Fiction - The Picnic
Aug. 25th, 2008 10:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniInspired by actual events! (Yesterday if you want to know) I always wanted to be able to say that.
Quick and fumbled. I would say 'quick and dirty' but that would be misleading.
The Picnic
I thought a genetics convention it would be boring but I had no idea it would be this boring.
“What I want to know is: who thought that they needed us here?” I ask.
“Fuck, Parkman, I don’t know,” Hamilton says with a shrug.
A couple of passing conventioneers glare at him.
“Five dollars in the swear jar,” stutters a tall, dark man in an expensive but ill-fitting suit. He’s got gorgeous skin, smooth, dark, and silky. He has a head full of shining lush curls, a square jaw, full lips, and behind the glasses he has eyes so dark they almost look black. He flashes us both a lightening fast smile, hikes the satchel up on his shoulder, and flaps a hotel map at us. “Could one of you two gentlemen possibly direct me to the Lincoln suite?”
“Going to the debate on nature versus nurture?” I ask. Don’t stare, don’t stare. Nobody should be that attractive. “I have to go and stand on the door. I’ll show you the way.”
“You know the fucking debates and shit they have going on?” Hamilton asks. “What is it, twins and shit?”
“Actually it’s a debate into the weighting of genetic predominance versus the tip-over factor of environmental behavioural triggers,” the man says. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Although your colleague’s summary was essentially accurate if somewhat lacking in the fine detail.”
“Right,” Hamilton says blankly. “Well, you two kids have fun.”
Okay, attractive or not this is getting annoying. Actually, it’s worse that he’s attractive. I have to keep stopping every thirty seconds. Not because I’m lost, I’m not, but because he keeps hanging so far back that I think I’ve lost him. I’m supposed to be showing him to this lecture and instead of being able to gawp at the pretty-pretty he insists on floating around somewhere behind me.
“Is there a problem, Sir?” I ask when he catches up with me.
“Better view.” He laughs nervously, a high and shivery sound. “Sorry, sorry, ignore me.”
Okay, now I know I’m staring. Fortunately, that isn’t exactly a hardship. “Uh, okay. Well, this is the room. There’s a bit of queue. Guess it’s going to be a popular one.”
He looks around vaguely, apparently oblivious to the assembled throngs. “Will you be protecting us from the rampaging hordes Officer?”
Pretty and sarcastic, be still my… heart. Yeah, my ‘heart’. That’s the one. “Uh, yes sir. I’ll be on one of the doors in case there’s a problem.”
“Good, I’ll… I’ll look out for you.”
He disappears somewhere into the crowd. Ah well, easy come and easy go.
It takes a while for everyone to filter into the room. Lots of chairs being shifted, clothes rustling, shoes shuffling, people talking and whispering. There are hundreds of them. Let’s see, they said that the hall holds a thousand and it looks very nearly full. About as popular as these things get I guess.
There are two tables on the stage each with four chairs. A microphone is on the far left of the stage. It looks like a high school debating society. Guess these giant egg-heads aren’t so different from us regular folks.
The audience settle down although there are still pockets of loud whispers. They quieten down briefly when the adjudicator and panel troop out and sit down.
Including Mr Pretty. Huh. Makes me glad I’m at a side door instead on the main doors down the other end. I have a nice view from here. When they all sit down Mr Pretty is sat on my side of the room and at this end of the table. He doesn’t push the chair under the table so I get a lovely view of his long legs and the side of his ass.
This is getting better and better.
The adjudicator introduces the panel, pretty-pretty is called Dr Mohinder Suresh, and fiddles with his notes.
The pretty Doctor Mohinder Suresh, meanwhile, plops his satchel on the table and starts taking things out.
A napkin which he unfolds meticulously and lays neatly on the table. Paper plates. Plastic cutlery. Several croissants. Butter. A pot of peach jam. A flask of what, when he pours it into the cup, appears to be tea.
The audience, all eight or nine hundred of them, are completely silent. Some of them are open-mouthed. We’re all watching intently, tension building, as if we don’t want to break the spell.
The other people at his table are laughing, but very quietly. The woman directly next to him has a hand slapped over her mouth and she’s rocking silently. He hasn’t noticed. He’s completely engrossed in what he’s doing.
The other side of the debate have realised what’s happening. There’s some whispering and nudging as he neatly cuts open a croissant and spreads it thickly with butter and jam. He raises it delicately to his mouth and takes a bite.
A sigh blossoms through the hall.
Finally, the adjudicator looks up from his notes and turns to see what all of the audience are looking at.
“Doctor Suresh!”
Doctor Suresh looks up, takes a sip of tea, and blinks doe eyes at him. “Yes?” he asks.
“Are you quite ready?”
He raises his eyebrows, looks around and appears to notice for the first time that he is the absolute focus of attention. “Oh, I am so terrible sorry. Just a moment.”
And he finishes his food and cup of tea.
He tidies everything neatly into his satchel except the napkin. He folds the napkin into a square, writes something on it, and rolls it into a ball.
Then he turns around and throws it right to me. The audience explodes into laughter.
Dear Officer
My room number is 751.
I look up. He’s looking at me. I smile and he makes that terrible ‘call me’ gesture.
It takes the adjudicator twenty minutes to calm the audience down enough to finally start the debate.
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no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 10:28 pm (UTC)Matt security that he noticed that looked at Mohinder.
It crosses Mohinder!, To give the number of your room, does Matt go?
Deben ser aburridas las conferencias de génetica, pero si puedes alegrarte la vista con Mohinder, la cosa cambia.
SEguro que a Matt se le notó que miraba a Mohinder.
¡Es atravido Mohinder!, al dar el número de su habitación, ¿Matt irá?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 08:25 am (UTC)If you were Matt, would you go?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 08:31 pm (UTC)Matt would have to dodge many, and probably would be disguised.
Just in case, how to put the camera hidden in the flowers that were sent to Room Mohinder?
No sé, no sé si yo fuera Matt, me lo pensaria dos veces, ¡con tantas fan chicas sueltas,! seríe peligroso.
Matt tendría que esquivar a muchas, y seguramente estarían disfrazadas.
Por sí acaso, ¿a puesto la camara oculta en las flores que se envió a la Habitación de Mohinder?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 08:52 pm (UTC)I think the fangirls will have to make do with reading about it.
Oh lordy, now I having images of Matt in all sorts of strange disguises.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 11:02 pm (UTC):dies:
PLEASE PLEASE WRITE SMUTTY SEQUEL. I LOVE YAS.
why don't you write waff more often?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 08:27 am (UTC)I have a ton of things in my fic pile but I'll have a think about a possible sequel.
I wrote waff for years, I think maybe I'm mostly waff'd out :)
Thanks for reading and commenting x
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 08:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 03:53 pm (UTC)Mohinder is such a pimp!
If you were leaning toward a sequel, you've got my vote! :D
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 04:23 pm (UTC)I'm very tempted to write a sequel :D
Thanks for reading and commenting :)
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 07:13 pm (UTC)Mohinder is so damn adorable in this!!! I loved it? Maybe a little sequel where we can see them play around some more?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 07:25 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 2008-08-26 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-27 09:18 am (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting XD