Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2008-11-07 10:19 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2008-11-07 10:19 pm
Michael/Bela - For All the Queens
Fandom: Burn Notice/Supernatural
Title: For All the Queens
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT // PG-13
Characters: Michael Westen/Bela Talbot
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50prompts Prompt: 029. Dress
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: Bela has a proposition for Michael.
Author's Note: Fordefy_n_gravity, who gave me Mike/Bela -> Pink for the Color Meme and asked me to expand on it. I should note that this pairing, and anything else that may possibly come of it and be related *coughDean/Fionacough* are totally her fault. I also may have a slightly large kink for boys in dresses. If Bela had been able to stick around longer, maybe she would have gotten the boys to do this. Who knows.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural or Burn Notice. They're owned by the CW and USA. However, all original characters are mine, so please do not borrow them without my permission.
Waking up and finding Bela Talbot sitting on your kitchen table isn’t always the most pleasant way to start the morning. Michael would like to say that it wasn’t anything personal—but really, that was exactly what it was. Personal. Bela had a habit of screwing over the people she worked with, whether it be for their cut or just their time and energy, and had an itchy trigger finger to boot. Getting involved on a job with her was a guarantee for someone to get shot. Michael had learned his lesson a long time ago, and had no plans to go anywhere near what she had to offer.
“Good morning, Michael,” she said with a smile, and immediately, the gun was out from under his pillow and aimed in her face. She flinched slightly, in surprise, before recomposing herself with a smile. “If I’d have known we were going to play with our guns, I would have brought my own.”
“I don’t have anything for you to steal, Bela,” he said with a glare, the line of the gun unwavering. “You might as well get out now.”
“Now, Michael. Can’t an old friend just drop in to say hello without having to steal something?”
He watched her for a moment, trying to gauge if she was lying or not, before giving her a look. “First of all—we aren’t friends, let alone old ones, and second of all—you’re always stealing something. So I’m saving you the trouble and telling you to get out. Now.”
Bela sighed heavily, before giving him a look. “I’m here because I need your help to steal something from someone else.”
At that, he lowered the gun, but only slightly. “I’m not helping you break the law, Bela.”
“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? Considering you break the law on a regular basis?” He watched the eyebrows go up, but he just glared back, not giving an inch.
“I do it to help people.”
“Oh, yes, the lawless cause of the noble,” Bela rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the table. “Sorry to have bothered you then. If you want to pass up on twenty grand, that’s you’re business. I’ll just find someone else.”
Michael hesitated for a minute, watching her go before speaking up. “You wouldn’t give me twenty grand.”
“In exchange for goods and services,” Bela said with a slight smirk. “Really now, Michael. You should know me well enough by now to know that I don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”
And for once, she actually sounded believable. He knew that much was true, that Bela would find some way to repay you, if not in cash. He just wasn’t sure if he should take the word on the twenty grand or not. But—it probably wouldn’t hurt to hear her out, either.
“What kind of job are we talking here?” he asked with a heavy sigh. It was after that that Bela gave him the Cheshire cat grin she had, and he knew that he was in trouble.
***
Here’s the problem with working with someone who you share a mutual dislike, and they’re calling the shots. They will take every opportunity to try and make you as uncomfortable as possible, and if the woman happens to be Bela Talbot, she knows how to push your comfort zones and still make it relevant to the job. It’s a rare talent that most of her associates tend to wish she’d somehow lose, Michael included. Especially considering that he now happened to be the receiving end of that particular talent.
“Is this really necessary?” he said as he came out into the room, carrying the wig in one hand and a rather disgruntled look pasted across his face.
“I said I needed a queen, Michael,” she said, looking up and giving him a small smirk. “You’re the one who offered to help with the job.”
“Yes, but generally without any context, one would assume the queen to be you,” Michael replied, rolling his eyes slightly. “I thought I told you I drew the line at cross-dressing.”
“Aww, now that’s a shame,” she said with a fake pout. “Pink is very much your color.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We are never speaking of this again. And no one outside this room is to know about this.”
At this her face became confused. “I didn’t tell you?”
“Didn't tell me what, Bela?”
“Sam’s coming to.”
“He’s what?”
