ashes to ashes; alex drake/shaz granger
for international day of femslash
Shaz has this fantasy - well, she calls it something like a daydream, something familiar and warm she can slip into easily when she's bored and staring into space. The little details can change, the setting and the costumes and the plot, meaningless things that just add colour to the overall image she draws out and idly plays with whenever she can. She's currently sitting at a desk, alone, the rest of the office almost empty due to a hot, slow week and the rush to leave at the end of the day.
There's a small but daunting stack of paperwork looming at the side of the desk but she quite casually ignores it in favour of staring at the join of the wall and ceiling, the checkerboard pattern of lights becoming the background to her reverie as she lets her mind drift. Alex in that fancy dress costume - and oh, yes, that's something to put in there, building up to the image of herself and the DI together and alone, somewhere - no, the place doesn't matter, not when a gloved hand strokes the line of her jaw and soft lips are pressing against her own.
(it's quite possible to say that she's been slightly obsessed with Alex ever since she walked in with furs and red silk. That image alone was enough to spark an interest (and oh, the dreams she'd had!) but then she turned out to be so wonderfully different, from the girls she's met at college and from the boys and boring men that filled the Met. She was brash and posh and intelligent and possibly a little crazy, with something fierce in her eyes.
Chris was fun, but Alex presented something like wonder. She wanted to taste it.)
Those soft lips parted and she grinned into it.