#strikefic

It’s Robin’s birthday, and here is a fanfic in her honor: Birthday Wish.

“One last thing,” Robin said, hesitating. “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Cormoran replied.

“Anything?” Robin moved toward him, almost nervously.

“Within reason,” he amended.

“Is it reasonable,” Robin asked, coming closer, so close. “To ask you to kiss me?”

Cormoran’s voice froze in his throat; he could do nothing but nod, suddenly sure he was dreaming. Robin stepped up to him, tilting her face up. 

The heat of her breath ghosted over Cormoran’s mouth, and a tremor passed through him.

“Cormoran,” Robin murmured, and he leaned down, closing the space between them to press his lips to hers at last.

Me showing up a thousand years later with Starbucks: here you go, my darling

insomniatic (are you this restless too?)

Pre Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike | Words: 2187 | One-Shot, Complete

He reached over to pick up the mobile, leaving it plugged in on its long cable, intending to just glance at it.

“Signatures,” Robin announced, dropping a stack of assorted papers atop his desk. “And promptly, if you please, I’d like to make today’s post.”

Strike grabbed the top paper and twirled his pen about to jot his name on the line. “What is all this, then?”

“Mostly just formalities, client confidentiality, new contracts, the like,” Robin said, accepting the signed forms one by one.

“This one isn’t a formality,” Strike said, holding up the last item in the pile.

“No, that’s a condolence card,” Robin replied smartly. “Go on, add your name.”

Strike signed his name beside Robin’s, his eyebrows raised. “To whom are we sending a condolence card, and why?”

“Because when a good client’s mother dies, we send a card. That’s how you keep them coming back,” she said.

He scanned the card, which was brief, containing a sentiment about “a life well lived” and wishing the recipient “comfort in the midst of pain.” It was in Robin’s own distinct handwriting.

Strike leaned back in his chair. “I never would have thought to do this.”

Robin shrugged, arms folded around her pile of papers. “It’s the sort of thing my mum taught me to do. It’s a bit old-fashioned, I know.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but it’s also… kind. How did you know about it? The death, I mean.”

She smiled. “I saw it in the paper.”

“And you knew that the sort of person whose mum gets an obit in the paper is the sort we ought to send a card to.” Strike gave Robin an admiring sort of look. “Very clever.”

“Well,” Robin said, half-shrugging and with an impish grin, “you don’t keep me around just because I’m pretty.”

Before he could come up with a reply, Robin snatched the card up and whirled out of the room.

“Evenin’, Bunsen,” said a familiar voice behind him. Cormoran turned around to see Shanker’s golden grin shining up at him.

“Fancy running into you here,” Cormoran said, carefully remaining relaxed. He hadn’t been expecting to see Shanker tonight- or, well, at all.

“I was in the neighborhood, saw those curls through the window,” Shanker said, casual and friendly. “Thought, what’re the odds?”

“What’re the odds indeed,” Cormoran said, not asking what had brought Shanker to the neighborhood. He knew better than that. Two of Shanker’s entourage were sitting down at a table, settling in. “Well, if you’re staying, you can pay for dinner.”

“What else what I be doing in a chippy?” Shanker said. “Extra chips?”

“You still use too much vinegar?” Cormoran made a face.

Shanker laughed. “Some things never change. Grab a seat, Bunsen.”

There was no point arguing with him. Cormoran sat, wondering what Shanker wanted from him. Well, did it matter? Especially since Shanker was paying for dinner.

“You want a beer?” Shanker called.

“You need to ask?”

“Not really.” Cormoran couldn’t help but return the grin. He and Shanker weren’t really friends, not really. Hadn’t ever been. But he was right- some things never change.

Cormoran didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

“Tell Matthew that if he wants the jewelry back, he can have it over my dead body,” she was saying. “Those were all gifts, not communal property, and you know as well as I do that this is just a power move. He just wants to upset me, now.”

Cormoran unclenched his fists, slowly and deliberately. She didn’t want him to fight her battles for her, even if he sort of wanted to.

“Well, tell him to sod off,” she said. He snorted.

What a fool Matthew had been, to mistreat a woman like Robin.

of darkness, and choices, and pomegranate seeds

But she belonged to the darkness as much as he, and had as much right to the kingdom. 

Cormoran as Hades and Robin as Persephone, after a fashion.

Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike ≣ 600 words ≣ Complete ≣ Photo