Entry tags:
Fic: Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Rookie Blue, Gail/Holly)
Title: Hit Me With Your Best Shot
Fandom: Rookie Blue
Pairing(s): Gail/Holly
Word Count: 1700
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gail and Holly play laser tag. (Which is kind of like shooting people, so Gail should enjoy it, right?)
Notes: Written for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moontyger for ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
femslashex.
"I should really stop letting you pick our dates," Gail says. She feels like she's in some kind of horror movie: flashing lights, dark corners, children screaming. She's glad she left her gun at home, otherwise she probably would have drawn it by now.
"So those were dates," Holly says, sounding altogether too pleased with herself. Gail turns to her, meaning to glare, but her heart's just not in it. She settles for rolling her eyes, instead.
"Whatever," she says. It's not like she ever said they weren't, really, she just ... hadn't committed to anything yet. "This is still terrible."
"This is fun," Holly says. "You know that thing? Fun?"
"I know how to have fun," Gail says. "Drinks at the Penny are fun. Catching bad guys is fun. This is ..."
"Also fun," Holly says.
"Last time you made me play sports, I nearly died."
For a second, Holly looks like she's going to contradict her, but instead she says, "This isn't a sport."
"It's running around and getting sweaty." At least, judging by the people crowding around them. Seriously, Gail can smell them, it's almost as bad as the drunk tank.
"With a gun," Holly says. "And shooting people. If it helps, just think of it like work."
It does help, a little. "They're not even real guns."
"You really want to shoot kids with real guns?"
Kind of. Sometimes.
"I guess not," she says, finally. And then, as a group of kids runs past and she feels a small, grubby hand press into her back, "Unless that one touches me again."
Seriously, don't they have parents? Or parole officers?
"Nobody's going to touch you," Holly says, and laughs, which just makes Gail's frown deepen. "I promise. One game?"
"One," Gail agrees. Reluctantly. "And I get to choose what we do next time."
"Deal," Holly says, and she looks so happy Gail doesn't know whether to smile or smack her.
-
Smack her, she decides, as she zips herself up into a vest two sizes too big that she swears is still wet from somebody else's sweat. She's done a lot of disgusting things in her life - she's a cop, it's pretty much part of the job description - but this is definitely in the top ten. And she's not even being paid for it.
"I think somebody died in this," she says, trying not to breathe in too deeply. She's going to have to burn her shirt when this is done.
"Nobody dies in laser tag," Holly says, which shows how much she knows. Gail is definitely going to murder someone.
"Yeah, we'll see," she says, eyeing Holly up and down. Somehow she still manages to look cute even in that ridiculous contraption. "I might just kill you when this is over."
"If you say so," Holly says, cutting in line in front of Gail as they start marching in. "But I bet you'll have fun."
Gail snorts. It's not exactly her best date behaviour, but then again, this isn't her idea of the best date, either. "Just watch your back in there."
"We're on the same team," Holly says.
Gail rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Call it friendly fire."
"In that case," Holly says, and ducks behind a nearby wall; her next words are louder, but almost swallowed up by the ambient noise, "you'll have to catch me first."
For a second, Gail's mouth drops open, and then her instincts kick in. She weaves around the wall Holly disappeared behind, and follows the trail of occasionally flashing lights, zig zagging between obstacles and ducking out of sight whenever she senses movement. It isn't easy; like chasing a subject through a disco, complete with strobing lights and armed adolescents, which she imagines is probably most discos nowadays.
Just as she hears something she thinks might be Holly in the distance, a sound behind her makes her turn, and she jumps out of the way only just in time to avoid being tagged by some unsupervised brat. She fires back before she even has to think about it, hitting him square in the chest. His vest lights up, sound drowning out anything she thought she heard before, but the look on the kid's face is almost worth it.
"Now scram," she says. "Or next time I'll shoot you in the head."
"We don't have sensors on our heads," he says, but he runs away anyway, footfalls fading out over metal grating as he rounds a corner.
And now she's lost Holly completely.
If she's ever going to find her, she thinks, she needs to move. And fast; she may have scared one kid away, but she's pretty sure they move in packs, and where there was one, there's bound to be more. The laser gun is bulkier than the one she usually carries, the vest ill-fitting, but it isn't too difficult to move silently, or at least silently enough not to be heard over the general buzz of sirens and footsteps and yelling. A handful of kids dart past in front of her, never slowing, never noticing her, and she waits until they're gone, turns the corner in the opposite direction.
