[Drabble] Rendezvous (Great Escape, gen)
Jun. 22nd, 2005 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valmoraI'm not sure I spelled 'rendezvous' right.
Title: Rendezvous
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valmora
Rating: PG
Fandom: The Great Escape
Pairing: gennish Ashley-Pitt & Sedgwick friendship.
Disclaimer: Do I look like an MGM/UA official or a WWII POW to you? No? Not mine, then.
Notes: Ashley-Pitt is the obscenely young blond one in the black uniform. His name is Eric. Sedgwick is the Aussie with the steamer trunk, and I feel really dorky now because I thought people were calling him 'Cedric'. ^_^;; His first name is Louis.
This is actually the last remnant of an epic, angstiful Sedgwick/Ashley-Pitt fic I was planning. I think it died, but I may still write it.
“Easter Sunday,” Eric states, and they shake on it, a promise. “At ten in the morning, if the trains are running, in Brisbane, on the platform by the sign for Melbourne.”
“It’ll be late,” Louis says, good-humoured. “But I’ll see you anyway.”
“Yes,” Eric agrees. “And you’ll wait, won’t you?”
* * *
Ten-fifteen, ten-forty-five, and God, Louis should’ve known better than to come.
He hopes, like he has for the past three years, that Eric just forgot the meeting because of a lovely wife and a bawling little Ashley-Pitt burping up all over the floor.
He doesn’t believe it.
Title: Rendezvous
Author:
valmoraRating: PG
Fandom: The Great Escape
Pairing: gennish Ashley-Pitt & Sedgwick friendship.
Disclaimer: Do I look like an MGM/UA official or a WWII POW to you? No? Not mine, then.
Notes: Ashley-Pitt is the obscenely young blond one in the black uniform. His name is Eric. Sedgwick is the Aussie with the steamer trunk, and I feel really dorky now because I thought people were calling him 'Cedric'. ^_^;; His first name is Louis.
This is actually the last remnant of an epic, angstiful Sedgwick/Ashley-Pitt fic I was planning. I think it died, but I may still write it.
“Easter Sunday,” Eric states, and they shake on it, a promise. “At ten in the morning, if the trains are running, in Brisbane, on the platform by the sign for Melbourne.”
“It’ll be late,” Louis says, good-humoured. “But I’ll see you anyway.”
“Yes,” Eric agrees. “And you’ll wait, won’t you?”
* * *
Ten-fifteen, ten-forty-five, and God, Louis should’ve known better than to come.
He hopes, like he has for the past three years, that Eric just forgot the meeting because of a lovely wife and a bawling little Ashley-Pitt burping up all over the floor.
He doesn’t believe it.
