Bela Talbot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
enjoythe_ride) wrote2008-05-21 07:19 pm
enjoythe_ride) wrote2008-05-21 07:19 pm
[OMP] Write about your teenaged object of lust.
[Adam = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
takezo_kensei, Elle = idontdig_graves, Ruby = redhuntergirl. None of them are used in this fic, but they’re mentioned so I’m clarifying. And this be Brendan O’Brien.]
She left her watch on New York time when she arrived. She wanted to keep tabs on things, somehow. She knew Dean’s deal was coming up soon, but she hadn’t expected him to have to carry through with it. The Winchesters always seemed as though they were slicker than that—able to weave their way out of spots that weren’t necessarily favorable to them, and this certainly wasn’t favorable. Dean didn’t necessarily deserve what was coming to him, and she didn’t say that about people often. Just because she fucked things up for them, didn’t mean he deserved to die. Especially considering that she was still alive and working, and if Dean died—she had a feeling that Sam would be distraught enough to come and visit the job, regardless of her deal with Ruby and Elle. So Bela did what she did best, and she got the hell out of dodge.
Flying into Dublin on one of her aliases had been easy enough. She arrived around five in the morning, having caught the red eye out of JFK as soon as humanly possible. Adam had definitely picked an interesting case to send her way. If this sword was Claíomh Solais, the Irish Excalibur, she was certainly going to have a challenge ahead of her. She wasn’t even sure if this particular contact would be willing to help her steal one of his country’s most valuable artifacts, but she could at least let him know that she was interested in some weapons—a bit more high profile than the artifacts her usual clientele required.
Besides, a trip to see Brendan in Ireland was never a wasted trip.
She’d met him when she was seventeen and he was twenty-five. She’d gone around, asking questions where she probably shouldn’t have been asking them, and he had pretty much swept her under his wing and taught her the ropes. He was the one who’d explained what the deal she’d made meant, and how this was going to effect her in the future. And that was when she started to really, desperately look for a way out.
Brendan had never been anything but good to her, which was probably why she developed the feelings for him that she did. It was nothing but a childish crush—puppy love, really—something that she quickly got over as time went on. There was never really anything sexual about it—her father had left her too scarred for anything like that quite yet. It was just—desire for a simple kind of love. The boyfriend-girlfriend you saw on a fifties-era sitcom. She was getting a bit old for it, but there was still some part of her that wanted a normal teenage relationship nonetheless. She never knew if he had known how she felt concerning him, and they saw each other less and less often now that they had gone their separate ways and she was spending more time in the states, but considering he let her get away with what she did when she did see him, she had to figure that at least enjoyed her company.
The sun was just starting to creep up when she arrived at his small house just outside of Dublin, and predictably, as paranoid people of their nature usually are, he was in bed and his house was locked up like the vaults of Fort Knox. Brendan, however, hadn’t changed the passwords since she’d lived there, and it was quite easy for her to pick the lock and make her way inside.
The house was quiet, and she did her best to remain the same as she crept her way through, letting her eyes wander over the various booby traps and precautions he’d set in place. She was paying so much attention to everything else around her, that she didn’t think of the most mundane giveaway in the home—the squeaky floorboard just outside the first floor bathroom. She froze where she was, listening to see if she actually alerted anyone to her presence. At first there was nothing but silence, and then she started the hear the dull shuffle of someone moving one the floor above her. She cringed again, before ducking behind the nearest doorway, and pulling the gun out of the breast pocket of her jacket, hoping she didn’t have to use it.
At first it was quiet again, then the soft pad of bare feet coming down the stairs. She waited, wondering that if in his half-asleep state he would make the same mistake that she did, but she could hear the steps slow as he got close to her position, and then the slight shuffle of coming up around the corner. She started to move to the side slowly, counting down the three…two…one…until his face appeared from around the corner with a gun between them, ready to fire. Bela leveled her weapon as well, an amused smirk on her face while she waited for him to register who she was. When he did, his eyebrows went up slightly, and he groaned before closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Christ, muirnín, d’ya have any idea what time it is?”
“Just after midnight by my watch,” she said with a smirk, and he glared at her.
“Well it’s just after five in the mornin’ on mine,” he grumbled, running a hand over his face after dropping the gun to his side. “I should shoot ya fer showin’ up here this early.”
“But you won’t,” she said with a grin as she put her gun away as well. She started to move closer to him, and he held up the gun again, causing her to reflexively put her hands in the air.
“Oh, no ya don’t—don’t you go gettin’ cute and girly on me,” he said, shaking his head. “Not until ya’ve made me coffee first.”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” she said with a sigh, before starting to move about the kitchen. He ambled over to a stool, shirtless and in a pair of beat up jeans, and pushed himself on top of it, watching her carefully as she worked at the coffee pot.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, luv, but aren’t you supposed to be six feet unde’ at this point?”
