FF: Darkness and Empty Eyes: Spooks: R
Oct. 4th, 2005 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
melwilAnother story for the challenge which I cannot post in yet
Darkness and Empty Eyes
Author: MelWil
Fandom: Spooks/MI5
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to about 3.8
Summary: Ruth watches Fiona whenever she thinks she can get away with it. Ruth/Fiona
For the alphabetasoup challenge: Y is for Yin
the dark, negative, feminine cosmic principle
You watch Fiona whenever you can get away with it.
You watch her from your desk, as she finishes paperwork, as she talks on the phone, as she teases Adam about doing something he never should have done. You watch her across the meeting room table, as she skims through heavy documents, as she makes short notes in the margins. You watch her when she's on operations, as she slips through closed doors and charms her way into the secrets of vicious men.
You can't help yourself.
She draws people towards her, like a lamp attracting moths. She smiles at them, places a hand on their arm, bending her head in close to theirs. They fall for it, of course. Time after time after time. They don't realise that the smile never, ever reaches her eyes.
You understand it.
You don't care.
She's like a cat, a black cat all curled up, waiting. Always waiting. She lurks in the darkness, seeking it, feeding on it. She's totally different from anyone you've ever wanted before.
She's all you want right now.
*
She sits in the bar, a half empty glass of red wine in front of her. You hesitate, then sit beside her, trying to hide a mild sense of surprise.
“Hello.”
She nods without looking at you, picking up her glass. “Ruth. Shouldn't you be at work?”
Her words sting you, more than you expected. You want to pull away from her, to read the danger signs correctly and leave before you can get hurt. She's a train wreck, she's probably the last person in the world that you should get involved with.
You laugh a little, trying to hide your hurt. “You know. I have to get out and have a life sometimes. Or something like that anyway.”
Silence. A long, awkward, painful silence. You bite on your lip and wonder if you'll ever be comfortable with small talk, ever be the person everyone wants to have a conversation with.
She finishes her drink and orders another one. “I suppose you think I should be at home, waiting for Adam to return. Being the good wife.”
You shake your head. “I don't think anything.”
But you're lying, at least a little. You don't think she should be at home, but you thought she would be. You thoughts she would be waiting. You thought that she regarded her home as a refuge, as a place to go away from everything. Even if it would choke her. Even if it would kill her in the end.
She finishes her second drink (Her third? Her fourth?) and turns to look at you. She places her hand over yours and bends her head forward. Her eyes are large and empty.
“Take me home, Ruth.”
*
She pushes you against the wall, her fingers pressing hard into your shoulders until you know you're going to bruise. Her mouth is hot and her teeth are sharp and she moans into your neck as you close your eyes and look away.
This isn't what you expected, isn't what you wanted. You wanted warm arms and soft kisses. You wanted . . .
She pulls at your blouse and the buttons tear and her hands are on your breasts and on your stomach and are curving around your breasts again. She runs her tongue over your skin and you gasp. You push against her a little, but she holds you firm.
You wanted sweet whispers and careful fingers and eyes that were filled with love.
She kneels on the ground in front of you and pushes your skirt out of the way. Her fingers grab at you and push at you and fill you; a little too quick. A little too hard.
You lean against the wall of your front hallway, your head turned away from her, your eyes closed tight. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be Fiona's play thing while she looks from something to fill the emptiness. While she looks for the elusive thing that will make her happy.
You can't make her happy.
*
She's watching you.
You can feel it all the time. She watches you when you're working at your desk, whenever your head is bent over some the latest analysis. She watches you in meetings, when you're busy explaining some fragment of information no one really cares about. She watches you when you leave at the end of the day.
She's darkness all over, dark clothes and dark hair and dark looks whenever Adam makes another unreasonable demand. She's lurking in the shadows, waiting. Watching. She's darkness and empty eyes and different from anyone you've ever wanted before.
She's all you want right now.
Darkness and Empty Eyes
Author: MelWil
Fandom: Spooks/MI5
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to about 3.8
Summary: Ruth watches Fiona whenever she thinks she can get away with it. Ruth/Fiona
For the alphabetasoup challenge: Y is for Yin
the dark, negative, feminine cosmic principle
You watch Fiona whenever you can get away with it.
You watch her from your desk, as she finishes paperwork, as she talks on the phone, as she teases Adam about doing something he never should have done. You watch her across the meeting room table, as she skims through heavy documents, as she makes short notes in the margins. You watch her when she's on operations, as she slips through closed doors and charms her way into the secrets of vicious men.
You can't help yourself.
She draws people towards her, like a lamp attracting moths. She smiles at them, places a hand on their arm, bending her head in close to theirs. They fall for it, of course. Time after time after time. They don't realise that the smile never, ever reaches her eyes.
You understand it.
You don't care.
She's like a cat, a black cat all curled up, waiting. Always waiting. She lurks in the darkness, seeking it, feeding on it. She's totally different from anyone you've ever wanted before.
She's all you want right now.
*
She sits in the bar, a half empty glass of red wine in front of her. You hesitate, then sit beside her, trying to hide a mild sense of surprise.
“Hello.”
She nods without looking at you, picking up her glass. “Ruth. Shouldn't you be at work?”
Her words sting you, more than you expected. You want to pull away from her, to read the danger signs correctly and leave before you can get hurt. She's a train wreck, she's probably the last person in the world that you should get involved with.
You laugh a little, trying to hide your hurt. “You know. I have to get out and have a life sometimes. Or something like that anyway.”
Silence. A long, awkward, painful silence. You bite on your lip and wonder if you'll ever be comfortable with small talk, ever be the person everyone wants to have a conversation with.
She finishes her drink and orders another one. “I suppose you think I should be at home, waiting for Adam to return. Being the good wife.”
You shake your head. “I don't think anything.”
But you're lying, at least a little. You don't think she should be at home, but you thought she would be. You thoughts she would be waiting. You thought that she regarded her home as a refuge, as a place to go away from everything. Even if it would choke her. Even if it would kill her in the end.
She finishes her second drink (Her third? Her fourth?) and turns to look at you. She places her hand over yours and bends her head forward. Her eyes are large and empty.
“Take me home, Ruth.”
*
She pushes you against the wall, her fingers pressing hard into your shoulders until you know you're going to bruise. Her mouth is hot and her teeth are sharp and she moans into your neck as you close your eyes and look away.
This isn't what you expected, isn't what you wanted. You wanted warm arms and soft kisses. You wanted . . .
She pulls at your blouse and the buttons tear and her hands are on your breasts and on your stomach and are curving around your breasts again. She runs her tongue over your skin and you gasp. You push against her a little, but she holds you firm.
You wanted sweet whispers and careful fingers and eyes that were filled with love.
She kneels on the ground in front of you and pushes your skirt out of the way. Her fingers grab at you and push at you and fill you; a little too quick. A little too hard.
You lean against the wall of your front hallway, your head turned away from her, your eyes closed tight. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be Fiona's play thing while she looks from something to fill the emptiness. While she looks for the elusive thing that will make her happy.
You can't make her happy.
*
She's watching you.
You can feel it all the time. She watches you when you're working at your desk, whenever your head is bent over some the latest analysis. She watches you in meetings, when you're busy explaining some fragment of information no one really cares about. She watches you when you leave at the end of the day.
She's darkness all over, dark clothes and dark hair and dark looks whenever Adam makes another unreasonable demand. She's lurking in the shadows, waiting. Watching. She's darkness and empty eyes and different from anyone you've ever wanted before.
She's all you want right now.