DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
A Little Chat
By ralst
"Scribbs, are you asking what I think you're asking?"
"Depends what you think I'm asking."
"That we should engage in gay sex?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite that way . . ."
"I'm sure."
"But basically, yeah."
"Sex? Between the two of us? Lesbian sex?"
"Hell. If you do that whispery italics thing one more time, I'm gonna scream!"
"What italics? Have you been drinking?"
"No, but I wish I had."
"What have I told you about the perils of alcohol and murder investigations?"
"We haven't had a decent murder to investigate in weeks."
"I know, but -"
"The nearest we've come is watching old zombie films on late night telly."
"- we must maintain a sense of -"
"And besides, I haven't been drinking."
"- decorum. What?"
"Sex! Do you want to or not?"
"Scribbs, I've told you before, I don't think relationships between colleagues can work."
"How about sex and sandwiches?"
"Sandwiches? Are you suggesting a threesome."
"No. I'm hungry, I thought we could get something to eat afterwards."
"After?"
"The sex."
"I wish you wouldn't keep using that word."
"What would you prefer? Fu -"
"Scribbs!"
"What?"
"You're being deliberately obtuse."
"No, I'm being deliberately bloody minded, in a desperate attempt to get in your knickers."
"Please, Scribbs, someone might overhear."
"So? Half the station thinks we're doing it anyway."
"What!"
"Don't have a cow."
"I'm not having a . . . Why would they think we're sleeping together?"
"Because we should be? I dunno. Maybe they're not as thick as they look?"
"Just because people assume we're having relations, is no reason to actually . . ."
"Fuck?"
"Scribbs!"
"Okay, okay. I want in your knickers, because I want in your knickers. End of story."
"And then what?"
"What do you mean?"
"We have sex and then what?"
"Sandwiches?"
"After the sandwiches."
"More sex?"
"After all the sex and sandwiches. Then what?"
"Cuddling?"
"I mean, do we pretend nothing happened, or do we . . ."
"Have sex on a regular basis?"
"Scribbs, I'm being serious!"
"Me too."
"What if the sex isn't any good?"
"Don't be daft. It's gonna be spectacular."
"It is?"
"There's no doubt in my mind."
"And we just . . . Do it?"
"Why not? We've both got tomorrow off, and my bed is plenty big enough for the sexual gymnastics I've got in mind."
"Gymnastics?"
"Don't worry, we'll start out slow."
"I'm not sure about this."
"Ash, for the first and last time, we are going to have sex, and you are bloody well going to enjoy it! Okay?"
"Okay . . . Scribbs?"
"Yes."
"Can we have Chinese afterwards, rather than sandwiches?"
"Anything you want, Ash, anything."
The End