“There was a bit of a change of plans,” she said slowly, moving over to the cupboard to get two mugs for the both of them. “A—” She paused, for a moment, not quite sure how to explain Ruby and Elle, because they certainly weren’t friends. “—an contact managed to find a loophole.” She had a feeling there was an awful lot of science behind whatever Elle had given her, and Brendan had never been the science-y type. Loophole was the best description for it, really.
“A loophole?” he said as she brought the coffee over to him. He nodded slowly as he took a sip before speaking again. “Didn’t know demon deals had ‘em.”
“This one did,” she replied, still slightly tense, as it was a tense subject, and one she didn’t want to stay on. He seemed to get the message, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he took another sip of his coffee.
“So—yer a free lass, and you decide to come my little corner of Ireland and pay me a visit?”
She loosened up more as the treaded back into friendlier territory, “I need your help. For a job.”
“A job, eh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you robbin’?”
“If my client is correct, the National Museum of Dublin.” That certainly got his attention, and she gave him an amused look, almost as though she didn’t realize she’d get the kind of reaction that she did.
“An’ what might yer client be wantin’ from my national museum?” he asked, giving her a look that was telling her to tread carefully.
“Nuada’s Sword of Light?” she said slowly, and his eyes narrowed, giving her a suspicious look.
“Are ye tryin’ to make off with one of the four treasures of Ireland, Abby? Cuz I don’ think I can allow ya ta do that.”
“I just want to know if the claim that they have it is legitimate,” she said slowly. “That it’s the real sword and not a replication.”
“And if it’s the real deal?” he asked, and a slow smile crept across her face. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Destroyin’ my national history here, luv.”
“I’m doing no such thing,” she said with a grin. “Just—making an inquiry.”
“Right,” he said, before shaking his head. “Well, firstly, I didn’t even know they had it, let alone whether it’s what yer lookin’ for. I won’t know that ‘til I get it in my hands.”
“And how do we do that?” she asked, watching him as he got up and made his way over to the cork board near the kitchen phone. Running his fingers over the papers collected there, he grabbed a card off the board and reangled it between two fingers, pointing it in her direction. She looked down at the card and realized it was an invitation to a gala opening.
“Yer lucky I need a date,” he said with a smirk.
1548 words
takezo_kensei, Elle = idontdig_graves, Ruby = redhuntergirl. None of them are used in this fic, but they’re mentioned so I’m clarifying. And this be Brendan O’Brien.]
She left her watch on New York time when she arrived. She wanted to keep tabs on things, somehow. She knew Dean’s deal was coming up soon, but she hadn’t expected him to have to carry through with it. The Winchesters always seemed as though they were slicker than that—able to weave their way out of spots that weren’t necessarily favorable to them, and this certainly wasn’t favorable. Dean didn’t necessarily deserve what was coming to him, and she didn’t say that about people often. Just because she fucked things up for them, didn’t mean he deserved to die. Especially considering that she was still alive and working, and if Dean died—she had a feeling that Sam would be distraught enough to come and visit the job, regardless of her deal with Ruby and Elle. So Bela did what she did best, and she got the hell out of dodge.
Flying into Dublin on one of her aliases had been easy enough. She arrived around five in the morning, having caught the red eye out of JFK as soon as humanly possible. Adam had definitely picked an interesting case to send her way. If this sword was Claíomh Solais, the Irish Excalibur, she was certainly going to have a challenge ahead of her. She wasn’t even sure if this particular contact would be willing to help her steal one of his country’s most valuable artifacts, but she could at least let him know that she was interested in some weapons—a bit more high profile than the artifacts her usual clientele required.
Besides, a trip to see Brendan in Ireland was never a wasted trip.
She’d met him when she was seventeen and he was twenty-five. She’d gone around, asking questions where she probably shouldn’t have been asking them, and he had pretty much swept her under his wing and taught her the ropes. He was the one who’d explained what the deal she’d made meant, and how this was going to effect her in the future. And that was when she started to really, desperately look for a way out.
Brendan had never been anything but good to her, which was probably why she developed the feelings for him that she did. It was nothing but a childish crush—puppy love, really—something that she quickly got over as time went on. There was never really anything sexual about it—her father had left her too scarred for anything like that quite yet. It was just—desire for a simple kind of love. The boyfriend-girlfriend you saw on a fifties-era sitcom. She was getting a bit old for it, but there was still some part of her that wanted a normal teenage relationship nonetheless. She never knew if he had known how she felt concerning him, and they saw each other less and less often now that they had gone their separate ways and she was spending more time in the states, but considering he let her get away with what she did when she did see him, she had to figure that at least enjoyed her company.
