Original Fic: Clandestine (TTM, #shortstorysaturday)
Title: Clandestine
Fandom: Original
Prompt: tamingthemuse prompt #213, Keeping Score
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~900
Summary: "Quiet night," Damien commented suddenly and Cheryl knew he wasn't talking about the diner; although it was almost empty. She nodded once, sharply.
Cheryl slid into the booth and started drumming her fingers impatiently on the table top. The plastic coating cracked a little when her fingernails hit it and eventually she had to stop, in case someone began to notice. Instead, she stretched her arms out, feeling all the muscles in her shoulders and upper back loosen as she moved around.
Five minutes had passed before she got really pissed off. Where was Damien?! She shifted in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her arms, tapping her feet now instead. Becoming engrossed in thoughts of how she could kill him - quickly or slowly, that was the first question - she only noticed he was in the diner when he dropped into the seat opposite, flashing that irritating grin.
"What's up, Cheryl?" he grinned, waving over a waitress. She was blonde and flirted whilst she took his order - just a coffee, but still - and once she had gone, Cheryl found her teeth were on edge.
"You're late," she accused. Damien held up his hands in mock-surrender, but then grinned again, letting out a bark of a laugh.
"You know me," he replied, unrepentant. "I don't think I've been on time for anything my entire life."
Cheryl rolled her eyes, impatient again as she waited for Damien's coffee to be brought over. They couldn't have this discussion until she was sure no one was listening in.
"Quiet night," Damien commented suddenly and Cheryl knew he wasn't talking about the diner; although it was almost empty. She nodded once, sharply.
The waitress walked back over with a giggle and only charged Damien for a small coffee, not the large that was sitting, steaming, before him. He gave her a dashing smile and a phone number Cheryl knew to be fake in return. She almost felt sorry for the girl; but she shot Cheryl a glare before she walked away and all sympathy she might have felt vanished in an instant.
Damien took a large gulp of coffee, placing the cup to the side and adopting a more serious expression before he spoke.
"Go on then," he said. "Your turn. How many?"
These meetings were always the same; they alternated who asked who first, but they'd meet at the same time every night it was possible (Thursdays and Sundays seemed to be the issue for some reason) and discuss who they'd killed on the other side. Well, not who, but how many. In Cheryl's case, the who would be difficult - Damien didn't know every human in the world.
"Two."
It was honest; they had made that clear - always be honest about how many you'd killed. It meant there was no back-stabbing; something that was important in a relationship such as this.
Damien frowned. "Got one tonight. Like I said; it's been quiet."
"It's summer," Cheryl said with a shrug. "Nights are shorter, and not a vamp in town is risking being caught in sunlight."
Damien acknowledged this with a nod, taking another drink of his coffee.
"Did you stop any?" Cheryl asked after a long moment.
Damien nodded. "Yeah. Two slayers had cornered this girl - a new turn, from the looks of it. I shouted them over, she ran off. Didn't do it for her, mind; I hate those guys."
Cheryl kept the smile off her face; she knew it was the same for him as it was for her - dark-haired guys of a certain age had been her favourites to feed on, once upon a time, but that was different now.
"What about you?"
Cheryl shrugged. "The two I got- Two drunk guys, up to no good. They were either gonna hurt a girl or kill a guy; there was no talking them out of it." Not that she'd tried. But she wasn't young now, and she could read true murderous intent better than almost any other expression out there. It came in handy.
"Fair, I guess," Damien said, taking another drink from his cup. "You realised we'll eventually have to stop meeting like this, right?"
"You say that every night," Cheryl pointed out. Damien smiled, running a hand through his hair.
"I do, don't I? Either way, I-"
The door to the diner opened, letting in a gust of cool, night air. On it came the smell of a slayer; Cheryl had her back to the door, and was hidden by the height of the seat, but she knew Damien had seen whoever was there and recognised them; his eyes had gone wide and his face pale.
When Damien took his eyes from the slayer he knew - Thomas - the man he worked with, Cheryl was gone; it was as if she'd never been there.
Thomas saw him and smiled as he walked over, sliding into the seat. Where Cheryl had just been sitting. "Damien, hey. Quiet night, huh? I've barely seen a vamp, let alone staked one."
Damien nodded. "Yeah, quiet."
Thomas waved the waitress over. She looked a little confused to see that Cheryl was gone, but said nothing, just took his order.
"You here alone then?" Thomas said once she'd gone.
"It's a decent place to hang out," Damien said with a shrug. He drained the rest of his coffee and stood. "I don't know if I'll be coming back though."
Thomas smiled. "Have a good rest of the night, Damien."
