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Oh, it's prompt time again! Most coveted times of the year. <3 Would Ragnar/Athelstan in a modern agent-handler setup interest you? Or any variation of the good ol' spies/undercover trope.
(It is Vikings OT3 because I really cannot leave Lagertha out, I am constitutionally incapable.)
“Good luck with them,” Helga tells Athelstan on his first day.
All the handlers he's met have had a certain amount of exasperation in their tones, but he hasn't heard anything quite like this yet, and Athelstan pauses, filled with sudden trepidation, before he opens the door to the room where he's going to meet his agents. “Should I be prepared for something difficult?”
She pats his arm gently. “Sorry, it's kind of a rite of passage to be their handler for a few weeks. Don't worry if it doesn't work out. HQ is very aware how difficult they are. Now go in there, may as well make a good showing of it.”
That doesn't fill him with much comfort, but he takes a deep breath and opens the door. He knows Ragnar and Lagertha's pictures from their files. He's studied their techniques and fighting styles and expertises until he knows them by heart. He's still not prepared for their twin gazes on him the second he opens the door, and how their mouths curve into almost-identical smiles.
“Oh, hello,” says Lagertha Lothbrok, one of the two best agents the agency has ever seen. “We're going to have fun with you, aren't we?”
*
“Be honest with me, you're trying to get me to quit,” Athelstan says in the adrenaline rush after their first mission together, leaning back in his chair and allowing himself the luxury of five seconds to brush the sweat away from his brow.
Ragnar just laughs over the comms. Athelstan isn't quite sure why he's laughing, considering he's estimating at least three cracked ribs and a flesh wind. “No such thing! You're the most entertaining handler we've had in ages.”
“Good to know I'm entertaining you,” Athelstan says, too tired to be sarcastic. “Is Lagertha conscious yet?”
“Oh, yes, we're just having a spot of fun while you find us an exit route.”
“A spot of—oh my God.” That just gets him the sound of both of them laughing over the comms. “I am going to find you that route out right now, please excuse me for a moment.”
“No need to be in a hurry, darling,” purrs Ragnar, and Athelstan mutes his headset so he can swear, heartfelt, before he starts finding them a way out.
*
“We brought you a present!”
“Tell me it's not a dead body,” says Athelstan, who has had the time over the past few missions to ask around about how they scared off previous handlers. He's lasted six weeks now, which he's told is longer than the last five people before him, and Ragnar and Lagertha seem improbably fond of him. He's still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Or a priceless artifact I am going to have to return somewhere.”
“Nonsense, both of those things would be very illegal,” Ragnar says, as though he has not done both of those things before, and produces a book from his pocket. It is, Athelstan notes with relief, just a nice edition of some poetry.
Ovid, in a very modern translation, he discovers within two seconds of opening the book, and he slams it shut again, blushing. “Well, thank you.”
“Not much for poetry?” says Lagertha, with a grin. “Don't worry, we'll get you figured out.”
*
Higher-ups have started looking twice at Athelstan in the halls, because it's been nearly three months and Lagertha and Ragnar haven't dismissed him yet, and even though they keep flirting and pushing every line he has, Athelstan can't bring himself to ask for a different assignment, either. They bring him books and trinkets from every mission, and treat him to dinner whenever they're in town.
“Is it possible they're playing some kind of long con?” Athelstan asks, helpless, when they've brought him some very delicious fruit that they really should not have been able to get through customs and then offered to feed it to him.
“I think,” Helga says with a bracing squeeze to his shoulder, “that they actually like you. You poor thing.”
*
A mission goes very wrong. It isn't Athelstan's fault, isn't anyone's fault, really, but there's an explosion and Ragnar saying “We're going dark” and then horrible, horrible silence. They don't check in after twenty-four hours. Or forty-eight. Or after a week. Athelstan rips through security footage everywhere they might be and finds nothing, and nobody dares mentioning them being captured or burned in front of him.
“Sweetie,” says Helga on the tenth day, too quiet, too kind, and Athelstan just shakes his head until she stops and gives him a hug.
*
Ragnar and Lagertha come stumbling into headquarters on the seventeenth day, both of them in terrible shape but both of them grinning, and Ragnar holding out a bag.