The sun was just starting to creep up when she arrived at his small house just outside of Dublin, and predictably, as paranoid people of their nature usually are, he was in bed and his house was locked up like the vaults of Fort Knox. Brendan, however, hadn’t changed the passwords since she’d lived there, and it was quite easy for her to pick the lock and make her way inside.
The house was quiet, and she did her best to remain the same as she crept her way through, letting her eyes wander over the various booby traps and precautions he’d set in place. She was paying so much attention to everything else around her, that she didn’t think of the most mundane giveaway in the home—the squeaky floorboard just outside the first floor bathroom. She froze where she was, listening to see if she actually alerted anyone to her presence. At first there was nothing but silence, and then she started the hear the dull shuffle of someone moving one the floor above her. She cringed again, before ducking behind the nearest doorway, and pulling the gun out of the breast pocket of her jacket, hoping she didn’t have to use it.
At first it was quiet again, then the soft pad of bare feet coming down the stairs. She waited, wondering that if in his half-asleep state he would make the same mistake that she did, but she could hear the steps slow as he got close to her position, and then the slight shuffle of coming up around the corner. She started to move to the side slowly, counting down the three…two…one…until his face appeared from around the corner with a gun between them, ready to fire. Bela leveled her weapon as well, an amused smirk on her face while she waited for him to register who she was. When he did, his eyebrows went up slightly, and he groaned before closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Christ, muirnín, d’ya have any idea what time it is?”
“Just after midnight by my watch,” she said with a smirk, and he glared at her.
“Well it’s just after five in the mornin’ on mine,” he grumbled, running a hand over his face after dropping the gun to his side. “I should shoot ya fer showin’ up here this early.”
“But you won’t,” she said with a grin as she put her gun away as well. She started to move closer to him, and he held up the gun again, causing her to reflexively put her hands in the air.
“Oh, no ya don’t—don’t you go gettin’ cute and girly on me,” he said, shaking his head. “Not until ya’ve made me coffee first.”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” she said with a sigh, before starting to move about the kitchen. He ambled over to a stool, shirtless and in a pair of beat up jeans, and pushed himself on top of it, watching her carefully as she worked at the coffee pot.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, luv, but aren’t you supposed to be six feet unde’ at this point?”
“There was a bit of a change of plans,” she said slowly, moving over to the cupboard to get two mugs for the both of them. “A—” She paused, for a moment, not quite sure how to explain Ruby and Elle, because they certainly weren’t friends. “—an contact managed to find a loophole.” She had a feeling there was an awful lot of science behind whatever Elle had given her, and Brendan had never been the science-y type. Loophole was the best description for it, really.
“A loophole?” he said as she brought the coffee over to him. He nodded slowly as he took a sip before speaking again. “Didn’t know demon deals had ‘em.”
“This one did,” she replied, still slightly tense, as it was a tense subject, and one she didn’t want to stay on. He seemed to get the message, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he took another sip of his coffee.
“So—yer a free lass, and you decide to come my little corner of Ireland and pay me a visit?”
She loosened up more as the treaded back into friendlier territory, “I need your help. For a job.”
“A job, eh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you robbin’?”
“If my client is correct, the National Museum of Dublin.” That certainly got his attention, and she gave him an amused look, almost as though she didn’t realize she’d get the kind of reaction that she did.
“An’ what might yer client be wantin’ from my national museum?” he asked, giving her a look that was telling her to tread carefully.
“Nuada’s Sword of Light?” she said slowly, and his eyes narrowed, giving her a suspicious look.
“Are ye tryin’ to make off with one of the four treasures of Ireland, Abby? Cuz I don’ think I can allow ya ta do that.”
“I just want to know if the claim that they have it is legitimate,” she said slowly. “That it’s the real sword and not a replication.”
“And if it’s the real deal?” he asked, and a slow smile crept across her face. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Destroyin’ my national history here, luv.”
“I’m doing no such thing,” she said with a grin. “Just—making an inquiry.”
“Right,” he said, before shaking his head. “Well, firstly, I didn’t even know they had it, let alone whether it’s what yer lookin’ for. I won’t know that ‘til I get it in my hands.”
“And how do we do that?” she asked, watching him as he got up and made his way over to the cork board near the kitchen phone. Running his fingers over the papers collected there, he grabbed a card off the board and reangled it between two fingers, pointing it in her direction. She looked down at the card and realized it was an invitation to a gala opening.
“Yer lucky I need a date,” he said with a smirk.
1548 words