diminished, so did his ability to remain still in the wake of the infectious rhythm. He sat, bouncing in his chair, grinning at the sight of so many men enjoying the freedom that came from knowing everyone in the room was of like mind.
A warm hand on his left shoulder stopped his movement. Heart pounding in his chest, he remained frozen while a silky baritone voice asked him if he wanted to dance. Ren nodded, thanked his benefactor kindly and stood, tossing back the rest of his drink and setting the martini glass on the table.
It was too loud to ask for names. They just went out to the floor and started to dance, touching here and there benignly at first. Ren took advantage of the mirrored wall behind his partner to study the shorter man’s body. Tight jeans over the curves of his buttocks and strong-looking thighs. White t-shirt with long sleeves and three buttons at the neck. Brilliant smile with a crooked tooth. Sable hair and blue-grey eyes.
They danced through several songs and when the DJ started up ‘Last Dance’, Ren boldly wrapped his arms around the handsome man’s waist for the slow introduction. Smiling blue eyes held a flicker of nervousness before they glanced toward the back of the club. Ren shook his head and kissed the beautiful smile with the crooked tooth, holding on just a little tighter and swaying to the music. The dark-haired man’s arms folded around Ren and kissed Ren back tentatively.
When the fast part of the song kicked in, they broke their hold on each other to really get into moving to the music. At some point, Ren noticed that Carl had found them and the dark-haired man moved back a little to make Carl feel welcome. When the song ended, Carl told Ren he’d meet him out front.
Ren smiled into the blue eyes and moved close to the man’s right ear.
“Thank you,” he said directly into the man’s ear.
A warm, sweat-damp hand settled on the back or Ren’s neck and soft lips captured his for a sweet kiss. “Thank you kindly,” the mystery dancer replied. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Grinning madly, Ren went to the coat check to retrieve his jacket. He felt tonight was an omen, a sign that his world was bright and full of promise.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Six Years Later…
“Constable Renfield Turnbull, reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Welcome to Chicago, Constable. You will be working with our Deputy Liaison Officer, Constable Benton Fraser most of your time here. You’ll find a list of your duties on your desk. There’s a supply closet down the hall should you need pencils, pens and the like. You will find success here if you remember one thing, Constable. Stay out of my way.”
Turnbull gulped and tried to recover, praying that his nerves wouldn’t get the best of him. Inspector Thatcher was rumored to be a demanding taskmistress and Constable Fraser was practically legendary, even with his exile to this Consulate.
Turnbull spent most of his first day arranging his desk and answering phones. Constable Fraser was apparently liaising with the Chicago Police Department on an important case. Just at the end of his shift, a man in blue jeans and a plaid jacket came up the stairs. The three-buttoned neck of a white t-shirt peeked out from the open coat. Turnbull looked up to ask how he could be of service and his heart stopped.
Turnbull’s mind raced back to a night in a club and a man who had danced with him half the night.
Above the clear blue-grey eyes, a Stetson perched on the man’s head. Dear God, it couldn’t be.
“Good afternoon. You must be Constable Turnbull. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Constable Benton Fraser.”
“C-c-constable, it’s nice to meet you. I’m a constable as well, I’m here to assist you in any c-constable way I c-c-can, sir.” In standing up, Turnbull knocked over his desk chair. He ignored the crash, extending his hand in greeting to Constable Fraser.
Fraser cleared his throat nervously and accepted the hand he was offered. “Yes, well. Thank you kindly. I’m certain we’ll work well together. Is Inspector Thatcher in?”
“Yes, sir, she is, sir!”
“Ah. Then perhaps I should change into uniform before I go in to make my report. I have a spare in my office. If you’ll excuse me.”
Constable Fraser smiled distractedly at Turnbull, his eyes resting on the face of the taller constable for a moment. Then it seemed recognition struck and the smile widened almost imperceptibly. Then he simply nodded to Turnbull and walked toward his office, whistling a tune Renfield recognized and hadn’t heard in years. He grinned and righted his chair, thinking this posting was going to turn out better than he’d expected.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 10:06 am (UTC)Turnbull. Mmm.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 10:07 am (UTC)Turnbull a suave and confident guy!
Turnbull the blase and competent!
Love it. Hope he gets his man.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 10:20 am (UTC)Very nice.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 09:47 am (UTC)Meanwhile I have RayK taking Ms. Fraser on a date that needs to be written (the aftermath of the makeup challenge) and I highly suspect that dinner with RayV and Turnbull will be happening eventually, too (the aftermath of the voyeur challenge). Who knows? Fraser and Turnbull might just have to go to a club...Turnbull will know the good ones, of course, because that's where he's in his element. It'd be interesting to see explore a situation where Turnbull was the one on complete control, not Fraser...hmmmm...
Auuuggghhh!!! I'm supposed be working on stuff I can get paid for!!! *g*
Re: I've been bitten
Date: 2003-05-01 06:13 pm (UTC)Re: I've been bitten
Date: 2003-05-02 09:48 am (UTC)Thank you!