Damien nodded and left, not looking back. Thomas took his drink from the waitress and paid her, before he allowed himself so much as a smirk. He'd seen the brunette Damien was with, of course; seen how she'd vanished. He was going to have some fun, now.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: tamingthemuse prompt #213, Keeping Score
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~900
Summary: "Quiet night," Damien commented suddenly and Cheryl knew he wasn't talking about the diner; although it was almost empty. She nodded once, sharply.
Cheryl slid into the booth and started drumming her fingers impatiently on the table top. The plastic coating cracked a little when her fingernails hit it and eventually she had to stop, in case someone began to notice. Instead, she stretched her arms out, feeling all the muscles in her shoulders and upper back loosen as she moved around.
Five minutes had passed before she got really pissed off. Where was Damien?! She shifted in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her arms, tapping her feet now instead. Becoming engrossed in thoughts of how she could kill him - quickly or slowly, that was the first question - she only noticed he was in the diner when he dropped into the seat opposite, flashing that irritating grin.
"What's up, Cheryl?" he grinned, waving over a waitress. She was blonde and flirted whilst she took his order - just a coffee, but still - and once she had gone, Cheryl found her teeth were on edge.
"You're late," she accused. Damien held up his hands in mock-surrender, but then grinned again, letting out a bark of a laugh.
"You know me," he replied, unrepentant. "I don't think I've been on time for anything my entire life."
Cheryl rolled her eyes, impatient again as she waited for Damien's coffee to be brought over. They couldn't have this discussion until she was sure no one was listening in.
"Quiet night," Damien commented suddenly and Cheryl knew he wasn't talking about the diner; although it was almost empty. She nodded once, sharply.
The waitress walked back over with a giggle and only charged Damien for a small coffee, not the large that was sitting, steaming, before him. He gave her a dashing smile and a phone number Cheryl knew to be fake in return. She almost felt sorry for the girl; but she shot Cheryl a glare before she walked away and all sympathy she might have felt vanished in an instant.
Damien took a large gulp of coffee, placing the cup to the side and adopting a more serious expression before he spoke.
"Go on then," he said. "Your turn. How many?"
These meetings were always the same; they alternated who asked who first, but they'd meet at the same time every night it was possible (Thursdays and Sundays seemed to be the issue for some reason) and discuss who they'd killed on the other side. Well, not who, but how many. In Cheryl's case, the who would be difficult - Damien didn't know every human in the world.
"Two."
It was honest; they had made that clear - always be honest about how many you'd killed. It meant there was no back-stabbing; something that was important in a relationship such as this.
Damien frowned. "Got one tonight. Like I said; it's been quiet."
"It's summer," Cheryl said with a shrug. "Nights are shorter, and not a vamp in town is risking being caught in sunlight."
Damien acknowledged this with a nod, taking another drink of his coffee.
"Did you stop any?" Cheryl asked after a long moment.
Damien nodded. "Yeah. Two slayers had cornered this girl - a new turn, from the looks of it. I shouted them over, she ran off. Didn't do it for her, mind; I hate those guys."
Cheryl kept the smile off her face; she knew it was the same for him as it was for her - dark-haired guys of a certain age had been her favourites to feed on, once upon a time, but that was different now.
"What about you?"
Cheryl shrugged. "The two I got- Two drunk guys, up to no good. They were either gonna hurt a girl or kill a guy; there was no talking them out of it." Not that she'd tried. But she wasn't young now, and she could read true murderous intent better than almost any other expression out there. It came in handy.
"Fair, I guess," Damien said, taking another drink from his cup. "You realised we'll eventually have to stop meeting like this, right?"
"You say that every night," Cheryl pointed out. Damien smiled, running a hand through his hair.
"I do, don't I? Either way, I-"
The door to the diner opened, letting in a gust of cool, night air. On it came the smell of a slayer; Cheryl had her back to the door, and was hidden by the height of the seat, but she knew Damien had seen whoever was there and recognised them; his eyes had gone wide and his face pale.
When Damien took his eyes from the slayer he knew - Thomas - the man he worked with, Cheryl was gone; it was as if she'd never been there.
Thomas saw him and smiled as he walked over, sliding into the seat. Where Cheryl had just been sitting. "Damien, hey. Quiet night, huh? I've barely seen a vamp, let alone staked one."
Damien nodded. "Yeah, quiet."
Thomas waved the waitress over. She looked a little confused to see that Cheryl was gone, but said nothing, just took his order.
"You here alone then?" Thomas said once she'd gone.
"It's a decent place to hang out," Damien said with a shrug. He drained the rest of his coffee and stood. "I don't know if I'll be coming back though."
Thomas smiled. "Have a good rest of the night, Damien."
Damien nodded and left, not looking back. Thomas took his drink from the waitress and paid her, before he allowed himself so much as a smirk. He'd seen the brunette Damien was with, of course; seen how she'd vanished. He was going to have some fun, now.