Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2008-03-18 09:57:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | hb fic dakin/irwin |
HB fic: Past Imperfect [Dakin/Irwin, general]
Title: Past Imperfect
Author: celandineb
Fandom: History Boys
Pairing: Dakin/Irwin
Rating: general
Summary: Someone wants to interview Irwin.
Note: Teenyfic, 551 words. This one's for emiime.
The light is blinking on the answer phone when Irwin goes into his study that evening, and the display shows that he has four messages waiting.
Two of them are from M.P.s for whom he has done consulting work in the past. He jots down the names and the information they want, already thinking about ways to answer, what work he'll need to do and when he can fit it in.
The third message is a reminder of a dental appointment the next day, and he erases it before it's even finished.
The fourth message stops his mind from running over the details of decolonization agreements in his head. He lets the message play through, then repeats it. The caller has left two numbers at which he may be reached, one a work number, the other his mobile. Irwin considers, checks his calendar, then dials the former.
He has just hung up after leaving a message in return when he hears the bang of the front door and Dakin's step in the hallway.
It's nearly eight o'clock, a bit late but not that extraordinary for Dakin. They have a standing reservation at a local bistro for 8.30 on Tuesday nights, and it is not until Irwin has wheeled himself to their usual table and ordered a glass of red wine that he tells Dakin about the message.
"I had a request for an interview today," he says, looking at the board where the day's specials are written. He will have the orange and beetroot salad, one of his favorites, but the special of mussels in saffron broth sounds good.
"Oh?" Dakin's voice is uninterested; this happens quite often, after all.
"I've rung back and agreed to have the interview on Saturday," Irwin says. "We both know the reporter."
Now Dakin pays attention, but they're interrupted by the waiter coming to take their order.
"I don't think I know any reporters, except for your friends from the BBC, and from the way you said that it must be someone else," Dakin says when they are alone again.
"Mister Scripps, your friend from Cutlers', is the man in question," Irwin answers. "I was quite surprised to hear his voice, I must say."
Dakin takes a sip from his glass of beer and runs his tongue along his lower lip. "He's going to come interview you at home?"
"That's what I told him would suit. It's a busy week for me, and he indicated that he wanted to make it in depth."
"Should I be out?" Dakin raises his eyebrows.
"I thought you might want to see him, after so long."
Dakin hesitates, then shakes his head. "I don't think so."
Irwin shrugs. "It's up to you. I certainly didn't mention our relationship when I left the message, but he may already be aware of it. I've no idea, as I only spoke to his machine."
The mussels have arrived, and a steak for Dakin. Irwin picks up his spoon and tastes the broth, redolent with the warm flavors of the Mediterranean. He is pleased by his choice, and savors it.
Dakin stabs a piece of potato with his fork. "I'll think about it," he says after a moment. "I'm not the same person that he knew twenty years ago."
"No. None of us are."