DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

A Series of Conversations that Never Happened (But Should Have)

By zennie


Scribbs smiled over at her yawning partner who was drinking her coffee as quickly as the hot beverage would allow. "So come on, then. You can't be that tired and not give me his name and ranking."

"Well, his name was Oscar. Or, rather, O-o-o-osc-a-a-ar." Scribbs wasn't sure if she should be impressed or shocked by Ash's uncharacteristic descent into explicit sex talk this early in the morning. "I'd have given him a 10."

"You've never given anyone a 10 before."

"He earned it, unless she was faking."

It suddenly dawned on Scribbs who Ash was talking about, and she felt a sense of relief flow through her. "Oh, your neighbor." She thought for a second. "I thought her bloke's name was Richard."

"Oh, it was. Last week."

"You jealous?" Scribbs teased.

"Look, I've spent an entire night listening over and over to that slapper being taken to heaven and back." Ash paused in her tirade to admit, "Yes, I guess I am a bit jealous."

"And a bit of a pervert." Scribbs commented wryly, earning her a glare from her colleague. She considered for a few moments, and then, glancing sideways at her partner, decided to have a spot of fun. "Are you one?"

Ash took another sip of her coffee before asking, distractedly, "One what?"

"A screamer."

"A what?" Ash wondered if her lack of sleep was making her hear things, because Scribbs, she was sure, did not just ask the question Ash thought she had heard.

"A screamer." Or maybe Ash had heard the question correctly. "You know, loud in bed, screaming obscenities or your partner's name," Scribbs clarified with a wicked grin. If Ash's prior glare at the pervert comment could have curdled milk, then the one she directed at Scribbs now could buckle steel plating. Scribbs grinned in the face of Ash's impending apoplexy and continued, undeterred. "No, you wouldn't, now, would you? You're the bite-your-lip, quiet-moans-and-whimpers, breathless-orgasm type, aren't you?"

"Scribbs, this line of conversation is entirely inappropriate…"

"None of that 'O-o-o-osc-a-a-ar'" and here Scribbs did a spot-on impression of Ash's earlier simulated orgasm, "for you, huh, Ash?"

"I haven't dated an Oscar in years," Ash replied in a snit, trying her best to take the high road since Scribbs seemed so enamored with the gutter this morning.

"Oh come on, Ash, admit it. A nice, posh girl like yourself wouldn't sully herself by groaning and grunting and screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors. No, you posh girls are taught to be as quiet as a mouse." Scribbs wrinkled her nose at the thought. "Although I bet that comes in handy sometimes, huh? Never wake the parents or interrupt the church service, huh?"

Ash's hand was gripped so tightly around the door handle that her knuckles were white, almost as pale as her face, as she hissed, "We are not having this conversation!"

Scribbs decided to take pity on her poor partner. "Ah, a dead estate agent. Here we are."

"Seriously, I was impressed. When he asked you to choose between the whipped cream and the chocolate, I actually held my breath." Ash's tease held a hint of a barb, like her 'almost as if she wasn't acting' comment had a few minutes before.

Scribbs pouted and scrubbed at her face. "Next time, you can wear the wire and I'll hide," she declared, grumpily. Scribbs thought for a moment, and then decided to get back at her partner for her teasing. "Have you ever done it?"

"Done what?" Ash asked as she maneuvered the car around a corner.

"Whipped cream, chocolate, things like that."

Ash's nose crinkled in disgust. "No."

"Why not?"

Ash considered for a second. "Well, first, there's the mess. I for one don't relish the thought of trying to get chocolate out of the sheets." Scribbs grinned to see Ash shudder at the very thought.

"So do it in the kitchen."

Ash's expression was one of pure, unadulterated disgust as she contemplated the mixing of food preparation and sex. The idea was so distasteful that she decided to ignore the suggestion altogether and move on to her second reason. "Anyway, I don't see the point. How is getting food all over you in any way sexy?"

"Hmmm, you don't think it could be?"

"Absolutely not." Ash's answer was definitive.

"I dunno. Think about it. You're laying there, naked, a line of whipped cream from your neck to stomach, the tickle of a tongue on your neck lightly licking you clean…"

"Scribbs…" Ash's tone was an odd mix of warning and fascination.

"Down between your breasts, swirling around your navel…" Scribbs glanced over to see the rapt expression on Ash's face. "Then a drizzle of chocolate on your breasts… the chocolate requires more pressure to clean off, hard licking, sucking…" Scribbs exhaled, not entirely unaffected to the images of her own making, before asking, "You don't think that can be sexy?"

No response. "Ash?"

"Huh?" Ash blinked, her attention slowly returning to the conversation.

"You don't think that could be sexy?" Scribbs repeated.

"Um, no."


"That's alright. Anyway, I look silly in a sarong."

"Especially one wrapped around your neck." Ash glanced at her blonde colleague. "Only kidding."

"Me too. I look great in a sarong." They headed back into the station, Scribbs grinning over at Ash in amusement. "Now who's the sociopath with bondage fantasies?"

"I do not…" Ash suddenly realized how loud her voice sounded, and grabbed Scribbs by the arm and pulled her into the bathroom, "have bondage fantasies," she finished in a whisper.

Scribbs laughed and shook her head. "You are so easy, Ash. I was only kidding."

"I knew that," snipped Ash, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at her colleague. "As if I would be into handcuffs and, and," she tried to think of another piece of bondage paraphernalia, "things like that," she finished lamely.

"Yes, of course. You are far too controlling to give up control like that."

"Exactly!" Ash crinkled her nose in consternation. "I'm not that controlling!"

"Um, okay," Scribbs agreed, giving her colleague a dubious look. "But still, could you give up control like that?"

"No, no, of course not." There was a pause as Ash considered, and then asked curiously. "Like what?"

Scribbs leaned in, trapping Ash against the sink, to whisper, "Handcuffed to the bed… you can plead, beg, but ultimately, you're at the mercy of your partner."

Ash shivered, whether from Scribbs' proximity, her breath, or the feelings her words were evoking, Ash couldn't tell. "All you can do is watch… wait… anticipate…" Scribbs smiled as Ash's eyes fluttered closed.

"Combine the handcuffs with a blindfold and you have to wait for a kiss or a caress, you have no idea where…"

Scribbs stepped back, and Ash frowned at the chill where Scribbs' body had been. Blinking her eyes open, she found her colleague smirking at her. "Now you wouldn't like that, now would you, Ash?"

Ash simply glared and gave Scribbs an irritated push. She paused in front of the mirror to adjust her jacket, ignoring her giggling colleague, before heading back to her paperwork.

Scribbs rapped on Ash's door later that evening, grinning mischievously as she held out a paper bag to Ash as the door opened. "Prezzie for you, Ash."

However, it was Scribbs who had the surprise as Ash caught her by the lapels, dragged her into the flat, threw her against the door, and kissed her soundly. When the brunette let her up for air, Scribbs gaped at her.

"There had better be whipped cream and chocolate sauce in that bag, Scribbs."

Scribbs, who had brought the aforementioned items as a gag gift for Ash, rapidly reformulated her plans for the evening. "Yeah, there is."

"Good," Ash replied, pulling Scribbs in for another open-mouthed kiss. Scribbs dropped the bag to start on Ash's button-down shirt, steering the brunette backward toward the bedroom. Ash broke the kiss as they crossed the threshold. "Scribbs."


"I was serious about the sheets."

The End

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