![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
defy-n-gravity.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fic_variationsTitle: Heat
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
defy_n_gravity
Rating: PG-13
Words: 869
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: summer/travel * Michael Weston/Bela Talbot (#1)
Spoilers: For now, no spoilers.
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not trying to step on toes, just having fun.
Author's Notes: First time writing Burn Notice fic, have written very little Bela!fic. Be kind, but please let me know what you think! [and for newcomers to either show - you do not need to know the show to follow]
"Mom..mom...mom.." Michael let out the monotonous chant while playing around with loading and unloading his gun one handed. His mother was on the phone chatting away...about what he hadn't quite figured out yet. The heat of Miami summer was making him even more unapt to listen to her. He was standing in nothing but his jeans, sweating everywhere, and he was still pretty miserable. Not that he'd say anything about it.
"Michael, you don't understand how serious this is," Madeline Weston fussed at him.
"No, I understand perfectly. It's serious. Severe." His head tilted sideways as he held out the gun and narrowed one eye to a random target across the room. He jerked his hand the slightest bit, mocking a shot, his tongue sticking out of his mouth ever so slightly.
"Do not ridicule me."
"I would never ridicule you." His call waiting beeped. "Gotta go, mom," he said, switching the line over. "Hello."
"Yes, am I speaking to Michael Weston?" A woman's voice, British, came over the line and he let the gun fall to his side. This was a new voice.
"You are." He walked towards his workshop table and set the gun down. He picked up his shirt from the table and slid one arm through it.
"Mr. Weston, I've heard you...help people."
He shifted the phone to his other ear and put his other arm through the other sleeve. He shook it out and let it hang open, unbuttoned. "It depends who you are...what you need."
"My name is Sarah Reese. As for what I need, that can be discussed later."
"Like..a Reeses cup?" He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and buttoned his shirt.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing. So who'd you hear about me from?"
"Is this some sort of screening process you make clients go through, Mr. Weston? Honestly, it's not the best way to acquire business.
A smirk came to his lips. "Just making sure you actually need help, Reeses. Can't be sure who to trust these days."
"No, one can't. However, I need your help and I am willing to pay a hefty sum for your services."
"Okay, then. Are you in Miami?"
"I am."
"There's a restaurant by the beach. Open air bar, grumpy old men.." He rattled off the address.
"When will you be there?"
"Ten minutes."
"I'll see you in ten minutes then," she said before hanging up. He hung up and looked at the phone, then shook his head and put it in his pocket. This woman was beginning to remind him of someone...if only he could place it.
"Michael!" A voice called through the old warehouse looking apartment he was staying in. He grabbed his essentials and put them in various pockets then picked up his keys. He glanced up at Fiona coming through the front door.
"Fi," he nodded.
She walked over and dropped her purse on his table then put her chin in her hands with a pout. "I'm bored."
"Go shopping." He started to move towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"A job," he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "If you don't hear from me in 24 hours.." he smiled and shrugged, then left.
****
Fifteen minutes on the dot from hanging up the call Michael sat down at his regular table. Facing the outside, his chair pulled back so he could have a good view around the bar if needed. He barely had to wait at all before a woman stepped into the room. He didn't immediately connect her to work, but took a moment to enjoy the view.
Leaned back in his chair, dark blue button up shirt and perfectly fitting jeans, sunglasses over his eyes - he stared. She had great legs, cute little flowered sun-dress clinging to her perfectly. Her hair was pulled back on top of her head, and she was hot. In every form of the word.
He watched her eyes scan the room before meeting his. Despite his sunglasses, they kept a gaze held for a long minute. A smirk crawled to her lips and she stepped over to him. "Mr. Weston?" She let a brow rise up in question. Her demeanor didn't quite meet the way she had sounded on the phone. Or maybe it did. He observed her carefully. She was young, mid twenties maybe. She was scared of something, and trying to act brave at the same time. He got the impression this kind of setting wasn't normal for her. That she was used to things more simple. He thought this all in a mere seconds while he took her appearance in.
"Reeses Cup?" He tilted his head and smirked back.
She rolled her eyes and held out a hand. "Sarah Reese." He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and shook her hand.
"How about you tell me what I can do for you, Sarah?" She nodded and sat down on the chair across from him. She bit her lip slightly and perched on the edge of it, glancing around nervously.
"Relax," he said gently. He leaned his elbows to the table. "Just..take a breath and explain it."
