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Title: White Noise
Fandom: Nikita
Characters: Thom/Alex
Rating: PG
Author's Note: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
schmoop_bingo , "love song." Takes place sometime between 1.05 and 1.07.
Summery: "Could the radio possibly be playing anything that would make this more awkward?"
Thom was just about to knock on Alex's door when he paused. He tilted his head closer to the door, focused. He could just barely hear white noise, changing in intensity, sliding closer to understandable vocals and then sliding back into unintelligibility.
He knocked.
The radio tuned to an actual, understandable station, there was the sound of a closing drawer, and then she was opening the door, looking happy and pale.
"Hi," she said while Thom tried to project the sense that he had a valid reason to be standing here without actually verbalizing what that reason was. This was exactly why he didn't stop by Alex's room that much; besides not wanting to come off like a creepy-pushy-stalker, especially in the wake of that epic tactical mistake of an attempted kiss, how on earth was he supposed to justify bothering her? 'So Alex, despite seeing you for approximately ten hours a day, I wanted to spend the very little free time I get trying to not to stare at you?' Yeah, cause that wasn't creepy-pushy-stalker at all.
"Come in," she said, stepping back from the door.
"This doesn't seem like your type of music," he said, once he was able to recognize the inoffensive and weirdly recognizable sounds of mid-nineties pop.
"Yeah, well, it's this, a country station, or NPR," Alex said with a shrug, sitting on the edge of her bed as the station segued from one crooning love song to the next.
"No wonder static is more appealing," Thom said, chuckling.
Alex fiddled with the dial and laughed a beat too late, probably because the joke was incredibly lame. Much like the music. Christ, could the radio possibly be playing anything that would make this more awkward?
She passed the country station and paused on a fuzzy rap song. In three seconds Thom heard three half-bleeped out 'fuck's and two explicit propositions.
"Well, I'll see you at breakfast," he said, heading for the door.
He saw Alex's puzzled frown in his peripheral vision. "You going somewhere special for dinner?" she called after him.
If "somewhere special" was defined as "hiding in his room until he stopped blushing," then yes, yes he was.
Fandom: Nikita
Characters: Thom/Alex
Rating: PG
Author's Note: written for
schmoop_bingo , "love song." Takes place sometime between 1.05 and 1.07.Summery: "Could the radio possibly be playing anything that would make this more awkward?"
Thom was just about to knock on Alex's door when he paused. He tilted his head closer to the door, focused. He could just barely hear white noise, changing in intensity, sliding closer to understandable vocals and then sliding back into unintelligibility.
He knocked.
The radio tuned to an actual, understandable station, there was the sound of a closing drawer, and then she was opening the door, looking happy and pale.
"Hi," she said while Thom tried to project the sense that he had a valid reason to be standing here without actually verbalizing what that reason was. This was exactly why he didn't stop by Alex's room that much; besides not wanting to come off like a creepy-pushy-stalker, especially in the wake of that epic tactical mistake of an attempted kiss, how on earth was he supposed to justify bothering her? 'So Alex, despite seeing you for approximately ten hours a day, I wanted to spend the very little free time I get trying to not to stare at you?' Yeah, cause that wasn't creepy-pushy-stalker at all.
"Come in," she said, stepping back from the door.
"This doesn't seem like your type of music," he said, once he was able to recognize the inoffensive and weirdly recognizable sounds of mid-nineties pop.
"Yeah, well, it's this, a country station, or NPR," Alex said with a shrug, sitting on the edge of her bed as the station segued from one crooning love song to the next.
"No wonder static is more appealing," Thom said, chuckling.
Alex fiddled with the dial and laughed a beat too late, probably because the joke was incredibly lame. Much like the music. Christ, could the radio possibly be playing anything that would make this more awkward?
She passed the country station and paused on a fuzzy rap song. In three seconds Thom heard three half-bleeped out 'fuck's and two explicit propositions.
"Well, I'll see you at breakfast," he said, heading for the door.
He saw Alex's puzzled frown in his peripheral vision. "You going somewhere special for dinner?" she called after him.
If "somewhere special" was defined as "hiding in his room until he stopped blushing," then yes, yes he was.
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Agreed. And I must admit, I find the undercurrents of deception in Alex/Thom to only increase the ship's adorableness.