“Well—I do need an escort,” she said with a small smirk as Sam came in behind her, dressed in a tux. He looked Michael up and down for a moment, before nodding, keeping an almost completely straight face.
“Nice dress.”
Michael just kept his gaze focused on Bela, eyes narrowed. “You’re dead. Just so you know.”
“Oh, come now, Mikey,” Sam replied with a grin. “You know I don’t have the legs to pull that off.”
Michael glanced at him for a moment, before shaking his heads and going to adjust his wig. This was going to be a long night.
***
The evening had been horrible—at least as far as Michael was concerned. There was an art to walking in women’s heels, and it was very clear that Michael hadn’t learned it. It was pretty sure that the ankle he claimed he twisted was possibly sprained, and he had spent the evening being hit on by the rest of the queens in the room, while Sam and Bela performed the actual job. It was annoying. It was typical Bela. And in Typical Bela fashion, she was gone before the night was over—without giving Michael his twenty grand.
He should have figured.
So he did what he usually did after a job with Bela—he went him, went to bed, and wondered how he kept getting suckered into these things when it came to her. He slept rather well, surprisingly, and was getting ready to go to the next job when the door to his place was thrown open, and he turned to see Bela sashaying her way into the room.
“You know Michael—you should really get a lock for that door,” she grinned, and he just glared back at her.
“What do you want, Bela?”
He saw it again, the briefest flinch in her face, before it released back into a placating smile. “Relax—I come bearing gifts.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, watching as she reached into her bag and tossed him a brick of money, letting it land easily in his hands. “What is this?”
“Twenty grand, as promised,” she said with a sigh. “I couldn’t pay you last night because I had to go meet the buyer, but I figured given your current—situation—you weren’t exactly going anywhere.”
Michael placed a thumb against the edge of the stack of bills, before looking back up at her again. “This money isn’t going to get me into trouble is it?”
“No, it’s clean,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “My client is of very good standing.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Michael said with an eyeroll, dropping the money back down on the counter. “Think if I tell you to get lost, you actually might stay lost this time?” Bela just watched him for a moment, amused, before turning on her heel and heading out the door.
“Enjoy your yougurt, Michael,” she replied over her shoulder. Michael watched her go, before shaking his head and picking up his yogurt again.
“Of course she won’t.”
Title: For All the Queens
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT // PG-13
Characters: Michael Westen/Bela Talbot
50prompts Prompt: 029. DressContent Warning: N/A
Summary: Bela has a proposition for Michael.
Author's Note: For
defy_n_gravity, who gave me Mike/Bela -> Pink for the Color Meme and asked me to expand on it. I should note that this pairing, and anything else that may possibly come of it and be related *coughDean/Fionacough* are totally her fault. I also may have a slightly large kink for boys in dresses. If Bela had been able to stick around longer, maybe she would have gotten the boys to do this. Who knows.Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural or Burn Notice. They're owned by the CW and USA. However, all original characters are mine, so please do not borrow them without my permission.
Waking up and finding Bela Talbot sitting on your kitchen table isn’t always the most pleasant way to start the morning. Michael would like to say that it wasn’t anything personal—but really, that was exactly what it was. Personal. Bela had a habit of screwing over the people she worked with, whether it be for their cut or just their time and energy, and had an itchy trigger finger to boot. Getting involved on a job with her was a guarantee for someone to get shot. Michael had learned his lesson a long time ago, and had no plans to go anywhere near what she had to offer.
“Good morning, Michael,” she said with a smile, and immediately, the gun was out from under his pillow and aimed in her face. She flinched slightly, in surprise, before recomposing herself with a smile. “If I’d have known we were going to play with our guns, I would have brought my own.”
“I don’t have anything for you to steal, Bela,” he said with a glare, the line of the gun unwavering. “You might as well get out now.”
“Now, Michael. Can’t an old friend just drop in to say hello without having to steal something?”
He watched her for a moment, trying to gauge if she was lying or not, before giving her a look. “First of all—we aren’t friends, let alone old ones, and second of all—you’re always stealing something. So I’m saving you the trouble and telling you to get out. Now.”
Bela sighed heavily, before giving him a look. “I’m here because I need your help to steal something from someone else.”
At that, he lowered the gun, but only slightly. “I’m not helping you break the law, Bela.”
