"Hey, Case?" Walsh pulled the lockbox off the top shelf of the closet. "What's this?"
Casey looked up from the bag she'd been poking through, trying to find her dinner under what seemed like the entire flat pack of pickles Walsh had requested. "What's whaaa?"
Walsh shook the lockbox at her. "Is this your sex diary?"
Her eyes widened as she realized what he'd found. Making a grab for it, she demanded, "Gimme that."
Walsh held it out of her reach. "No way. If you're that interested in keeping it away from me..." He tilted it from side to side. "What's in it?"
"It's nothing. You don't need..." Casey took another swipe at the box, coming up short.
"I'm kind of curious. What would you keep locked up?" He stared her in the eye. "Somehow I don't think it's a sex diary."
Casey glared. "Why would you think that?"
"When you were trying to get my secrets out of me, you told me that you had a lockbox with a sex diary."
She blinked. Casey knew that Walsh remembered and saw a whole lot more than anyone gave him credit for. He wasn't a lousy detective. He was at the 2nd by choice. The comment about the diary had been spur of the moment, an attempt to get him to spill his own secret. Yet sometimes he still surprised her. Like now, digging up a comment she'd forgotten three seconds after she'd said it.
"It's not a sex diary!" she protested.
Smiling, he leaned over to kiss her, careful to keep the box out of reach. "Why are you protesting so much? Makes me think there's something worse in here."
"I'm concerned what you would think is worse than a sex diary."
Walsh considered it for a minute, face turning serious. "I'm not sure." Lowering the box, he said, "if it's that much of a problem..."
Casey accepted the box, still eying him. Even after all the years, first of partnering him at work, and then sleeping with him, she still wasn't sure sometimes if he trusted her. "Just some paperwork."
"You felt the need to lock up paperwork?"
"It's really important paperwork?" Casey tried as she moved to stash the box again.
Walsh moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I can make it worth your while..."
He laughed, pressing a kiss into her neck. "Step into my office and let me tell you about it."
Casey allowed him to pull her from the living room, her brown eyes dancing as his suggestions got more outrageous. Hopefully their phones wouldn't ring until he tried at least some of them.
Memories (Warehouse 13)
It had been bugging her for weeks.
Jinks normally wore long sleeves. Or kept the sleeves of his button downs rolled to his wrists and snuggly buttoned. (So many maiden aunt jokes!)
But for the last couple of weeks, he'd been rolling up the cuffs just enough that she'd been catching a glimpse of something on his left inner wrist.
But never a good enough look to see what it was.
And the Warehouse being what it was... it never seemed the right time to ask.
Still she wanted to see what it was on his wrist. It could be that he'd just written on himself that day. Or it could be something worse and something artifact-y. But she'd never know if he wouldn't... hold... still.
Jinks looked up as Claudia made a frustrated sound. "Did Artie mess with the computer again?" he asked.
"No." She pushed away from the desk, spinning in her chair and turning to look at him.
"Sooo." He looked down, checking to make sure he hadn't somehow caused the computer to pull up the wrong file. "What's wrong? Did you get another ping?"
"No," she grumbled. Leaning forward, she snagged his shirt sleeve.
"I just want to see," she explained as she dragged his arm closer and consequently pulled him towards her.
"Well ask, don't grab!"
"Did you get artifacted and forget to tell someone?" Claudia demanded.
"What are you...?" Jinks glanced down at his wrist where Claudia's eyes were centered. "No, it's a tattoo."
Claudia rolled her eyes. "I can see that. Is it from an artifact?"
"Not everything is from an artifact, Clauds."
She studied it, her eyes tracing the letters inked onto his wrist. "Then what is this?"
Jinks's gaze found the letters, following them, before closing briefly. "My first partner with the ATF, we went into a building. He took... He took the lead and took... The bullet was meant for me, but Gabe." Jinks looked away. "Gabe got in the way."
Gently Claudia touched the ink. "And this was for him?"
