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Title: Heat Delusions
Fandom: Haven
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nathan/Audrey
Warnings: sexy thoughts
Summary: He can't feel fire, he can't feel ice, but if he touches Audrey's mouth now, just at this moment, her lips would feel chilly.
Nathan can't feel the heat but that doesn't mean that a week of record-breaking highs in the middle of July isn't painful.
Low tide reeks of rotting fish and baking seaweed and Audrey insists on opening all the windows, the pulled blinds clattering in the meager breeze that is the combined result of nature and the three fans his partner dragged out of storage
And Audrey... on the fourth day of this heat wave, she cracked and started coming to work in tank tops and completely non-regulation-length shorts. As acting police chief, he'd say something... only Audrey had been so tense and miserable since the faux Agent Parker came into town that he couldn't quite manage it. Besides, she might actually listen to him.
So he just tries to look at her as little as possible. Which is difficult, given that they share an office and it's three p.m. on a Thursday. The population of Haven is too somnolent with heat to make trouble - or at least, not until this evening's drinking starts. Conservative estimate, he has a good four hours before he can reasonably certain he'll get called out for an assault.
He could clean out the Chief's office but the last time he made the attempt, he'd ended up staring at his father's desk and feeling like a vulture.
Across from him, Audrey pours over the autopsy report of The Colorado Kid for what has to be the one-hundred-and-thirty-third time.
She takes a long sip of the mocha milkshake that doubled as a belated lunch, flicks her tongue over her bottom lip to catch an errant drop.
Nathan forces his gaze down to his desk. He can't feel fire, he can't feel ice, but if he touches Audrey's mouth now, just at this moment, he'd feel coolness. Her lips would be soft under the pads of his fingers, sticky from the ice-cream and chilly, but just for a moment, just until her body heat -or maybe his mouth- warms them. He could brush his fingers across the coolness of his mouth and then kiss the heat back...
"Nathan," Audrey says and he flinches so hard his elbow sends a file sliding off this desk, the loose-leaf papers inside bursting from the manila folder and diving into the whirling fan.
"Yeah?" he asks as scraps of paper fly around the room like confetti.
"Have you thought about switching to decaf?" Audrey leans down to peel a segment of his report on crab poaching from her sweat-damped calf. "Just a thought."
Fandom: Haven
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nathan/Audrey
Warnings: sexy thoughts
Summary: He can't feel fire, he can't feel ice, but if he touches Audrey's mouth now, just at this moment, her lips would feel chilly.
Nathan can't feel the heat but that doesn't mean that a week of record-breaking highs in the middle of July isn't painful.
Low tide reeks of rotting fish and baking seaweed and Audrey insists on opening all the windows, the pulled blinds clattering in the meager breeze that is the combined result of nature and the three fans his partner dragged out of storage
And Audrey... on the fourth day of this heat wave, she cracked and started coming to work in tank tops and completely non-regulation-length shorts. As acting police chief, he'd say something... only Audrey had been so tense and miserable since the faux Agent Parker came into town that he couldn't quite manage it. Besides, she might actually listen to him.
So he just tries to look at her as little as possible. Which is difficult, given that they share an office and it's three p.m. on a Thursday. The population of Haven is too somnolent with heat to make trouble - or at least, not until this evening's drinking starts. Conservative estimate, he has a good four hours before he can reasonably certain he'll get called out for an assault.
He could clean out the Chief's office but the last time he made the attempt, he'd ended up staring at his father's desk and feeling like a vulture.
Across from him, Audrey pours over the autopsy report of The Colorado Kid for what has to be the one-hundred-and-thirty-third time.
She takes a long sip of the mocha milkshake that doubled as a belated lunch, flicks her tongue over her bottom lip to catch an errant drop.
Nathan forces his gaze down to his desk. He can't feel fire, he can't feel ice, but if he touches Audrey's mouth now, just at this moment, he'd feel coolness. Her lips would be soft under the pads of his fingers, sticky from the ice-cream and chilly, but just for a moment, just until her body heat -or maybe his mouth- warms them. He could brush his fingers across the coolness of his mouth and then kiss the heat back...
"Nathan," Audrey says and he flinches so hard his elbow sends a file sliding off this desk, the loose-leaf papers inside bursting from the manila folder and diving into the whirling fan.
"Yeah?" he asks as scraps of paper fly around the room like confetti.
"Have you thought about switching to decaf?" Audrey leans down to peel a segment of his report on crab poaching from her sweat-damped calf. "Just a thought."