“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? Considering you break the law on a regular basis?” He watched the eyebrows go up, but he just glared back, not giving an inch.
“I do it to help people.”
“Oh, yes, the lawless cause of the noble,” Bela rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the table. “Sorry to have bothered you then. If you want to pass up on twenty grand, that’s you’re business. I’ll just find someone else.”
Michael hesitated for a minute, watching her go before speaking up. “You wouldn’t give me twenty grand.”
“In exchange for goods and services,” Bela said with a slight smirk. “Really now, Michael. You should know me well enough by now to know that I don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”
And for once, she actually sounded believable. He knew that much was true, that Bela would find some way to repay you, if not in cash. He just wasn’t sure if he should take the word on the twenty grand or not. But—it probably wouldn’t hurt to hear her out, either.
“What kind of job are we talking here?” he asked with a heavy sigh. It was after that that Bela gave him the Cheshire cat grin she had, and he knew that he was in trouble.
***
Here’s the problem with working with someone who you share a mutual dislike, and they’re calling the shots. They will take every opportunity to try and make you as uncomfortable as possible, and if the woman happens to be Bela Talbot, she knows how to push your comfort zones and still make it relevant to the job. It’s a rare talent that most of her associates tend to wish she’d somehow lose, Michael included. Especially considering that he now happened to be the receiving end of that particular talent.
“Is this really necessary?” he said as he came out into the room, carrying the wig in one hand and a rather disgruntled look pasted across his face.
“I said I needed a queen, Michael,” she said, looking up and giving him a small smirk. “You’re the one who offered to help with the job.”
“Yes, but generally without any context, one would assume the queen to be you,” Michael replied, rolling his eyes slightly. “I thought I told you I drew the line at cross-dressing.”
“Aww, now that’s a shame,” she said with a fake pout. “Pink is very much your color.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We are never speaking of this again. And no one outside this room is to know about this.”
At this her face became confused. “I didn’t tell you?”
“Didn't tell me what, Bela?”
“Sam’s coming to.”
“He’s what?”
“Well—I do need an escort,” she said with a small smirk as Sam came in behind her, dressed in a tux. He looked Michael up and down for a moment, before nodding, keeping an almost completely straight face.
“Nice dress.”
Michael just kept his gaze focused on Bela, eyes narrowed. “You’re dead. Just so you know.”
“Oh, come now, Mikey,” Sam replied with a grin. “You know I don’t have the legs to pull that off.”
Michael glanced at him for a moment, before shaking his heads and going to adjust his wig. This was going to be a long night.
***
The evening had been horrible—at least as far as Michael was concerned. There was an art to walking in women’s heels, and it was very clear that Michael hadn’t learned it. It was pretty sure that the ankle he claimed he twisted was possibly sprained, and he had spent the evening being hit on by the rest of the queens in the room, while Sam and Bela performed the actual job. It was annoying. It was typical Bela. And in Typical Bela fashion, she was gone before the night was over—without giving Michael his twenty grand.
He should have figured.
So he did what he usually did after a job with Bela—he went him, went to bed, and wondered how he kept getting suckered into these things when it came to her. He slept rather well, surprisingly, and was getting ready to go to the next job when the door to his place was thrown open, and he turned to see Bela sashaying her way into the room.
“You know Michael—you should really get a lock for that door,” she grinned, and he just glared back at her.
“What do you want, Bela?”
He saw it again, the briefest flinch in her face, before it released back into a placating smile. “Relax—I come bearing gifts.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, watching as she reached into her bag and tossed him a brick of money, letting it land easily in his hands. “What is this?”
“Twenty grand, as promised,” she said with a sigh. “I couldn’t pay you last night because I had to go meet the buyer, but I figured given your current—situation—you weren’t exactly going anywhere.”
Michael placed a thumb against the edge of the stack of bills, before looking back up at her again. “This money isn’t going to get me into trouble is it?”
“No, it’s clean,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “My client is of very good standing.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Michael said with an eyeroll, dropping the money back down on the counter. “Think if I tell you to get lost, you actually might stay lost this time?” Bela just watched him for a moment, amused, before turning on her heel and heading out the door.
“Enjoy your yougurt, Michael,” she replied over her shoulder. Michael watched her go, before shaking his head and picking up his yogurt again.
“Of course she won’t.”