Fic: Number One Crush, (for jellybgood)
Title: Number One Crush
Author: ♥ smokexscribbles ♥
Recipient: jellybgood
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth
Spoilers: None really.
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~700
Prompt: Peter and Elizabeth's courtship
Summary: Um, exactly what it says on the tin.
Peter and Elizabeth met because Elizabeth was working at a gallery downtown and the gallery was robbed; more specifically they met because Peter made the agent who was supposed to question her go get coffee; even more specifically they met because Elizabeth saw him send the agent away in the reflection of a painting and was (is) rather perceptive.
It was definitely the best testimony Elizabeth had ever given.
"You work here?" Agent Burke asked. Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. "And you said you could give a partial account of the robbery."
"Yes. I was coming back to the gallery to do some work, and I was a little late getting back. I got dropped off -- "
"Who dropped you off?" Agent Burke interrupted. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
He hardly missed a beat, although there was a quick moment of throat-clearing. "They'll corroborate your alibi. Boyfriend?"
"I'm single," Elizabeth said, "My friend May dropped me off."
"I see," Agent Burke said, and noted it down in his little black book.
"I got dropped off," she continued. "I tried to unlock the back door, but it was already open. I thought that was weird, because it was supposed to be closed, and I was just picking up the accounts."
"You do all the accounts?"
"Is that relevant?"
Agent Burke carefully examined the ceiling for clues before looking back at her. "Uh-- Just covering our bases. You must be smart. Hard worker."
"I try," Elizabeth said, "I don't do important work like you FBI men, you know, but…"
"Art's very important," he said quickly. "Nice stuff in here. I mean nice paintings."
"Because the door was open, I was a little nervous. I went inside and saw someone had messed with our alarm. That's when I called the police. The thief must have heard me on the phone, he bolted. I didn't get a very good look. I gave my description already."
"Yes," said the agent, and shuffled his feet. "We'll be in touch. Don't leave town."
"Do people really say that?" Elizabeth asked.
"I do," said Agent Burke. "I don't want you to leave town. Call me if there's any more trouble"
Elizabeth noticed the van parked outside the gallery, and the car that sometimes drove past her house a few times a night. She smiled. She waited two days. Then she picked up the phone. "Agent Burke? This is El -- I don't know if you remember me?" She managed to inject a little panic into her voice without laughing. It was hard work.
"I, yes, this is Burke, your case -- Yes." In the background she could hear a car braking and the sloshing sound of a travel mug being put down.
"I just called you because I think someone is following me," she said.
"Really?" She was almost impressed with his acting skills. Almost.
"There's a car outside my house. Do you think you could check it out? I could get you the plates -- Where are you?"
The car outside began to roll slowly down the street. Once it was a few houses down, it sped up and turned a corner. "I"m at a restaurant," Burke said. "Just… getting some lunch. Alone. It's Italian. This place does really great Italian. Do you like Italian?"
"Oh, they're gone," Elizabeth said. "Italian, huh, Peter? It's okay if I call you Peter, right? I'll have to get back to you on that."
She hung up and punched the air victoriously.
FBI agents were hilarious.
The car stopped going by her house, but the van was still parked outside the gallery. Elizabeth pretended not to notice it. She waited for Peter Burke to call her. He didn't -- Instead he ran into her one day, right outside her building.
"Peter!" she said. "Wow. Fancy seeing you here."
"Yeah, wow, that's -- "
"Crazy," she supplied, "Coincidental. What're you doing here?"
Peter looked briefly panicked, then said, "I was just… getting lunch."
"Italian?"
"Italian. It's a really good place. Have you been there? It's tiny."
"What's it called?" El asked.
"I don't remember," Peter said, and walked off rapidly in the direction he had come from.
Elizabeth went inside. "Do we have any sharpies?" she asked the secretary.
"Sharpies?"
"Yes. Red ones, maybe?"
"I can look."
"And posterboard?"
"This is an art gallery," the secretary reminded her.
"I could use the back of a canvas or something -- "
She laughed. "Okay, I'll look for them. What's the deal?"
"Shh," El said. "It's a surprise, and we may be under surveillance."
That got her some weird looks. She ignored every single one. Peter Burke, he of Italian food and drive-by camerawork, would be hers. He was adorable, he was reliable, he made her laugh, and dammit if she couldn't play him like a fiddle.
Elizabeth made her sign and went outside. When Peter came out of his van, red, abashed, and practically tripping over himself, she hooked his arm in hers and said, "So buy me some."
The FBI agents in the van drove them both to dinner. It led to some strange goodnight-kiss tension. "Don't bring them next time," she suggested, and kissed Peter long and slow.
