Fiction: Perfect Lover
May. 22nd, 2012 03:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: Perfect Lover
Word count: 640
Rating: PG-13 for language
Prompt:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
inkstains contest 50:
Notes: Woot, I wrote a story about Paul! Now I just need to write one about Lynn, and there will be a story about each of the main Extranormal Crimes characters (counting "Bigfoot Hunting" as a Darlene story). Lynn might be tricky, though...
Without taking his eyes off the television, Paul picked up the wine bottle and tipped it into his glass. When there was no noise of wine splashing, he turned his head, surprised. He’d finished the entire bottle. For a moment he considered opening another one, then sighed and let his better judgment take over. If nothing else, if he turned himself into an alcoholic, he'd lose his job.
Besides, it hadn't been that bad. Just a failed date. One in a long line of failed dates. Just because he was completely incapable of meeting a nice, responsible guy who wanted more than a one-night stand was no reason to compromise his brain function.
What was he even watching? He squinted at the TV. Oh, The Twilight Zone. Yeah, that was the way to get his mind off his date. Think about work. Not that they were really going to be dealing with a twenty-foot-tall alien any time soon. He snorted and reached for the wine bottle again before remembering that it was empty.
He shoved himself off the couch and turned off the TV. He should not be dwelling. He should be getting some sleep. He didn't have to go in tomorrow, but with a unit as small as theirs, there was no such thing as a day off if a case came in.
He found himself even more off-balance than he had expected, and wobbled toward his bedroom. After stopping at the foot of his bed, he spent several minutes trying to remember what he had been planning to do, and then a couple more deciding whether or not to actually dress for bed. Eventually he decided that since he had already removed his tie and his shoes, he was going to be okay for sleeping, and collapsed with his face in the pillow.
Some indeterminate time later, during which he may or may not have slept (if he slept, it was with vivid dreams), his cell phone rang. His mind immediately snapped to attention and he reached for his bedside table. Then his mind cleared a touch more and he reached into his pants pocket, where he had left it. He opened it without looking at the screen. “Gassert.”
“Hello, Paul.” It was a male voice, unfamiliar but attractive, rich and definitely sensual. All of that combined to wake Paul’s mind up the rest of the way.
“Who is this?” He pulled the phone away from his ear to find that—surprise, surprise—the number was blocked. Was it worth calling Quantico and having any tech who might be available at 2 AM on a Saturday morning put a trace on the line? Maybe not. It didn’t sound like the guy was threatening him.
“I’m your perfect lover.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You created me, Paul. Your mind called me up. I’m here for you—to be or do whatever you want.”
He considered that for a moment. In his line of work, he didn’t discount anything as impossible. And this random guy did know his name. But that didn’t mean that, just because he didn’t recognize the voice, he hadn’t given his name and cell number to this guy. Hell, there was no reason to think that this wasn’t just somebody from the Bureau playing a prank on him.
Unless, of course, it really was his perfect lover, called up with some magic. But then the question was, out of where? And why? Paul had never shown any sign of magical ability before.
No, the safest thing to do was to ignore this. Especially because he didn’t really want a perfect lover. He just wanted a good guy.
“Fuck you,” Paul said, and hung up.
He slept well the rest of the night, and woke without a hangover.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read more stories in this world or see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!
Word count: 640
Rating: PG-13 for language
Prompt:
inkstains contest 50:Notes: Woot, I wrote a story about Paul! Now I just need to write one about Lynn, and there will be a story about each of the main Extranormal Crimes characters (counting "Bigfoot Hunting" as a Darlene story). Lynn might be tricky, though...
Without taking his eyes off the television, Paul picked up the wine bottle and tipped it into his glass. When there was no noise of wine splashing, he turned his head, surprised. He’d finished the entire bottle. For a moment he considered opening another one, then sighed and let his better judgment take over. If nothing else, if he turned himself into an alcoholic, he'd lose his job.
Besides, it hadn't been that bad. Just a failed date. One in a long line of failed dates. Just because he was completely incapable of meeting a nice, responsible guy who wanted more than a one-night stand was no reason to compromise his brain function.
What was he even watching? He squinted at the TV. Oh, The Twilight Zone. Yeah, that was the way to get his mind off his date. Think about work. Not that they were really going to be dealing with a twenty-foot-tall alien any time soon. He snorted and reached for the wine bottle again before remembering that it was empty.
He shoved himself off the couch and turned off the TV. He should not be dwelling. He should be getting some sleep. He didn't have to go in tomorrow, but with a unit as small as theirs, there was no such thing as a day off if a case came in.
He found himself even more off-balance than he had expected, and wobbled toward his bedroom. After stopping at the foot of his bed, he spent several minutes trying to remember what he had been planning to do, and then a couple more deciding whether or not to actually dress for bed. Eventually he decided that since he had already removed his tie and his shoes, he was going to be okay for sleeping, and collapsed with his face in the pillow.
Some indeterminate time later, during which he may or may not have slept (if he slept, it was with vivid dreams), his cell phone rang. His mind immediately snapped to attention and he reached for his bedside table. Then his mind cleared a touch more and he reached into his pants pocket, where he had left it. He opened it without looking at the screen. “Gassert.”
“Hello, Paul.” It was a male voice, unfamiliar but attractive, rich and definitely sensual. All of that combined to wake Paul’s mind up the rest of the way.
“Who is this?” He pulled the phone away from his ear to find that—surprise, surprise—the number was blocked. Was it worth calling Quantico and having any tech who might be available at 2 AM on a Saturday morning put a trace on the line? Maybe not. It didn’t sound like the guy was threatening him.
“I’m your perfect lover.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You created me, Paul. Your mind called me up. I’m here for you—to be or do whatever you want.”
He considered that for a moment. In his line of work, he didn’t discount anything as impossible. And this random guy did know his name. But that didn’t mean that, just because he didn’t recognize the voice, he hadn’t given his name and cell number to this guy. Hell, there was no reason to think that this wasn’t just somebody from the Bureau playing a prank on him.
Unless, of course, it really was his perfect lover, called up with some magic. But then the question was, out of where? And why? Paul had never shown any sign of magical ability before.
No, the safest thing to do was to ignore this. Especially because he didn’t really want a perfect lover. He just wanted a good guy.
“Fuck you,” Paul said, and hung up.
He slept well the rest of the night, and woke without a hangover.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read more stories in this world or see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!