And spots movement up ahead. Short, pale hair; not Holly. But in her way.
She shoots first. She has no idea if the kid is on her team, at least not until the lights on his vest flash and the high-pitched wailing hits her ears. He fires back; at first she thinks he must have missed, but as he smacks his vest and runs back around the corner, she remembers the instructions she was only half listening to. They can't hit her if she hits them first.
As far as strategies go, it's not a bad one.
She still moves quietly, but faster, now, keeping her eyes peeled for movement in her peripheral vision. She takes down one more kid, then two, three, as they charge her; she's even pretty sure she's going to emerge victorious from what was, in retrospect, an obvious ambush, when the lights on her vest flash blue and the alert sounds again, louder than ever.
Gail turns, and finds herself standing face to face with Holly, who's grinning broadly, laser gun in hand. Gail glances down at her vest again, and then back up, confused.
"How did you do that?" she asks. "We're on the same team."
"Were on the same team," Holly says. "I switched."
"How?"
Holly shrugs. "I convinced some kid to switch vests with me."
Gail narrows her eyes. "Convinced?"
"Fine," Holly says. "I held him up and promised not to shoot him if he switched with me."
"You mugged a child for his laser tag vest?"
Holly bites her lip, like she hadn't considered it that way before.
"How very ruthless of you," Gail says. "I'm impressed."
"Well, if you like me ruthless," Holly says, and shoots her again.
Gail rushes her, then, chasing as Holly turns to flee, firing her useless laser gun as it continues to flash. Finally, they reach what looks like a dead end corner, and Gail stops in front of Holly, glancing around them. At least here they're alone, though the shouting, the thud of footsteps and blaring of alarms, still reach them.
"What is this?" Gail asks. "Strategic positioning?"
"More like privacy," Holly says, and then glances down at her gun. "Unless you really want to fight me?"
"Not really," Gail says. Holly looks as flushed as she feels, colour rising on her cheeks, tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail and sticking to her neck. She looks good, and Gail moves closer, until they're almost touching. "Here's fine."
Holly smiles, then, and reaches out, tugging Gail forward again so that the last inch or two of space between then is gone. Gail's heartbeat speeds up; her breath comes a little faster, and she pretends it's from running around.
Then Holly kisses her, and she almost forgets to breathe altogether.
This isn't new, kissing Holly, but it still feels new, strange and exciting and scary in all the good ways. It still makes her pulse race, her blood rush faster, her heart beat so loud she can feel it in her ears. Her arms tangle around Holly's waste, Holly's thigh pressing between hers, and the world narrows, light and sound fading until it's just the two of them.
Holly's mouth dips, kissing along Gail's neck, nipping at the skin just below her jaw, and the building feels impossibly hot, suddenly. Gail's fingers tighten, digging into the soft flesh below Holly's waist, finding bare skin where her shirt rides up from her jeans. Gail drags her thumb across the skin there, feeling Holly shiver, goosebumps flaring up where she touches, and she smiles even as Holly kisses her again, moving her hands up, teasing, searching. Holly's hands skim down Gail's side, and then land on the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning, tracing the skin underneath, and Gail used to be unsure about this, but she isn't now.
Which makes it especially annoying when a siren, bigger and louder than the ones on their vests, goes off, stopping them in their tracks.
Gail glares up at the speakers above them, like she can somehow will the noise away. "What the hell is that?"
"End of the game," Holly says, letting her hands drop. Gail wants to reach out for them, to put them back where they were, continue where they left off, but she's clear-headed enough - barely - to know that's a bad idea.
"Seriously?" she asks, and huffs out a breath. "Great timing."
Holly smiles at her, wry and lopsided and knowing, as Gail does the buttons of her jeans back up. "Are you actually saying you had fun?"
"That's not fair," Gail says. "Running around shooting morons was not the fun part."
"Not even a little?"
Well. Maybe a little.
"You cheated," she says instead, because Holly did. Twice. It's infuriatingly sexy.
Holly just shrugs. "Want to go again?"
Gail considers the vest, wet now with her own sweat as well as others'; the rampaging children allowed to run around unchecked; the pounding headache she's sure to develop if they stick around much longer.
