Challenge #104 "Class"
Lost: Shannon/Ana Lucia (250)
(love to pottermaniac for reminding me about travel classes)
Shannon hates flying economy class, but Boone once again proved that he has no fucking backbone, and couldn’t manage to get them upgraded. Shannon supposes that she should have had a try but it was too late and now she’s squashed beside Boone for the foreseeable future and there isn’t nearly enough legroom.
Eventually, she informs Boone that she has to go to the bathroom, just to get away from him reading his literary-looking novel and pretending to look intelligent (something that always gets her back up). He grumbles at having to move, but obeys, and Shannon makes her way towards the back of the plane for lack of anything else to do.
There’s a woman sitting in the back row, looking very bored and toying with one of the crappy airline alcohol bottles.
“You look like you’re having a whale of a time,” she says. Shannon regards her for a moment. Dark hair, dangerous smile.
“I think the only way I could be having more fun would be if the plane crashed.”
“Amen to that.” The woman toasts her with one of the bottles. “Want some?”
There are an unsettlingly large amount of tiny tequila bottles on the fold-down table in front of her.
“How’d you get so many?” Shannon asks.
“Flirted with the air hostess,” she shrugs. Shannon smirks and drops into the free seat beside her, picking up a bottle.
The other woman grins and clicks another bottle against Shannon’s.
“I’m Ana Lucia.”
NCIS: Abby/Ziva (140)
(Do I even ship these two? Ah well)
Abby’s wearing that schoolgirl uniform again. Ziva grits her teeth because it’s entirely inappropriate for a working environment but more because the skirt is tiny enough to show far too much of Abby’s gorgeous legs. Abby’s acting up today anyway, flirting too much with Tony to prove to Ziva how much of an outsider she is, but it’s not the words or the attitude that annoy her, but that damn little tiny skirt.
So Abby wants to play the schoolgirl. Fine. Except that Ziva can’t shake the idea of telling Abby to stay after class, murmuring into her hair that she’s been a bad, bad girl, pushing the fabric of that ridiculous skirt up Abby’s thighs to feel-
“What?” Abby demands, breaking through Ziva’s thoughts, glaring at her. Ziva shakes her head and leaves the lab while she still can.