Author:
defy_n_gravityRating: PG-13
Words: 869
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: summer/travel * Michael Weston/Bela Talbot (#1)Spoilers: For now, no spoilers.
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not trying to step on toes, just having fun.
Author's Notes: First time writing Burn Notice fic, have written very little Bela!fic. Be kind, but please let me know what you think! [and for newcomers to either show - you do not need to know the show to follow]
"Mom..mom...mom.." Michael let out the monotonous chant while playing around with loading and unloading his gun one handed. His mother was on the phone chatting away...about what he hadn't quite figured out yet. The heat of Miami summer was making him even more unapt to listen to her. He was standing in nothing but his jeans, sweating everywhere, and he was still pretty miserable. Not that he'd say anything about it.
"Michael, you don't understand how serious this is," Madeline Weston fussed at him.
"No, I understand perfectly. It's serious. Severe." His head tilted sideways as he held out the gun and narrowed one eye to a random target across the room. He jerked his hand the slightest bit, mocking a shot, his tongue sticking out of his mouth ever so slightly.
"Do not ridicule me."
"I would never ridicule you." His call waiting beeped. "Gotta go, mom," he said, switching the line over. "Hello."
"Yes, am I speaking to Michael Weston?" A woman's voice, British, came over the line and he let the gun fall to his side. This was a new voice.
"You are." He walked towards his workshop table and set the gun down. He picked up his shirt from the table and slid one arm through it.
"Mr. Weston, I've heard you...help people."
He shifted the phone to his other ear and put his other arm through the other sleeve. He shook it out and let it hang open, unbuttoned. "It depends who you are...what you need."
"My name is Sarah Reese. As for what I need, that can be discussed later."
"Like..a Reeses cup?" He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and buttoned his shirt.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing. So who'd you hear about me from?"
"Is this some sort of screening process you make clients go through, Mr. Weston? Honestly, it's not the best way to acquire business.
A smirk came to his lips. "Just making sure you actually need help, Reeses. Can't be sure who to trust these days."
"No, one can't. However, I need your help and I am willing to pay a hefty sum for your services."
"Okay, then. Are you in Miami?"
"I am."
"There's a restaurant by the beach. Open air bar, grumpy old men.." He rattled off the address.
"When will you be there?"
"Ten minutes."
"I'll see you in ten minutes then," she said before hanging up. He hung up and looked at the phone, then shook his head and put it in his pocket. This woman was beginning to remind him of someone...if only he could place it.
"Michael!" A voice called through the old warehouse looking apartment he was staying in. He grabbed his essentials and put them in various pockets then picked up his keys. He glanced up at Fiona coming through the front door.
"Fi," he nodded.
She walked over and dropped her purse on his table then put her chin in her hands with a pout. "I'm bored."
"Go shopping." He started to move towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"A job," he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "If you don't hear from me in 24 hours.." he smiled and shrugged, then left.
Fifteen minutes on the dot from hanging up the call Michael sat down at his regular table. Facing the outside, his chair pulled back so he could have a good view around the bar if needed. He barely had to wait at all before a woman stepped into the room. He didn't immediately connect her to work, but took a moment to enjoy the view.
Leaned back in his chair, dark blue button up shirt and perfectly fitting jeans, sunglasses over his eyes - he stared. She had great legs, cute little flowered sun-dress clinging to her perfectly. Her hair was pulled back on top of her head, and she was hot. In every form of the word.
He watched her eyes scan the room before meeting his. Despite his sunglasses, they kept a gaze held for a long minute. A smirk crawled to her lips and she stepped over to him. "Mr. Weston?" She let a brow rise up in question. Her demeanor didn't quite meet the way she had sounded on the phone. Or maybe it did. He observed her carefully. She was young, mid twenties maybe. She was scared of something, and trying to act brave at the same time. He got the impression this kind of setting wasn't normal for her. That she was used to things more simple. He thought this all in a mere seconds while he took her appearance in.
"Reeses Cup?" He tilted his head and smirked back.
She rolled her eyes and held out a hand. "Sarah Reese." He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and shook her hand.
"How about you tell me what I can do for you, Sarah?" She nodded and sat down on the chair across from him. She bit her lip slightly and perched on the edge of it, glancing around nervously.
"Relax," he said gently. He leaned his elbows to the table. "Just..take a breath and explain it."
