ficlet: gunpowder magic woman (PG-13, Sam and Michael(/Fiona)

Title: gunpowder magic woman
Rating: PG-13
Characters and/or pairing: Sam and Michael (Michael/Fiona discussed)
Word count: 450+ words
Summary: "We met in a pub and, well, what can I say? There were sparks."
Notes: pre-series, written for citrus_taste's prompt put a spell on you, now you're (the 'mine' is silent).


Sam actually had to sit down when Michael told him, which was somewhat unexpected.

"You met a woman." If they hadn't been friends, Michael might have considered Sam's tone of voice (or rather: the implications of said tone) somewhat insulting. He wouldn't have actually let it show, of course; no point in letting someone know they'd hurt your feelings when you were in no position to deliver a bit of payback straight away after all.

"I meet lots of women, Sam. I think they make up about half of mankind." Not quite, of course, and in some countries, Michael could have counted the number of women he'd actually spoken to on one hand - without using any fingers.

Sam made a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, but you know what I mean."

Michael shrugged to indicate that yes, he did.

"Oh, man." Sam shook his head. Michael suspected the disbelief was mostly for show by now - Sam having a bit of fun at his expense, or making his point a good deal more emphatically than was strictly required. "This is big, Mikey. Really big. Tell me everything."

"Her name's Fiona - " No need to explain the lack of a last name; Sam would understand. " - and she's running an import and export business." More or less. In addition to some other things.

"Yeah, that sounds like everything all right." Sam snorted. "Come on, just a little bit more detail? Like how'd the two of you meet, anyway?"

Michael shrugged, this time to indicate there really wasn't that much more to tell as far as he was concerned. "We met in a pub and, well, what can I say? There were sparks." And then there'd been an explosion, but no need to get quite that detailed.

"Romantic," Sam said.

"There was just something about her." Mostly something suggesting that yup, no need to look any further for someone who might know a bit more about the how and why of that explosion.

"You're a strange guy sometimes, Mikey." Sam leaned back. "I mean, a woman comes this close to killing you, and what do you do? You have a quickie with her in the backroom of a pub. That either takes really big balls or a really tiny brain - maybe both."

Michael shrugged to imply Sam was worrying too much if also, strictly speaking, right about the bare facts. "She wasn't trying to kill me in particular." No point in asking how Sam had known; a good spy never revealed his sources, especially not to his friends.

"Maybe she's a witch. I mean, Irish and a redhead, you know?"

"You're a strange guy sometimes, Sam," Michael said.

"All part of my charm," Sam replied with a grin. "So when are you going to see her again?"