DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to mrswoman for the ‘English’ read though.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Fashion Sense
By Ann


"But you said I was a summer." The only thing missing from the pouting face was the protruding lower lip.

"You are a summer, Scribbs, just not in that outfit." Ash gestured towards her partner and grimaced, her distaste of Scribbs' choice of clothing evident to anyone who might happen by. "You look as if you've rolled around in paint, litres and litres of multi-colored paint."

"The saleswoman insisted that this was the latest in popular fashion."

"Amongst whom? The deranged? The color blind? The gullible individuals who will purchase anything a saleswoman suggests?"

Scribbs put her hands on her hips and glared at her partner. "Are you calling me gullible?"

Ash took in Scribbs' stance and knew she'd stepped just a bit too far.

"Did I say gullible? I meant glorious, yes, glorious." The words were out of Ash's mouth before she could pull them back.

"That doesn't make any sense, Ash. You said gullible, and you always say what you mean."

Scribbs seemed to have forgotten about the times Ash had bent the truth to keep from hurting her feelings. Of course, within minutes, Ash had been unable to stop herself from blurting out her true thoughts; however, she'd always apologized for her complete and utter honesty. It was the one thing Scribbs knew she could rely on.

"Yes, well, in this instance, I should've said glorious." Ash ducked her head but was unable to keep the tips of her ears from turning red.

Scribbs smiled. "Really? So, you think I'm glorious?"

"Well, I, um, that is to say, that, well . . . I think you're just fine, Scribbs." Crimson cheeks added even more color to the usually fair skinned Ash.

"Oh, so now you think I'm fine?" Scribbs positively beamed at the discovery.

"What? Did I say you're fine? I'd meant to say . . ." Ash looked up into eyes alight with hope. ". . . Um, what I'd meant to say was – Scribbs, would you like to go out to dinner?"

Scribbs stepped closer to her partner. "Just dinner?"

"And maybe a nightcap afterwards at my place?" Ash swallowed hard.

Scribbs stepped even closer. "Just a nightcap?"

Ash hesitated but pushed forward; she'd made it this far, she may as well go for the gold.


"You've got a date, Ash." Scribbs smiled brightly as she performed mental cartwheels.

The horrible outfit had more than done its job, but it was still heading straight for the rubbish bin the minute she'd stepped out of it. Or maybe, just maybe, she'd let Ash rip it from her body instead.

The End

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