Athelstan ignores it and tries to hug both of them at once even though they're filthy and bloody. “Don't you ever do that to me again,” he says, hating the way his voice trembles, and both of them hold on right back. “Also, you've been dark for most of a month, debrief is going to be a nightmare.”
“Well, we would have been back two days ago, but we needed a nice enough present to make up for our absence,” says Lagertha when she pulls away, and presses the bag into his hands. “Open it later. Let's go talk to Haraldson and tell him his least favorite agents are home.”
*
It's a St. Jude medal on a thin gold chain, with a note in Lagertha's handwriting that reads “I hear he's the patron saint of lost causes.”
Athelstan has no idea what to do with that.
*
“Why haven't the two of you tried to get rid of me?” he asks when they're allowed out of medical and promptly take him out to dinner. “Helga told me on that first day that you always get rid of your handlers, that you like working alone better.”
“Because it turns out we finally found a handler who isn't so useless we'd rather work alone,” says Ragnar, with a shrug, but he's smiling.
Athelstan shakes his head. “I can't be that much better than everyone else.”
“Better doesn't matter,” says Lagertha, taking her husband's hand and looking pointedly at the medal glinting at his throat. “It just turns out you're a good fit. Why? Do you want us to cut you loose?”
He's shaking his head again before he even thinks of it, and then he swallows when they grin, because he feels suddenly as though he's sealed his fate and he's not at all sure that's a bad thing. “No. No, I think we can keep doing what we're doing.”
“Well, then,” says Ragnar. “I don't think the whys really matter, as long as we all agree on that.”
Ah, if you're still open to the meme prompts, may I shyly shuffle one under your door? No harm if you're too occupied though! I'm already having a glorious time reading the ones you're filling. <3 / Five times Grantaire uses innuendo to derail Enjolras, and the one time he gets a serving of it back.
(Hey, darling! First wanted to say that I got your other messages and haven’t been replying because they are wonderful and I wanted to hoard them in my inbox. So just be aware that they’re very much appreciated. And in more relevant news, I didn’t get the +1 in there, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!)
1.
“So you're saying,” Grantaire drawls halfway through the very first meeting he ever attends, and Enjolras already knows he isn't going to like whatever comes out of his mouth next, “that we shouldn't just bend over and take it from the government?”
Enjolras closes his eyes and counts to five, and by the time he has his temper under control and a response formulated to tell Grantaire he shouldn't trivialize their efforts with double entendre, Combeferre has already taken over, smoothly taking the subject back.
“Sorry, man,” says Grantaire at the end of the night, and even looks a little apologetic. “Low-hanging fruit, you know?”
“I really don't,” says Enjolras, and Grantaire walks away laughing.
2.
“I don't know why you're here if you plan to be so disruptive,” he says after another meeting more than a month later, when he has accepted Grantaire as a fixture in the group, if an unhelpful one. “Don't you have better things to do?”
“With my mouth?” Grantaire supplies. “You could always give me some options.”
Enjolras was about to say something generous about Grantaire's ideas being sound, if pessimistic, when he doesn't couch them in ten-minute speeches, but he blinks, thrown. “That's not what I meant at all.”
Grantaire flashes him a grin that barely lasts a second. “Pity. I've got to go. See you next time, I'll do my best to keep my mouth occupied so as not to interrupt.”
3.
He keeps his mouth occupied with a lollipop. A bright red one that smears his mouth with color. For the whole meeting.
Enjolras loses his place four times.
4.
“You are so heavy,” Enjolras tells Grantaire, dragging him up the stairs towards Enjolras's apartment because he's mildly concussed and Enjolras isn't going to leave him on his own, even if Grantaire got concussed taking a stupid risk.
“Mr. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?” Grantaire is hanging off his arm, looking as bleary as he ever does when he drinks, but he manages to give Enjolras a look through his lashes. “I would think you'd be nicer.”
“I'm not trying to seduce you, Grantaire, I'm trying to take care of you.”
“You could.” Enjolras raises his eyebrows and wishes he hadn't when Grantaire elaborates. “Take care of me. And then I'd take care of you.”
Enjolras almost misses the last step of the stairs and has to stop for a moment, off-balance. “Right now you need an ice pack and some rest and that's it. No one's taking care of anyone.”