If you read this, please leave the author a review.
Author: ♥ smokexscribbles ♥
Recipient: jellybgood
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth
Spoilers: None really.
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~700
Prompt: Peter and Elizabeth's courtship
Summary: Um, exactly what it says on the tin.
Peter and Elizabeth met because Elizabeth was working at a gallery downtown and the gallery was robbed; more specifically they met because Peter made the agent who was supposed to question her go get coffee; even more specifically they met because Elizabeth saw him send the agent away in the reflection of a painting and was (is) rather perceptive.
It was definitely the best testimony Elizabeth had ever given.
"You work here?" Agent Burke asked. Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. "And you said you could give a partial account of the robbery."
"Yes. I was coming back to the gallery to do some work, and I was a little late getting back. I got dropped off -- "
"Who dropped you off?" Agent Burke interrupted. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
He hardly missed a beat, although there was a quick moment of throat-clearing. "They'll corroborate your alibi. Boyfriend?"
"I'm single," Elizabeth said, "My friend May dropped me off."
"I see," Agent Burke said, and noted it down in his little black book.
"I got dropped off," she continued. "I tried to unlock the back door, but it was already open. I thought that was weird, because it was supposed to be closed, and I was just picking up the accounts."
"You do all the accounts?"
"Is that relevant?"
Agent Burke carefully examined the ceiling for clues before looking back at her. "Uh-- Just covering our bases. You must be smart. Hard worker."
"I try," Elizabeth said, "I don't do important work like you FBI men, you know, but…"
"Art's very important," he said quickly. "Nice stuff in here. I mean nice paintings."
"Because the door was open, I was a little nervous. I went inside and saw someone had messed with our alarm. That's when I called the police. The thief must have heard me on the phone, he bolted. I didn't get a very good look. I gave my description already."
"Yes," said the agent, and shuffled his feet. "We'll be in touch. Don't leave town."
"Do people really say that?" Elizabeth asked.
"I do," said Agent Burke. "I don't want you to leave town. Call me if there's any more trouble"
Elizabeth noticed the van parked outside the gallery, and the car that sometimes drove past her house a few times a night. She smiled. She waited two days. Then she picked up the phone. "Agent Burke? This is El -- I don't know if you remember me?" She managed to inject a little panic into her voice without laughing. It was hard work.
"I, yes, this is Burke, your case -- Yes." In the background she could hear a car braking and the sloshing sound of a travel mug being put down.
"I just called you because I think someone is following me," she said.
"Really?" She was almost impressed with his acting skills. Almost.
"There's a car outside my house. Do you think you could check it out? I could get you the plates -- Where are you?"
The car outside began to roll slowly down the street. Once it was a few houses down, it sped up and turned a corner. "I"m at a restaurant," Burke said. "Just… getting some lunch. Alone. It's Italian. This place does really great Italian. Do you like Italian?"
"Oh, they're gone," Elizabeth said. "Italian, huh, Peter? It's okay if I call you Peter, right? I'll have to get back to you on that."
She hung up and punched the air victoriously.
FBI agents were hilarious.
The car stopped going by her house, but the van was still parked outside the gallery. Elizabeth pretended not to notice it. She waited for Peter Burke to call her. He didn't -- Instead he ran into her one day, right outside her building.
"Peter!" she said. "Wow. Fancy seeing you here."
"Yeah, wow, that's -- "
"Crazy," she supplied, "Coincidental. What're you doing here?"
Peter looked briefly panicked, then said, "I was just… getting lunch."
"Italian?"
"Italian. It's a really good place. Have you been there? It's tiny."
"What's it called?" El asked.
"I don't remember," Peter said, and walked off rapidly in the direction he had come from.
Elizabeth went inside. "Do we have any sharpies?" she asked the secretary.
"Sharpies?"
"Yes. Red ones, maybe?"
"I can look."
"And posterboard?"
"This is an art gallery," the secretary reminded her.
"I could use the back of a canvas or something -- "
She laughed. "Okay, I'll look for them. What's the deal?"
"Shh," El said. "It's a surprise, and we may be under surveillance."
That got her some weird looks. She ignored every single one. Peter Burke, he of Italian food and drive-by camerawork, would be hers. He was adorable, he was reliable, he made her laugh, and dammit if she couldn't play him like a fiddle.
Elizabeth made her sign and went outside. When Peter came out of his van, red, abashed, and practically tripping over himself, she hooked his arm in hers and said, "So buy me some."
The FBI agents in the van drove them both to dinner. It led to some strange goodnight-kiss tension. "Don't bring them next time," she suggested, and kissed Peter long and slow.
If you read this, please leave the author a review.