"At the time." He took a deep breath. "At the time I just wanted a reminder. But..." Looking down at his wrist, he continued, "it's turned into more. I never want to add another set of initials for the same reason."
"Gabriel M. Archila and he was the best partner I could have asked for. Until you."
Claudia looked at the piles of paperwork around them and decided it could wait a little bit. "Tell me about Gabe?"
Jinks settled back in the chair. "I remember this one time, Gabe decided that it would be a great idea to try to infiltrate the restaurant the mob was using as a base of operations. With no background."
"I'm guessing that didn't end well?"
"Not. At. All." Jinks grinned. "Gabe's ideas could make Pete's plans look well thought out."
Claudia laughed. "Tell me more."
The former ATF agent considered before answering, "Well, there was this one time..." Claudia smiled as he began to spin a much longer story that somehow involved a microwave burrito, a broken water gun, and a goat as weapons in a drug cartel raid.
Any, any, "History never looks like history when you are living through it." (John W. Gardner)
Nate Heywood coughed as he attempted to brush the dirt off his clothes. A back pat from Mick Rory dislodged more dust and the pyromaniac laughed as the historian regained his balance. “You okay there, pretty?” he asked.
“History is much easier to study in a book,” Nate replied as he continued dusting himself off.
“Ain’t history to them,” Mick responded. “And we ain’t studying them.”
Nate opened his mouth as if he was going to ask a question, but Leonard glared at him. “And if we change history, we aren’t doing our jobs.”
Sara’s voice came over the PA system, “Gideon said everyone is aboard, if a bit dirty, and that history is settling down. So we’re gonna get off the ground here.”
The three men headed towards the bridge as the Waverider lifted off the ground. “Ya know,” Nate commented as they walked, “history never looks like history when you are living through it.”
“I’ve found it’s significantly more interesting,” Leonard commented as they reached the bridge. He crossed to where Sara was swinging the pilot’s seat around to face them and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before moving over to the jumpseats and sitting down.
“Lot more fun anyway,” Mick agreed.
“But don’t you get tired of finding out all the ways history was wrong?” Nate persisted.
“Nope,” the two thieves replied in unison.
“And on that note,” Sara said, spinning back around, “Gideon, jump us.”
“Of course, Captain Lance.”
Jun. 23rd, 2017 06:44 pm (local)
Any (please no SPN), any + any, CHaracter A is talking about *historic event they witnessed* and Character B had NO IDEA that A was That Old
Bonus for immortallity/longevity of character A
If there was one thing, Methos enjoyed about this more modern age, it was the ability to enjoy literature. Being able to browse a story instead of waiting for a traveling teller was a wonderful ability. And being able to choose the language, an even more wonderful treat.
“Did you find something interesting?” The coy voice of fellow Immortal, Amanda Darieux, came from behind him and Methos looked over his shoulder. “What do you have?”
“A copy of The Odyssey.” Methos held it out for her inspection. “In the original Greek.”
Amanda made a moue of displeasure. “Well, that’s disappointing.” She draped herself against him, ignoring the sniff of disapproval from the women standing not too far from them. “I can’t read Greek.”
“I can.” He took the book back, flipping through the pages, and frowning as he got to a passage. “And that’s not what happened!” Methos’s voice rose in outrage, drawing the attention of the few patrons in the shop. He lowered his voice when he saw the others staring before continuing, “If I was returning to that woman, I’d take longer than Odysseus to return home. Patient and loyal wife? Maybe in the Underworld.” He considered the book again, before shoving it back on the shelf, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “Telemachus was just lucky he had friends around to remind him who his father was or Odysseus wouldn’t have survived his homecoming.”
Amanda linked her arm in his. “You’ll have to tell me about the true story. And maybe some more of your other stories. If I’d known you had so much history yourself, I would have picked your brain before now.”
Methos just favored her with a look. “Amanda, I’m older than you. That means I’ve stayed alive and not become stupid or complacent over the years. I stay alive because I don’t give up all my secrets.”
She smirked at him. “Well, maybe I can convince you to divulge a few.”
“You can try.”