And she smiles. "Absolutely."
Fandom: Rookie Blue
Pairing(s): Gail/Holly
Word Count: 1700
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gail and Holly play laser tag. (Which is kind of like shooting people, so Gail should enjoy it, right?)
Notes: Written for
moontyger for femslashex."I should really stop letting you pick our dates," Gail says. She feels like she's in some kind of horror movie: flashing lights, dark corners, children screaming. She's glad she left her gun at home, otherwise she probably would have drawn it by now.
"So those were dates," Holly says, sounding altogether too pleased with herself. Gail turns to her, meaning to glare, but her heart's just not in it. She settles for rolling her eyes, instead.
"Whatever," she says. It's not like she ever said they weren't, really, she just ... hadn't committed to anything yet. "This is still terrible."
"This is fun," Holly says. "You know that thing? Fun?"
"I know how to have fun," Gail says. "Drinks at the Penny are fun. Catching bad guys is fun. This is ..."
"Also fun," Holly says.
"Last time you made me play sports, I nearly died."
For a second, Holly looks like she's going to contradict her, but instead she says, "This isn't a sport."
"It's running around and getting sweaty." At least, judging by the people crowding around them. Seriously, Gail can smell them, it's almost as bad as the drunk tank.
"With a gun," Holly says. "And shooting people. If it helps, just think of it like work."
It does help, a little. "They're not even real guns."
"You really want to shoot kids with real guns?"
Kind of. Sometimes.
"I guess not," she says, finally. And then, as a group of kids runs past and she feels a small, grubby hand press into her back, "Unless that one touches me again."
Seriously, don't they have parents? Or parole officers?
"Nobody's going to touch you," Holly says, and laughs, which just makes Gail's frown deepen. "I promise. One game?"
"One," Gail agrees. Reluctantly. "And I get to choose what we do next time."
"Deal," Holly says, and she looks so happy Gail doesn't know whether to smile or smack her.
-
Smack her, she decides, as she zips herself up into a vest two sizes too big that she swears is still wet from somebody else's sweat. She's done a lot of disgusting things in her life - she's a cop, it's pretty much part of the job description - but this is definitely in the top ten. And she's not even being paid for it.
"I think somebody died in this," she says, trying not to breathe in too deeply. She's going to have to burn her shirt when this is done.
"Nobody dies in laser tag," Holly says, which shows how much she knows. Gail is definitely going to murder someone.
"Yeah, we'll see," she says, eyeing Holly up and down. Somehow she still manages to look cute even in that ridiculous contraption. "I might just kill you when this is over."
"If you say so," Holly says, cutting in line in front of Gail as they start marching in. "But I bet you'll have fun."
Gail snorts. It's not exactly her best date behaviour, but then again, this isn't her idea of the best date, either. "Just watch your back in there."
"We're on the same team," Holly says.
Gail rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Call it friendly fire."
"In that case," Holly says, and ducks behind a nearby wall; her next words are louder, but almost swallowed up by the ambient noise, "you'll have to catch me first."
For a second, Gail's mouth drops open, and then her instincts kick in. She weaves around the wall Holly disappeared behind, and follows the trail of occasionally flashing lights, zig zagging between obstacles and ducking out of sight whenever she senses movement. It isn't easy; like chasing a subject through a disco, complete with strobing lights and armed adolescents, which she imagines is probably most discos nowadays.
Just as she hears something she thinks might be Holly in the distance, a sound behind her makes her turn, and she jumps out of the way only just in time to avoid being tagged by some unsupervised brat. She fires back before she even has to think about it, hitting him square in the chest. His vest lights up, sound drowning out anything she thought she heard before, but the look on the kid's face is almost worth it.
"Now scram," she says. "Or next time I'll shoot you in the head."
"We don't have sensors on our heads," he says, but he runs away anyway, footfalls fading out over metal grating as he rounds a corner.
And now she's lost Holly completely.
If she's ever going to find her, she thinks, she needs to move. And fast; she may have scared one kid away, but she's pretty sure they move in packs, and where there was one, there's bound to be more. The laser gun is bulkier than the one she usually carries, the vest ill-fitting, but it isn't too difficult to move silently, or at least silently enough not to be heard over the general buzz of sirens and footsteps and yelling. A handful of kids dart past in front of her, never slowing, never noticing her, and she waits until they're gone, turns the corner in the opposite direction.
