JASMINE ALLEY: THE BILL SLASH FICTION

Jasmine Alley : The Lockup : kel : Give Me Nothing, Take No Chances

Disclaimer: Not mine, not even the slashy bits (roughly twenty-four
            minutes in every 30, by my reckoning).
Title:      Give Me Nothing, Take No Chances
Author:     kel
Fandom:     Hazell
Pairing:    Hazell/Gregory, ish
Rating:     PG-13, ficlet
Chrono:     none


================================
Give Me Nothing, Take No Chances
by kel
================================


Dot lights a cigar and waits. Water runs on the landing; someone in the shared bathroom. 
Three guesses where he slept last night. 

Second careers are much less fun to sabotage. Hazell once swore he'd top himself rather 
than live on other people's secrets. He hates it, and he's happier now than he has been 
for years. And doesn't Dot know it. She's got him by his pretty little balls, soiled and 
limping and good at what he does. Hooked on the delving.

He makes the right sort of wrong impression on her clientele; wide-eyed, dick-led and 
common as the stuff their lackeys scrape off their shoes. Even the desperately 
buttoned-up Gordon Gregory lets go around him. 

She's wanted something over Gordon since his old man died. Nobody in his social circle's 
going to care; they had him pegged years ago. An instrument, an amusing arriviste with 
considerable talent and almost enough cash. His clientele's another matter. He hasn't the 
clout to pass unscathed, or the wit to recognise their contempt. 

Which is where Hazell comes in. Dot encourages him, obliquely, in his pursuit. He knows she's 
up to something, but can't see past the promise in those smoky Levantine eyes. His natural 
antipathy to privilege, his distaste for Gordon's caution ensures the attraction is mutual. 

Hazell doesn't care who knows. The villains respect that. 

Dot puts it about, here and there. A word, a whisper. You want him, talk to Gordon. 
Gordon, dahling, talk to me. 

She breathes out smoke and smiles. Rings, when he gets upstairs. 

-- Job for you, Dumbo.  Viens. 

Hazell trips, coming down too fast. Swears. Dot raises an imaginary glass to the picture 
of Maggie over her desk. 

-- Market forces, madame. Truly a girl's best friend.

=== © arjuna March 2007 ===


	Jasmine Alley : The Lockup : kel : Give Me Nothing, Take No Chances
		Disclaimer: Not mine, not even the slashy bits (roughly twenty-four minutes in every 30, by my reckoning). Title: Give Me Nothing, Take No Chances Author: kel Fandom: Hazell Pairing: Hazell/Gregory, ish Rating: PG-13, ficlet Chrono: none ================================ Give Me Nothing, Take No Chances by kel ================================ Dot lights a cigar and waits. Water runs on the landing; someone in the shared bathroom. Three guesses where he slept last night. Second careers are much less fun to sabotage. Hazell once swore he'd top himself rather than live on other people's secrets. He hates it, and he's happier now than he has been for years. And doesn't Dot know it. She's got him by his pretty little balls, soiled and limping and good at what he does. Hooked on the delving. He makes the right sort of wrong impression on her clientele; wide-eyed, dick-led and common as the stuff their lackeys scrape off their shoes. Even the desperately buttoned-up Gordon Gregory lets go around him. She's wanted something over Gordon since his old man died. Nobody in his social circle's going to care; they had him pegged years ago. An instrument, an amusing arriviste with considerable talent and almost enough cash. His clientele's another matter. He hasn't the clout to pass unscathed, or the wit to recognise their contempt. Which is where Hazell comes in. Dot encourages him, obliquely, in his pursuit. He knows she's up to something, but can't see past the promise in those smoky Levantine eyes. His natural antipathy to privilege, his distaste for Gordon's caution ensures the attraction is mutual. Hazell doesn't care who knows. The villains respect that. Dot puts it about, here and there. A word, a whisper. You want him, talk to Gordon. Gordon, dahling, talk to me. She breathes out smoke and smiles. Rings, when he gets upstairs. -- Job for you, Dumbo. Viens. Hazell trips, coming down too fast. Swears. Dot raises an imaginary glass to the picture of Maggie over her desk. -- Market forces, madame. Truly a girl's best friend. === © arjuna March 2007 ===

(c) Watching Since Woodentop 1996-2007