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rainbowfic2020-09-30 09:33 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2020-09-30 09:33 pm
Cerise #11, Lapis Lazuli #20
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Puzzles
'Verse: Lux
Colors: Cerise #11. Playing hooky, Lapis Lazuli #20. jerk
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (September Secrets), brush (sinuous), stain, novelty beads (kiss, kiss)
Word Count: 871
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kevin Lobell, Beatrice Milton
Warnings: Some discussion of treating people as experiments, sex, Dr. Lobell is just kind of generally a slimy asshole.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. I've written about Dr. Lobell before, but Dr. Milton is new! But there will be more of her in the future. I'm still ironing out some of the details of their relationship, so some of this is subject to change.
There wasn’t much that could’ve pulled Dr. Lobell away from the Domes after his new project somehow managed to escape a locked room and disappear from the complex entirely. But Trixie was back on Mars, which didn’t happen particularly often, and he wasn’t about to give up his weekend with her. Not when there wasn’t much he could do about the situation but sulk, anyway.
Which was how he’d found himself here, in a plush hotel room in a city about five hundred kilometers from the Domes, lying in bed for forty-eight hours with one of the most gorgeous people he’d ever had the pleasure of fucking.
Not that Trixie was his girlfriend, of course. He didn’t have the time or the patience for an actual relationship. But the two of them had met when his xenobiology conference and her engineering conference happened to be in the same hotel.
A conference hookup, just like dozens of others, except it got repeated for a weekend here or there without any such excuse, and, after five years, was now a habit.
And, while he hadn’t spent the entire weekend sulking--that would defeat the purpose, for one thing--he kept coming back to his vagabond, and the weeks of work that would now go absolutely nowhere.
Which was how he ended the weekend; venting at her while they lay there, still tangled in the sheet, stalling before they got up, got dressed, and got back to reality.
“The worst part of it is, I was this close to a breakthrough,” he finished, stealing one of the last berries off her plate. “Maybe not why he’d forgotten everything, but what he’d forgotten, which was the first step. And then, somehow, he broke out.”
She raised one delicate eyebrow. “You say that like he was some kind of prisoner,” she said, her voice low and soft and, because she was relaxed and content, colored with just a hint of an accent that he still couldn’t place.
“Well, no,” he said. “But we couldn’t exactly let him wander off like that, either. For his own safety.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are we pretending altruism now? After spending the last half-hour whining about how awful it is that this means you won’t get published?”
“Altruism? No,” he said. “Not exactly, anyway. You know me, I’m not a hypocrite. But I am still a doctor, so I do care about whether my patients--or test subjects--survive, which was part of why we held on to him. And he was an interesting project. Now he’s gone, probably dead, and the worst of it is, I still can’t figure it out.”
All those tantalizing secrets, about who Simon Gilboa was, where he’d come from, how he’d ended up alone and amnesiac in a secure compound…
All of that was gone.
And, yes, so was Lobell’s own chance to solve the puzzle, write about it, and probably win an award or two, but--well, Trixie was right, no one would ever accuse him of being altruistic, but he did feel a semi-selfless pang of regret for the potential pure knowledge that had been wasted. Not just another boost to his own career.
“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” she said, then leaned over and kissed him again, lingering, before extracting herself from the bed and gathering up her clothes.
“That time already?” he asked, glancing over at the hotel alarm clock which--had come unplugged at some point. How she’d known…
Then again, she had an uncanny sense of time. Always had.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to shower and then head off. I have a meeting I can’t be late for.”
“Fair enough.” He stretched, then set the last of the dishes aside. “Any idea when you’ll be back in town?”
“Mm,” she said. “Unfortunately, no. It…might be a while.”
“Oh?”
“Family business,” she said, with that soft, secret smile that was possibly the most beautiful thing about her. “Hopefully, everything will be resolved before too long. I’ll be in touch.”
And that, probably, was all he was going to get. Trixie was like that, sometimes. Giving him those smiles, dropping a few tantalizing hints, and almost nothing else. Which, honestly, was part of the attraction. He had always liked puzzles, after all, and she was one he hadn’t solved yet.
He had a feeling that, when he finally did, he’d lose interest. Pretty girls were easy enough to find, after all, and smart pretty girls weren’t that much harder. But smart, pretty girls who were full of secrets?
“I’ll be waiting,” he said, catching her hand and kissing it, with a playful grin.
She laughed, and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.
He heard the water start and sank back into the bed, smiling. Coming here, taking a break from all the nonsense at work, had definitely been the right call. He may have lost his vagabond, but he still had Trixie Milton and all her secrets, so wonderfully difficult to solve. Especially with just a weekend here and there to gather data.