Grantaire manages to give him a wide-eyed, sincere look that surprises Enjolras even more than his ever-present innuendo. “You're taking very good care of me,” he says, like it's a promise, and keeps looking at Enjolras like he's some kind of angel for as long as it takes Enjolras to manhandle him onto the couch.
5.
“Grantaire, I'd like to speak to you.”
“That sounds like I'm in trouble,” says Grantaire, and gives Enjolras the same through-the-lashes look he did weeks ago on the stairs in Enjolras's apartment building. It's just as effective this time. “Should I apologize on my knees? I apologize very nicely on my knees.”
“No—you—I—no, what?”
Grantaire laughs and then composes his face into looking flirtatious again. “How else can I apologize? I could always offer to help you out.”
Enjolras barely manages to get a handle on his train of thought enough to interrupt before Grantaire makes some other lewd comment. “Grantaire, would you please stop, I am trying to ask you out.”
“You're—oh.” Grantaire's eyes and mouth both get round around the word, and he blushes, which is surprising, after months of flirting shamelessly with Enjolras and making every innuendo he could just to throw him off. “Okay. You could. You could do that, if you wanted.”
Enjolras could, but now that Grantaire is standing there looking startled and shy and happy, he finds that he'd rather kiss him. “I forgot what I was going to say anyway,” he says, and does.
Gosh, that's totally fine! It was a bit out of the blue. Um, could I trouble you with a The Notebook AU instead? Or just something along the lines of Poorly Planned Propositions by Grantaire. <3
I may be one of the few girls in the world who did not enjoy The Notebook at all. Nevertheless!
Grantaire has seen The Notebook, and rather enjoyed it, and also thought that it was a good example of how you should show your feelings to your True Love. So when he’s out with Enjolras one day in Paris and Enjolras points out an old abandoned building and mentions how he’d love to live in something like that (meaning it has character and history and not actually right now, he wanted to live in it when it was first built) Grantaire decides he’s going to do everything he can to be Romantic.
So he manages to buy the building (or at least part of it - no one’s quite sure how he manages it, but then, Grantaire knows a lot of things) and makes it his life’s mission to do it up, which sort of creates a strain on his relationship with Enjolras because he’s always missing and being shifty and distracted and keeps cancelling dates because he has no money because the drains burst again.
Anyway it all goes horribly wrong when Grantaire accidentally falls through the roof and breaks his leg and Enjolras is just like wtf. Wtf were you doing, Grantaire you could have died idk if this has escaped your notice but you are not a builder??
And Grantaire has to explain his whole Grand Plan about buying the building and renovating it and Enjolras is just. Grantaire. I could live in a dive and I would not care so long as you were there and Grantaire is just like oh. So they kiss and live happily ever after and Grantaire promises to never climb a roof ever again.
(The next year he buys a notebook and attempts to fill it with their grand epic love story only instead it is filled with lots of Missed Opportunities and Heated Arguments and That One Time Grantaire Attempted to Ask Enjolras Out and He Laughed. In the end it becomes a rather dry-witted memoir that Jehan sends to a publisher bc Jehan, and Grantaire ends up with a book deal and a whole lot of money and someone asks if they can make a film of their life and Grantaire is just like ??? I just wanted to do something romantic for the love of my life)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Tagged by jdforest I’m so sorry this took so long, darling. I got so caught up in the idea that we may be each other’s imaginary friend that I forgot to fill this. It got really long so I put it under a cut, I hope you don’t mind.
These are really interesting questions so I’ll leave it as a universal tag for everyone who wants a go.
1. The meaning behind my url:
Yep, it’s part of an anagram of my full name.
2. My favorite quote:
“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace“ --Oscar Wilde
”They think a murderer’s heart would taint
each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God’s kindly earth
is kindlier than men know,
and the red rose would but blow more red,
the white rose whiter blow.” --Oscar Wilde
”One must not touch one’s idols, a little of the gilt always comes off on one’s fingers.” --Gustave Flaubert (I feel this one’s so freaking relevant on this site)
3. Last time I cried and why?
Last week, I just broke down crying in the shower, no reason in particular. No sad sitting on the cold tiles or anything, I just shoved that shit down and went on with my scrubbing.
4. Favorite band?
The Police because they showed me my love for lyrical dissonance.