And spots movement up ahead. Short, pale hair; not Holly. But in her way.
She shoots first. She has no idea if the kid is on her team, at least not until the lights on his vest flash and the high-pitched wailing hits her ears. He fires back; at first she thinks he must have missed, but as he smacks his vest and runs back around the corner, she remembers the instructions she was only half listening to. They can't hit her if she hits them first.
As far as strategies go, it's not a bad one.
She still moves quietly, but faster, now, keeping her eyes peeled for movement in her peripheral vision. She takes down one more kid, then two, three, as they charge her; she's even pretty sure she's going to emerge victorious from what was, in retrospect, an obvious ambush, when the lights on her vest flash blue and the alert sounds again, louder than ever.
Gail turns, and finds herself standing face to face with Holly, who's grinning broadly, laser gun in hand. Gail glances down at her vest again, and then back up, confused.
"How did you do that?" she asks. "We're on the same team."
"Were on the same team," Holly says. "I switched."
"How?"
Holly shrugs. "I convinced some kid to switch vests with me."
Gail narrows her eyes. "Convinced?"
"Fine," Holly says. "I held him up and promised not to shoot him if he switched with me."
"You mugged a child for his laser tag vest?"
Holly bites her lip, like she hadn't considered it that way before.
"How very ruthless of you," Gail says. "I'm impressed."
"Well, if you like me ruthless," Holly says, and shoots her again.
Gail rushes her, then, chasing as Holly turns to flee, firing her useless laser gun as it continues to flash. Finally, they reach what looks like a dead end corner, and Gail stops in front of Holly, glancing around them. At least here they're alone, though the shouting, the thud of footsteps and blaring of alarms, still reach them.
"What is this?" Gail asks. "Strategic positioning?"
"More like privacy," Holly says, and then glances down at her gun. "Unless you really want to fight me?"
"Not really," Gail says. Holly looks as flushed as she feels, colour rising on her cheeks, tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail and sticking to her neck. She looks good, and Gail moves closer, until they're almost touching. "Here's fine."
Holly smiles, then, and reaches out, tugging Gail forward again so that the last inch or two of space between then is gone. Gail's heartbeat speeds up; her breath comes a little faster, and she pretends it's from running around.
Then Holly kisses her, and she almost forgets to breathe altogether.
This isn't new, kissing Holly, but it still feels new, strange and exciting and scary in all the good ways. It still makes her pulse race, her blood rush faster, her heart beat so loud she can feel it in her ears. Her arms tangle around Holly's waste, Holly's thigh pressing between hers, and the world narrows, light and sound fading until it's just the two of them.
Holly's mouth dips, kissing along Gail's neck, nipping at the skin just below her jaw, and the building feels impossibly hot, suddenly. Gail's fingers tighten, digging into the soft flesh below Holly's waist, finding bare skin where her shirt rides up from her jeans. Gail drags her thumb across the skin there, feeling Holly shiver, goosebumps flaring up where she touches, and she smiles even as Holly kisses her again, moving her hands up, teasing, searching. Holly's hands skim down Gail's side, and then land on the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning, tracing the skin underneath, and Gail used to be unsure about this, but she isn't now.
Which makes it especially annoying when a siren, bigger and louder than the ones on their vests, goes off, stopping them in their tracks.
Gail glares up at the speakers above them, like she can somehow will the noise away. "What the hell is that?"
"End of the game," Holly says, letting her hands drop. Gail wants to reach out for them, to put them back where they were, continue where they left off, but she's clear-headed enough - barely - to know that's a bad idea.
"Seriously?" she asks, and huffs out a breath. "Great timing."
Holly smiles at her, wry and lopsided and knowing, as Gail does the buttons of her jeans back up. "Are you actually saying you had fun?"
"That's not fair," Gail says. "Running around shooting morons was not the fun part."
"Not even a little?"
Well. Maybe a little.
"You cheated," she says instead, because Holly did. Twice. It's infuriatingly sexy.
Holly just shrugs. "Want to go again?"
Gail considers the vest, wet now with her own sweat as well as others'; the rampaging children allowed to run around unchecked; the pounding headache she's sure to develop if they stick around much longer.
And she smiles. "Absolutely."