Vorkosigan fic: Soda Water
Mar. 8th, 2012 07:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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vorkosiganI <3 Bothari forever, though I also kind of want to warn for him on general principle. I'm avoiding my "real" fic project and wanted to get this down on paper. Unbeta'd; comments and improvements welcomed. (Help me save my future self from embarrassment!)
Title: Soda Water
Author: ollipop
Rating: PG, no warnings
Word Count: ~900
Pairing: Miles/OFC (or not), gen
Summary: The disastrous beginning of Miles' search for Lady Vorkosigan, and how Bothari tries to fix it.
AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/357960
Or here.
Soda Water
“I’ll call you later, I promise,” the beautiful young woman said before she cut the com.
Miles sighed with contentedness and wriggled back into his easy chair. He’d been missing this girl, and was so relieved to hear her voice, even in a vid. Neela had returned his call from the library, buried in flimsies, and lately she’d been digging so hard into her studies she’d gotten sand up her nose. Miles had met her in class, when she was trying to borrow his notes and avoiding schoolwork at all costs. But for him, she was so focused, staring at him in fascination as if she wanted to take him apart and see how he ticked. She’d make a fine Lady Vorkosigan someday, Miles thought, despite that initial indolence. If he could talk her back to Barrayar; she’d been fascinated by his vids of flying through the forest, so that shouldn’t be impossible.
A Betan, like Da and Grandda before him. How many Betans could they bring home before the Council began pawing the ground and sneezing over “galactic influences”? Gregor was reaching majority in just a few months; Miles was certain they’d grow less twitchy after that. He sighed again, remembering the last time he’d seen her in person, the last time he’d wrapped her hair around his fingers. Lady Neela...
+++
A week later, when she finally told him that she wouldn’t be seeing him again, he’d trudged back to Gran Naismith’s home without noticing how he’d gotten there. Then he’d gone to bed and lain in the dark for an hour, feigning sleep and listening to Bothari snore. The breakup had come as such a shock that he hadn’t bothered to hide it from Gran or Bothari. Even Bothari had managed to marry and settle down at one point in his life--would Miles be the only one that didn’t? He reviewed his strategic plan for the rest of his life: galactic study, meeting more women who were just collecting freaks, then the Service Academy where he would be buried in fellow cadets. Then ship duty, for a few years, before he had to come back and begin politicking. He knew, suddenly, that there would be women with their eye on the role of Countess Vorkosigan, but no one who would take the same fascination with him, Miles, in any of those intervening years. None like Neela.
+++
Bothari found him later that night with his back to the wall, in the shower, dagger in hand. Miles hadn’t even bothered to dress properly for the occasion, and was still in pyjamas. The sergeant hadn’t said a word, just strode over and began twisting away the knife. Miles flailed mightily, feeling Bothari hesitate in his holds, knowing--and despairing further--that his liegeman was trying to avoid breaking any bones. Miles gave a vicious wrench, attempting to crack his skull against Bothari’s, and succeeded only in breaking some ribs. Pain flooded his chest, and the fight was over.
+++
“If you’d be pleased to wait, my lord.”
With those words, Bothari’d run off on some errand. Miles should be grateful for the tiny slice of privacy; in the two weeks since that night, the sergeant had barely left his side, and even lurked in the back of Miles’ classes like a gargoyle. In truth, Miles was past caring. At least having Bothari to ignore saved him from having to look at Neela, or all her friends who suddenly slid past him without meeting his eyes.
When a young Betan woman walked over, he’d growled at her, but she persisted in taking the seat next to him. It was crowded in the cafe, after all. She tried to strike up a conversation--where are you from? do you like it here? I bet you miss your family--and despite his rudeness, despite his bare earlobes, she seemed to be flirting with him. She was attractive enough, but her own earrings, available, had an odd shine. On the rebound, perhaps.
It wasn’t until ten minutes later, when she mentioned that she “didn’t live far away” and leaned in to touch him on the wrist, that Miles began to sweat. Who was this crazy stranger? Was this some kind of kidnapping attempt? Miles scanned the crowd for Bothari, and found him just barely in eyesight at the edge of the room. He was making no move to come over, which was ridiculous. Bothari should be panicked; he wouldn’t allow anyone to touch Miles that he hadn’t personally cleared. Which was just one more reason that fitness classes on Beta were so excruciating.
But if Bothari had cleared her--
Oh. Miles looked away, more baffled than before. But what was he supposed to do with her? Besides the obvious, of course.
Finally, Miles decided that a direct approach was best. “Do you see that man at the edge of the room? Tall, grouchy?” She nodded. “Where did he find you?”
She hesitated, glancing nervously at Bothari as if he would be able to hear her from across the cafe.
“It’s all right,” he said, softening his voice a little. “It doesn’t matter. You’re an LPST, I suppose?”
At this, the young woman actually began to blush. “Well, no. I was planning to go for my license next year.”
An amateur. Great. “Well, thank you for telling me. May I get you something to drink?”