Even if he wouldn’t get a good paper out of solving her, she was more than enough to keep his life interesting.
Story: Puzzles
'Verse: Lux
Colors: Cerise #11. Playing hooky, Lapis Lazuli #20. jerk
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (September Secrets), brush (sinuous), stain, novelty beads (kiss, kiss)
Word Count: 871
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kevin Lobell, Beatrice Milton
Warnings: Some discussion of treating people as experiments, sex, Dr. Lobell is just kind of generally a slimy asshole.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. I've written about Dr. Lobell before, but Dr. Milton is new! But there will be more of her in the future. I'm still ironing out some of the details of their relationship, so some of this is subject to change.
There wasn’t much that could’ve pulled Dr. Lobell away from the Domes after his new project somehow managed to escape a locked room and disappear from the complex entirely. But Trixie was back on Mars, which didn’t happen particularly often, and he wasn’t about to give up his weekend with her. Not when there wasn’t much he could do about the situation but sulk, anyway.
Which was how he’d found himself here, in a plush hotel room in a city about five hundred kilometers from the Domes, lying in bed for forty-eight hours with one of the most gorgeous people he’d ever had the pleasure of fucking.
Not that Trixie was his girlfriend, of course. He didn’t have the time or the patience for an actual relationship. But the two of them had met when his xenobiology conference and her engineering conference happened to be in the same hotel.
A conference hookup, just like dozens of others, except it got repeated for a weekend here or there without any such excuse, and, after five years, was now a habit.
And, while he hadn’t spent the entire weekend sulking--that would defeat the purpose, for one thing--he kept coming back to his vagabond, and the weeks of work that would now go absolutely nowhere.
Which was how he ended the weekend; venting at her while they lay there, still tangled in the sheet, stalling before they got up, got dressed, and got back to reality.
“The worst part of it is, I was this close to a breakthrough,” he finished, stealing one of the last berries off her plate. “Maybe not why he’d forgotten everything, but what he’d forgotten, which was the first step. And then, somehow, he broke out.”
She raised one delicate eyebrow. “You say that like he was some kind of prisoner,” she said, her voice low and soft and, because she was relaxed and content, colored with just a hint of an accent that he still couldn’t place.
“Well, no,” he said. “But we couldn’t exactly let him wander off like that, either. For his own safety.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are we pretending altruism now? After spending the last half-hour whining about how awful it is that this means you won’t get published?”
“Altruism? No,” he said. “Not exactly, anyway. You know me, I’m not a hypocrite. But I am still a doctor, so I do care about whether my patients--or test subjects--survive, which was part of why we held on to him. And he was an interesting project. Now he’s gone, probably dead, and the worst of it is, I still can’t figure it out.”
All those tantalizing secrets, about who Simon Gilboa was, where he’d come from, how he’d ended up alone and amnesiac in a secure compound…
All of that was gone.
And, yes, so was Lobell’s own chance to solve the puzzle, write about it, and probably win an award or two, but--well, Trixie was right, no one would ever accuse him of being altruistic, but he did feel a semi-selfless pang of regret for the potential pure knowledge that had been wasted. Not just another boost to his own career.
“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” she said, then leaned over and kissed him again, lingering, before extracting herself from the bed and gathering up her clothes.
“That time already?” he asked, glancing over at the hotel alarm clock which--had come unplugged at some point. How she’d known…
Then again, she had an uncanny sense of time. Always had.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to shower and then head off. I have a meeting I can’t be late for.”
“Fair enough.” He stretched, then set the last of the dishes aside. “Any idea when you’ll be back in town?”
“Mm,” she said. “Unfortunately, no. It…might be a while.”
“Oh?”
“Family business,” she said, with that soft, secret smile that was possibly the most beautiful thing about her. “Hopefully, everything will be resolved before too long. I’ll be in touch.”
And that, probably, was all he was going to get. Trixie was like that, sometimes. Giving him those smiles, dropping a few tantalizing hints, and almost nothing else. Which, honestly, was part of the attraction. He had always liked puzzles, after all, and she was one he hadn’t solved yet.
He had a feeling that, when he finally did, he’d lose interest. Pretty girls were easy enough to find, after all, and smart pretty girls weren’t that much harder. But smart, pretty girls who were full of secrets?
“I’ll be waiting,” he said, catching her hand and kissing it, with a playful grin.
She laughed, and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.
He heard the water start and sank back into the bed, smiling. Coming here, taking a break from all the nonsense at work, had definitely been the right call. He may have lost his vagabond, but he still had Trixie Milton and all her secrets, so wonderfully difficult to solve. Especially with just a weekend here and there to gather data.
Even if he wouldn’t get a good paper out of solving her, she was more than enough to keep his life interesting.