more of fletch's bare skin than you ever wanted to see

fic: figure unheedy haste (bernie/serena)

Fandom: Holby City

Pairing: Serena Campbell, Bernie Wolfe.

Rating: It’s fairly PG, to be honest.  

Author’s Note: I keep getting these ideas in my head for snippets. You’ll notice I don’t do plot, heh.  Sorry about that.  Anyhoo, here’s one of those ideas.  Some looking.  Some talking.  The obligatory mention of wine…you know how it is.

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There’s a sensitive spot on Serena’s neck, about two-thirds of the way up.  Bernie discovered it one preciously lazy Sunday morning when the mere act of existing in the same place as Serena - the same bed - seemed like the only pleasure she’d ever really sought.  She’s always been a quick study and this is no different; she’s applied herself assiduously to a variety of techniques but, in the end, the effect is always the same.

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You took a step back

And another chapter appears! I hope you guys enjoy because it has been my very favorite chapter to write. :)

Part I: Who’s That Girl

Part II: Introduce folk dancing

Part III: I’m Not Gonna Be Ignored

Part IV: this fantasy, this fallacy, this tumbling stone

You took a step back

She spends most of her night staring out her windshield as she puzzles over the last text she’d received from Killian, waiting for her skip to magically appear, but the damn man is better at hiding than she’s used to, and she leaves his girlfriend’s apartment sometime around midnight, annoyed and uncomfortable.

When she walks through the door the place is a disaster, and Robin and David looked flustered and nervous, dashing about from room to room with no real sense of purpose, or at least, that’s what it looks like to Emma.

It takes her yelling at them to slow them down, and they both turn to look at her, guilty and flustered.

“What the hell is going on?”

They both glare at each other in silence for a moment, so Emma takes a moment to look around the living room and notice the trail of chaos had originated from the general direction of Killian’s room, which they’d spitefully converted into an “activities” room two hours after his flight had landed in London.

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