The young woman looked even more flustered. “Like I said, my place is just down the next corridor--”
“No, thank you,” said Miles. “That won’t be necessary.” He motioned the waiter over for another drink, and something to eat. He could humor Bothari at least that much, but Miles had his limits.
Title: Soda Water
Author: ollipop
Rating: PG, no warnings
Word Count: ~900
Pairing: Miles/OFC (or not), gen
Summary: The disastrous beginning of Miles' search for Lady Vorkosigan, and how Bothari tries to fix it.
AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/357960
Or here.
Soda Water
“I’ll call you later, I promise,” the beautiful young woman said before she cut the com.
Miles sighed with contentedness and wriggled back into his easy chair. He’d been missing this girl, and was so relieved to hear her voice, even in a vid. Neela had returned his call from the library, buried in flimsies, and lately she’d been digging so hard into her studies she’d gotten sand up her nose. Miles had met her in class, when she was trying to borrow his notes and avoiding schoolwork at all costs. But for him, she was so focused, staring at him in fascination as if she wanted to take him apart and see how he ticked. She’d make a fine Lady Vorkosigan someday, Miles thought, despite that initial indolence. If he could talk her back to Barrayar; she’d been fascinated by his vids of flying through the forest, so that shouldn’t be impossible.
A Betan, like Da and Grandda before him. How many Betans could they bring home before the Council began pawing the ground and sneezing over “galactic influences”? Gregor was reaching majority in just a few months; Miles was certain they’d grow less twitchy after that. He sighed again, remembering the last time he’d seen her in person, the last time he’d wrapped her hair around his fingers. Lady Neela...
+++
A week later, when she finally told him that she wouldn’t be seeing him again, he’d trudged back to Gran Naismith’s home without noticing how he’d gotten there. Then he’d gone to bed and lain in the dark for an hour, feigning sleep and listening to Bothari snore. The breakup had come as such a shock that he hadn’t bothered to hide it from Gran or Bothari. Even Bothari had managed to marry and settle down at one point in his life--would Miles be the only one that didn’t? He reviewed his strategic plan for the rest of his life: galactic study, meeting more women who were just collecting freaks, then the Service Academy where he would be buried in fellow cadets. Then ship duty, for a few years, before he had to come back and begin politicking. He knew, suddenly, that there would be women with their eye on the role of Countess Vorkosigan, but no one who would take the same fascination with him, Miles, in any of those intervening years. None like Neela.
+++
Bothari found him later that night with his back to the wall, in the shower, dagger in hand. Miles hadn’t even bothered to dress properly for the occasion, and was still in pyjamas. The sergeant hadn’t said a word, just strode over and began twisting away the knife. Miles flailed mightily, feeling Bothari hesitate in his holds, knowing--and despairing further--that his liegeman was trying to avoid breaking any bones. Miles gave a vicious wrench, attempting to crack his skull against Bothari’s, and succeeded only in breaking some ribs. Pain flooded his chest, and the fight was over.
+++
“If you’d be pleased to wait, my lord.”
With those words, Bothari’d run off on some errand. Miles should be grateful for the tiny slice of privacy; in the two weeks since that night, the sergeant had barely left his side, and even lurked in the back of Miles’ classes like a gargoyle. In truth, Miles was past caring. At least having Bothari to ignore saved him from having to look at Neela, or all her friends who suddenly slid past him without meeting his eyes.
When a young Betan woman walked over, he’d growled at her, but she persisted in taking the seat next to him. It was crowded in the cafe, after all. She tried to strike up a conversation--where are you from? do you like it here? I bet you miss your family--and despite his rudeness, despite his bare earlobes, she seemed to be flirting with him. She was attractive enough, but her own earrings, available, had an odd shine. On the rebound, perhaps.
It wasn’t until ten minutes later, when she mentioned that she “didn’t live far away” and leaned in to touch him on the wrist, that Miles began to sweat. Who was this crazy stranger? Was this some kind of kidnapping attempt? Miles scanned the crowd for Bothari, and found him just barely in eyesight at the edge of the room. He was making no move to come over, which was ridiculous. Bothari should be panicked; he wouldn’t allow anyone to touch Miles that he hadn’t personally cleared. Which was just one more reason that fitness classes on Beta were so excruciating.
But if Bothari had cleared her--
Oh. Miles looked away, more baffled than before. But what was he supposed to do with her? Besides the obvious, of course.
Finally, Miles decided that a direct approach was best. “Do you see that man at the edge of the room? Tall, grouchy?” She nodded. “Where did he find you?”
She hesitated, glancing nervously at Bothari as if he would be able to hear her from across the cafe.
“It’s all right,” he said, softening his voice a little. “It doesn’t matter. You’re an LPST, I suppose?”
At this, the young woman actually began to blush. “Well, no. I was planning to go for my license next year.”
An amateur. Great. “Well, thank you for telling me. May I get you something to drink?”
The young woman looked even more flustered. “Like I said, my place is just down the next corridor--”
“No, thank you,” said Miles. “That won’t be necessary.” He motioned the waiter over for another drink, and something to eat. He could humor Bothari at least that much, but Miles had his limits.
