shiegra (shiegra) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-07-08 07:26:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | a: shiegra, f: baccano!, july 07, p: eve/luck |
Delivery, Baccano! (Luck/Eve)
Title: Delivery
Author/Artist: shiegra
Rating: PG
Word count: 560
Prompt: Baccano! - Luck/Eve - marriage!fic – surprises
A/N: It was done on time, honest! Just--not delivered.
He was gone when she woke up that morning, nothing but a warm indentation in the pillow beside her to indicate he had ever been there.
It worried her. He rarely left without speaking to her, mostly because he rarely managed to get up without waking her. Eve slipped out of bed, dressed with an absently immaculate hand, and left the bedroom for the long hall.
Empty rooms, and a folded handkerchief on the side of the table. Eve studied it, then picked it up and tucked it into her bodice, departing to give instructions to her servants.
“I’m looking for my husband.” She said to the mass of muscle that walled off the door from the street. He gave her a smile that was the closest approximation of ‘respectful’ that his expressions—normally ranging from ‘terrifying’ to ‘threatening’—could manage, and let her in the door.
A long room was revealed, with carefully smoke-shrouded booths and a man behind the bar polishing glasses with no expression at all.
A couple men, glancing her way, started to make some noise, and were hastily silenced. She slipped around the corner to mount the concealed steps, tucking her coat more firmly around her.
Sure enough, her husband was in the upper room, which was well lit with lamps and full of men holding guns. Luck Gandor was standing behind the desk with a cigar in one hand, eyes half closed and a calm smile on his lips.
His eyebrows arched when he saw her. “Eve.” He said, and extended an arm. Nearly all the men in the room—the ones pointing guns at him, anyway, which were the majority—twitched sharply.
She walked between them and laid the files on his desk with her left hand, leaving her right at her side, concealed in her jacket. “They delivered it late.” She said to him.
He smiled at her, crushing out the cigar, and she stood on her toes to press a chaste kiss, a flush creeping up her cheeks, to the side of his mouth. “Wake me up next time.” She added, and turned to go.
Before she did, she paused by the side of the man clearly in charge, standing slightly behind the men pointing guns and with an authoritative air. She tipped her chin up and studied him with calm, narrowed eyes. The man—tall, slightly grizzled, scarred on one side of his face—automatically tensed at the cool, challenging assessment.
“I would appreciate it.” She said softly, tone underlaid with steel, “if you would stop pointing guns at my husband.”
He met her stare for a long moment, mouth opening as though to say something harsh—
And then raised a hand, jerkily. His men lowered their guns, and she walked past, to the door.
She paused, one hand on the jamb, and said, “you will be home for dinner?”
“Of course.” Luck said, his smile deepening.
Eve returned the smile, a small and private one, and left the room. “Shall we finish this discussion?” Luck asked as she left, and she took her hand off the small gun in her pocket before she was halfway down the stairs.
She supposed she’d have a to arrange for something nice and filling for once, once she was done informing her husband how she felt about being left out of the loop.