Hi! If you're still taking fanfic requests, could you maybe write something with Clive and Dimitri? Maybe them talking and/or reconciling after they get out of prison, or maybe something while they were working on Future London together. Just something sort of friendshippy :D I'm cool with or without angst, whatever works best for the story. If you don't want to do it though or aren't inspired, that's okay ^^ Thanks for offering to do requests!
Rain pelted down from the overcast sky like needles, piercing the cobbles. Each drop caused a tiny shockwave splash before joining the river snaking down the street, rushing to the lowest point where it poured into a drain like a drove of lemmings. The drab greys and blues cast a mute darkness over London, chilling the air. Not like “nice” weather would make much of a difference, Dimitri thought. He shook his umbrella under the hooded bus stop, pointing it as far away from himself as possible. Despite the canopy, both the walls and the seats were somehow drenched, so he stood isolated.
Dimitri grumbled. These damn buses and their complete disregard for people’s time. They came of their own accord.
“What else is new?”
Dimitri looked over his shoulder, poorly masking surprise. Clive was leaning against the opposite side of the plexiglass panel, outside the bus stop, with no umbrella. His hair stuck to his forehead in strands.
“I didn’t see you get here.”
“I know.”
Dimitri looked him up and down. “You’re setting yourself up for one hell of a cold.”
Clive didn’t move, looking down the street rather than at Dimitri’s eyes. “I like it; it’s refreshing.”
The rain didn’t let down, bringing with it a distant crack of thunder and the ceaseless pattering of thousands of droplets smacking into the pavement. Dimitri watched the drops on the bus stop wall inch closer together before merging and streaming downward, immediately replaced by new ones. Clive’s heavy woolen coat absorbed the ones that wound towards it like a mop. He never took care of his clothes.
“They’ve started building the tunnels for the underground system,” Clive said. “And laying down foundations here and there.”
“Are you ever going to tell me where you got the money for this?”
“Nope. You know we want the same thing, so what does it matter? See, I was thinking, what if we made some of the buildings nothing but facades like those on movie sets? There’s no use building more houses than there will be people, and we can cut back on plumbing and insulation and whatnot.”
“Sure, that sounds reasonable, but I don’t see what it has to do with me. More importantly, what is it you want? Unless this is the oddest money laundering scheme of the century, nobody but you would pour this much money into a large-scale, dubious time experiment. You wish to reverse fate, I presume?”
Clive’s back was turned, but Dimitri saw him shift ever so slightly. Clive removed his hands from his pockets, crossing his arms, and looked over his shoulder, smiling.
“I trust in the success of your endeavors, Dimitri. Or rather, I trust in your expertise as a man of science.”
Dimitri met his eye. Clive made sure to hold eye contact just long enough before turning his back again, erasing his smile a smidge too soon.
Dimitri braced his closed umbrella against a gush of wind, spraying cold mist into his face. This would be the perfect moment for the bus to arrive. Any second now. Wind and rain were a bad combination.
“I’ll need to speak with you later to make sure you procure the exact materials I’ll need; even a bolt of the wrong size could send this project to the dogs. Say, why don’t I just come with you? That would simplify everything greatly.”
“You must be awfully busy. I’m willing to do what you need me to, but if you really want to come along, I won’t stop you.”
“I do. As soon as possible.”
A hint of annoyance tugged at Clive’s lip. “I’ll have to, er, reschedule my own affairs if that’s the case, but no matter. We’ll get you what you need.”
“...thank you.”
“You know, Clive,” Dimitri continued, “I’d quite like to get to know you outside of this whole business.”
“Really.”
“Really. How odd is it to barely know the man so kindly sponsoring one’s, if I dare call it so, passion project. I know nothing about you.”
“Odd. I’ve commissioned several restaurants to be built, so you can take your pick, but I hear one of your team members has a husband who’s a rather talented chef. He plans on opening a place called Chez Paillard in the arcade by the new hotel, which would be my first choice.”
“What’s stopping us from going somewhere on the surface? Surely they aren’t fully booked months in advance, unlike your underground reservations.”
“Ah I hadn’t even thought of it. I really need to get my sleeping schedule in check.”
Dimitri wasn’t one to pay attention to these things, but now that Clive mentioned it, he began to see the pure exhaustion present in his mannerisms. Perhaps he was focusing to the point of fabricated observations, but Clive’s hands seemed to shake ever so slightly as he pushed his wet bangs back.
A screech of metal rang out, preceding the puffing noise of brakes. Finally. The bus unceremoniously swung its flimsy doors open, revealing the tracks left by the wet shoes of strangers. Dimitri boarded gingerly so as not to slip, and went straight for the nearest open seat. Clive followed suit, paying for them both, and sat by his side. He rubbed his hands together vigorously.
“Are you alright?” Dimitri asked.
Clive tried to pull an unconvincing smirk across chattering teeth. “Of course.”
“You’re a real idiot.”
Clive narrowed his eyes, but didn’t protest, hugging himself and looking past Dimitri, out the window.”
Dimitri slouched, holding his umbrella between his legs like a cane. Reversing fate...