Tag: ato writes

Six Sentence Sunday

Pinto de Mayo.

Chris was incognito at the farmer’s market when the call came in, startling him enough that he dropped his phone on the tomatoes before fumbling to answer.  

“Hello,” he said as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, motioning to the woman by the vegetable scale that he’d buy the tomatoes he’d probably just bruised.

“Mr. Pine?  This is Jacob Donavan down at Providence Saint Joseph Foundation.  You gave me your direct number during the meeting last week in case we had questions about the benefit.”

“Oh, right. Hi,” Chris said, handing some cash over for his vegetables and then retreating from the crowds.  “What can I do for you?  Is everything going okay with the promotion?  Donations coming in?”

“Well, yes.  It’s been quite successful so far, and we still have a few days before we close the entry process and select a winner. But I’m afraid we may have to disqualify one of the donors.”

“Why’s that?” Chris asked, wandering under the shade of coral trees.  It was a lovely day in Los Angeles: mid-spring at 72 degrees with a soft breeze coming from the ocean.   It was hard to think about work — even charity work — when he was carrying a bag of fresh vegetables and the whole park was in bloom and the air smelled of blossoms and handmade pastries.

“It seems we’re the subject of a prank.  Someone bought up 250,000
entries, but the payment information comes from a enterprise holding
company, and the name offered is clearly fake.  I’m not sure that the
intentions of this fan are what we want to promote, despite the generous
donation.  It could be some sort of stalker.”

FWW, a bit late

From the last chapter of Cleaving (and the last chapter of Bleary!verse ever):

The car wove through the neighborhood of Oakland and headed downtown, trees and parks giving way to highrises.  Zach had been so focused on the ceremony, he honestly had no idea what came next.  A few days alone with Chris holed up in a hotel, followed by a few days back at his mom’s.  Then he was back to LA and Chris was off to do press for Hours and then he had to clear his schedule and pack for the cottage in Cornwall.  And that was exciting, but the idea of flying transcontinental alone with Nathan was a little terrifying.  He’d have to call—

“You’re thinking too loud,” Chris said, dropping a kiss on his head.

“I just feel like I’m forgetting something.  I haven’t really thought through what happens next, and — oh shit.  Our bag.  We forgot our clothes.”

“Relax.  The room’s actually in Dad’s name.  We checked in and dropped everything off on the way in this morning.  I’ve got the key cards.  We don’t have to worry about the front desk or being recognized.”

Zach sat up, surprised.  

“I had a few things to set up.  And it was basically on the way.  It didn’t make me late for the ceremony,” Chris added.

“What did you have to set up?” Zach asked as the car pulled into a semi-circular drive of a very familiar hotel.  “You got us a room here?”

Chris just squeezed his hand and moved to get out of the car, thanking their driver.  Zach collected the picnic basket and followed, letting Chris lead him through the doors to the elevator, and then up to the twenty-second floor, and down the hall to a very familiar door.

Chris let them in, and Zach felt a little like he was coming home.

It was the same suite they’d shared the first two weeks of Nathan’s
life, but instead of the common room being covered in bottles and baby
gear and books on what to expect in the first year, every horizontal
surface was scattered with collections of vases holding flowers like those from their
wedding.  In the middle of the room, on the round glass dining table
that they had never eaten at when they were here with Nathan, a bottle of Prosecco sat chilling in a silver bucket.  

So, I couldn’t formally participate in MI6 Cafe’s 00Q LDWS contest…

…because I hadn’t started in week 1, but I still wrote a drabble for their latest prompt.  (Remember when I got so excited the other day because I’d finished something?  This was it!)

Prompt: a photo prompt!

Genre: wild card (writer’s choice)
Word count: up to 250

Title: Persuasion
Author: Ato the Bean
Warnings: none
Summary: Months after he left, James returns to find MI6 missing his favorite quartermaster.  Fortunately, he’s a spy.  He tracks Q to a local cafe.

“Come back in.”

“No.”

“Q—”

“I’m not Q anymore.”

Bond took a sip of his espresso.  It was true.  The man before him didn’t resemble the buttoned-up Q he knew.  Nor the hacker of his rumored past.  Something in between, perhaps.  Something good.  He looked good.

“What shall I call you, then?”

“Alan will do.”

“Your name?”

“At the moment.”

Bond studied him, wondering what tactic might work.

“Your country needs you there.”

Q—no Alan—scoffed.

“I think I’ve done my bit for the Queen, thanks.”

Bond fingered his demitasse.  “Fine, I need you there.”

“Now, that’s just a blatant lie.  Why are you even back?  Did she leave you?”

The bitterness was ill hid.  Bond remembered the look on Q’s face that night on the bridge.  It hadn’t made sense at the time, but months of reflection on the beaches in southern France had afforded some insight.  Or so James hoped.

“I decided I’d made a terrible mistake.  But by the time I returned, you’d left.”

Something warm flashed in Alan’s expression before it resolved to wariness.

“Even if I wanted to return, that Q is dead.”

“MI6 specializes in resurrection.  I should know.”

Alan huffed a laugh and sipped his tea.  

“Come on.  What are you doing now that could possibly keep your brilliant mind as occupied as being Q?”

“Flatterer.”

James smirked.

“I’m not saying yes.”

“Good.  Then I can take you to dinner tomorrow and work at convincing you.”

Q smiled against the rim of his cup.

I encourage you all to read and vote on the real entries for @mi6-cafe‘s Last Drabble Writer Standing contest.  There are some really creative things there.

Whelp, the bad news is I misunderstood the rules of that challenge…

In order to participate in the anonymous posting and voting, I would have had to participate all 4 weeks (hence the Last Drabble Writer Standing title).  BUT I got a very nice note from the organizers saying that they liked the drabble and would like me to post it on tumblr after the official entries are in, tag it with their name, and that they will then reblog it as part of this month’s more general challenge.  So that was nice.  And they’re going to tag me for the next drabble challenge in case I want to participate all 4 weeks.

So not a complete failure, and there’s no way I could have committed to that whole challenge this month anyway.  And maybe I’ll get it betaed now…

Announcement: (brace yourselves) I actually wrote something.

As in, saw a prompt, got inspired, wrote, and actually finished something.

It’s not Pinto (and maybe that’s why it worked), and it’s just a 250-word drabble for a challenge.  But still!  That’s the most writing I’ve accomplished in months.  And it was fun (as in, this is my hobby).  I remember what it’s like to write for fun!  I don’t know if I can take this momentum and use it to finish Cleaving, but I’m going to try.