piecesofalice (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
piecesofalice) wrote2009-08-20 11:16 pm
piecesofalice) wrote2009-08-20 11:16 pm
Fic: 30x30 {5} "Something Like The Right Way", Havers and Lynley
Drabbles not written: fic where I yell this scene at Alexander Skarsgard. Pity.
FIVE
"Something Like The Right Way"
The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (Tommy Lynley & Barbara Havers)
5. Something Like The Right Way
Lynley-verse, 20th August 2009
---
Many people, in many different ways, had described Barbara Havers to him. "Scrappy ball of anger" was one way, "messy, tossed-aside bitch" was another. "Out-of-control", "a competent officer, if only she'd stick to the rules" - again and again, until he started to see her through other people's eyes.
Because, he knew, he was angry and she was there - his deliberate arm's length treatment of everyone and everything since Helen's death painted the one woman in the world - other than the one before - as someone he didn't know but only experienced through other people's hollow vitriol.
It was a Sunday when he saw her again - in the right way, as she unpacked a late breakfast of croissants (him) and bacon butties (her), prattling about their current case - and it was all he could do not to press himself against her in a silent, violent apology.
---
Fin.
---
Remember when Tommy was a hobo? Good times. Good, extremely smelly times.
FIVE
"Something Like The Right Way"
The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (Tommy Lynley & Barbara Havers)
5. Something Like The Right Way
Lynley-verse, 20th August 2009
---
Many people, in many different ways, had described Barbara Havers to him. "Scrappy ball of anger" was one way, "messy, tossed-aside bitch" was another. "Out-of-control", "a competent officer, if only she'd stick to the rules" - again and again, until he started to see her through other people's eyes.
Because, he knew, he was angry and she was there - his deliberate arm's length treatment of everyone and everything since Helen's death painted the one woman in the world - other than the one before - as someone he didn't know but only experienced through other people's hollow vitriol.
It was a Sunday when he saw her again - in the right way, as she unpacked a late breakfast of croissants (him) and bacon butties (her), prattling about their current case - and it was all he could do not to press himself against her in a silent, violent apology.
---
Fin.
---
Remember when Tommy was a hobo? Good times. Good, extremely smelly times.
no subject
(MAYBE I THOUGHT ABOUT BUYING IT WHAT OF IT)
(I ain't writing /, not even for you!)
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ugh, why are your days off not my days off?
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I am so tired I am falling asleep as I type. BUT I STAY UP, STILL
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EIGHT HOURS OF CLASS TOMORROW, WTFFFFFFFF.