5. One place I’d love to go:
Prague. Give me all the ossuaries and creepy museums.
6. Tattoos I want:
The idea of getting a tattoo isn’t too appealing to me. If I ever did get one I think it would be something so tiny it could almost pass for a freckle or a mole.
7. Is there anything that made you smile today?
Hanging out with a black lab.
8. What are you excited about?
The only thing I ever get excited about anymore is my reading list, both books and fics. Well, and sometimes finishing my drawings, but that’s more of a nervous kind of excitement.
9. Idea of a perfect date?
Walking through a museum or a cemetary. Somewhere you can be absolutely quiet except for whispered comments about what you’re seeing. Wouldn’t even have to buy me lunch.
10. Life goals?
To be able to support myself doing what I love, with some traveling on the side. Which I guess in realistic terms means having a job that’s not entirely soul-crushing.
11. Piercings I want:
I keep forgetting about the ones I do have so I think I’m fine like this.
12. Relationship status?
I stare into the abyss and the abyss stares into me.
13. Favorite movie?
Lawrence of Arabia, suprise surprise. It counts for ten because it’s four hours long and because it’s awesome.
14. A fact about my life?
I’ve been often told that I would do great things and be successful but I’ve never really believed it. Even as a child and a teen my first thought always was ‘I doubt that’. I’ve never felt hopeful or flattered hearing those words, just apprehensive. I don’t know if it’s low self-steem or if reading Under the Wheel at twelve really did fuck me up but I just sort of turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy, wasting my life away.
I’m not going to tag anyone, but if you follow me and happen to see this and want to do it, go ahead!
1. The meaning behind my url:
It's a random Russian name that I was going to use for an OC. I don't know why I ended up using it as my username, but it's definitely better my old LJ name or old anime forum name, ha.
2. My favorite quote:
This one: http://kyrilu.tumblr.com/post/107039145784/i-like-the-stars-its-the-illusion-of-permanence
3. Last time I cried and why?
Last week over the ending of Crime and Punishment. (Specifically, Raskolnikov going to his mother before making his confession.)
4. Favorite band?
I have a lot, but right now I'd say it's Fall Out Boy, embarrassingly enough. Mostly because I think the shout-y and catchy badass songs would make amazing Dominion fanvids.
5. One place I’d love to go:
Florence, Italy. /obvious reason is obvious
6. Tattoos I want:
I don't think I'd ever get a tattoo...but if I did, it would probably be a death's head hawkmoth on my forearm or ankle. That would be cool.
7. Is there anything that made you smile today?
Peggy/Sousa/Thompson! I’ve been thinking about this dumb OT3 this whole week, and they keep making me smile.
8. What are you excited about?
Graduating. It doesn't feel like I'll ever get there yet at the moment, though.
9. Idea of a perfect date?
It would probably be cuddling a partner while mutually geeking out over a TV/movie or something. Just something private and relaxing, I guess, nothing big.
10. Life goals?
In the future: Get a steady job. Keep up being in fandom and staying in touch with fandom friends. And one day maybe find one of those found family type of friend group to be a part of - where everyone is a total geek - because I don't know, I've really wanted something like that. /not sure if that sounds pathetic.
I also do really want to meet-up with some fandom friends one day IRL even if they're far, if that's ever possible.
Having a partner is optional, idk. If I ever do end up in a serious relationship, I feel like the ideal that I would strive for would be something like...Rachel and MIles, because their banter and geekiness and jokes are delightful to listen to, and that's the kind of dynamic/rapport that I would love to have with a partner.
11. Piercings I want:
None, ever. Not even my ears.
12. Relationship status?
Single.
13. Favorite movie?
Off the top of my head, here are some movies I've liked: Silence of the Lambs, The Eagle, Pacific Rim, GOTG, Skyfall, Thor, The Secret of Kells, Edge of Tomorrow, and a whole lot more...
14. A fact about my life?
So, more like a fact about my fannish life: I try not to have opinions in namespace, because I am so terrified of being dogpiled.
(No, yeah, I legitimately have a lot of feelings on how fandom can be a scary place right now - especially with what's been going on in the SF/F community recently - but...nope. I'm just going to stick to my small fandoms/small ships, write fic, contribute, make fandom friends, and be happy.)